Chapter 53
James
"Perhaps, I haven’t been utilizing the team to their maximum capabilities?" I field the last of my emails to vendors, then turn to Harper.
We’re in my town car being driven home by my car service.
She sets her phone aside and gives me her full attention. "People like to be challenged. It’s only when they get the opportunity to prove themselves that they show how good they are."
I drag my thumb under my lower lip. "Are you saying I hold my team back from giving their best?"
She hesitates. "You challenge us and inspire us by example. But even the best seedlings die when they are in the shadow of a giant tree."
I pause and consider her words. What she’s saying is so obvious. Yet, I’ve been so caught up in my own ambitions I didn’t notice it.
I’ve been blinded by my need for recognition. For success. I thought it would satisfy that need inside me to be loved. But each time I leveled up, it felt empty. Now, I know why.
I was so focused on my own climb that I forgot about the people climbing with me. I thought I was a great leader, but I was just a man running away from his own ghosts.
I’ve spent so much time building a wall around myself that I didn't realize I was leaving my team out in the cold. I became complacent, in a sense. And that is the death knell for any artist. Certainly, to be at the top of my field, I need to innovate.
Which means, I need to let my team handle more, so I have space to think and create.
It took this gorgeous woman, to tell me the truth, no matter the consequences, for me to realize this very important truth.
I must have been staring at her for too long, for she inclines her head. "Everything okay?"
"Everything’s fan-fucking-tastic." I hold out my hand.
She slides her palm over mine.
I tug; she gasps.
I haul her against me, wrap my arm about her and kiss her soundly. When I finally raise my head, her lips are swollen, her eyelids heavy with lust. She seems incapable of speech which I take as a personal compliment.
"Wow," she finally exclaims. "What was that?"
"That’s me, just getting started."
She looks up at me from under her eyelashes. "Damn, you’re not holding back, are you?"
I run my fingers over her knuckles, wanting…needing to feel her skin against mine. "Do you want me to hold back?"
She shakes her head, not even needing to think about it. That makes my heart jump in my chest.
The blood flows to my groin. The fact that she trusts me is an aphrodisiac.
I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them.
Tenderness grips me. I want to love her and take care of her.
I want to show her how good it can be between us.
I want to show her how beautiful it is when a man and a woman express their need for each other through making love.
I want to make sure she enjoys this first experience of being with me.
It feels more important than opening a new restaurant or keeping my Michelin stars. A thought that takes me by surprise.
I’ve never put anything before my focus on being the best chef in the world. Until now.
The car drives up to my apartment building.
I’m out the door, and by the time I round the car to open hers, she’s already standing.
I take her hand in mine and lead her inside.
When the elevator arrives, we step in. I pull her into my side.
She places her head against my chest and melts into me.
I wrap my arm around her, and with the other, notch my knuckles under her chin.
I tip her head up, and unable to stop myself, I bend and capture her lips with mine.
Soft and sweet. Her inner beauty pours through her taste into my body. Kissing her has always felt so intimate. Like I’m getting to know her soul. The need flares in my lower belly. Little sparks of fire carried by my bloodstream to my extremities.
My heart begins to race. My pulse kicks up at my wrists and in my balls.
The intensity of my lust boils up my chest, turning my body into a churning mass of sensations.
The dam bursts. The feelings I’ve kept in check for so long threaten to overflow.
I need to…hold back. I don’t want to frighten her with my demands.
With how much I want to be inside of her.
At the same time, I can’t stop my impatience from getting a head start. My cock stabs against my zipper, strident in its demand to be released from its confines.
When the elevator stops and the door slides open, I can’t wait any longer. I swing her up in my arms bridal style and stalk out.
"James," she squeaks, "what are you doing?"
"Carrying my wife over the threshold." I look down at her. "I’m sorry I didn’t do so when we arrived here after we got married."
Her features soften. "Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it."
I frown. Have I been such an arse, that she doesn’t think I’m capable of romantic gestures?
"You should expect that and so much more. You should expect everything from me."
A flush covers her features. Then she reaches up and presses her lips to mine. She kisses me with a passion that has my head swimming and my cock weeping to be let free.
I manage to tear my mouth from hers long enough to look into the biometric scanner next to the doorframe. The door unlocks. I shoulder it open, prowl inside, kick it closed, and head for the stairs.
She holds onto my shoulders and begins to press small kisses on the skin exposed by the collar of my shirt.
The feel of her lips has a million sensations pulsating under my skin. I speed up and reach the top of the stairs, then make it to my room in no time. It feels right that our first time is here in my bed—no, our bed.
I lower her to stand near the foot of the bed. Then reach in and pull off her hair tie. She found another in her locker at the restaurant and put it up before we left. Her thick hair flows in waves around her face.
"Do you know how often I’ve wanted to do that?"
She shakes her head.
"From the first time I saw your hair piled up on your head." I reach over and run a strand between my thumb and forefinger. "So fucking soft." I bend and bury my nose in her hair.
That incredible scent of coconut and vanilla instantly fills my senses.
My cock shudders. My thigh muscles turn into tension-filled ropes. My balls turn so heavy, I worry I’m going to come in my pants. Fuck. I release her hair and take a step back, trying to find my center of gravity.
When I’m sure I have control over my lust, I loosen the buttons on my sleeves, then on the placket of my shirt. When I shrug it off and toss it aside, she stares at my torso. She takes in the planes of my chest, and her pupils dilate.
"You’re beautiful." Her voice is husky.
"No, you’re beautiful." I shove off my pants and my underwear, along with my socks and shoes. I stand in front of her completely naked.