Chapter 21
Zaila
By the time the gala wound down, my feet and my cheeks hurt, but I felt effervescent after all the positive comments from colleagues, players, and even the mayor. Mainly though, I think I was high on Gunnar’s heated glances, particularly in this public space.
He’d even winked at me from across the room. Winked. Excitement bubbled through me like the Champagne I’d had earlier. Gunnar wants to take me home. Gunnar has plans for us. I clenched my thighs together and willed my heart to slow its galloping pace.
“You need a ride home?” Jay asked.
“No, I’m good.” I smiled.
“Want me to walk you to your car?” he said, hope in his eyes.
I had to shut that down. Right now. I swallowed hard, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to give him any reason to turn back into the frustrated, angry version of himself he’d been after he lost the bet.
Then Gunnar waved me over toward the dignitaries he was sitting with. I dipped my head. “Thank you, Jay, but I’m still finishing up here. Mr. Evaldson asked me to discuss some options with him earlier this evening.” Kind of…
Jay studied me a moment and then nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
“See you,” I said. With a wave, I walked toward Gunnar, who rose from his seat and pulled out a chair for me. I looked back toward Jay to find him eyeing us, but I turned my attention to the man on my other side, smiling and offering my hand as Gunnar introduced me.
“This is Zaila Monroe, a very talented digital marketer, who helped create the Gusher the Goalie challenge. She and her team developed the new mascot, Gusher.”
“Ah, yes, I saw those images,” the rheumy-eyed gentleman said. “Fun stuff. I’m not much interested in the socials, myself, but my grandkids spend hours on their phones.”
I smiled. “I’ve been told it’s a different world.”
“Very. Not bad, just moving at the speed of those microchips and semi-conductors instead of mail and telephone calls, as it used to in my heyday. So tell me, what got you interested in this digital marketing?”
“You sure you’re ready for my answer?” I teased.
His eyes danced as he leaned closer. “I’m hoping it’s juicy.”
I chuckled. “Mary Shelley.”
“What?” He blinked.
I grinned. “Ms. Shelley took the tools she had, a creepy vacation and her imagination, and created something no one had seen before. Social media’s the same. It’s not about duck faces or even tasty, beautiful meals; it’s about what you bring to life with it.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured. He rapped his knuckles on the table. “I believe I’d better revisit Mary Shelley.”
“And Jane Austen,” I said. “She had such a witty, acerbic way of writing. Her books are so full of life. Those women wrote to be heard, to test ideas, to claim space in a world reluctant to listen.”
“Mmmm... I see your point.” He looked past me at Gunnar. “Keep this one close. She’s got a great mind, seeing connections most miss.”
“I plan on it.” Gunnar’s hand slid up my side to my ribs. My skin blossomed in goose bumps, and my heart kicked into high gear.
The older man chuckled. “I always knew you were a smart man, Gunnar. Well, I wish you both a happy evening.”
We said our goodbyes as we rose.
“Ready?” Gunnar asked, staring down at me with his cool, assessing gaze.
I bit my lip as I nodded. “Yes.” It came out breathy, needy.
Because I was. I’d spent the last couple of days imagining Gunnar as a lover, and that made me more than ready for the full experience.
Again, I had to press my thighs together.
Needing to change the subject, I asked, “Who was that gentleman?”
Gunnar shot me a look. “Michael Dowd. He’s the president of the most powerful business association in the state.”
“Wh-what?” I asked.
Gunnar’s palm warmed my lower back as he led me out to his car. He opened the door and settled me into the seat. Once he’d buckled in and started the car, he shot me a smile. “You charmed him,” he noted with pride. “You really are an amazing woman, Rookie.”
“I like that you call me that,” I said.
He settled his free hand atop mine, where it rested on my thigh. “I like that, too.”
I shifted in the seat to face him more directly before linking my fingers with his. “Thank you for inviting me back to your place.”
I wanted to say more, but I chickened out. Perhaps it was Gunnar’s age or status or…I wasn’t sure. But I knew his rejection would hurt so much more than any of my previous boyfriends’.
Thanks to the late hour, the freeways were much less congested, and it wasn’t long before Gunnar pulled up to an impressive set of wrought-iron gates.
They slid open with quiet efficiency, and we then drove along a stretch of smooth herringbone bricks until we reached the house.
Up lit by garden lights, the two-story home’s red brick matched the impressive drive, and four white columns held up a second-story deck from which four more columns supported the pitched roof.
A glossy black door with mullioned panes inset above the handle and on either side was centered between the farthest columns, while windows were spaced between the next two.
Large live oaks, maples, and a few other trees I didn’t know the names of dotted the property, and between them was a carpet of emerald green grass.
The place was tidy and impressive but didn’t seem like a billionaire’s residence.
In fact, some of the players’ homes I’d been to while filming them doing day-to-day activities were much showier.
