A/N: 1) I know it's been a longer wait than usual, but this chapter was difficult to write. Mostly because of real life stuff. It's a long one, so I hope it makes up for the wait. I hope you enjoy the update.
2) This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
April 28. On Saturday morning, Pacey and Joey left Capeside and drove to Boston, arriving at Worthington in time for the ten o'clock start of its Admit Weekend. After finding a place to park, they made their way to the meeting point for a one-hour student-guided walking tour of the campus.
"You are going to be on your best behavior, right, Pacey? You're going to be nice and polite to everyone you meet."
"When am I ever not, Jo?"
She threw him a look. "No matter how bitchy or rude they might be. And please don't repeat what happened at the yacht club's Worthington party."
"What did I do, other than be the perfect boyfriend, as usual?"
"I know, but just… please don't go around telling everyone you're going to Yale, or do that thing where you make a lot of bad jokes because you think you need to charm these people."
"I promise the word Yale will not depart from these lips, Jo. And I promise not to utter a single joke."
She smirked at him in disbelief. "Is that a promise you're even capable of keeping?"
He raised his shoulders and gave her a look of uncertainty. "Well, I can at least try." He laughed as she shook her head.
The weekend was chockful of events Worthington was offering to prospective students, including open houses, a guided open rehearsal at the Leinsdorf Concert Hall by the Worthington Symphony Orchestra, a picnic lunch on the grounds, and master classes taught by the college's acclaimed faculty. There would be an evening reception and hors d'oeuvre party hosted by the Dean of Admissions to close out the day. Joey would be staying overnight in one of the dorms with a current Worthington student. On Sunday morning, student panel discussions were being held for admissions, housing, and financial aid as well as panels about studying abroad, the peer counseling center, and LGBT life on campus. Then the weekend of activity would come to an end at noon.
The walking tour began, and they moved across the manicured college green. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Looking about her surroundings, Joey thought that everything seemed to shine with unlimited possibilities and potential. The tour of the campus included all buildings, dorms, and grounds on the large property. The tour came to an end at the concert hall, where they were led inside to view the orchestra rehearsal.
At noon, a picnic lunch had been spread across the college green. Pacey and Joey sat together at one of the tables, making polite conversation with some other prospective students and their parents. When Pacey had finished eating, he went in search of a bathroom. As he made his way back to the picnic, he accidentally bumped into a guy who looked about his age, although he admittedly looked much more the muscular jock type.
"Oh, hey, sorry."
"That's okay. This place is a madhouse," the guy said with a southern accent. "Do you go here? Or are you plannin' on going here?"
"Er, uh, no," Pacey replied. "But my girlfriend will be coming here in the fall."
"My parents want me to come here, but there's less than three thousand in the undergrad population. It'll feel just like high school. I was kinda hopin' to get lost in a sea of students, ya know? And I play baseball and was hopin' to get on a decent team. Worthington is just like the Ivy Leagues, and you'll never get noticed playin' for Ivies.
"The name's Darnell, by the way."
"Pacey," he replied as they shook hands. "Nice to meet ya."
Something caught Darnell's eye and his head turned towards the picnic crowd. Then he turned back, grinning. "See that girl right there? The good-lookin' blonde? She's makin' eyes at you."
"Me?" Pacey turned and there indeed was a blonde standing between them and the crowd, separate from the picnic-goers, staring at him. She was slender, average height, and her thick hair hung perfectly straight to her shoulders. She was casually flicking a cigarette between her fingers. She wore tight black jeans and an over-sized flowy black top that hung off her left shoulder, revealing a red bra strap. Their eyes met. Her mouth curved into a smirk, and she started walking towards him.
Darnell let out a low whistle. "Gotta love college girls. And I can guarantee she ain't one of those girls who lie there motionless on their backs staring up the ceiling like they were sending up a prayer to Jesus or their mother. She looks like the kind of girl who would be up for all kinds of things." He turned to Pacey and grinned. "Lucky bastard."
With a frown, he watched Darnell walk away just before the blonde reached him, leaving him alone with her. He forced his face into a polite smile.
"Hello there," she greeted when she reached him, and paid no attention to Darnell as the guy walked off.
He immediately noticed her English accent, and the black polish painted on her fingernails. As he watched her take a drag from her cigarette, he thought he saw something dangerous in her blue eyes. This girl was definitely trouble. "Um, hi."
"So, are you a prospie?" she asked, and then blew out some smoke from the side of her mouth, making sure it blew away from him.
"A what?"
