Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) Read online

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that . . .”

  “Look, I get it all the time. This will seal the deal for you. One of the things I saw when we shook hands that neither I nor Madison could ever know is the first kiss you shared with a young girl by the name of, uh, Diane—I think.”

  “Diana,” he said.

  “I’m terrible with names. For a while there, I thought yours was Rock.”

  “Rock?” he said. “I kind of like that. But you really saw me kissing Diana?”

  “I did. And she was a beautiful girl. I think you both were about ten or eleven when you shared that kiss. It happened in Washington Square Park straight after school. You had a crush on her, she had a crush on you, and you kissed—and then everything went wrong. And in case you want to know what became of her, she’s now a doctor living in Paris.”

  “She is?”

  “Complete with a husband and three kids.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I only wish I knew,” Rhoda said. “As I’ve told Madison time and again, whatever I’ve been given is either a blessing or a curse. But, hey—at least it earns me a living.”

  “You work as a psychic?”

  “I have a storefront on Christopher Street. But enough about me. I only told you that so you wouldn’t think Madison was crazy. Because she isn’t—my best friend is a rare gift, which you’ve already figured out. So! Tonight is about you two. Go and have a fun, kids. I’ll put the roses in a vase filled with water for you, Madison, and, you know, I’ll see you whenever I see you.”

  “I’ll call or text you,” I said to her.

  She gave me a kiss on the cheek after I picked up my overnight bag, which Brock quickly took from me. “Whatever you wish,” she said. “Call, text, or do nothing at all. Because it doesn’t matter.” She winked at me. “The veil has dropped, kiddo. And while I might be breaking a small rule here, it’s an important one to break, if only so you know that I won’t be worried about you.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I already know that you’re in good hands,” she said.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I love her already,” Brock said as we descended the stairs.

  “Eventually, I’ll tell you everything about how we became friends, but there is one funny thing that I’ll share with you right now. When Rhoda was six, she knew the exact date when we’d meet and become best friends.”

  “How does she know these things?”

  “I have no idea—and neither does she. It is what it is, I guess. But since we first met in person two years ago, we’ve become impossibly close. I love her with all of my heart. As you come to know her, I think that your initial impression of her will only deepen. She’s kind of an earth mother to me and many other people. And her business is on the cusp of exploding. I’d say that, within a year, both of us will be out of this building and in a better apartment.”

  “Or you’ll be living with me,” he said as we were about to exit the building. “Stranger things have happened, you know?”

  I was about to speak to that when he opened the front door and I saw a long, sleek, black limousine waiting for us at the curb. Since I knew that there was no way in hell a limousine would waiting for anyone else in this neighborhood, I knew at once that Brock was behind it and that he’d already spent more money than he should have.

  “Brock,” I said as we walked down the granite steps and onto the sidewalk. “You didn’t have to do this. We could have taken a cab. This is an unnecessary expense.”

  “None of this is unnecessary,” he said. “And it’s my pleasure.”

  “But how can you afford—?”

  “Look, there are times in one’s life when money doesn’t really matter, wouldn’t you agree? For me, tonight is one of those nights. It’s our night, and I want you to remember it for many reasons.”

  “Thank you,” I said as the driver got out of the limousine as we approached it. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this.”

  Brock gave my overnight bag to the driver, who placed it in the trunk before he came around the car and opened one of the rear doors for us.

  “Ladies first,” Brock said.

  I got inside, and within a moment, Brock was next to me. He reached for my hand, grasped it in his own, and then leaned in for a kiss, which I met with the same passion that he showed me.

  “Would you like some champagne?” he asked.

  “Champagne?”

  “I bought a bottle for us. And since this limo has a cooler, I can guarantee you that it’s chilled.”

  “I’d love a glass.”

  He leaned forward, opened a small, hooded compartment in front of us, and pulled out a bottle of Cristal. From my fashion magazines alone, I knew what that had cost him—an obscene amount of money. With the roses, the limousine, and the champagne, he was clearly going out of his way to please me. And I worried that I was responsible. Earlier, when I’d said that tonight needed to be a night to remember, I was just hoping that he’d choose a nice hotel. I’d never expected anything like this.

  “Brock, you need to let me pay for half of this,” I said.

  “Like hell you will.”

  “But this is too much. Both of us are on a budget.”

  “That’s what credit cards are for. And since I’m working at Wenn now, that card will be paid off in no time, so don’t worry about it because I’m not. Neither of us will be poor forever, Madison, so let’s enjoy this moment without giving a damn about money. Because you were right this afternoon. This moment won’t ever happen between us again. And when you see where I’m taking you, I don’t want to hear a word about it. I did all of this because I think that we deserve this memory. Because with you, Madison, I already know that this is just the beginning.”

  “Now you’re going to make me cry,” I said.

  “How about if you have some champagne instead?”

  He handed me a glass filled with the golden, bubbling liquid, I watched as he topped off his, and then we touched glasses.

  “To tonight,” he said.

