Enlightened End (Lotus House Book 7) Read online

  He grins sexily, his brown waves flopping around his head in the perfect sex-mussed style. Grant grips my body and rotates his fabulous hips, making sure his thick, long erection plays against my most sensitive areas like he’s stirring cake batter, only it’s me he’s stirring into a frenzy of lust and need.

  I close my eyes. The moment I remember why this is a bad idea, I jump up and away from him, desperately trying to catch my breath and my good sense. The second his lips hit mine, I completely lost both.

  Grant braces his upper body, resting his head in his palm. He smiles wickedly, and I swear the lower half of me takes notice and wants to hop right back on top of him and ride him like a thoroughbred.

  I need to get laid.

  The little devil on my shoulder gives me the go-ahead to jump him, when my angel reminds me this man is the destroyer of dreams, a fact I cannot in good conscience forget.

  “You’re an amazing kisser,” I blurt without meaning to.

  He licks his lip. “I know.”

  “Humble too, I see.”

  He chuckles, clearly enjoying this conversation. “Not even a little.” He sits, one knee cocked, his package still hard and tenting his pants. An issue he does not seem to be concerned with at all. “Why did you stop? We were just getting to the good part.” He grins.

  I have to bite my tongue in order not to scream. Straight out, tip my head back, and scream to the heavens that this cannot possibly be my life.

  “You surprised me. I got caught up in the moment.” I firm my spine and stick to my answer.

  He huffs haughtily. “I’ll say. The way you were clinging to me, grinding your crotch against my dick…” His eyes flare with lust and desire all over again.

  I shake my head.

  “You can’t deny it, lamb. You were just as hot for me as I was for you.”

  This astute and completely accurate assessment has flames licking at my chest and neck, making me feel clammy and frustrated at the same time. Because he’s right. I haven’t been hot for a man in a long while, and when he kissed me, I took advantage, twirled my tongue with his, and kissed him, taking a deep drink from the well of his mouth.

  I groan, push back my hair, and turn back to the riser to get my things. “Get up. We’re going for coffee and pastries.”

  “Now?” His strained reply comes from behind me.

  I ignore his distress and continue shutting down the room and getting my things. “Yes, now,” I say over my shoulder.

  He responds with an exaggerated sigh.

  I roll my eyes. “Big baby,” I grumble under my breath. Only I don’t realize how close he actually is when I say it until a tanned arm comes at me from behind, curling around my waist and smashing the back of my body to the front of his. I feel his lips against my neck when he speaks.

  “Big is right, lamb.” He grinds his firm, but no longer raging, erection against my behind.

  I bite my lip to prevent the moan I so desperately want to release, but just barely. It’s unnatural the hold this man’s touch has over me. It’s like the second he puts his hands on me, I turn into jelly or pudding or any other substance that softens and molds against a harder, firmer object. I grip his arm around my waist and attempt to pull away.

  “Why do you call me lamb?” I finally ask the question that has been prodding at my mind since we met.

  He runs his nose along my neck, brushing his lips against the sensitive skin and sending a flutter of pleasure through me. “Because the first time I met you, you wobbled on your feet at the sight of me. Your skin is as pale as a lamb’s snow-white fur, and you’re innocent, Luna. Pure. I haven’t met anyone like you in my entire life, and I doubt I ever will again.”

  Sweet Shiva, that was a nice thing to say.

  I swallow and spin around. He keeps me close, his arms wrapping around my waist this time.

  “You’re ruining my plan,” I whisper, admitting more than I wanted to.

  He smiles and rubs his nose against mine. “Which was my plan all along.”

  I shake my head and push against his chest. “Please step back, Grant.”

  He holds my waist firmly until I look up and into his eyes. “Is that what you really want?” His sapphire eyes are enchanting, reminding me of the dark waters of the San Francisco Bay on a foggy day.

  Grant waits while I pull my thoughts together. “I’d like to take you to have a pastry and another cup of coffee from the bakery next door.”

