Final Destination III Page 5

  “Take me,” I moaned back.

  He gently lifted my legs and swung them over his shoulders and then gripped my hips to steady me. “Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered. “Be careful with your hand.”

  I dutifully did what he said, clasping my fingers together to secure my grip around his wet, slippery body. My injured hand throbbed, but I carefully kept it high enough out of the water so that it wouldn’t get wet.

  “Are you okay?” asked my god.

  I nodded. He smiled. That dazzling dimpled smile that rendered me breathless. In one smooth, swift move, he hooked his hands on my hips, yanked me forward, and inched his cock inside me. It was so hot, so hard, so big. I gasped without reserve.

  “Oh, baby, you’ve got your own hot bath going on inside you. It feels so good.”

  I cried out with delight. Oh, how he filled me!

  He slid his hard rod down my warm, wet basin then slid it back up. He repeated the motion, but this time, holding on to him as tightly as I could, I thrust my hips forward to meet him. His groan met my moan as the tip of his hard length brushed against my hot spot.

  “That’s the way,” he breathed into my ear. He picked up his pace, creating little splashes of water in the tub each time he thrust his hard length deeper inside me. We were a harmonious chorus of moans, groans, and whimpers. His pulsating, grinding member was infusing me with unbearable pleasure, and I reveled in knowing I was pleasuring him. The waves of ecstasy had started below and were traveling to my head. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

  “NOW, baby!” roared Ari. He bit my shoulder as his organ exploded like a geyser inside me.

  Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes! I squeezed his body and shrieked as glorious wave after wave of pure ecstasy swept through me. The release was exquisite. Like none other.

  Ari stayed inside me, letting me bathe his still hard magnificence in our sweet, warm juices. “Oh, Saarah,” he gasped in my ear.

  I was still holding on to him in the same position. I couldn’t move. It was like I was paralyzed. The gurgling water and my man’s sweet moaning was chamber music to my ears.

  Finally, Ari pulled out and carefully placed my bandaged leg over the side of the tub so that my bad knee wouldn’t get wet. My eyes never left him as he stood, like a god rising from the water. Water dripped from his chiseled body, his member still erect and engorged.

  Stepping out of the tub, he grabbed a white towel that was folded over a chrome rack and then gathered me once again in his arms. He stood me on my feet and wrapped the enormous towel around me, swaddling me like a baby. The warmth of the soft, fluffy pile (obviously it had been on a heater) saturated my body. He circled his arms around me and held me close against his bare, gold-threaded chest. With both arms pinned under the towel, there was nothing I could do but rest my head on his broad shoulder and breathe in his clean, intoxicating scent. I could still feel his hardness through the towel. That and the delicious throbbing below brought awareness into my being. I was lucky to be alive. Even luckier to have this gorgeous man, this god, in my life.

  I don’t know how long we stood there, stagnant, and stopped in time.

  His sultry voice brought me back to the moment. “Come.” He grabbed another towel and wrapped it around his waist. The golden hills and vales of his chest and arms stood out against the stark whiteness of the towel. God, was he beautiful! I adjusted my towel, freeing my arms, and secured it tightly around my breasts. He clasped my good hand and led me back to his office. My knee was stiff and sore, but I followed him with ease.

  Back in his office, I let go of his hand and began to explore. “This space is amazing,” I said, peering out the floor-to-ceiling window, with its spectacular view of the City of Brotherly Love.

  “My palace in the sky.”

  I swiveled my head. He was pulling up a new pair of perfectly pleated gray slacks over his hard, taut ass, foregoing boxers. Obviously, he must have a closet somewhere in his office.

  “Miss Thatcher should be back shortly with something for you to wear. In the meantime, you can borrow one of my shirts.” He tilted his chin toward the couch, where a pale blue dress shirt was laid out.

  “Thanks,” I said, watching him pull up his fly. God, how I wanted to zip it back down.

