Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
“ M ake yourself come. Do it now, Grace. Do it now.”
I couldn’t catch my breath. My body wouldn’t cooperate. He filled me up, demanded everything. He even barked orders for my orgasm.
I wanted to give it to him.
I wanted to give him everything.
The roughness of the half wall, the strength of his body behind me, the insane height difference that had me on my tiptoes—none of it mattered. All I could do was reach for that blissful end. I wanted it so very badly. I wanted to lose myself in that piece of madness that existed in the tiny spaces between our skin.
I loved that little pocket of time.
I wanted to wrap it around me.
I reached for it. Reached deeper inside myself and couldn’t find it.
The ache was pervasive. Frustration and need poured over my senses and bled into the chill of the pearly light.
That wasn’t right.
I wasn’t on the rooftop, and he wasn’t inside me.
I rolled over onto my belly, my hand slipping down between the bed and my aching skin, but my overalls were in the way.
And I was alone.
My breath came in pants, and I screamed into my pillow.
Dammit.
Goddammit.
My body was on fire. The rooftop was a nightmare, and a fantasy all wrapped into one. Blake. Goddamn Blake. I’d gone to sleep cursing his name.
Was it any wonder that I woke in the midst of a raging orgasm snatched away into dreams of him?
Flipping onto my back, I palmed my breast under the bulky cable knit sweater. The scratchy wool just made things worse. I struggled out of it and curled into myself. My breasts were tender, and my nipples were so tight I could barely stand it. My thighs quivered with the need to go over. All I needed to do was reach down and stroke a few times to ease the ache.
Would I forever be calling out his name as my body betrayed me?
I clamped my thighs together, trapping my hands between my knees. I knew how to please myself. I’d been alone for so long that some nights called for it, but I didn’t want the storm chaser to be Blake’s name, so I resisted the urge.
The need would go away. It had before.
I sat up and flipped the buckles of my overalls free. I wiggled out of them, flicking the lightweight cotton across the room to land in my laundry bin. I hurried into the shower and blasted the hot water against my tingling skin. I nearly poached myself as I stood under the scalding spray, soaping away his scent, scrubbing my scalp.
I couldn’t quite stand the idea of a cool shower with the wind howling outside the windows and the tide roaring with a late fall storm, but I finally had to turn the taps to cold.
I had to push away the lust that threatened to pull me under.
The icy needles of water didn’t help.
It tightened my nipples to diamond points and created another layer of torture on my skin. The shrill old-fashioned phone ring from my cell saved me. Only one person had that ringtone.
I slapped the water off and wrapped myself in my huge bathrobe. Heedless of the puddles I was making, I rushed to my phone.
“Hi, Philomena.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought for sure I was going to get your voicemail.”
“I was in the shower.”
“You’re not working?” The hopeful tone made me smile.
“No, that job didn’t work out.”
“That’s wonderful!”
I laughed. “Gee, thanks, Phil.”
“No, no. I’m sorry.”
I could see her ringed fingers fluttering in my head. How many times had I talked her down from a full-blown flutter? Too many to count.
She sighed. “You know what I mean. You’re an artist, not a corporate assistant. That sort of environment will kill your creativity.”
But it was okay to do all her bookkeeping and paperwork, of course, but I didn’t mention that. She was right. I’d never been suited for the office. Well, not until Blake. I’d adapted almost immediately. I liked taking care of his things and showing him just how capable I was.
God.
What the hell had I been thinking?
I’d gone in there to convince him to sell me my house somehow, not take over his assistant’s job. Just because I was good at a job didn’t mean I was meant for it.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Are you all right, sweetie?”
My eyes misted at Philomena’s careful tone. “I’m getting there.”
“I really wanted you here yesterday, sweetheart.”
“I know.” I played with a fraying string off my cuff.
“Margaret made the most amazing turkey. It was just like when I was a girl. We totally went traditional this year.”
“Oh, yeah?” I listened with half an ear as she went on about food and who was there, who got drunk and who was sleeping with who. Phil was definitely the gossip queen of Marblehead. She had a huge Thanksgiving feast every year, and couples, orphans, and all manner of people in-between went to her yearly get-together.
