Dirty Little Secret (Forbidden Desires #1)

Gavin

It had been five days since I’d last seen Emma, and every second seemed to tick on for an eternity.

In all the time we’d been apart, I’d tried to focus on my work, tried to look for new marketing opportunities and ensure the girls and clients were happy. But I couldn’t.

Instead, I spent my time brainstorming lists of all the reasons these five days were a good thing, a cleansing experience. There was no doubt I was getting in over my head, and if I sank any deeper, I knew where it would lead—to the one place I wouldn’t, couldn’t go.

But knowing that didn’t make life any easier.

I would close my eyes at night and see her sapphire gaze looking back at me in my dreams. I would climb into the shower, then imagine her . . . writhing beneath my touch.

Damn, I was losing it.

Gritting my teeth, I closed out the document I’d been working on and pinched the bridge of my nose.

If Cooper wanted her so bad, then why had he practically wheedled me into agreeing to see Emma in the first place? No, if anyone deserved to be with her, even if it was only for a brief while, it was me.

It was my fingers she’d ridden to the brink of ecstasy in the back of my limo. My name on her lips when she’d begged for more.

It wasn’t just that I wanted to see her. It was that my palms itched whenever I merely thought about touching her smooth skin. My heart pounded when I thought about her smile. I breathed deeply just thinking about that light, sweet scent on the air around her. It was a craving that needed to be satisfied.

And there was only one way I’d be able to fulfill the need.

“Fuck it.” I shoved out of my desk chair and pulled my phone from my pocket. Shooting off a few quick texts, I prepared myself for the date I’d always wanted with Emma—no business, no awkward small talk. Just the two of us, someplace private.

When the arrangements were in place, I took a deep breath and dialed her number. The phone only rang twice before she picked up.

“Gavin,” she said, slightly breathless.

“What are you doing today?”

The long pause on the other end of the line told me she was more than a little surprised I was calling.

Welcome to the club.

“I was going to do a little more work on my house today.”

“Can you hold off for another day?”

“I . . .” She hummed and then cleared her throat. “I might be able to—”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“Good. I’ll be at your place in forty minutes.”

I hung up, and already, I could feel my pulse throbbing in my neck and my wrists, just at the thought of seeing Emma again. I quickly made my way to my limo, instructing Ben about our plans for the day before speeding off on our first errand.

By the time I got to Emma’s place, I was still ten minutes early, but I didn’t care. I walked up her newly repaired stoop, noticing the new planters at the sides of the top step, then rapped on the door with quick, decisive knocks.

It only took a second for the door to open, and I forced myself to swallow hard.

Emma was stunning. Not just in the way she always was, but in a way that was simpler, more herself, no gown or high heels in sight. She had left her hair loose and wavy around her shoulders, and was wearing a casual off-the-shoulder top paired with cut-off jean shorts so enticing, I had to force myself not to stare at those curvy hips.

“Am I dressed okay?” she asked. “I wasn’t really sure what to—”

I held up a hand to stop her. “You look perfect. Now, come on. We have people waiting on us.”

“We do?” She furrowed her brow, but only paused for a moment before locking the door behind her and following me down the steps to the car. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. But hopefully a good one.”

I opened the door for her and she slid inside, giving me a peek of that heart-shaped ass as she ducked into the car. Quickly, I slid after her and closed the door behind us before Ben pulled out into traffic.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked once we were settled.

“You’re going to love it.” I grinned, though I didn’t reveal anything else until Ben finally arrived at the helipad.

“A helicopter?”

I barely caught her words as we stepped from the car onto the wide space, the air around us gusty. The whirring blades left no question about why they called it a chopper.

“It’s loud!” Emma said, keeping pace beside me.

I nodded. “You okay?”

“Better than okay. This is amazing.”

Carefully, I placed my hand on her lower back and guided her inside, showing her how to put on her headphones and talk into her microphone.

The pilot smiled at us and gave us a thumbs-up, which Emma returned with a grin before screaming into her microphone.

“What on earth made you think of a helicopter?”

“It’s a great way to travel.” I returned her grin as we lifted into the air and began our journey. The whole way, Emma gripped my hand, almost like she was afraid she might fall out of the helicopter without my support, and I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Where are we going?” she asked again.

I shook my head. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The city skyline became nothing by glittery peaks and gray valleys as we ascended, and Emma stared down in amazement, pointing at the tiny skyscrapers with her mouth agape.

“This is incredible.”

“It is nice, isn’t it? It’s even better from the front.”

“You can fly one of these things?” Wide-eyed, she stared at me, and I nodded again.

