Chapter 30 Tate
TATE
“Yes!” I gasp.
The cool wood of the desk in Sullivan’s home office is a refreshing shot to my flushed cheek as he holds me in place with a hand on the back of my neck, bent over for him as he thrusts into me from behind.
“Fuck, Baby. You just came again, didn’t you?”
I whimper.
“Good girl,” he groans.
The telling swell of his cock draws a happy murmur from me as his movements speed up.
“Fuck, Tate,” he growls, coming hard, his fingers tightening on the back of my neck.
He thrusts a few more times, emptying all he has, before dropping his heaving body over mine and replacing his hand with tender kisses against the top of my spine.
“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he breathes.
“That’s good, because I don’t want you to.”
He kisses me again, a rumble of amusement vibrating through his lips and over my skin.
This is how it’s been for the past couple of weeks.
I’ve slept here every night apart from weekends, wanting to make sure I spend time with my father.
But he’d just chuckled and told me to enjoy myself with my new mystery man.
He and Larry have taken to eating together and watching some new detective series together each night.
So I believe him when he says he’s fine with me being around less.
Only Ashley knows it’s Sullivan I’m seeing.
And I don’t think his family knows about me, either.
He’s never mentioned telling them or talked about me meeting them.
Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s only been a couple of weeks.
But him opening up about Molly choosing me made me think maybe he saw whatever this is between us as something serious. Something with a future.
But he hasn’t mentioned anything like that again since. And as wonderful as things are when we’re together at his place, it stops when I step outside into the real world.
Sullivan behind closed doors is attentive and passionate.
Sullivan Beaufort in public is the ruthless billionaire whose scowl is as sharp as his specially tailored suits.
He pulls out of me, smoothing my panties into place and zipping up his pants. Molly went to bed a little while ago and Sullivan needed to finish some work in his office. I’d only come in to see if he wanted a drink.
Somehow that quickly turned into getting fucked over his desk.
I stand and slide my skirt down. Sullivan pulls me to him by a gentle hold on my hips.
“I’ll be done soon.” He kisses me softly. “Why don’t you go and play for a bit?”
“Okay,” I agree, kissing him back.
I head out into the living area and take a seat at the piano. I lose track of time as I play, working on a new song. It’s only the sight of Sullivan’s bare feet coming to a standstill beside the piano that alerts me to no longer being alone.
“What are those?” I grin.
“Sweatpants. I do casual.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of the black pants and arches a challenging brow at me.
I run my gaze all the way up his torso, over every dip and groove of taut, muscular skin, and over the dark smattering of silky hair on his broad chest.
“You know I don’t mean the sweatpants.”
“No?” His gaze heats before I look back at his feet.
“Pink glitter suits you,” I say, admiring his bright toenails that Barbie would envy.
“Thank you,” he rumbles.
“When did she do them?”
“This afternoon, while I was on a call with the CEO of our insurance company.”
I snort out a giggle. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help out earlier. But Whitney got sick, and I had to cover.”
“It’s fine, Tate. I know you have your own life.”
My own life.
Silence stretches between us. Those few words tell me more than any others could about how Sullivan sees this situation between us. That morning in his kitchen must have been a blip. Something he regrets saying out loud. He can’t take it back, but he can act like it never happened.
I turn my eyes to the sheet of music I’ve been working on so I don’t have to look at him.
“Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“Stand up.”
I glance at him before doing as he asks. He slides onto the stool behind me and pulls me onto his lap.
“Tell me what to play,” he says softly, resting his chin on my shoulder and pressing a kiss beneath my ear.
Goosebumps run up my spine at his touch and I sink into his hold, unable to stop the way my body reacts to him.
“What do you want to play?” I ask.
“Surprise me.”
I bite my lower lip and picture the twelve paper roses he gave me that now live in my bedroom. He says he knows each classical piece by heart. But there are some especially difficult versions in the bouquet. Ones that even the most accomplished pianist would struggle with.
“How about…” The hairs on my arms prick to attention as his warm breath coasts over my neck with more kisses. “How about Chopin’s Etude?”
“Hmm. Good choice.” He kisses me again, sliding his long fingers onto the ivory keys.
His face stays buried in my neck, and he presses kiss after kiss to my skin, barely concentrating on what his hands are doing.
Yet he hits each note with precision, playing the piece more beautifully than I’ve ever heard it.
My heart is in my throat as I sit, entranced.
When he plays the final notes, I blink away the mist threatening to take over my eyes.
“Moonlight Sonata,” I say, naming another song from the bouquet.
He plays the second song with the same skilled ease as the first, his lips sliding up and down my neck like he can’t bear to let them leave my skin.
The final notes of the song that sounded so beautiful when I heard The Masked Maestro play it in Grand Central Station ring out, just as beautiful. Like a twin echo of that night.
I slide my hands forward, over the backs of his until our fingers sandwich together.
“Will you play one more?” I ask.
I feel his smile against my neck. “For you, I’ll play anything.”
“Play Unstoppable,” I whisper.
His hands tense beneath mine and he pauses.
“I don’t know that one, Baby,” he says, resuming his kisses.
I swallow, something pulling at my gut. He’s lying. I know he is.
“You know when I went on that date with Vincent?” I ask.
Sullivan grunts. “I recall.”
“Part of me went because I was curious after hearing him play the piano so beautifully at your father’s club.”
“You aren’t the first woman to be seduced by his musical abilities, Tate,” Sullivan says with a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I thought he was The Masked Maestro.”