  “Is that part of your master plan? Fill me full of sugary treats?” He smiles, letting the intensity of his nearness dissipate a little. Not much but a little.

  I nod, unable to form coherent thoughts while in his arms.

  He dips his head, puts his mouth to mine, and kisses me softly. A direct contrast to his personality. Nothing about him is soft. His body, his actions, his demeanor. He pulls back and cups my cheek. “Okay, lamb, show me to your bakery.”

  The bakery is absolutely hopping when we push through the door. Men and women in business suits mixed liberally with clients from the class I just taught as well as others who will take the next set of classes.

  “This place is a madhouse.” Grant’s voice has a note of surprise in it.

  I smile and urge him toward the line of people waiting to get their treats and coffees. “Yep. Sunflower Bakery has the best baked goods in the Bay Area.”

  Grant scans the crowd, his lips in a firm line, his eyes focused as he looks around.

  “Hey, Luna!” Dara comes in from the back room with a tray of warm cinnamon rolls.

  I wave above the crowd and pull Grant along to the wooden counter divider where the staff come in and out from the back. “Hi, honey. I have someone I want you to meet.” I offer a small smile.

  Dara’s Caribbean blue eyes narrow and her lips purse.

  “This is Grant Winters, the CEO of Winters Group.”

  “Did you really just bring this man into my bakery?” Dara accuses, her tone indignant.

  I nod. “Yep. I’m going to be spending the next six months showing Grant everything he’s going to be destroying if he demolishes this street and builds fancy apartments.”

  “Lordy…” Dara waves her hand at her neck. “Fancy apartments?” She shakes her head. “Terrible.”

  “Yep,” I continue when Grant tugs on my arm.

  “You realize I’m right here, don’t you?” he growls into my ear, which has the opposite effect from what he probably intends. I’m sure he meant it as a warning, but once again, my traitorous body takes it as a promise of sexier things to come.

  Sweet Shiva, I’ve got to get a handle on this attraction.

  “So anyway, we’ll have a couple of your most awesome baked goods and two lattes. Make us swoon, sister! Our goal is: Wow!” I state with glee, wanting to show her the path I’m taking on this journey.

  Dara chuckles. “You got it, girl.” Before she turns around, she scans Grant once again. She does this for a solid thirty seconds before he shuffles his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. Likely a defense mechanism or an intimidation tactic he uses in the boardroom. Only that stuff won’t work on Dara. She reads auras like regular people read the newspaper.

  “Interesting,” she comments. “Looks like you’re dealing with a lot of insecurities through business and personal relationships. You are undergoing some form of power struggle with a stronger, more arrogant source in your life.”

  “Excuse me?” Grant’s voice is devoid of emotion. Flat.

  Dara shrugs. “It’s all in your aura. Blinding bright yellow. Means you often shoot from the hip. You mean what you say, and you wield your power like a shield. I get it. Lots of businessmen do that. My husband is driven by the solar plexus chakra too. I call ’em like I see ’em. Stick with Luna. She’ll enlighten you.”

  With her parting comment, she flicks her ponytail off her shoulder and goes to get our treats.

  I spin on a heel, place my hands on Grant’s chest, and catch his gaze. “She means well. It’s imp
ossible for her to ignore her gift. She’s always read auras, and I hope—”

  Grant cuts me off. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He wraps a hand around my waist and leads me to a table a couple just vacated.

  We stare at one another without speaking. I no longer know what to say or how to do what I want to do. Which is convincing him to love this bakery, Dara, and this street so much he’ll leave it alone.

  “Grant…I’m sorry—” He stops me by covering my hand with his where it rests on top of the table.

  “It’s fine. She just gave me something new to digest. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  I dip my head from left to right as he intertwines our fingers. I close my eyes and enjoy our energies melding, swirling around one another like a vortex. Holding his hand is nice. It feels good. More than good. It feels right.

  “Um, I’m a yoga teacher. Have been for ten years and then some.”

