Taking Liberties (Like a Boss Book 3) Read online

  He nods. I can see he’s thrilled I understand his fascination.

  “I feel like a Bond girl,” I tell him.

  “Pussy Galore?”

  “Ha!”

  He laughs and puts a hand on mine. “Let’s take a quick detour on the highway and I’ll show you what she can do.”

  So we slip out of the city, and Caleb puts his foot down and we fly through the gathering twilight. The car barely raises her voice and we’re doing a hundred miles per hour. I’d love to see more, but all too soon he’s slowing and turning, and I sigh as he heads back to the city.

  “Just a taste,” he says.

  “Mmm.” I nestle back into the leather, wondering if I’m dreaming. Hopefully, lots of people saw me getting into the car. “So, tell me a bit about the party tonight.”

  “Well, Harry and Gaby got married in Florence a few months ago. They didn’t have any friends or family there, and decided to have a small party to celebrate when they got back.”

  “Okay, cool. It’s at their apartment?”

  “Yes. Not many people, maybe a hundred or so.”

  “A hundred?” Jesus. How big is their apartment? If I had ten people in mine, it would feel crowded.

  “Just close friends and family,” he says.

  If I invited my close friends and family, I’d be lucky to make ten people. It reminds me again what a different life Caleb leads. He’s used to socializing, and he feels comfortable in all kinds of situations.

  Well, I’m with a gorgeous guy, he’s driving me there in his Aston Martin, and then we’re going back to his place for some magnificent sex. And to see his Rickenbacker. I’m going to enjoy myself tonight, no matter what the party is like.

  *

  I’m prepared to hate every minute of the evening, but in the end, I have a great time. We spend a while mingling, a word that isn’t really in my vocabulary, but Caleb walks slowly through the apartment, holding my hand, and introducing me to his friends. And everyone’s lovely. Colette’s there with Sebastian, and she gives me a big hug, and I get to spend some time with Gaby, who’s sweet and obviously head-over-heels for Harrison.

  There’s real champagne, and lots of exquisite food. I hide a smile as I think of what my brother would say about the teeny-tiny portions—the little round pancakes with a smidgen of cream cheese and a square of smoked salmon, baby quiches about an inch-and-a-half across, that kind of thing—but they’re full of flavor and because they’re so small you can try everything and still have room for more.

  The apartment is huge, with magnificent views across the city, but oddly, I don’t feel as out of place as I thought I would. With Caleb by my side, hardly letting go of my hand, I feel relaxed and at home.

  Halfway through the evening, Harrison taps a spoon to a glass to get everyone’s attention, then gives a short speech, pulling Gaby to his side while he tells his friends how much he loves this girl and how he’s sorry they married while they were away, but he had to snare her before she escaped. I feel an unusual lump in my throat as Gaby pressed her fingers to her mouth, laughing even while tears form in her eyes, and Harry kisses her, lingering for a while before lifting his head and smiling.

  I look up at Caleb. He’s so handsome, and yet somehow earthy too, although maybe that’s because I can picture him naked. He looks like a sportsman dressed up to get an award, more at home in a tee than a shirt. His collar just covers the place where I gave him a hickey.

  He’s smiling, too, but he looks wistful. Is he thinking about Felicity? I wonder how in love with her he was. Maybe he wanted to marry her—maybe he proposed, and she turned him down. He might never tell me what went on there.

  Well, it’s none of my business. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this evening, so I have to make the most of tonight.

  I lift onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his ear. “Dance with me,” I whisper, and slide my arms around his waist, hoping to distract him from his sad dreams.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caleb

  I didn’t think I would, but I have to admit to feeling envy as I watch Harry wrap Gaby in his arms and kiss her. I feel puzzled by the fact that he felt the need to propose to her in Florence, and that they married only a few weeks later. Why the rush? What was it about Gaby that meant he simply couldn’t wait until he came home to tie the knot?

