Chapter 43
CASH
Iwatched Finn lead Cleo onto the dance floor, spinning her with the kind of flourish that had charmed countless women across multiple continents.
She was laughing, her head thrown back, that streak of purple in her hair catching the light from the string bulbs overhead.
My brother had always been good at making women laugh.
“They look good together,” my father said, settling into the chair beside me.
I tensed slightly, my fingers tightening around my whiskey glass. “They’re just dancing.”
“Of course.” Dad took a sip of his scotch, watching them over the rim of his glass. “Do you think Finn will ever settle down? Find someone the way you boys have?”
I considered the question. Finn, who changed women like most people changed socks. Finn, who’d been photographed with models and actresses and once, memorably, a European royal. Finn, who ran every time things got serious.
“I didn’t think half of us would find someone,” I admitted. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Indeed they have.” He glanced pointedly at Cleo, who was now being dipped dramatically by my brother. “Very strange things.”
I ignored the implication. “Finn’s Finn. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready.”
“Or when the right woman comes along.” Dad set down his glass. “That seems to be how it works with us Bancroft men. Fighting it tooth and nail until suddenly you can’t imagine life without her.”
On the dance floor, Finn said something that made Cleo laugh again. She playfully smacked his arm, then glanced over at me. When our eyes met, her smile softened into something just for me. My chest tightened.
“She’s different,” Dad said quietly. “From what I expected for you.”
“Different doesn’t mean wrong.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He studied me for a moment. “She makes you happy. I can see that.”
“She does.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” He stood, straightening his tuxedo jacket. “Your mother would have liked her, you know. She always said you needed someone who could make you laugh. You came out of the womb serious as a heart attack.”
The mention of my mother caught me off guard. Dad rarely spoke of her.
“You think so?” I asked.
“I know so.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t waste time overthinking this one, son. Some opportunities don’t come around twice.”
With that, he walked away, leaving me with my whiskey and my thoughts. On the dance floor, Finn was now attempting to teach Cleo some complicated move that looked more like a pretzel than a dance step. She was failing gloriously, dissolving into fits of giggles.
I couldn’t help but smile. That was Cleo, throwing herself into everything with complete abandon, not caring if she looked foolish or made mistakes. Just living. Something I was only now seeing the benefit of.
One by one, couples left. Cleo and I spent some time inside. It was so easy to just be with her.
It was an hour later when I went to check on things. The party was officially over.
“Come with me,” I said to Cleo, who was picking up napkins and plates.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
The reception was all but over. There were the usual diehards. Last I’d seen Finn, he was walking away with a blonde attached to his neck like one of those sucker fishes that clings to the side of a fishtank.
“Stay here,” I said.
I grabbed a blanket from the closet. When I returned, Cleo was holding a bottle of champagne.
“Perfect,” I said.
I took her hand and led her to the path that took us down to the beach. The weather was perfect. I was a little warm with all the alcohol and dancing, but as soon as the breeze blew across the water, I was immediately cooler.
The beach was empty now. The tent still stood but the lights were off, chairs stacked. It was peaceful.
We walked past all of it, away from the house and the faint sounds of the lingering party.
“Here,” I said, spreading the blanket.
She sat down without question. I settled beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched, and we both just stared out at the water.
I had lost my jacket an hour ago. Not lost. I was sure it was somewhere. My sleeves were rolled up. Collar undone.
Cleo reached up and started to pull what looked like a million pins from her hair. It fell around her shoulders. I was mesmerized watching her run her fingers through it.
“God, that feels good,” she groaned.
“That was a lot of pins.”
“There is so much hairspray in my hair, it will take a month to get it all out.”
“It looked good,” I said.
“Thank you. Austin paid a small fortune for that glam squad.”
“Trust me, he can afford it.”
She laughed. “I know.”
Her attention was back on the ocean with the gentle waves rolling in.
“It’s beautiful,” Cleo said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Is this what you wanted to show me?”
“Partially.” I leaned back on my hands, tilting my head up. “The night sky makes me think of you now.”
She turned to look at me. “What?”
“Here in the Hamptons. Back in Rome. Every time I see stars, I think of you.” I kept my eyes on the sky. “That night on the balcony in Rome, when we drank champagne and you told me about your dreams. Even that first night here, when you were crying in the bathroom and I didn’t know how to help.”
“I think that’s sweet.”
“You’re in everything now,” I said. “Every memory. Every moment that matters. I can’t separate them anymore—the places from you. And I don’t want to.”
She moved closer. I couldn’t look away from her. The way the moonlight caught in her hair, how her skin seemed to glow against the darkness.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
I didn’t hesitate. My lips found hers, soft at first, then with growing urgency. She tasted like champagne and wedding cake and everything I never knew I wanted. Her hands slid up my chest, fingers working at my remaining shirt buttons.
“Here?” I asked against her mouth, though I wasn’t about to stop her.
“Here,” she confirmed, pushing my shirt off my shoulders. “Unless you’re scared, Bancroft.”
I laughed, the sound swallowed by another kiss. “Not scared. Just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”
“I know exactly what I’m getting into.” She rose to her knees and, in one fluid motion, straddled my lap.