  His eyes widen. “Really?”

  “Yeah, my mom owned Lotus House with her best friend, Crystal Nightingale, for as long as I can remember. I used to hang out in the studio every day after school. When I was done with my homework, I’d help out by filing, marking off class cards, picking up the studios after a class. Later, it was how I made my allowance. Then it morphed into me taking every class I could, going to school, and earning my RYT—Registered Yoga Teacher—credential, and registering with the National Yoga Alliance.”

  He sits back and rubs at his chin, listening intently.

  “At eighteen, I took on a load of classes at the studio and never looked back. My mother and Crystal signed the studio over to me last year so they could travel.”

  “You run the place by yourself?” he asks, sounding interested.

  “Yeah. It’s a lot of work but a labor of love. There’s nothing I want more than to teach yoga, have a family one day, and teach my children the practice.”

  He swallows and squeezes my hand. “You want kids?”

  “Yeah. I always have, and I’m not getting any younger.” I laugh.

  Ricky walks over with a tray filled to the brim with treats and two steaming lattes. “Hey, sweetness, here’s some sugar for my sugar,” he says with a flare and a snap before setting down our items.

  I jump up and hug him and then kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks, Ricardo.”

  Grant grins wide. “You’re Ricardo?” He smiles.

  “One and only. Why? You looking to switch sides? I’ve been known to turn a man. Hell, I’ve been known to turn a woman. Not that I don’t like those too.” He smirks.

  “Ricky! Seriously, stop it. This is Grant Winters from the Winters Group.”

  “I don’t care who he is; this boy is fiiiiiine. Wait a minute… Grant whose-a-what’s-it.” He pinches his lips together. “You the man who’s threatening to tear down this street?”

  I press against Ricky’s chest. “He’s the man who’s kind enough to give me six months to prove to him how important this street and all the businesses and people who work here are. So cool your jets, He-Man.”

  Ricky’s expression turns into one of disdain as he inhales loudly through his nose and lets it out through his mouth. Then he spins around. “I can’t even deal with this today. No way. Nuh-uh. Moving on to hotter buns.” He glances over his shoulder. “Okay, maybe not hotter…” He winks.

  Ricardo is the world’s largest dichotomy. Gay. Not gay. Alpha. Feminine. I can never quite pin the boy down. Then again, that’s part of his charm.

  I turn around and find Grant taking a huge bite out of a sticky bun.

  “Holy hell, this is good,” he murmurs around a mouthful of doughy goodness.

  I sigh and sit back down. “Once again, I’m sorry about that.”

  He finishes chewing his bite and then licks his fingers. As each long digit goes into his mouth, I wish it were my mouth licking the sugar off his fingers. Yum. I shake my head and mentally chastise myself for getting sidetracked again.

  “It’s okay. How’s about the next person you introduce me to, you don’t give them my last name or the fact that I’m the CEO of the company planning to tear down their businesses?” He lifts a napkin and wipes at his mouth.

  “Touché.” I lift my latte up and take a sip of the creamy foamy bliss in a cup. When I put it back down, I sigh in relief. Grant, however, is staring at me. He lifts a hand to my face and wipes my upper lip with his thumb, and then he brings the thumb to his mouth. I swallow as I watch him taste the cream.

  “Mmm, they make a great latte.” He quirks an eyebrow and smiles.

  My heart drops right out of my chest and puddles at my feet. I want him to pick it up and hold it close. I have no idea what it is about him, but it’s as if my soul is reaching out, trying to hold on to him, and I’m beginning to think it’s far more than the need to ensure my legacy and preserve the place I grew up.

  “You were telling me about wanting kids.” He brings us back to our earlier conversation before we were interrupted by Ricky.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Twenty-eight,” I state automatically, not at all ashamed of my age.

  He frowns. “That’s nothing. You’ve got plenty of time. Me, on the other hand, if I want my own kid, I better get started.”

  “Why? How old are you?” He doesn’t look old. Couldn’t be too much older than me.