One of the many reasons I couldn’t go. There was no way I could deal with all of that, nor the people giving me sad eyes about the loss of my grandmother.
Nope. No way.
“So, Jennifer Corbin is off the list next year. I can’t believe that harlot had the balls to have sex with Theo Baldwin. He just got married last year, for heaven’s sake.”
“Wouldn’t that be Theo’s fault, Phil?”
“Have you seen the breasts on Jennifer?”
I laughed. “Breasts do not lure married men into temptation.”
“Mine have.”
I flopped back onto my bed with a chuckle. “You are terrible.”
“That’s how I got my Robert.”
“You haven’t let Robert out of your sight in twenty years. And he wasn’t married when you nabbed him.”
“Damn right. My girls might not be quite as perky, but they still do the job. He doesn’t need to be lured away by someone like Jennifer. I know how to handle my man.”
I was used to this game, and I played along. “Robert loves you madly.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Her girlish voice trailed off into a giggle.
Robert Stanwick had more money than he knew what to do with, so he let Phil have her gallery and a central place for all her gossip. I’d worked there for longer than I could remember. I’d learned a lot about how the art world worked, and how to promote myself.
I’d forever be indebted to Phil for that.
“Not that I don’t love to catch up. And honestly, you need to come over for a proper tea so we can discuss everything.”
“Yes, I promise I will.”
“But I have a huge favor to ask.”
“I kinda figured when you got excited that I wasn’t working.”
“Yes, well, that is fortuitous.”
I played with my terrycloth belt. “Well, I’m open to distraction. What do you need?”
“I have a showing tonight and I could really use your talents.”
I rolled my eyes. “To organize you?”
“No, everything is set up. The new girl I had to hire after you…well, left, has handled things. Mostly.”
“I left long before… Well, before.”
“I know, sweetie. And we all miss Annabelle. I applaud your need to go out on your own.”
I swallowed a lump at her name. “I know you do.” Even though I was drowning on my own and missed my grandmother so much that my heart literally ached.
“I could really use your help at the gallery tonight. The RSVP notices have tripled this year.”
“Oh, wow. That’s wonderful.”
“Definitely for sales, but I could really use all hands-on deck. Your commission would be very generous.”
Magic words.
I certainly perked up. For sure, I could use the money. “Absolutely. You can count on me.”
“Wonderful. How fast can you get here?”
I laughed. “I’ll be in within the hour.”
“Bless you. Okay, I’ll see you then. Thanks so much, Grace. You’re a lifesaver.”
She hung up before I could reply. Ever the fluttering Phil.
I set my phone on my chest and stared at the ceiling. One night of work could get me at least a down payment on an apartment if I needed it.
My old boss only had established artists at these showings.
Finally, a little something positive in my life.
I rolled over, plugged in my phone, and padded to my small wardrobe. I’d packed most of my things away, but my classic little black dress would do. I dug into my bin of shoes and unearthed my black and purple heels.
Yes, those would do nicely.
I got ready quickly. I pulled out the last pair of pantyhose I had. Garters were fun, but the lines of the dress were unforgiving. So, the suck-it-in hose were definitely on the menu. I only had to impress on the outside tonight.
The familiar excitement of being around art pushed away the sadness. I’d missed it. I hadn’t really allowed myself to the last few weeks, but now that I had the opportunity to do something related to what I loved most, my mood lifted.
I fluffed out my straightened hair with a few curls. Smooth, professional, and a little artsy. I’d perfected the look for the gallery for years. Easy and as familiar as a Sunday walk on the beach.
A bit later, I grabbed my clutch and tucked my phone inside. I added my fold-up ballerina flats, lipstick, and a hair tie for when I was cleaning up, and I was ready.
I pulled out my purple wool wrap and headed for the door.
On the way by, I traced a finger over the spread wings of my “Fallen Angel.” It had named itself, and I hoped like hell that I could sell her. Part of me bristled at the idea, but I knew she was meant to be shared.
She needed to be my savior.
Blowing out a breath, I locked up. It was barely after noon, but I was already certain it was going to be a long day.