It’s hours later when Rachel and I decide it’s time to leave. Laurie is staying behind, so Rachel says her goodbyes and joins me for the long drive back to the city.
In the car, she’s quiet, deep in thought. Does she have regrets about letting me meet her family?
“Do you come home often?” I ask, my eyes on the road.
“About once a month.” She sighs. “My mom’s very pushy.”
“Is she? I thought she was sweet, and your aunt too.”
Rachel snorts. “Don’t be deceived.”
She’s joking. Beneath her words are a deep affection I can only envy. “Are you eager to get back to the city?”
She gives me a teasing glance. “Why? Do you have plans for me?”
“Actually, I do.” My childhood home is less than an hour’s drive away, and I want her to see it. I’m not sure why I’m taking her there—to show her some part of my life too, maybe, but my home is not a place of light and laughter. It’s a place of sad memories.
Memories I haven’t even shared with her.
We soon arrive. A long gravel drive leads to the house from the gates. The house itself, a Greek revival style mansion, is set on a bluff, and behind it, there are miles of sandy beach.
Wilson Hayes meets us outside. He used to be the manager of the Swanson Court in New York, but after my mother died and my father became a shadow of himself, he practically became a parent to Aidan and me. He managed the property and arranged for my father’s care, as well as the summer trips to France to visit our grandparents. He’s retired now, but he still manages this house and lives in a spacious apartment on the property with his wife, Betsy.
“Good evening Wilson.” I smile apologetically. “Sorry to disturb you on such short notice.”
Wilson waves a hand. “It’s your home, Landon, and we’re always happy to see you.”
Too bad I’m not always happy to see the house and be reminded of the memories it holds of my father drinking himself to death. I introduce Rachel, and Wilson looks from me to her, grinning.
“Welcome Ms. Foster. It’s great to see a new face at Windbreakers.”
Rachel smiles back, and Wilson leads us inside.
“I ordered dinner from town,” he informs me in the hallway.
“Thanks. We’ll eat upstairs at eight. How’s Betsy?”
He laughs. “My wife is coping with me as best she can.”
Upstairs, Rachel looks transfixed by the sight of the beach and the Long Island sound. “The view is lovely.”
She’s my view, and she’s lovely. “I agree.”
She turns around and catches me looking at her. I’m sure my face communicates exactly what I’m thinking, because her cheeks stain.
Her reaction turns me on even more. “Come. I want to show you the bedroom.”
“You’re supposed to show me around the house,” she scolds. “It’s the polite thing to do.”
“I’m not very polite,” I say with a chuckle, leading her to my bedroom and closing the door behind us. “What I am is very aroused.” I nudge her so her back is against the door, and I drop to my knees, tugging up her dress before dragging her panties down and out of the way.
Faced with her bared flesh, I can hardly wait to cover her with my lips and draw in the taste of her. Once I touch her, there’s no doubt that her body is mine. She arches back, thrusting her hips forward.
Nice. With my mouth still on her, I tug her panties down the rest of the way and free one leg, hooking it over my shoulder, opening her up to the onslaught of my tongue.
She trembles and moans and calls out my name, her body arching and jerking with every touch of my tongue. It’s not my fault you taste so good, baby. It’s not my fault I want to devour every part of you.
I don’t let her go until she screams my name, her body seizing with the force of her climax.