  “Thirty-five.”

  “You’ve got seven years on me…” I make a pfft sound, and he chuckles. “That’s not much.”

  He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm. “I guess it’s not if I find myself a twenty-eight-year-old fairy princess to woo.”

  I laugh out loud and push at his big thigh pressing near mine. “Shut up!”

  He just stares at me and smiles. I have no idea what’s on his mind, but I wish I did.

  “What about you? Parents, siblings?”

  His jaw goes tight, and the easy look in his eyes fades. The lightness around him turns heavy. “My mother left my father when I was five. Up and disappeared and never returned. My father built the Winters Group into what it is today. He’s all business, all the time, and raised me to be the same. Speaking of”—he stands up abruptly— “I need to be getting to work. I’ve enjoyed our morning. Now it’s my turn.”

  I stand up, feeling a little bereft and lost at the sudden change in his playful demeanor of moments ago. “Okay.”

  “Sunday night, I have a charity event to attend. I’d be honored if you’d attend with me.”

  “Um…a charity event? Okay, that sounds nice.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything else.

  “What do I wear?”

  “It’s not black tie, so any cocktail dress will be fine.” His voice is lacking emotion, and he keeps glancing at the door like it’s going to catch fire any minute and he needs to run through it. “I must go,” he says formally again. So different than the man I was just spending time with.

  “Okay.”

  “Give me your phone so I can program my number in.”

  Numbly I grab my phone out of the front pocket of my hoodie and hand it to him. He punches a series of buttons until I hear his phone ring. He grabs it out of his pants and smashes the button before putting it back.

  “I’ll have my receptionist contact you with the details.” His tone is curt and lacking any emotion.

  “Your receptionist?” I cringe, and though he notices my response, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

  “Goodbye, Luna. I’ll see you Sunday.”

  Before I can even say goodbye, he’s maneuvered himself around the patrons standing in line and is out the door.

  What an odd exchange. Everything was going fine and then—whammo!—he turns into the ice-cold business tycoon. Something triggered that response in him. I think back to what we were talking about. My work, family, children, age. Then I asked about his family, and he clammed up. Responded with the fact that his mother had le
ft and his father was a tried-and-true businessman. He didn’t say anything positive about either of his parents and nothing about a sibling, so I’m left to assume he doesn’t have any. I don’t either, so we have that in common. Except, all of a sudden, he’s having his receptionist call me instead of making the plans himself.

  It’s like I flipped some type of jerk-switch. Now I just need to turn it off. And I have until Sunday to figure that out.

  Chapter Four

  Another sign your crown chakra could be blocked is your moral and ethical beliefs may have been weakened and your attachment to material things heightened. You may also feel disconnected from Mother Nature as well as friends and family around you.

  GRANT

  I tossed and turned all night. Couldn’t sleep worth a shit. Worried about how Luna was faring after I iced her out and pushed her away.

  I run my hand through my messy hair. It’s all I’ve been doing for the last two hours. Pacing my office, stressing about my redheaded fairy princess. And she is too. Everything I’ve never considered a possibility. Women like her—good, kind, compassionate—hate men like me. Like she said, I destroy lives in the name of business, and I never look back.

  Hell, even the women I date leave much to be desired.

  A chuckle slips out of my mouth as I stop and look out over the San Francisco Bay. Date is an interesting word. I never really date women. Definitely not the model-thin bony bitches. Mostly, I just buy them shit and fuck them for a couple months or so before they jet off to some other rich man with the promise of marriage.

  Gold diggers. Every. Last. One.

  Not Luna Marigold. She does want something from me. She’s trying to save her company. No, that isn’t quite it. She’s one woman trying to save an entire street from being demolished. And I’m the wrecking ball, yet she continues to treat me with kindness and consideration. Like I’m a good, honest human being.

  How is that even possible?

  I’m going to ruin her life. Flatten her studio, build luxury apartments, and score a major influx for my bank account and my investors in doing so.