Enlightened End Page 14

  The concept is sobering as I stare down at the message. My natural inclination is to wave off the text, tell him to mind his own business, but I don’t think that’s how true friendships work. Not that I really know the difference.

  What would Luna do?

  I smile, thinking about her fun and quirky personality. She’d probably call the man and get into an hour-long conversation and tell him her life’s story. There is no way in hell I’m doing any such thing. Though I imagine she’d definitely respond to his message. He is obviously reaching out and being considerate in doing so. As with my commitment to Luna, I decide to, at the very least, give back the respect and respond with honesty.

  I hit reply on my screen and tap out my response.

  All is well. She has forgiven me, and we are together.

  I read the message a few more times, not realizing Luna has returned until her scent entices my senses once more as she looks over my shoulder down at the phone’s display.

  “No way! You know Clayton Hart? I’m friends with his wife, Monet! I’ve even taught him in a few classes in the past, though he prefers Nick’s aerial. I didn’t know you were friends with him.” She smiles, not at all concerned about the content of my reply.

  “He’s my personal trainer. Has been for several years. And he’s my friend.” I roll the word friend around and like how it sounds.

  “Cool! So where are we going for dinner?” Her blue eyes seem to sparkle under the streetlight and the warm glow of the bakery behind her. Even at this hour, the place is packed to the gills with people picking up sweet treats to take home.

  “Ah, I see my lamb is hungry for actual food, not just her man.” I laugh and wink at her.

  She hums in the back of her throat, and I swear my cock reacts with a punch to the front of my slacks.

  “Oooh, both!” she admits freely and with exuberance, laying her hand flat on my chest and lifting for a kiss. The woman has not a care in the world about this thing between us, even though I could easily destroy her world as she knows it. Instead, she’s honest and open with her feelings, happy to see me, and has no issue with showing it.

  Another woman, a woman with a hidden agenda, would hide her desire, use it against me to get what she wants. Which is usually my money and the hope of becoming the first Mrs. Winters without the burden of a prenup.

  Luna doesn’t have a wicked nature or an ulterior motive. In the beginning, when she came to my office, sure. She was hoping to save her business, but I know with my entire being she’s not with me in the hopes of saving herself or her friends. She’s with me because she can’t deny the connection between us, which is building stronger with each kiss, every touch, hell, every fucking breath we take.

  I snuggle her against my side, enjoying her standing next to me after a long day.

  “I’m thinking Italian?”

  She licks her lips. “I love pasta.”

  “What don’t you love?” I chuckle, move her aside, and bleep the locks on my Aston Martin, opening the door for her to get in.

  “Hmmm, I’ll have to think about it.”

  Of course she would have to think about something she doesn’t love. I swear the woman was put on this earth to spread joy and happiness. Everything she touches practically turns to gold. I know I feel richer in her presence, and that’s not something I’ve felt since the day my mother left. She always made me feel special, loved, wanted. And then she left.

  A knife-like pain digs into my heart as I walk around the car.

  Would Luna just abandon me? The thought simmers inside my gut, growing, building, filling my stomach with acid. If I can’t save her building or those of her friends in a professional capacity…what happens to us personally?

  Would Luna leave me too?

  Chapter Twelve

  The quality of awareness that comes with the crown chakra is universal, transcendent.

  LUNA

  Grant went cold again, and I have no idea why. Before I got in the car he was fine. Joking, happy, smiling. Then, all of a sudden, he changed. His mood turned icy and his face rigid with tension.

  The car is silent as he maneuvers through Berkeley and toward San Francisco.

  “You live in the city?” I ask, trying to cut the tension in the car.

  He nods but doesn’t say anything.

  I put my hand over his thigh and just leave it there, sharing my energy and my warmth, in the hope he’ll work through whatever issue is plaguing him.

  “Where do you see us going?” Grant says abruptly, his words devoid of any emotion.

  “Uh, to an Italian restaurant?” I chuckle, and for a moment, his lips twitch. I rub his thigh. “What’s wrong? You were happy a minute ago.”

  He places his hand over mine, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses each fingertip and then my palm before placing it back down over his thigh, where he continues to hold my hand.

  His hand chakras start spinning, and I can feel our energy colliding, weaving together. I squeeze his hand in mine.

  “I mean, where do you see us going in our relationship?”

  A laugh bubbles up and slips out.

  His eyes flash to mine, and they are serious as a heart attack. It’s not at all the response, or the question, I’d expect from him. It’s far too telling for a man like him.

  “Big man, what has got you so fired up? You were fine a moment ago.”

  “I just…need to know where you think this is going. What future you think we have.”

  “Okay.” I swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “I hadn’t exactly thought too far ahead since we’ve only been a couple for all of forty-eight hours.”

  He scowls. “Feels much longer to me.”

  I smile. “I like that.”

  His brows furrow. “You don’t feel the same?”

  “What is this all about? One moment I’m kissing you, packing a bag, and preparing to have yummy pasta and then even yummier sex, and now we’re talking about the future?”

