Defending Pacer Read online

  “Who said I was a fairy-tale?” I laugh. “Not many rich guys really have time to learn how to fly planes, especially not ones like me. I’d rather just pay someone else to fly me around.”

  She laughs with me. Thank fuck. The only way to battle this embarrassment is to humour her. Why does she think I’m like a fairy-tale? Is she really like every girl I’ve ever met, all wanting their Prince Charming to sweep them off their feet and have a fucking happy ever after? Doesn’t she realise that doesn’t always happen in my world? You have to fight for the happy, and as for the ever after? Well, that’s even harder to get when there’s always a target on you. That’s my reality.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “If you keep your eye out, you may just catch some whales. We saw a pod yesterday when we flew over here.” The pilot’s voice sounds through the headphones again.

  It’s safe to say that this is the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for me, even if it’s just a plane flight to have lunch. I’ve gone out to dinner with guys—I even dated a guy for four months once. Nothing felt like it fit into my life. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realise nothing ever will fit into my life. None of them felt nice, except this. This feels nice.

  The farther we get from Sydney, the farther we are from our troubles.

  “There’s some.” The pilot points to the window next to him. “Let me bank down closer. They’re the Humpback whales, more than likely on their way up to Hervey Bay in Queensland with their babies. It’s their annual migration.”

  The look on Pacer’s face is so sweet. He looks at me with a smile, and his eyes are soft and gentle. I’ve never really noticed the dark colour of them before. They’re a deep brown and appear almost bottomless. The smile that he’s trying to hide is as if he’s embarrassed about enjoying this moment. Does he think he’s too hard to be soft? Maybe he didn’t even realise how nice this was going to be.

  He lifts his arm up, coaxing me to lean over him and get a better view of the whales. His body feels amazing against mine. I can feel his heart beat vibrate through his chest. I also feel the hardness of it under his clothes. The sound of my heartbeat thuds in my ears, and I put my palms against his thigh and use him as leverage to look out of his window better. I hope I get to touch his trouser python a bit better this time. From what I think I felt before, that thing is a monster. It makes my mouth salivate at the thought. The top of his thigh flex under my fingers. They’re strong, powerful legs.

  He looks down at my hand on top of his leg before his eyes quickly meet with mine again. I can feel the heat from his body. He watches my face, taking all of me in. I like him watching me. The intensity of it is strange and alluring. It makes my nipples harden and my clit pulse. I squeeze my legs together and sit up straight. He glances down. Did he just notice that? Fuck, he’s intuitive if he did.

  My breasts are forced outwards in this position, touching distance from Pacer’s hands. What I wouldn’t give for him to just rub a finger past my nipple. Just one would be enough.

  Slowing my breathing as best as I can, I focus on the four long dark shapes in the ocean. They’re in the shape of whales, but they’re so tiny from up here. But I really don’t care about whales right now. I could practically mount Pacer from here.

  As the plane dips to the left, I’m forced up against Pacer even more. He reaches for the side of my face and brings me to him. His eyes are still soft, but there’s also a yearning in them.

  “Fuck rules.” I feel his breath against me when he speaks.

  Our lips collide into each other’s, and I don’t even think about it any more. My body has taken over all my rational thoughts, and now it’s just running it’s own course, straight to Pacer. His tongue slips into my mouth and rubs against mine. It feels hot and tense. I tingle all over from the sensation of it. Our tongues dance in a beautiful harmony with each other, as if they’re having a conversation of their own. There’s a lot to be said about the power of a tongue. I squeeze my legs tight together and my clit pulses with excitement. I’m doing pelvic floor exercises without even meaning to.

  Fuck, this is intense.

  His lips.

  Fuck me, his lips.

  I let them slide all over my mouth. The kiss is deep. The kiss is two weeks of built-up tension and two days of absence from one another. I feel his hand slide under the headphone and around the back of my neck. His fingers weave through my hair, and he pulls me against him as his kiss intensifies even more. The pulse that was just in my pants is now all over my body. Pins and needles tickle the top of my head. Holy shit, I could rip my clothes off, right here, right now.