  He loves her, obviously, but yet again I’m bemused by the emotion. I thought I loved Felicity, and it had passed through my head a few times that we might get married one day, because it’s what you do when you’ve been dating someone for a while. But I hadn’t felt the urge to hasten the process. And I don’t think I ever looked at her the way Harry’s now staring into Gaby’s eyes.

  Roxie shifts beside me, and I glance down to find her green eyes watching me. I don’t miss the little skip my heart does. I feel something for this girl that I never felt for Felicity. But it’s not love—it can’t be. I’ve only been out with her once. So, what is it? I desired Felicity, and our sex life was good, if somewhat uninspired. But it felt different from the way I feel about Roxie.

  Maybe it’s how she reacts to me that’s different. If her friends were there, Felicity could go a whole evening without casting a glance in my direction. But I feel Roxie’s eyes on me wherever I go. She looks at me as if I’m something special.

  I like that.

  “Dance with me,” she whispers in my ear, and I let her lead me to a quiet corner. Instead of taking a formal dance pose, she slides her arms around my waist and rests her cheek against my chest. Harry’s been playing some seventies disco music, the Jackson Five and Donna Summer, getting everyone dancing, but now it’s a slow track—Dr. Hook’s A Little Bit More. I smile at the lyrics, moving to the music with her, and I kiss her forehead. I feel surprisingly comfortable here, with my friends, and with Roxie in my arms.

  “Mmm,” she murmurs, nuzzling my neck. “You smell good.”

  “So do you.” She’s so tiny. I can remember her sitting astride me on the sofa, lowering on top of me, her lips parting with a sigh of pleasure as she began to move.

  And that does it—my blood heats, and within seconds I have an erection.

  She’s pressed against me, and she lifts her head now and raises her eyes to mine.

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “I was thinking about last night.” I can’t get the pictures out of my head now. Looking down at Roxie’s naked body as I slid inside her, hearing her moans, feeling the bite of her teeth in my neck. Holy fuck, just the thought turns me on.

  Her lips curve up. “Me too.” She slides her hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “So… did you have any plans for tonight?”

  I brush my lips against hers. “I’d like to have sex.”

  She laughs. “That’s a given. I meant more specific details.”

  That’s a given. What a fucking fantastic thing to say.

  “Want to get going?” I ask her.

  Her face flushes. “Can’t you wait, Mr. Chase? We’ll only be another hour or two, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think I can wait another five minutes.”

  Our eyes meet, and I know then that she can read the desire in mine. “Okay,” she whispers with a sexy little shiver.

  In the end, it takes us about fifteen minutes to leave, by the time we’ve said goodbye to everyone. But it’s not long before we’re in the car, heading for my apartment.

  “I hope they don’t think we’re rude, leaving so soon,” Roxie says.

  “They won’t care. They’re just thrilled I went at all, especially as I had a date.”

  “You don’t socialize much?” she asks.

  “Not since I broke up with Felicity. I’ve been a bit of a hermit.”

  “Did you love her a lot?”

  “I thought I did. Now, I don’t know. I think we just got caught up in the whirlwind of the relationship, you know?”

  “I do.” She looks out of the window.

  I glance at her. “Has there ever been anyone s
pecial for you?”

  “Not really.”

  “You don’t have to talk, but I’m not asking for the nuclear launch codes. I’m interested, that’s all. I’d like to know whether anyone’s ever won your heart.”

  “Are you really interested in my heart?” she teases. “I thought it was a piece of my anatomy further south.”

  “You change the subject as soon as it gets personal,” I tell her. “Did you know that?”

  “Yes.”

  I laugh and return my gaze to the road. “What was his name? Can you tell me that?”

  “Whose name?”

  “The guy who broke your heart.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve never been in love.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I scoff.

  “Believe what you like. It’s the truth.”

  “So why don’t you like talking about yourself?”

  “Because that’s not why we’re together, is it? We’re together for physical reasons, not emotional ones.”

  “You wanted to know about my love life,” I point out.

  “True. That’s because I’m nosy.”

  I give in. She’s right, I guess. “All right. We’re nearly home, anyway.”