  His features change, and his words are hard when he responds. “Do. You. See. Me. In. Your. Future? It’s a simple question.” His jaw is tight, firm in a way that emphasizes my response means something to him. Something very important.

  I think back to earlier today when I was teaching classes, and my mind would wander to Grant.

  Sex with Grant.

  Eating with Grant.

  Holding hands with Grant.

  Sexy yoga with Grant.

  Laughing with Grant.

  “Well, today I spent the day thinking of nothing but you and how much I wanted to be with you. How thankful I am that I’ve found a man who wants me.”

  He scoffs. “Every man wants you. You’re gorgeous, innocent, have the most kissable lips, the prettiest eyes, and your body is made for sin. Besides, you’re gorgeous.”

  “You already said gorgeous,” I whisper.

  “It was worth repeating twice,” he deadpans.

  A flurry of butterflies builds in my stomach at his admission. This time, I lift his hand and bring it to my lips. “I think you’re gorgeous too. So handsome that every woman notices. Confident. Arrogant. And protective in a way that makes me feel safe. I see nothing but happiness in a possible future with you. As long as we’re together, anything is possible. Don’t you feel it?”

  He swallows and closes his eyes for a mere second before focusing back on the road. The chilliness in the air seeps out, and the warmth resumes inside the car. His wood-and-spice scent permeates the air around me, and I want to cuddle in it. Breathe it in for eternity.

  “Thank you.” His words are coated in emotion, but I can’t place which one.

  “For what?”

  “Your honesty.”

  I grip his hand tighter. “I’ll always be honest with you.”

  He glances at me, his eyes sad but with a renewed hope flickering behind them. “I’m counting on it.”

  * * *

  Dinner tasted like sawdust on my tongue. Grant noticed within ten minutes of r
eceiving our food that I was no longer in the mood to eat. I was set on pushing my food around the plate, waiting for him to share with me the reason behind the weird conversation in the car.

  Why would he ask me about our future so soon?

  We’ve only dated for a couple days. I guess you could say a little over a couple weeks if you counted the time since I walked into his office ready to battle it out.

  As expected, Grant took charge, called for our bill, paid, and had me back in the car, racing toward his apartment. Which, not surprisingly, was in a skyscraper. The same skyscraper he apparently works in.

  I cringe as we step into the elevator. “Why do you live where you work?” I ask him but continue to stare at the red numbers climbing up each floor as we pass it.

  He leans toward my ear. “Funny question, seeing as you live above Sunflower Bakery, a half a breath from your own workplace.”

  I purse my lips. “You’ve got a point.”

  He chuckles, the first I’ve heard since we stood outside his car. “Come.” The door opens to the same floor he works on. The reception desk has a soft light above it.

  “Why are we at your office?”

  “Because that door”—he points to the opposite side of the room and a set of double doors—“is where I live.”

  “You literally live on the same floor as your office? I mean, yeah, I live close to Lotus House, which is convenient, very convenient since I don’t have a car, but you actually live in your office. Blech. At least I get to walk the street a little, take in the smells and sounds of the outdoors, walk down to Rainy Day, the bookstore, or sit and chat with my friends in the bakery before I walk up a set of stairs that lead to my super-duper cool loft.”

  Grant loops his arm around my waist and clucks his tongue. “You shouldn’t assume something isn’t super-duper cool…” He whispers my words against my ear. A shiver ripples down my spine at his nearness and the seductive tone when he continues speaking against my skin. “Unless you’ve seen it with your own eyes.”

  He presses his hand to a panel next to the door. It scans his hand, turns green, and the lock clicks on the door.

  “Okay, I gotta admit. That was way cool! Can I try it?”

  He smiles. “You could, but it wouldn’t open.”

  I frown.

  “I’ll have my security team for the building scan your hand and give you unlimited access to the building and my apartment.”

  “Really? That sounds suspiciously similar to giving one’s girlfriend a key to his apartment,” I taunt, thinking he’ll laugh along with me.

  He doesn’t. Instead he stops at the threshold of his home and takes my coat from my arms. “That’s precisely what I’m doing. And I shall expect a key to yours in return.”

  “Um, I’ll have to ask Dara about that,” I admit right off the bat, even though I know it’s not what he wants to hear.

  He presses his hand to my lower back to lead me into a totally different space. It looks nothing like an office building but a lush and open apartment.

  “Wow.” I glance around and notice the sunken-in living room, where a large black sectional couch sits atop a white carpet. No comfy throw pillows grace the couch. He could use those. Across the large space is the kitchen, black granite countertops, white cabinets, and gleaming silver appliances. Nothing of interest to be seen on the counters. No clutter or stacks of mail. The only thing I can find with color is a fruit bowl—which boasts a couple apples, a few bananas, and a couple oranges—on a gleaming glass kitchen table with mirrored legs.

  “This is where you live?” I’m horrified by the lack of warmth. Everything is so cold and monochromatic. I mean, I’ve been to all my guy friends’ apartments, and none of them were this austere. It makes me sad to see that he lives in a world so devoid of color. Heck, I look down at my purple leggings tucked into a pair of black suede boots. A tan tunic with a black leather belt wrapped twice around my waist, my wrists and neck filled with chunky multicolored beaded jewelry, and it slams into me… I’m the most colorful thing in this entire place.