  “To tonight.”

  After we sipped, he leaned in for a kiss, which I returned with a longing that surprised even me.

  As we drove north through the city, Brock held me close. With my head on his shoulder, I rested my hand on his hard stomach and felt his muscles through his shirt. And when I did that, to say that I was nothing short of a lighthouse sending out a beacon of lust to all of Manhattan was an understatement. I was not only wildly turned on, but simply by the way he was behaving, I sensed in him a true gentleman—and at least for me, also an increasingly deep connection between us.

  Could hearts really collide so quickly? And when they did, what happened to them? Did they become one, or did they just shatter?

  With Brock, I had to believe in the chance that they would indeed become one.

  He was gently stroking my thigh when the limousine cut off Fifth and pulled up in front of the Plaza Hotel.

  “You’re joking?” I said as the car approached the hotel’s entrance.

  “This is what tonight deserves,” he said. “And this is where I want to make love to you, Madison—in a suite made for a queen. Because you are my queen.”

  I can’t believe he’s gone this far.

  “Shall we go in?” he said.

  * * *

  When we stepped into the building, a sense of the hotel’s old-world luxury seemed to embrace us. We went to the elegant reception area, Brock introduced himself to a woman behind one of the desks, and she greeted us before she looked down at a computer and typed in his name.

  “Good evening, Mr. Wenn,” she said. “You’re affiliated with Wenn Enterprises?”

  “I work there, yes.”

  “Perfect. I’ll just need a credit card, and I’ll get you on your way.”

  When Brock handed her his card, she took it from him, swiped it, and made two magnetic keys for each of us. Then, after Brock signed a printed receipt, she to
ld us how to get to the suite. “You’re on the nineteenth floor,” she said. “Overlooking Fifth, just as you requested.” She gestured behind us. “The elevators are over there. A butler will be up with your bags within ten minutes.”

  A butler? I thought.

  “That’s perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your stay with us,” she said. “And please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything you need.”

  When we left the elevator and found our suite, my jaw dropped when we opened the door.

  “Oh, my God,” I said when I saw what stretched before us.

  Brock came up behind me and reached for my hand as we passed a half bath to our left. Beyond that was a spacious living room furnished in the richly decorative style of Louis XV. There were sweeping views of Fifth Avenue from the living room’s wall of windows. The sun had already dipped beneath Manhattan’s jagged horizon, and in the deep-purplish glows of twilight, the city had come to life in ways that were glittering and magnificent. I looked around the suite and saw a wet bar, a refrigerator under a marble butler’s pantry, and pocket doors that were opened just enough to expose the master bedroom beyond.

  “It’s exquisite,” I said to him.

  “I think we must have gotten some sort of an upgrade,” he said. “Because, to be honest with you, Madison, I didn’t request something like this. But maybe the Plaza has some sort of deal with Wenn. She did ask if I worked there, probably because of my last name. But who cares? This place works for me, and I hope that it works for you.”

  “Are you serious?” I kissed him hard on the lips, which was only meant to be brief, but which nevertheless turned out to be a lingering, breathtaking kiss that sent rivers of anticipation coursing through my body. When we parted, I ran my fingers through his hair and saw in his eyes not only what was to come, but how important this moment was for him. It was so clear to me that he didn’t want to let me down, it was right there on his face, and it just made me feel even more intensely for him. He’d gone to so much trouble to pull this off in such a short period of time that I knew at that moment that I was blessed to be with him.

  “Do you mind if I have a look around?” I asked.

  “Hell, I want to look around. If you saw my apartment, you’d know that it’s not every day that I see something like this.”

  The bedroom and master bath were separated by double French doors. We entered the bathroom and saw that it was decorated with marble mosaic tile in a leaf-like pattern that seemed inspired by Central Park.

  The marble vanity and bathtub appeared to have twenty-four-carat gold-plated fixtures, which I seemed to remember reading about in one of my magazines when the hotel underwent its infamous renovation. There was a large glass shower, a sunken Jacuzzi bathtub that I planned to use later with Brock, and a floor inlaid with striking earth-tone mosaic tiles.

  I noted that the toiletries were by Caudalie, and that there were two white, plush terry bathrobes hanging in the closet. Never in my life had I seen anything like this. It was perfect, and it was all because of Brock.

  I turned to him.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Like I said, I’m pretty sure that we got an upgrade.”

  “And so what if we did? Those happen at the hotel’s discretion. And lucky for us that it happened, right? It’s just wonderful, Brock. Thank you again.”

  “It’s me who should be thanking you for being with me tonight, Madison. You have no idea how happy I am to have you here. To be alone with you here. I don’t know why or how this has happened, but I’m grateful for it.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “That will be the butler with our bags,” he said. “Let me get them while you get comfortable.”

  * * *

  With a clear sense of haste, I stepped on it.

  While Brock went to deal with the butler, I closed the pocket doors that separated the living area from the bedroom. I rushed to dim the bedroom lighting so the space would look as romantic as possible, and then I took off my dress, folded it over a chair, and then I stood beside the bed in nothing more than my silky red panties and bra.

