WORTHY, Part 1 (25 page)

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, guiding his cock into my body. I wanted to scream at the divine fullness, to beg him to fuck me, but I couldn’t. I had to exercise control over myself, and that barrier was both a pain and an intense pleasure.

“You like this, don’t you?” Jonathan murmured, grinning crookedly at me before grunting softly at the closeness of my body around his cock. “You like having these rules.”

“Sometimes games are fun,” I gasped, hardly trusting my voice to speak. One wrong move and I’d scream in spite of my caution.

Jonathan withdrew a little bit before pushing forward again, rubbing against all of my hot spots as he went. It was intoxicating, and I had to cover my mouth with my own hand again to stifle the cries of pleasure I wanted to fill the air with.

“I don’t think I’m going to last very long under these conditions,” Jonathan said, a light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead. “You feel too good, baby.”

God, I loved it when he called me baby. And I loved it when he was inside of me, telling me how good it felt. The bite of the thick carpet beneath my rump added to the strangeness of the situation. I swiveled my head to the side and gasped.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice hushed and wary.

I’d forgotten about the view. Here we were, both bereft of pants, having sex on the floor of Jonathan’s corner office. We may have been at the top of the Wharton Group office building, but there were far taller buildings all around. Some were quite close.

“Do you think anyone can see inside of here?” I asked, not sure if I were more frightened or turned on at the prospect.

“If they can, then I hope they’re enjoying themselves as much as we are,” he said, pushing forward again. I felt that I was on the same edge he was, pushed by the same desires, the same rhythms, the same needs. We needed this togetherness, needed to steal these little moments in life. We deserved to have fun and make mischief, even if it meant an illicit Saturday afternoon hookup in the corner office.

“This is what I want,” Jonathan breathed, pumping in and out of me. “I would do this in front of the entire world to show them—and you—just how much I love you. I love you so, so much, baby.”

I melted at his words, quickened at the prospect of our lovemaking being on display for the entire world to see, and came apart at the seams as my fiancé drove me into my second orgasm of the afternoon. This time, it was Jonathan who had to cover my mouth with his hand. That made my pleasure even more potent—I could faintly smell my own tangy scent on his palm from the first orgasm.

Within a few moments, Jonathan came, filling me to the brim with his essence. I moaned low in my throat, fisting my hands in his hair, and kissed him as he groaned. I wondered if his knees would have carpet burn after this. Hell, I wondered if my ass would have carpet burn after this.

“Do you think anyone heard?” I asked, still breathless from our tryst.

“I hope they did,” he said, laughing as he withdrew from my body, making me shiver.

“I guess we’ll see if we’re going to be doing a walk of shame or not,” I said, pulling my jeans back up and over my hips. There was something primal and satisfying with the wetness between my legs. It was our mingling essences, both of our ecstasies blending together.

“Michelle …”

I turned to look at Jonathan, who had already put himself back together, shoes and all.

“Yes?”

“Be patient with me,” he said. “Please, be patient. There may come a day when I don’t care about who I used to be anymore. If that day ever comes, and you don’t want to be in the city anymore, I’ll go wherever you want to.”

“Even back to the cottage?”

“Especially back to the cottage. But just give me time, baby.”

“Of course,” I said, stepping into his outstretched arms. “Of course. Take all the time you think you need. I’m here for you. I love you. And I want you to do what’s right.”

I started picking up the wreckage of our picnic and putting the reusable containers back into the basket while depositing the rest of the debris into the trashcan.

“There’s something about picnics, isn’t there?” Jonathan asked, smiling.

“Brings out the best in us, I think,” I said, grinning back at him. “Do you have to stay at work much longer?” I sagged a little inside thinking about going back to the house, where Amelia was possibly lying in wait. I just didn’t think that woman and I would ever be friends.

“You know what?” he said. “I’m the boss. I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend with my fiancée.”

It was a simple statement, but it buoyed my spirit. A weekend with my fiancé. That almost sounded normal.

We spent our free time as wisely as we could, knowing that it was few and far between all of Jonathan’s challenges and commitments. We hit up the Field Museum and the Art Institute, walked the frigid shoreline of Lake Michigan, and even toured Northwestern and DePaul universities on Sunday afternoon.

“I don’t know if I could go to school physically—like actually get myself to college every day,” I said, looking at the bustle of students crossing the picturesque campuses. “I feel old.”

“You’re not old,” Jonathan laughed. “You can do whatever you want to!”