  His tongue moves back from my mouth, and I lean in to pull him back. It can’t stop. Not now. I reach up to his face and slide my fingers through his stubble. My palm tingles.

  He grabs my hand and gently pulls back again, much to my disappointment. Seriously, I am going to forget how to breathe soon.

  I slowly open my eyes. Pacer’s dark eyes are on mine, and they crinkle in the corners as he smiles. All that remains of our intense kiss are soft pecks as my lips refuse to leave his.

  Wow, he mouths, so that the pilot doesn’t hear. Although I’m sure he knows what’s going on in the back of his plane.

  I chuckle. I feel like such a teenager. But I’m not. I’m a professional woman … who just kissed her client.

  Shit!

  Straightening up, I sit back in my seat. I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I’ve wanted to kiss him for days, but now that it’s happened, I feel embarrassed about it and instead choose to look down at my hands in my lap to lessen the heat in my cheeks.

  I wish that didn’t just happen. Or do I? God, I don’t know. Why does this have to be so damn confusing?

  “Hey.” Pacer’s voice comes through my headphones.

  He leans in to me and removes my headset. The noise of the plane is loud, but I feel Pacer’s breath against my ear as he speaks.

  “I’ve wondered what that would feel like for days.”

  I hear him clearly in my ear. I can’t help but smile.

  I lean into him, and he removes his headset too. “Me too. But I have a rule about seeing clients. Don’t get me wrong—I really like you … a lot. But it’s really unprofessional of me.” I raise my voice so he can hear me.

  “I like breaking the rules.” His hot breath is on my ear again.

  For once in my life, I can’t argue that point.

  I put my headset back on to muffle out the sound of the plane. We dip down and bank around a long sandy beach. We fly into the wide inlet of the Hawkesbury River and veer into the smaller creek. The waterway narrows and we fly over a small green ridge.

  “We’re just coming in to land now.” I hear the pilot again.

  We fly over the top of a white motorboat and gracefully come in to land on the water. I love the landing of a seaplane. No rough thud as you hit the ground, but instead a gentle slide followed by some swaying from the water. It’s always very relaxing.

  We float over to the pontoon at the front of Cottage Point Inn restaurant. As we pull up alongside the wharf, a guy grabs the rope on the side of the wing and pulls us into the edge. The pilot gets out through his front door and opens the rear for us. Pacer, the persistent gentleman, exits and holds his hand out to help me down from the plane. He doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk up the wharf to the restaurant. The feel of his leather glove excites me. It feels really dominating, but in a protective way. I feel safe.

  “Mr and Mrs Park, right this way. We have the table up the back reserved for you, as per your request,” the young male waiter announces, as we walk up to the entrance.

  I chuckle. It’s surprisingly nice to be referred to as ‘Mr and Mrs’. I could get used to it.

  The restaurant has a rustic feel to it, like an old wooden boat shed. It’s so isolated and quiet out here. I feel as if we’re a world away from the drama we left in Sydney. Maybe we can just be ourselves out here?

  “This was a
great idea,” I say to Pacer, as he pulls my chair out for me.

  The leather of his glove rubs across my skin as he sweeps my hair aside and leans down to kiss the side of my neck. His stubble against my skin naturally makes my eyes close, taking in all the wonderfully different sensations.

  God, he feels good.

  Yes, I can definitely get used to this.

  “You have the degustation menu set for you today. Would you like to start straight away?” the waiter asks.

  Pacer answers without hesitation. “Yes, straight away, thanks.”

  For someone who is always in strict control of my life, it’s really quite refreshing not to be, for once. There’s something about having Pacer take control that feels so natural. I don’t think I’ve ever let a man take control as much as he has in one date. Is this a date? I guess it is. Considering the romantic element, you would call it a date. Right?