  Thinking that it would be sexier if I left my heels on, I got onto the bed and propped myself up against the bank of pillows with one arm behind my head, my legs crossed at the knee, with my hair falling over my shoulders.

  Would I look desirable to him like this? Or just stagey and pathetic? I didn’t know. It had been so long since I’d done anything like this, I was mostly going by what I read in the romance novels that I loved so much—which, to say the least, had taught me plenty about sex over the past several years—and also on the many scorching, iconic romance scenes I’d loved from my favorite movies.

  If you keep your arm over your head, you’re just going to look like your posing. And if that’s the case, he’s just going to see you as a poseur. Be yourself!

  But who was I now in a situation such as this? I sure as hell didn’t know. In the end, I just placed the palms of my hands over my naked stomach, which felt stilted to me. Rigid. But what in hell was I to do with them? Spread my legs and press them against my sex? Oh, that would be subtle. In the end, I had no time to do anything with my hands, because behind the doors, I heard Brock say my name: “Madison?”

  Oh, shit . . .

  “I’m in here,” I said, and when I said it, I could hear the nervousness, the fear, the thrill, and the self-doubt in my voice. Had I gone too far too quickly by disrobing like this? Maybe Brock had wanted to do that himself? I didn’t know. At this point, I felt like a damned amateur.

  What I did know was that tonight was about us coming together sexually, and I also knew with certainty that I didn’t want to wait a moment longer for that to happen. So, I let my arms drop to my sides and decided to forget about what he might like to see when he opened those doors, and instead just be myself.

  The pocket doors slid open—and there stood Brock in shadow, with the light from the living room backlighting him. Wordlessly, he remained motionless for several moments while he stared at me. I tried to get a read on the expression on his face, but I couldn’t see anything because his face was in complete darkness, which was frustrating beyond hell.

  When he didn’t move, I felt more exposed than ever, my face flushed from embarrassment and with the clear sense that I’d taken this way too far too soon. And then I felt my stomach twist with tension since I was, after all, practically naked to him.

  But then, in one quick, fluid motion, Brock took off his jacket and threw it like a shadow across the room.

  It hit one of the windows overlooking Fifty-Eighth Street before it fell to the carpet. The act alone was enough to make me wince with pleasure, if only because of how aggressive he was behaving.

  Next, off came his shirt. And then his pants. For a moment, it appeared as if he was about to take off his black boxer briefs when he seemed to check himself—and instead walked toward the bed.

  “You’re a feast,” he said as he crept onto the bed and our nearly naked bodies touched for the first time. With his smooth torso against mine, I felt the warmth of his skin, and an ache in my loins, and yet when we touched, it was nothing short of a chill as I started to tremble.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you. Brock, it’s been so long. . . .”

  “It’s been as long for me. And by the way, you’re fucking beautiful.”

  “I’m nervous,” I said.

  “Don’t be.”

  “It’s just that . . .”

  “I get it, Madison. And this is just one of the many reasons I’m so taken by you. You don’t know it, but you could have your choice of any man in this city, and yet for some reason that will forever remain a mystery to me, you’ve chosen to be with me. I can’t wrap my head around that, but I’m not about to argue with it. So let me take the lead. Let me take you to places you’ve never been before. By the time I’m finished with you, you’re going to be crying out
for more. And when you do? I’ll only want to give you more. That is, of course, if you can handle it. Though I have to say that at this moment, I’m not so certain that you can.”

  He kissed me when he said that, and then he smiled.

  “Unless, of course, you want to prove me wrong,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After he said that to me, Brock kissed me full on the lips before he moved down to my neck and then to the tips of my concealed breasts, where he gently bit one of my protruding nipples before he teased it by flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

  And then he stopped to look up at me.

  “I’m going to make you come so many times, you’ll know why this is right between us, Madison, and you’ll soon forget any doubts you might have had about us in the first place.”

  When he said that, I felt a part of me fall away as he began to kiss me around my belly button, which was enough to make me arch my back and reach out to grasp the silk bedspread on either side of me, an act that just encouraged him even more. My stomach was one of the most sensitive parts of my body, and with Brock’s beard brushing against my skin along with his lips and tongue, I was pretty much doomed to a lingering moment of delicious agony if he didn’t move on soon.

  And he did. Without warning, he lowered his head and kissed my sex through the fabric of my lace panties before he tasted my inner thighs in ways that felt at once heavenly and forbidden. A deep murmur came from the base of his throat as he made his way toward my feet. I looked down at him at that moment and saw a mischievous look in his eyes when he started to kiss and suck my toes.

  And when he did that, I tried my best to keep from crying out in laughter—not that I succeeded. I’d already told him that I was ticklish, and he clearly was getting off on torturing me with his consummate skill. From toe to toe, his lips and his tongue traveled, which just about sent me off the bed, through the window—and deep into the recesses of New Jersey.