“Maybe I’ll take some online courses first,” I said, thinking of Collier. “See where my interests lie.”

We stayed out late, looking at the city lights, both of us dreading our return to the compound.

“It seems like another world, doesn’t it?” Jonathan asked as we approached. “Like nothing inside it is real.”

“It’s your family,” I said. “You’ll get to know them. You’re lucky to get that chance.”

“I wonder sometimes,” Jonathan said, following me up the stairs to his floor. We passed by his home office, and I shuddered at all the boxes still scattered across the floor. Those were all of his memories with Violet.

“Goddamn it,” he swore viciously.

“What is it?”

“I have lunch with Violet tomorrow. I almost forgot.”

I sagged without meaning to. We had agreed to have lunch tomorrow at a little eatery we had passed today that was closed on Sundays.

“That’s all right,” I said. “You—you can take her to that place you found. It’ll probably be good.”

“Look, this isn’t worth it anymore,” Jonathan said, kicking at a box. “I’m tired of dragging you through all this bullshit—excuse my language.”

There was nothing to excuse. It was bullshit, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree. I needed to be supportive of him. I knew it had to be more difficult for him than me.

“You’re doing what you think is right,” I said. “You’re trying to unravel your past, which is admirable. You’re showing Violet a kindness.”

I hoped my words rang truer in Jonathan’s ears than mine. I couldn’t help but think back on my nighttime conversation with Collier. Did I really want Jonathan to put together the pieces of who he used to be? I wasn’t sure that I would love that man. I was even less sure that man would love me.

“But I’m tired,” he said, sinking to the edge of the bed and burying his face in his hands. “Everyone wants me to remember, but I just can’t. I don’t know if I have memories or if they’re just random bits of information and facts that people have been trying to stuff in my brain.”

“You need to rest,” I said. “Why don’t you take a couple of days off from work? Remember? You can tell them to go to hell. I bet Collier—your dad—would step in for you. He’d do anything for you to make sure you’re all right.”

Jonathan shook his head. “The company is my responsibility,” he said. “I’m the CEO. It needs me. I need to be there.”

I took his hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure my fiancé of things I wasn’t even sure of.

“If I have to endure one more round of Violet’s weeping, I’m going to keel over dead,” he muttered darkly, staring at the floor.

“You’d think she’d run out of tears by now,” I said, trying to make a joke. It fell flat, and I felt bad for even trying.

“All I want to do is marry you,” Jonathan said. “I don’t even care about the past. I just want to know enough to be able to lead the company well. That’s all. I don’t care about who I loved or what I used to like to do.”

I couldn’t help feeling completely and utterly guilty. How would I feel if I were Violet? They’d loved each other. They had to have loved each other if they were engaged to be married. Collier had encouraged me to fight for Jonathan if I loved him. Was someone else encouraging Violet to do the same?

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked, taking my face in his hands. His thumb brushed my scar, but I managed to stay still, even as the familiar shrinking sensation in my stomach urged me to turn to the right, to hide my imperfections from my perfect fiancé.

“Violet was here first,” I said softly. “She was in your life before me.”

“Someone else was living this life before me,” Jonathan said, his brow thunderous. “And maybe that man did love Violet. But this man doesn’t, Michelle. This man loves you. This man is going to marry you.”

I couldn’t help but sob at those words. They were exactly what I needed to hear, a salve on my insecurities. Jonathan crushed me to him, kissing me deeply, winding his hands through my curls, pulling me down on the bed with him. There was nothing better than when I pressed my body against the length of his, felt his attraction to me insistent on my hip. We undressed each other in a flurry of clothing, eager to unite our bodies.

And when he plunged into me, I never wanted to come up for air.

He held my gaze as we thrust against each other, the sweat on our bodies making us slip and slide. Looking into his eyes was both powerful and empowering. I could see what he felt for me, the depth of his love for me. His eyes told me that everything was going to be all right.

And his length inside of me … well, that told me all kinds of different things, all of them flattering and wonderful.

In and out
… he would always fulfill me.

In and out
… he would always support me.

In and out
… he would always be attracted to me.

In and out
…

I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held him as tightly as I could. Then, with a simple shift of his hips, throwing his weight to the side, Jonathan was on the bottom and I perched astride him, laughing and nibbling his neck, delighted at his trick.

“Your turn to be on top,” he announced needlessly. The deed was done. I was on top, and now we would do things my way.