  “You look deep in thought.” Pacer takes his glove off and runs the back of his finger along my arm.

  I break from my continuous self-analysis, and automatically revert back to work mode.

  “Yeah, I was. So there are some things that have come to light about your investigation.”

  “How about we just enjoy each other? All this professional shit can wait.” He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “Plus, you wanted to eat first, remember?”

  He has me in such a fluster that I forgot I was even hungry. Now I have a different type of hunger —one that’s not going to be satisfied in a restaurant.

  “I still don’t know how I feel about all this touchy-feely in public. I don’t want to give the newspapers anymore to talk about. My family would be so upset, and you may lose your case over this.”

  Pacer reaches to my cheek, brushing my hair back from my face again. “That’s why we’re here. I’ve paid the staff accordingly to keep this discreet.”

  “But what about the other patrons? This is what I mean, Pacer. We have to be careful. The media will blow this story wide open, because it will sell papers. I know how they work. And they pay the public good money for information like this. We can’t just pay everyone off every time we go somewhere together. It’s not that easy.”

  He shrugs. “I can afford it.”

  “And when you can’t afford it anymore? Then what?”

  “Then we’ll just run away and join the circus.” He winks playfully.

  “I’m serious. We need to be careful about who sees us together socially. We come from two different worlds. If people see us together on a non-professional level, it will ruin all creditability with your case.”

  His left eyebrow rises—just the one. That’s some good brow control. It’s sexy as fuck.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing more to your concerns? Why are you here if you’re so worried about your creditability?”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t be here at all, and there is more. Our families know each other, and hate each other. You know how you said you were raised by your Uncle because your father was murdered in prison?” Pacer’s hand slips from my cheek. “Well, my Dad was the one who put him there.”

  “Yeah, Carlo told me that.” He doesn’t seem too discouraged by the news.

  “So us being in public is a loose decision, both personally and professionally.”

  The waiter brings over our wines, breaking the moment between us. “The is a nice torrontés wine from Argentina. All your wines are matched with each serving today.” He places the glasses in front of us.

  We both pick our drinks up in unison and take swift gulps, our eyes locking throughout the whole sequence. It’s intense.

  I don’t taste the wine. It’s a cold liquid that’s hitting my tongue—that’s the extent my mind is registering beyond my struggle over Pacer.

  It’s all but gone by the time I realise the waiter has left us. I put the wine glass down before I crack it from the pressure in my hands.

  Pacer, on the other hand, slams his wineglass against the table top. Surprisingly, the glass doesn’t break, but it creates enough of a noise to make me jolt.

  The waiter returns with two large plates that have little sectioned pieces of a meal in the centre. Suddenly the situation seems so ridiculous—we’re arguing over life, death and work at a restaurant accessible only by air, and here’s a plate with the tiniest little decorated piece of food? I laugh like I like I always do when I see posh meals that end up looking more like art than food. It’s so pretentious. Why can’t food just be food?

  “What’s so funny?” Pacer asks the moment the waiter turns to walk away.

  I chuckle as I speak, “Sometimes food just looks ridiculous.”

  He starts laughing too, and suddenly the tension in my neck relaxes. I’m here now, so I might as well enjoy the moment for what it is.

  I finish the three mouthfuls of the meal before Pacer drops his cutlery down and snatches my hand in his.

  “I can’t take this anymore,” he says as he abruptly gets out of his chair, my hand still within his grip.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to a house of mine, because you’ve been teasing the fuck out of me for days.”

  He grips tight around my hand and leads me out of the restaurant. I grab my handbag quickly as he pulls me. He reaches in his pocket as we pass the waiter’s station and throws a pile of hundred dollar bills on the counter.

  “We’ll be back later.”

  Holy shit!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Pacer’s leather glove-covered hand grips around mine firmly as he continues to pull me to the top of a road so steep that my breath is non-existent. My feet barely hit ground with each step we make, or at least that’s what it feels like.