  He sighs and leads me to the kitchen. “Yes. Now why would you have to discuss giving your boyfriend a key with Dara?”

  I can’t help but glance around at the sheer nothingness surrounding me. It makes me want to take my clothes off and throw them on the floor just so I can see something vibrant in the room. “Um, yeah…” I lick my lips, still shocked by how he lives. “Dara owns the loft. The keys to the loft and the doors are the same as the bakery. Giving you a key to my apartment means giving you a key to her store. I don’t know if she’d approve of that choice at this time.”

  Grant scowls, spins on a shiny black shoe, and goes to his wine fridge, where he pulls out a bottle of white wine.

  “Wine?”

  “Sure.” Hell, just placing the yellow bottle on the counter would make me feel a bit cheerier.

  “Why were you upset at dinner?” His tone is questioning, but I can hear the hint of unease.

  I shrug. “Why were you so weird in the car?”

  “I wasn’t weird.” He frowns.

  “To me you were.” I keep my tone low and unassuming. I don’t want to push him, but in order for me to figure out how to help, how to understand him better, I need to know where these mood swings are coming from.

  He waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter now. I got over it after you agreed we had a future.”

  That is not at all what I said in the car, but I’m not going to fight with him since he’s being open.

  “I guess I was just surprised you were worried about it.”

  He opens a cabinet and brings down a pair of wineglasses. In the drawer near where he stands, he finds the corkscrew and sets about uncorking the wine.

  “This may come as a surprise to you, but I do not have a lot of experience being in a relationship.”

  I grin. “No?” I say this sarcastically but with a playful edge.

  He cocks an eyebrow and tugs out the cork. “I told you the other night I was keeping you, and you said you were keeping me too. I just wanted make sure that hadn’t changed.”

  “In a day?”

  He cants his head and pours the wine. “When you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

  I smile wide and come around the counter and wrap my hands around his waist, tucking my face against his shoulder. “Because it is silly, my big man. Why do you continue to feel the need to place labels on our relationship? We’ve already agreed we’re together. Is that not enough?”

  He sighs and leans into the counter. “When it comes to you, I’m not sure simply being together will ever be enough. I want you too much.”

  I spin him around until I can plaster my body to his. He wraps his arms around me. “What do I have to do to prove you have me?” I run my hands down his chest and back up.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m always going to be waiting for you to leave.”

  Slowly, and with my intention very obvious, I unbutton the first button of his shirt and then place a kiss to the open space. The second button receives the same treatment, and the third and fourth and fifth, until I’ve opened his shirt and untucked it from his waist.

  I look up into his sapphire gaze and am floored with the heat I see burning there.

  “Then I think I have some work to do, to show you how very…” I unbuckle his belt. “Very…” I undo his pants and unzip them. “Very…” I let his pants fall to his knees. “Very much I like being exactly where I am.” I palm his large erection before pulling down his boxer briefs and sinking to my knees.

  One of his hands instantly goes into my hair to pull it away from my face. I know what he’s doing because, during our sexfest the other day, I found out a tiny fact about Grant Winters. One that turns me on beyond all reason.

  My man is a voyeur. He likes to watch me touch and taste him. Which works for me because I like his eyes on me and only me. They’re like a gift bestowed onto me—one I’ll never forsake.

  I run my hands
up his muscled thighs and scratch my way back down. He shifts, his large penis nearing my mouth, taunting me with its rich, musky scent. I close my eyes and nuzzle my nose at the base of his cock, letting his length rest against my cheek. I breathe him into my lungs, searing his scent on my memory.

  “Christ, you really are my own personal fairy princess.”

  I grin and kiss the base of his penis, letting my lips drag along each inch, teasing with my tongue when I feel like it.

  He closes his eyes but opens them right as I swirl my tongue around the plush tip. A drop of his arousal beads there, proving how much he desires me. His fingers tighten in my hair, but he doesn’t move me. No, he holds my head with reverence, as if he’s honored to have me on my knees about to worship him, when in reality, I’m the one who’s blessed.

  After flicking the tip, I suck the knobbed head, swirling my tongue around it with the added benefit of suction until he rocks his head back and groans fully and deeply. The sound ricochets straight into my body, sending the flames of arousal to flicker and spark along every one of my nerve endings. I squirm in my position, wanting to touch myself but remembering this is for him and him alone. This is me showing him my affection, my determination to be here with him and loving every second of it.

  He moves one hand from my head, and he grips the counter, bracing his body to allow me to work. I inhale fully through my nose and then take him as deep as I can into my mouth. He’s too big for me to take him all the way, but I do my best. As I reverse my position, I lay the flat of my tongue along his length to give him maximum pleasure while I suck hard. I know he likes it when I use more force, because his fingers dig into my scalp before he realizes his error and softens his touch.

  What he doesn’t see is that I like when he’s more forceful with me. We have time. He’ll figure it out as the days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months turn to years.