Sullivan lifts his chin from my shoulder and lets out a deep, rich chuckle that I feel in my spine. “Did you tell him that? It would make his day. I’ve heard of that guy. He plays excellently.”
“I didn’t tell him, no.” I turn to look into his eyes. “I remember you telling me that you played excellently once.”
“What are you asking me, Tate?” His blue eyes penetrate mine with the intensity that only he can create. One that makes every moment with him feel like it’s significant. Like it’s meaningful.
Like he sees deep inside you.
The way I’d felt listening to The Masked Maestro with Ashley that night stole my breath. I’ve listened to him numerous times. But something about that night was different. It was… more.
“Are you The Masked Maestro?” I whisper, reaching up to run the backs of my fingers down his cheekbone.
He leans into my touch, inclining his face and pressing the softest of kisses to my fingertips.
“Are you?” I breathe, my heart climbing up to my throat as I wait for him to answer.
Maybe he walked into the coffee shop that day for a reason.
Maybe I chose to stencil a bunny on Molly’s cup, and not a bear, or a cat, for a reason.
So that I’d mention Bumper when I took her the pictures to color.
So that Sullivan would look at me and question the name.
So that he’d then ask me to watch Molly for him.
Maybe it was all meant to happen.
Because that moment in Grand Central Station when he played a song that wasn’t classical for the first time, I felt something.
I felt him, through the music.
I was supposed to hear him play that song. I know it.
Sullivan shakes his head, holding my eyes with a heartbreaking clarity in his.
“No, Tate. I swear to you. I’m not him.”
Ashley slams an espresso on the counter. “It’s not vodka, but we need something strong for this. Drink.”
“What?” I laugh.
“Drink.” She points at the cup.
I lift it and she clinks hers against mine and then knocks it back like she’s doing a shot on a night out.
“You’re in love with him.”
I spray the espresso out and Ashley calmly hands me a napkin.
“Let it sink in,” she soothes.
She waits for me to dry my mouth, before I stare at her in shock.
“I…” I shake my head. “No… I…”
She looks at me with a patient smile, and my throat turns scratchy.
“Sullivan?” I squeak. “I do… I am… I mean…” My shoulders fall. “I’m… in love with him?”
“There it is.” She pulls me into a hug, and I stare over her shoulder at the noticeboard. Molly’s purple rabbit coloring is still pinned in the center, in pride of place.
“I can’t be. He’s… I don’t think he feels the same. He’s not said anything about going public, or anything. I only ever see him at his place. We don’t go out like a regular couple. We don’t do anything.”
She pulls back to look at me. “Apart from banging each other’s brains out, I get it. Why do you think Huck was grinning like an idiot when he picked me up the other day? It’s not just his swanky coffee machines that are receiving full services.”
Despite the gnawing in my gut, I laugh. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“He is. But I’ve got a latte love for him too, you know?” She winks at me.
“Oh God.” I sink my head into my hands, leaning over the counter.
“It was probably the painted toenails that did it. Single dad porn, right there. He does cute stuff for his adorable kid. Of course you’re going to be falling in love in the wet panties that he’s given you.
And despite, you know, the asshole tendencies, he’s smoking hot and rich.
Every woman in the city would hit that. The men too. ”
My stomach somersaults as I think of his pink glittery painted toes.
Ashley’s right. That totally made my heart melt, knowing that he’s going to work, talking about billion-dollar deals with a detached coldness that makes him brilliant at what he does, all whilst his love for his daughter is literally painted on him beneath his suit.
You’d have to have no heart not to be affected by that.
“I didn’t exactly plan this,” I groan, looking up at the exact time Cliff pulls up in the black town car on the street outside. I frown. Sullivan told me he had a meeting across town this morning. Right after I’d moaned out my orgasm into his mouth as he’d pinned me to the mattress beneath him.
“Breathe,” Ashley instructs. “It’s too late now, it’s done.”
“Thanks for the reassurance.” I scoff.
She flicks a hand in the air. “Life’s short, Tate. If he makes you happy, then don’t overthink it. Guys are sometimes slow about the whole labeling relationships thing. It’ll all work out how it’s supposed to.”
“I believe you,” I murmur, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples.
I can’t stop picturing his eyes when he told me he wasn’t The Masked Maestro.
It’s like he felt bad that he couldn’t tell me something I longed to hear.
I’ve studied every YouTube video I could find in the last couple of days.
Analyzing the curve of his shoulders, the width of his back.
Even the angle of his head as he gives over to the music and loses himself as he plays.
And I still don’t know.
Every cell in my body tells me that was Sullivan playing that night. That his music was the one that reached into my soul and danced with it.
I want it to be him.
I need it to be him.
Ashley’s right.
I’m in love with Sullivan Beaufort.
The bell over the door goes.
“Or you could just ask him yourself how he’d label your relationship status?” Ashley whispers, nudging me.
I look up to find Sullivan striding in, wearing the same navy-blue tie with gold flecks I twirled around my hand while kissing him this morning.
His expression is his usual business-like mask of indifference.
“I thought you had a meeting across town?” I say.
“I do. I just needed this.” He rounds the counter and pulls me into his arms, gifting me with a passionate kiss that’s over far too quickly. I choke out a tiny, surprised gasp and his lips curl against mine as he plants another softer kiss to them.
“I’ll pick you up later and we can stop by your place to get some clothes. There’s somewhere I want to take you tonight.”
“Oh, okay.”
The customers stare after him as he strides out and climbs into his car without looking back.
Ashley gives me a knowing smirk. “You’re no longer just his private obsession, girl. Billionaire Boy’s taking you on a date.”