Gunnar slid the gearshift into park and waited.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “You know that.”
He gave a faint nod. “But I want you to like it. To be comfortable here.”
My brows tugged together, but he was already stepping out of the car and coming around to my door.
He took my hand and helped me out, then led me across the bricks, up a few steps to the porch, and inside.
A wooden staircase curved from the side of the entryway up to the second floor, with wood-framed, French-inspired windows making up the wall.
The night was too dark, but I could envision how the multitude of glass allowed plenty of light during the day.
Hardwood floors in a similar herringbone pattern covered the entire lower level.
They were warm and polished to a high sheen.
“Want a drink?” Gunnar asked.
I shook my head, nerves slithering through my belly. Gunnar moved closer and wrapped me in a hug. I hadn’t realized how much I needed the connection until I sighed out some of the tension I’d been holding.
“You were the belle of the ball,” he said. “I wanted nothing more than to let everyone know you were there with me.”
I smiled as I tightened my arms around his waist. “I doubt that, considering how all those women were drooling over you.” I pulled back to smooth the lapels of his tuxedo. “You look smashing in this.”
His lips tipped up on the right side, and his glacial eyes warmed as he looked down at me. “I’d like you to share my bed.”
Oh my. I swallowed, because this was the moment.
I could demur, or I could jump into this thing with Gunnar wholeheartedly.
I thought of my mother’s illness, of my years of playing it safe.
I didn’t want to be safe with Gunnar. I wanted to explore all the messy, big feelings he brought out in me.
This is what I said I wanted. I took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”
His smile dazzled me. Then his lips brushed mine, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations he evoked. The sensual slide of lips and tongue warmed my body and sent desire pulsing to my core. I wound my arms around his neck, arching into him, needing the friction against my pebbled nipples.
He kissed and licked and suckled my lips until they felt swollen, and I felt drugged. With a faint moan, he pulled back, took my hand, and led me up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom.
It was large—as expected—with a sitting room that had more of those glorious windows, but my gaze settled on the king-sized sleigh bed done up in shades of pale and navy blue. Gunnar slipped his hand from mine and gripped my wrists. He kissed one palm, then the other.
“I hope you’ll want to get naked so I can learn your delectable body, but if you’d prefer to sleep, I’ll understand. There’s no pressure, Zaila. Just…us.”
I bit my over-sensitized lower lip as I stepped forward to undo his bow tie. I pulled it off slowly, then began to unbutton his dress shirt. “I’m fairly shy when it comes to nudity,” I admitted. “But it’s something I’ve wanted with you since…well, probably the beginning.”
“The pull.” Gunnar’s eyes burned nearly white-hot with passion. “You feel it as much as I do.”
I nodded. “You make me ache, Gunnar.”
He cupped my cheeks and brought my lips up to his. “I’ll make you sigh, moan, and scream, if you’ll let me.”
“Yes, please.”
His lips slid over mine before I’d finished the word. Over the next hour, he stripped me, touching me with his fingertips first, then with his palms, tongue, and teeth, and he proved he was more than capable of making me do all three.
By the time we were both nude, in the center of that mattress with the softest sheets that had ever touched my skin, I writhed, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and panting with need.
His fingers dipped between my legs, finding me more than ready for him. He slid two inside me, groaning against my mouth as his thumb found my clit. He rubbed circles with a slow build that sent me tumbling into a prolonged climax that stole thought and breath.
He kissed me as I returned to myself and looked at me intently, seeming to memorize my features. “You are beautiful.”
I blushed as I rolled toward him, hooking my leg over his hip.
His erection nudged at my center, and he narrowed his eyes as his nostrils flared. “I want you. Fuck, I need you.”
I rubbed against him. “As much as I want you?”
“At least that much,” he gritted out.
I rolled so that I was atop him, and his hands slid to my hips, molding my flesh in his palms and rocking my sensitive core against his groin. He released a string of words that were probably Swedish, his expression so full of passion that my breath stuttered.
“I want to be inside you now,” he said.
I nodded. “Please.”
He flipped me over with enough care that my head landed on the pillows. His biceps bulged and his glutes flexed as he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom.
“Watching you put that on is so sexy,” I murmured, my gaze riveted as he rolled the latex over his girth.
“The things you say…” He rubbed his tip against my entrance, and I widened my thighs to encourage him. He slid inside me with intent, flexing that magnificent butt until he’d rooted as deeply as possible.
“You feel so good,” I moaned as I arched up, desperate for friction. He braced his palms on either side of my head and gave me what I demanded…and more.
I reached my second peak before he did, and he continued to thrust into me with measured strokes until his jaw tightened and his pupils flared. A deep moan roared from his chest, and he dropped his head against my shoulder, panting. “Fuck. Fuck…”
I locked my legs behind his back and my arms around his shoulders as he recovered. Then we fell asleep entwined together, and I knew Gunnar Evaldson had found his way to my heart.