The weight of her was intoxicating. Her dress had ridden up her thighs, and my hands found bare skin. I couldn’t get enough of her. Every inch of her body pressed against mine felt like coming home.
She rocked against me, deliberate and teasing. I groaned into her neck, my hands sliding higher up her thighs, finding the edge of her underwear.
“Cleo.” I breathed her name like a prayer.
“I love how you say my name,” she whispered, her fingers threading through my hair. “You make me feel like I’m special. Like I mean something.”
“You do mean something.” I pulled back to look at her. “You are special. I’m sorry if I haven’t done better showing you that.”
She smiled the smile that had been undoing me since the moment I met her, then reached back to unzip her dress. The fabric slipped down, revealing her breasts in the moonlight.
I lost my mind a little. I buried my face between those pillowy globes.
My hands were everywhere. Her back, her waist, cupping her breasts as I kissed every inch of exposed skin.
Her head fell back, giving me access to her throat, that pulse point that drove me wild.
I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth.
“You’re overdressed,” she murmured, tugging at my belt.
“So are you.”
We became frantic then, desperate to remove anything between us. Her dress pooled at her waist. My pants were undone, pushed down just enough. The night air was cool against my skin, but she was fire against me, burning away any chill.
“Do you have anything?”
“Yes.” I grinned and grabbed my jacket. I always carried protection but it was just a habit. When I spent time around her, it became clear it was a necessity.
“Good boy,” she teased.
She took it from me and tore it open with her teeth in a move so sexy I nearly exploded right there. Then her hands were on me, rolling it down my length, her touch making me groan.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I said, watching her face in the moonlight.
“But what a way to go,” she replied with a wicked grin.
She rose up on her knees, positioning herself above me. Our eyes locked as she sank down slowly, taking me inside her inch by agonizing inch. The sensation was overwhelming. Tight, hot, perfect.
“Fuck,” I whispered, my hands gripping her hips.
“That’s the idea,” she breathed, and then she started to move.
I was lost. Completely, utterly lost in her.
She took it slowly. Rolling her hips like she was riding a wave.
Sliding back and then forward ever so slowly.
The sounds she made and the way her body felt against mine was sending me to the moon.
I’d had sex outside once in the throes of my wild teenage years, but I’d been a pretty buttoned-up guy since. I didn’t want to risk a scandal.
But now with her sitting on my lap and fucking me to the point my eyes were rolling back in my head, I didn’t give a shit who was scandalized. I buried my face in her breasts again and inhaled deeply. Suffocation was a real possibility, but I would die a very happy man.
I flipped us over, laying her back on the blanket without breaking our connection. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. I braced myself on my forearms, watching her face as I moved inside her.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her, the words escaping without thought. “So goddamn beautiful.”
Her eyes fluttered open, dark and heavy-lidded. “Cash,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”
I had no intention of stopping. Not when she was looking at me like that, not when she was making those sounds, not when her body was tightening around mine in a way that told me she was close.
I shifted my angle, drove deeper, and watched her face as pleasure overtook her. She bit her lip, trying to stay quiet, but I wanted to hear her.
“Let go,” I urged. “It’s just us. Just you and me.”
And she did. She came apart beneath me, crying out my name, her body clenching around me in waves that threatened to undo me completely. I followed moments later, my release hitting me with an intensity that left me shaking.
I collapsed beside her, both of us breathing hard. The waves crashed nearby. Nocturnal critters in the tall grass chirping like they were celebrating us.
She curled against my side, her head on my chest. I wrapped my arm around her, holding her close, unwilling to let even an inch of space between us.
We lay there under the stars, tangled together on the blanket, neither of us speaking. Words seemed unnecessary. Everything I needed to know was in the way she traced patterns on my chest, in how perfectly she fit against me.
After a while, I took her hand in mine, running my thumb over her ring finger. The place where my fake engagement ring had been. The place where, someday, I would put a real one.
“Someday soon,” I said quietly, “I’m going to put a real ring on this finger.”
She looked up at me, her eyes soft. “I’ll wait. A day, a decade—whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”
I shook my head, smiling. “I don’t need a decade. Hell, I don’t even need a year.”
“No?” There was hope in her voice, mixed with amusement.
“I’m mad for you, Cleo Quinn. Completely, ridiculously in love with you.” I brought her hand to my lips, kissed her knuckles. “And I’m not wasting any more time pretending I’m not.”
She kissed me then, soft and sweet and full of promise.
Eventually, reluctantly, we dressed. I helped her zip up her dress, my fingers lingering on her skin. She helped me button my shirt, stealing kisses between each one.
I folded the blanket, tucked it under my arm, and took her hand. We walked back toward the house, the sand cool beneath our feet, the night sky bright above us.
“What happens now?” she asked as we neared the path.
I squeezed her hand. “Now we figure it out. Together.”
“I like the sound of that.”
I pulled her close for one more kiss before we returned to reality. “Me too.”
Hand in hand, we walked back to the house. Catering staff were cleaning up. The DJ packed up his equipment. They glanced our way but said nothing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what we’d been up to.
I almost laughed. I didn’t care. Let the whole world know.