  I drive into the underground parking lot, park, and we get out and ride the elevator in silence.

  “Are you angry with me?” she asks as the floors flick by.

  “No. You’re right—this is just physical.”

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you,” she says huskily. “I just meant that it’s pointless delving into each other’s pasts. We might find something we don’t like, and it could change the way we feel about each other. And I don’t want to spoil tonight. I’ve had a great time, and I want to come back with you and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  I wonder what’s happened to her that she doesn’t want to reveal. She seems ashamed of something. Part of me wishes she trusted me enough to confide—but why would she? She doesn’t know me from Adam, not really. And she’s right. I brought her here to have sex with her on the couch, not to analyze her on it.

  I let my gaze slide down her, and remind myself of the way she stripped in front of me and climbed on top of me. I remember her soft, pale skin, her full breasts, how small and feminine she felt in my arms. I think back to how she aroused herself while I watched, and how her face flushed when she reached her climax. I remember the taste of her, and how it felt to slide inside her.

  By the time my gaze reaches her face again, my erection is back, and I can’t wait for the elevator to ding.

  “Oh,” she says, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Jesus, Caleb, I can see right into your mind, I swear.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Your eyes… they tell me everything you’re feeling.” She walks up to me and lifts her arms around my neck. “Forget about everything else,” she whispers. “There’s just me and you here tonight, and that’s all that matters. I want you so much. I’ve thought about you all day and all evening.”

  I lift her up—she’s so light—and she wraps her legs around my waist. The elevator doors slide open, and I walk out with her while I’m kissing her.

  Her tongue delves into my mouth, and I groan as I fumble at my door and open it. My blood’s heating, my heart’s racing, and I can’t wait to fuck her. I didn't drink this evening because I was driving, but I feel as if I have been—my head’s spinning, and all thoughts have fled my mind except for Roxie and how it’s going to feel when I’m inside her again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Roxie

  Caleb carries me into his apartment, but I don’t see any of it because I’m too busy kissing him. Or, rather, I’m too busy being kissed by him, because it’s as if he’s turned on an inner switch, and heat is flowing out of him into me, sending my heart racing.

  Wow, this guy sure knows how to kiss. He knows just how to use the right amount of pressure, how to tease with his tongue and teeth, how to hold me tightly without squeezing the life out of me.

  The door shuts, and he presses me up against a wall and kisses me senseless. Mmm, he tastes so good, and I murmur my pleasure while I sink my hands into his hair and enjoy the feel of the thick strands through my fingers.

  “Roxie,” he says as he kisses down my neck. “Ah, you’ve bewitched me. I can’t get enough of you.”

  His words warm me through, but I can’t bring myself to believe them. “It’s okay,” I whisper, “you don’t have to romance me, Caleb. I’m a sure thing, remember?”

  He rests his lips against my neck, then lifts his head and looks at me. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

  “Hey, we’re both convenient,” I tell him, “that’s okay, it doesn’t have to be more than that.”

  He touches his lips to mine. “What if I want more?”

  I frown. “I don’t understand.”

  He laughs. “I’ll explain later.” He picks me up and carries me across to a table, where he sits me on the edge. Still kissing me, he removes my top, then flicks open the catch of my bra and slides the straps down my arms. He lowers me onto my back, and then he’s kissing my breasts, brushing his tongue over my nipples and teasing them with the tip before he takes them in his mouth and sucks.

  I writhe beneath him, incredibly turned on by his semi-forceful manner, enjoying being guided, rather than having to take the initiative myself.

  His fingers are at the button of my jeans, and he undoes it, slides down the zipper, and then peels them off me and tosses them on the floor. My panties follow swiftly, and now I’m naked beneath him, and he laces his tongue down my body before dropping to his haunches and burying his mouth in me.

  I tilt up my hips and groan when he slides his tongue inside me, deep as he can. Oh jeez, he does this so well. He licks and sucks until I’m gasping for breath, and then he pushes up to his feet. He unbuttons his shirt and drops it on the floor, takes out a condom, undoes his jeans, and rolls it on. Then he’s pressing the tip into my folds, and in one smooth thrust, he’s balls deep.