  I headed over to the couch and slipped on the button-down shirt. The crisp cotton was cool against my skin and made me tingle with the feeling that I was in some way in him. As he continued to suit himself up, I walked around the office, stopping to admire the artwork and awards mounted on the stark white walls.

  One particularly large award captured my attention. “What’s Meds Without Borders?” I asked.

  Buckling his belt, he replied, “It’s a worldwide charity I started. My company supplies drugs and vaccines to third world countries that are in dire need of them. I believe in giving back.”

  So my Trainman was as benevolent as he was beautiful; I was moved. “Have you ever visited any of these countries?”

  Ari’s eyes grew soulful, showing a side of him I had never seen before. “Last year, I went to Africa. It was an eye-opening experience. So much poverty. Malnutrition. Disease. I got to know the people. It made me want to be there.”

  Taking my good hand in his, he brought me over to his desk. I gazed at the framed photos, neatly arranged on the polished blond wood. Most were images of him and his son along with one of his late father. But to my shock, there was also a photo of me wistfully sketching on a bench at 30th Street Station. My hair was considerably shorter. He must have taken it at least six months ago. Had I been in his life that long? A tingle rippled through me.

  There was also one other photo that captured my attention. One of Ari in jeans and a Meds Without Borders t-shirt, holding hands with an adorable African boy with a big toothy smile who looked to be about six. Ari lifted the photo off his desktop.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Kamau. His name means ‘quiet warrior’”

  A warrior like Ari...and like me.

  “I couldn’t save his mother’s life, but I was able to save his. When I first met him, he was undernourished… all skin and bones… suffering from malaria.”

  I studied the photo of the happy, robust child. “He’s beautiful.”

  Ari smiled proudly. “Yes, and smart too. I have a trust fund set up in his name so that one day he can come to America and study medicine. He wants to be a doctor.”

  The mention of the word doctor transported me back to my hospital visit. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about my mother’s fate.

  Ari placed the photo back on his desk and then framed my face with his soft hands. “Baby, what’s the matter? Are you still hurting?”

  “No, it’s my mother. Her insurance is no longer going to pay for her treatment,” I blurted out, unable to hold back. Tears poured down my face.

  “Saarah, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. He wiped away my tears with his thumbs. “Fuck American medicine,” he growled, his face fierce.

  “Mr. Golden, I have the clothes you wanted.”

  The female voice startled the both of us, interrupting our embrace. It was his gray-haired, matronly secretary, Miss Thatcher, with a large silver Neiman Marcus shopping bag in her hand. The look on her face mirrored my own wet-faced embarrassment. I nervously tugged at Ari’s shirt, impossibly trying to make it longer.

  Ari did not lose his cool. “Thank you, Miss Thatcher,” he said with a hint of playful sarcasm. “You can just put the bag down. Next time, please knock.”

  Holding her head high, the prim and proper woman skulked out of the room.

  “And please continue to hold my calls,” Ari shouted out as she closed the door behind her.

  Ari retrieved the bag and peered inside. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do.”

  I wondered what he’d had in mind as he pulled out a pale pink cashmere crewneck sweater and matching pink gabardine knee-length
skirt. Miss Thatcher had obviously visited the “Career Girl” department.

  “Come, let’s get you dressed,” he said, unbuttoning my borrowed shirt. He slid it off me and slipped the sweater over my head. I wiggled my long arms into the sleeves and then snatched the skirt from him. “Mr. Golden, I am old enough to dress myself.”

  He smirked as I stepped into the skirt, skimmed it over my narrow hips, and zipped it up. It hung on my hips. I had lost weight from my stressful week.

  He stepped back and gave me the once over. “Actually, it’s not bad. Pink suits you. It just needs a little fixing.” Moving close, he pinched my nipples, then tugged and twirled them. They hardened and elongated beneath the soft cashmere. A tingling erupted between my inner thighs. Shit! He was making me horny all over again. Where was this leading?

  And then he stopped and fixated his eyes on the two buttons that had popped under my sweater. “Much better,” he grinned.