I reveled in the trust Jonathan put in me, realized that it worked both ways. I knew he would never hurt me intentionally, that he was most interested in my pleasure, making sure I was always comfortable and stimulated.

I loved it when I got to do the same for him.

I picked up where Jonathan left off, utilizing my strong leg muscles to pump myself up and down, to alternately impale and free my body from his hard shaft. I felt a burn in my hamstrings and realized that I wasn’t getting as much exercise in the city as I regularly did out in the woods. The most strenuous activity I had been participating in had been right here in the bed with Jonathan. I would have to start doing something about that.

The grind of Jonathan’s cock against my secret inner spot banished all errant thoughts from my mind, dragged me and pinned me in this present. I existed from one breath to the next, one thrust to the next,
in and out
at my own pace. Jonathan let me do the work, guided me with a hand on either side of my hips, encouraged me with squeezes and caresses and playful pats.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, smiling up at me. I tilted my head back, closing my eyes as I bared my throat to him. I gasped as I fell backwards: Jonathan had risen to the bait, jerking upward into a sitting position to nuzzle and lick my neck, clasping me to him. I really liked it like this, sitting on Jonathan’s lap, hugging and holding him, his member inside of me. I never felt closer to him than this.

But the added pressure, the pressing of his cock against my inner walls, was proving to be too much. I shuddered with the faintest of movements. I nearly came undone when Jonathan shifted a little bit.

“You’re close, baby,” he said, nicking the juncture of my neck and shoulder with his teeth. I shivered and moaned at the ticklish, edgy feeling. The sweat that covered my body was cold. I was so close, closer than should be humanly possible, closer than Jonathan could ever imagine.

“I want you to come,” he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling the fine hair and sensitive skin there, making me give a strangled sound that was somewhere in between groaning and giggling.

Then, Jonathan wormed his hand between us and flicked across the surface of my clitoris, barely even touching the electrified nub.

A few light flicks was all it took to send me tumbling down the rabbit hole, Alice in a wonderland of orgasm, my reality coming unglued and rearranging itself in ways I’d never imagined.

I was suddenly aware of my ecstatic cries and tried to muffle myself. The house was enormous, but we weren’t the only ones there, after all. While I’d been shrieking, Jonathan had joined me in completion, emptying all of his worries and cares into me in the form of his essence. That was what I wanted. That was what I wanted to be for him. I wanted to take the world away from him and give him bliss. I loved him so much.

We sat together for many long minutes, his cock still inside of me, resting our foreheads together before Jonathan finally helped me off and laid me down on the bed. He settled in beside me, the lengths of our bodies pressing together, looking at each other calmly, sated. There weren’t any other sounds but our breathing. If Jonathan’s parents or sister were awake, I wouldn’t know. The same went for the staff members. I was starting to understand just why they had to be so discreet. I could holler and carry on all I wanted while Jonathan and I had sex in the cottage. There was nothing in the woods that cared about how loud we were.

But here in the city, there were so many new considerations. We would have to figure out how to live with them, how to live with other people.

“I’m going to tell Violet to stop trying,” Jonathan said, breaking my train of thought while tracing intricate patterns on the skin of my shoulder.

“Are you sure?” I asked, studying his pensive look. Did he really mean that, or was he just trying to placate me? I wanted him to end things with Violet because he wanted to—not because I wanted him to. In fact, I was uncomfortable with wanting that. It wasn’t my place.

“I think it’s the most humane thing to do,” he said. “I don’t want her to keep hoping that things are going to go back to the way they were. I’m not that man anymore. She needs to understand that.”

“You don’t think it’ll be cruel, will it?” I hated the idea of leaving Violet with a broken heart, even if she was technically my rival. It wasn’t Violet’s fault that Jonathan lost his memories of their love. It was simply a twist of fate.

“I think it’s crueler to let her continue to think that I’m going to dump you from my life,” he said. “Because I’m not. I would never do that, Michelle. I love you. And I will always love you.”

We kissed again, but a small part of me curled up in fear.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling away. He must have felt me tense up.

“What if you do get your memories back one day?” I asked, fearful. “What then?”

“Then we’ll get to meet this man everyone’s been talking about,” he said wryly. “And nothing can change the way I feel about you, Michelle. Nothing.”

It felt good, him saying that. It was something I needed to hear.

“All right,” I said, snuggling up to him. With Violet out of the picture, that would be one less thing to worry about. I could focus on what I would do with my life, focus on the wedding, focus on the future ahead.