  Oh, it feels so good I want to laugh and cry, but I can only moan and stretch out beneath him as he sets up a fast pace, slamming into me and filling the air with the sounds and smells of sex. It’s how I thought he’d be the first time we got together—this is what I expected, hard and fast.

  Only it’s not the same as I expected, and not the same as it’s been before. He’s taking me hard, but instead of his eyes being closed or his gaze fixed far off in the distance the way my previous partners have been, his eyes are on me, and they’re so hot I’m nearly self-combusting. He grinds against me with every thrust—even now he’s thinking about my pleasure, and making sure I’m enjoying it. He bends down and kisses me, and strokes his hands over my body, playing with my breasts and teasing my nipples.

  I drift off into a world of hazy pleasure, and it’s not long before my orgasm approaches. “Mmm,” I mumble aloud, “don’t stop…”

  To my relief, he doesn’t, but I feel him leaning over me, watching me as my climax hits, and I gasp and clench around him. His hands are warm on my body, guiding me there, and when I finally flop back with a groan, he only thrusts a few more times and then he comes too, giving several satisfied grunts of pleasure.

  He stays there for a long while, leaning over me and kissing me, and when he finally withdraws, I sigh with longing, wishing that intimacy could go on forever. He hugs me for a while, and I feel his heart gradually slowing against my cheek.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asks. He hands me his shirt. I stare at it for a moment, then smile. I’ve never worn a guy’s shirt before like you see in the movies.

  “Please.” I slip it on, jumping off the table to do up a couple of buttons, and watch him pull on his boxers and then walk into the kitchen.

  For the first time, I have a good look around his living room. It’s big—maybe not as big as Harrison’s place, but ten times bigger than mine. The furniture is plain, wood, chrome, and glass, w
ith a big black soft leather suite and a giant widescreen TV on the wall. But it’s the objects hanging on the opposite wall to the TV that make my jaw drop. It’s like being in a music shop—there’s a line of guitars, electric, acoustic, and semi-acoustic, with every famous name I can think of, including a Gretsch, a Fender Stratocaster, a Les Paul that’s clearly a Gibson and not an Epiphone, and, at the end, a beautiful blue Rickenbacker.

  “Which one do you want to start with?” Caleb speaks from behind me—he’s come in carrying a couple of glasses of Scotch.

  “The Ricky,” I say breathlessly, and he places the glasses on the coffee table, takes the Rickenbacker from the hook on the wall, and passes it to me.

  Awestruck, I sit on the edge of the nearest armchair and run my fingers over the beautiful body of the guitar. Caleb watches me for a moment, then picks the green Gretsch from the wall and sits opposite me. He plucks a few of the strings and frowns. “I haven’t played for a week, so they’ll need tuning. Can you pass me the iPad beside you? There’s a great app on there for tuning.”

  “Don’t need it,” I say, and sing the note for the top E string while I adjust the Rickenbacker to match it.

  “Holy fuck. You have perfect pitch?”

  “Comes in handy.” I sing it again, and wait until he’s tuned the Gretsch, then I drop to the B. Continuing down through the G, D, A, and bottom E strings, we tune the guitars together, and then strum a couple of beautiful chords.

  “Do you know Hotel California?” I ask him.

  “Of course.” He starts singing the first verse as he plays the A minor chord, and I join in, enjoying the sound of his deep, rich voice. When it comes to the guitar solo, he nods to me, and I take the lead, enjoying the ringing sound of the Rickenbacker. He takes over for a bit, then passes back to me, and we finish together, letting the guitars carry us through to the end of the song.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caleb

  “You’re good,” Roxie tells me when we’re done.

  “You’re better.” I lean the Gretsch against my chair. “I didn’t think there was anything more beautiful than my Rickenbacker. It turns out there is—my favorite girl playing my Rickenbacker.”