“It’s a passion of mine,” I admitted, again revealing more of myself without even realizing it until it was done.

How did she manage that? To draw me out of the titanium shell I’d built around myself so easily?

“You should have piloted. I’d love to see you fly,” she replied with a grin.

“Maybe next time.”

Damn it. Not a promise, per se. But with every moment we spent together, I was digging in deeper. Committing more. Protecting myself less.

All it took was one squeeze from her soft little hand to send that thought skittering away again.

I was happier than I’d been in days. Years, maybe. No fucking way I was going to let myself ruin it.

We soared over the city, then past the rocky coastline of Massachusetts, taking the scenic route as I’d instructed our pilot. Finally, we came to rest on the helipad my favorite winery had added last year at my request.

I thanked the pilot with a nod and helped Emma from the helicopter. Then I guided her away again as the wind whipped our faces and the pilot ascended, leaving us alone at last.

When the helicopter was a speck in the air, the buzz of the blades was replaced by the gentle hum of bugs and birds in the woods beyond. I took Emma by the hand, leading her toward the entrance of the winery, and the owner came out to greet me per usual.

“Mr. Kingsley, we haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hey, Edgar, great to see you again. You have our room ready, I trust.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Kingsley. Absolutely.”

Edgar’s gaze wandered to Emma, and if I didn’t know he was happily married—to a man—I might have slugged him.

“Edgar, I’d like you to meet Emma.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.” Edgar extended his hand to Emma.

“You too, Edgar. Really nice to meet you.”

“Your cart is ready.” Edgar motioned toward the golf cart that sat a short distance away on a gravel path.

I hopped in the driver seat and Emma slid in next to me, and we took off down the path toward the private tasting room I’d reserved for the day. Admittedly, Edgar wasn’t happy with me when I told him to move the small wedding party he had scheduled because I’d like to bring a date here today, but he made it happen.

“This is stunning, Gavin. It’s so peaceful here.” Emma’s voice was in awe as we drove through the picturesque pathway to the vineyards. Huge old oak trees and towering pines were set against rolling hills, and ahead, acres and acres of grapevines twined around trellis posts.

“Here’s our stop. I hope you’re hungry.” I pointed ahead to an intimate tasting room. The small stone building was covered in Boston ivy and smelled powerfully from the rows of clay pots filled with every herb imaginable.

“Mr. Kingsley!” Cecily, the sommelier, waved vigorously at us as we pulled up.

“Do you ever get tired of that greeting?” Emma asked me.

I shook my head and took her hand, leading her inside the tasting room. Cecily beckoned us forward.

“Good afternoon. We’ve paired a few of your favorite wines with some local seasonal treats selected by our chef. Please enjoy. I’ll be around in the vineyard if you should need me.” And with that, she was gone, stepping out the French doors of the private cottage and closing them behind her.

The winery had pulled out all the stops. Mountains of cheeses, mounds of figs, crystal bowls filled with amber honey, pillows of spiced butters, and an array of homemade breadsticks covered the elegant table alongside a selection of my favorite wines—red, white, and even rosé. Each was labeled with a suggested food pairing, and Emma ran her fingers over the elegant tabletop as she read each tiny sign.

“You arranged for all of this?” she asked softly. “How did you even know about this place?”

“When you go to as many events as I do, you end up trying a lot of wine. This is my favorite. I called and asked them to set up a special date for us today.”

She shook her head. “All this . . . it’s incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s dig in.”

Emma didn’t need to be told twice. Picking up one of the earthenware plates from a corner of the table, she loaded her plate with stuffed figs, fresh grapes, goat cheese, and olive-oil breadsticks before pouring herself a small measure of red wine.

We took our plates to the small seating area that overlooked a large picture window, sinking down into plush leather armchairs, our plates balanced on our knees.

“It looks like you’ve gotten a good amount of work done on your grandmother’s place,” I said.

She beamed. “Did you notice? It’s been incredible. All the moldings are fixed, and I found an old rocker just like she used to have by the bay window. It’s really coming along.”

“Who did you hire?” I asked, taking a sip of red wine.

She blinked. “Hire?”

“To do the work for you?”

“Nobody.” She took a bite of her fig and cheese. “I watched some very informative YouTube videos, though.”

“You did all that yourself?”

Emma nodded, and I found myself yet again amazed by her.

“Impressive.”

“I like to think so.” She grinned. “I may have to get a contractor for my kitchen counters soon, though.”

“Or you could entrust things to a team of brothers you know,” I offered. “We’re pretty handy.”

She grimaced. “I don’t know about all that. You and Cooper together, in my house . . . all that testosterone and masculine energy. I’m not sure I could handle that.”