  I glanced down. My nipples were very visible. I mean, very. I rolled my eyes and stiffly marched back over to the couch to put on my combat boots. It was a struggle to lace them up with my thickly bandaged hand.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said breathily, already heading my way.

  He crouched down in front of me and expertly laced each of them up as I admired his long deft fingers. God, those fingers could do so much!

  He lifted me up from the couch and took hold of my good hand. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the company while you’re here.”

  “Wait!” I panicked.

  “You don’t need panties.” A wicked smile crossed his face.

  The goddamned mind reader. I loved him so.

  Golden Industries spanned three vast floors, each a different department. His floor was the executive floor and included a state-of-the art conference room with sweeping views of the city. The floor below was marketing and sales. I was surprised how much everyone loved to see him pop into their office. He knew every one of his employees by name and seemed to know what they were each up to. I was impressed by how he knew important personal things about them—like birthdays, the birth of a child, an upcoming graduation or even a death in the family.

  “How many people work for you?” I asked as we headed toward the elevators for a second time.

  “Three hundred in this building; another two thousand around the world.”

  “Wow!”

  “We’re the largest privately-held pharmaceutical company in the world,” he said proudly as a pair of elevator doors slid open.

  The elevator descended to the thirty-fourth floor and opened to a vast, open-floor plan laboratory where dozens of men and women in white jackets were huddled over state-of-the-art computers, peering through microscopes, and interfacing with other high-tech equipment that looked like it was straight out of a futuristic movie.

  “This is my favorite floor. It’s where the dream of ending world disease can come true.”

  I was in awe. “I thought your company only made skin care products. Like Dermadoo.”

  He flashed a smile. “Actually, Dermadoo started out as a drug to treat skin cancer, and then we discovered its anti-wrinkle benefits. The wild, unexpected success of that product has enabled us to expand our business and research and develop many other life-saving drugs.”

  Wow! I was impressed.

  “I want to show you something.” Still holding my hand, he led me to an area where two scientists were observing a pair of caged white laboratory mice.

  “Meet Major and Minor.” He was obviously introducing the cute, little rodents.

  One of the scientists, an attractive, middle-aged brunette opened the cage door and gently pulled out one of the mice. She held him tightly in her hands while her partner, a young Asian man, injected him.

  I cringed, having recently seen enough needles to last me a lifetime.

  Ari pat the little critter’s furry head. “Good boy, Major.” The critter’s pink eyes blinked.

  “Major and Minor both had cancer; except a trial run of a new drug we are experimenting with has put Major into major remission—hence his name. We are very hopeful about it.”

  Thoughts of my mother flashed into my head again. If only there was hope for her. I fought back the tears that were forming in my eyes.

  As if Ari were reading my mind again, he gently squeezed my hand. “Come, I’ll have Miss Thornton page Andre to bring the car around to take you back to the city. I’d go back with you, but I have an important board meeting this afternoon that I can’t miss.”

  We returned to his office, and with a heavy heart, I stared out the window. With the clouds so close, I could be in heaven. And soon, perhaps this is where my mother would be. I didn’t want to leave Philly. I wanted to be with my mother. And I wanted to be with him.

  Lost in my thoughts, I did not hear Ari come up behind me. His arms circled around my waist, and his warm breath blew on my neck. I could feel the rigid rod between his legs brush against my backside. I closed my eyes, and the longing I felt for him surged inside me.

  A voice called out from the intercom. Miss Thatcher, obviously too scared to come in, even with a knock at the door. “Andre is here.”

  Ari spun me around and covered my mouth with his. The kiss was hot and passionate, like Tony kissing Maria. I ran my fingers through his silky hair, still a little damp from our memorable bath.

  Finally, he pulled away, but kept his manly hands firm on my shoulders. “Saarah, there’s a black tie ball tonight at the Waldorf; it’s an annual fundraiser honoring the work I do for Meds Without Borders. There’s still one empty seat at my table. My shrink thought it would be a good idea for me to ask you to come.” He paused. “I was going to ask you to invite you on Tuesday night but…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t want to think about his ex and neither did I. Collecting himself, he looked deep into my eyes. “I still want you to be my date—that is, if don’t have plans with your other ‘boyfriend.’”