  We stop at a driveway near the top of the hill. The tree line falls dramatically down the steep embankment. He pulls me with him, and I follow as we cross over wooden decking that leads to the entrance of a very angular, modern-looking house that sits amongst the treetops.

  Pacer looks back to me with a wanton glare. I can’t quite distinguish whether he wants to hurt me or pleasure me, but the sexual vapours coming from him make me light-headed. A combination of pleasure and pain is sounding perfect right now. With anyone else, that would be frightening, but with Pacer, it’s fucking arousing.

  He makes quick work of the locks, swinging the rich wooden door wide open. His hands grip around the back of my thighs, and he lifts me off the ground and wraps my legs around him. My thighs squeeze tight around his waist.

  Fuck, I wish I could feel his gloves against my skin right now.

  I do feel something else, though. Holy shit, he is big. Wow, like really big. It sits all the way up to the top of his pants.

  I hold my legs around his waist, and my hands slips naturally around his neck. His mouth meets mine and the world melts away. All I need right now is for Pacer to fill every inch of my desires.

  My back hits the wall, and Pacer pulls my sweater over my head. He kicks the door shut behind him, and it feels as if a surge of electricity has passed through my entire body. Dropping my bag, it lands with a thud.

  Oh Jesus. His tongue. When it hits my tongue, it’s lights up a pathway that sends jolts directly to my pussy.

  I want to pull myself together, but my body is screaming to have him inside me, dominating me. My mind too has fallen victim to Pacer and is no longer listening to anything other than my need to fuck the hell out of him.

  Dropping my hands from behind his neck, I delicately start to unclasp each of the buttons on his shirt, but he gets impatient and rips the rest with one hand.

  I giggle. My skin soaks up his breath every time he presses his lips against me. There’s just one more layer of clothes before our skin is against one another. Fuck you, winter, and your need for layers of clothing!

  Thank God he moves his hand under my ass. My leg muscles weren’t doing the job of holding me up like they were supposed to. His fingers brush past my sex. It’s too much.

  I flip
open the button on my zipper as a hint. He follows the direction easily and puts me down for a moment to rip my jeans down past my thighs. Finally, I feel the smoothness of his leather gloves against my bare skin. It’s as delicious as I’ve been imaging for days. My head tips back in pure ecstasy.

  Cold, soft, foreign—it makes me yearn for more. I need all of that leather within me.

  As the leather leaves my clit and travels down my leg, I groan out of an equal amount of frustration and impatience, but oh-so-fucking turned on.

  Dipping each foot that he lifts, he pulls my ankle boots off and slides my jeans all the way down. His movements are delicate with the right amount of dominance. His lips trail all the way up my leg again. He gets to the inside of my thigh and he pushes his face against my skin, and inhales loudly. I look down as his eyes close, taking me all in. It makes me feel so sexy that he loves my smell.

  As he moves farther up, he gets to the gap between my legs. Jostling his nose up against my underwear, he inhales again.

  Oh my God, I feel leather on my clit and start seeing stars. The coldness catches me by surprise but that feeling is quickly taken over by a desire for more. My hips grind against his hand. I need him in there. Now!

  He growls a deep groan and he stands up and shoves me back against the wall as his tongue practically hits the back of my throat.

  Oh. My. God.

  His hands find mine, and he takes my wrists and brings them up above my head, securing them there with one strong, leather-gloved grip.

  His other hand slides down my body, pulling my bra down and popping my hardened nipples from my bra as they pass. His lips leave mine as they trail down to my chest. He sucks on the first nipple, and a moan escapes me. When he cups the bottom of my second breast and finds my other nipple with his tongue, I moan even loader. His leather glove slides past my stomach and slips into my underwear. I’m up on tippy-toes, my pelvis naturally tilting, my entire body pleading to have his leather finger inside me. I need that cold sensation to hit me inside. I want to warm it with my internal walls. I want it to warm me with friction. I can only imagine how incredible that will feel.