  Smart aleck! The glow on my face gave him the answer he wanted to hear. He kissed me once more, lightly on the side of my neck.

  And then I froze. What was I going to wear? I didn’t exactly have a closet full of ball gowns to choose from.

  Ari read my face. “Don’t worry, Princess. Andre will take you to Bergdorf’s. Go to the fourth floor Personal Shopping Department. Dawn will be expecting you. She’ll pick out something beautiful for you to wear.”

  Miss Thornton’s voice filtered into the room once more. “Will Ms. Greene still be needing the car?”

  Ari rolled his eyes, then gave me an affectionate slap on my ass. “Go. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  How this man could make everything so much better. He was a healer, emotionally and physically. If it weren’t for my torn up knee, I would have skipped out the door like a giddy child.

  Curling the fingers of my good hand around the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder. He was leaning against his massive desk, his legs crossed, looking as sexy as ever. Damn him. He was just waiting for me to turn my head. “Saarah, don’t be running into any muggers or serial killers. I want you whole tonight.”

  “Right.” Smiling, I pulled the door open and let it close behind me.

  During the long, uneventful ride back to New York, only one thought filled my head. Ari Golden, the complicated head of Golden Industries, was no longer a stranger on a train. He was the man I unconditionally loved.

  Obviously, I was important to him. He had admired me from afar for months and kept a photo of me on his desk. He had also mentioned me to his therapist. I wondered—had he discussed his feelings about me with his shrink? And had the L-word ever entered the conversation?

  There were only three words I longed to hear from him: “I love you.” Until I heard him say them, I wasn’t sure what the future would bring.

  Andre let me off at the main entrance of Bergdorf’s on Fifth Avenue; he was going to wait for me until I was done and then take me home.

  I had been here only once before—
to pick up Chanel lipstick for Catherine. Ari’s ex-wife. The thought of her made me shudder, but I remembered my mother’s words of wisdom. “Sarah,” I told myself, “you are a warrior princess. Don’t let her stand in the way of your career or the man you love.” I took a deep breath and pretended I was Xena as I entered the store.

  I took the elevator up to the fourth floor, surrounded by a bevy of chicly dressed, perfectly coiffed women who reminded me of the main women in Ari’s life—his mother, sister, and ex. I held my own although my Sarah Plain and Tall persona was already knocking at the door. Several shoppers shot me surprised looks when I alone got off on the exclusive fourth floor.

  When I stepped out of the elevator, my jaw dropped. I felt like I was in fairy-tale land. The softly lit floor was filled with dazzling gowns. Every one of them looked like it belonged on a princess and was ready for its first dance.

  An attractive, smartly dressed woman, who reminded me of a younger version of Ari’s elegant mother, immediately greeted me. Dawn. She gave me a once over and smiled. The glimmer in her eye told me she approved of Ari’s choice in women.

  “Let’s start with the dress and move our way to shoes and accessories and then to hair and makeup.”

  Hair and makeup? I had no idea that Ari was giving me a total makeover.

  “I’ll show you a few dresses that Mr. Golden might like; we have more in the dressing room.”

  The first dress Dawn showed me was a silver-blue Armani sheath, with a thigh-high slit. The second was a red strapless crepe de chine number by Valentino. While they were both gorgeous and “so Ari,” neither of them really spoke to me. My eyes darted around the salon and landed on a mannequin that was wearing a dress that transported me to another world, another time. It was a pale pink ball gown with a pouf of tulle that cascaded over a very full silk-satin skirt. Two spaghetti straps held it up. “I’d like to try that one on,” I said, pointing to it.

  “Oh, the Dior,” said Dawn approvingly. “It just came in. It’s special order. The one on the mannequin is Size 4.” She looked me up and down and smiled. “I think it will fit you. I’ll get someone to bring it into the dressing room.”