"A prospie. You know, one of the prospective students this place is rolling out the red carpet for."
"No."
"Pity."
"Uh, that would be my girlfriend, and technically she's more than prospective. She's already informed the school of her decision. She'll be a freshman here in the fall."
"And your name?" she replied, the fact he was in a relationship causing no visible reaction.
"Pacey Witter."
She smiled. "I'm Alice Cowper-Smith," she said, holding out her hand.
He shook it and again smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise." She looked up at him with half-closed eyes, her mouth still curved into a suggestive smirk.
Why was this girl so obviously flirting with him? She didn't know him from Adam. He watched her flick her cigarette. He supposed he should attempt polite conversation. "Are you a prospective student, Alice?"
"No, I'm a sophomore."
"Do you like it here?"
"Sure," she shrugged. "Did you take the walking tour?"
"I did. It's… it's a nice looking school, I guess."
She snorted and started chuckling. "And what institution of higher learning are you going to find yourself at, Pacey Witter?"
It was a bit tempting to mention Yale, but he remembered his promise to Joey. "I'm not going to college, but I'll be moving here to Boston at the end of the summer."
"To be close to the girlfriend?"
"Yeah."
"How sweet."
"So… what's Worthington like?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "It's all right. It wasn't my first choice, but my dear mother only agreed to let me study in the States if I went to a university in Boston. We have family who live here. So, there you have it. How long are you in town for?"
The way she'd spoken of her mother made it seem like the girl had definite issues with that subject. "Uh, just until tomorrow, and then we go back to the Cape."
"Is your girlfriend staying the night in the dorms with a student here?"
"Yeah, they've paired her up with someone. I don't know who."
"And where are you staying?"
Her suggestive eyes looked him up and down, and he frowned. "At a place nearby."
"Did you see the dorms on your walking tour?"
What was this, Twenty Questions? "Well, we saw the different residence halls from the outside."
"It's too bad you didn't get to see the inside of any dorm rooms on the tour." As she took another drag from her cigarette, her gaze swept up and down his body in a way that made his balls tingle and his guts flutter with nerves, leaving him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Are you terribly busy right now? Would you like to come see mine?"
His face hardened into a scowl. The conversation was over. "No, thank you. I'm gonna go find my girlfriend now. Nice talkin' to ya, Alice."
"Maybe I'll see you around campus in the fall, Pacey, when you come by to visit that girlfriend of yours."
Christ, he hoped not. Nodding, he turned and walked off back towards the picnic tables, his eyes scanning the crowd of people for Joey. His blue eyes filled with relief at the sight of her. When he reached her side, his arms wrapped around her and he buried his face in her hair.
She hugged him and her brows knitted with concern. "Are you okay, Pacey?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he sighed as he pulled out of the embrace. "You know the relief you feel when you run into people that you can't wait to put as much distance between you as possible and then you lay eyes on the one person you love more than anyone else in the world?"
She frowned. "Who did you run into? Are you not having a good time here? I've had some unfortunate conversations myself. Some people here are such snobs."
"I'm okay, Jo. So, what's next on the agenda?"
"Well, first there are two master classes," she told him, looking down at the pamphlet in her hand. "'The Conundrum of Color: Reading James Baldwin' with Shenelle Brody, professor of English and American Literature, and then 'What, If Anything, Does One Need to Know About Native American History in Massachusetts?' with Joanne Pocknett Avant, lecturer in Native American Studies."
He pulled a face. "Do you expect me to stay awake through all that?"
Grinning, she shook her head. "Don't you want to get a taste of life in the Worthington classroom, Pace?" she teased.
"I sit through enough classes back at Capeside."
She laughed breathlessly, and then sighed. "Well, you don't have to go." She glanced at the pamphlet again. "Why don't you go hang out at your motel and relax this afternoon? Watch some TV or something. Or go check out the city. Just be sure to be ready later. The welcome reception with the Dean of Admissions starts at seven."
"No, I told you that I was gonna be here with you. I'll stay."
"Pacey, each of those classes is, like, two hours long."
Lips parting, he stared at her. "Two… two hours?"
Her mouth curved into a grin. "See what I have to look forward to for the next four years of my life? You honestly don't have to sit through them with me. I'll be fine. I am fine. Just meet me on the north side of the Quad in front of Franklin Hall before seven o'clock, and we'll go to the party together, okay? You got the campus map?"
"Yeah, it's in my back pocket. Did you meet the girl you'll be staying with tonight?"
"Yeah. I told her I was gonna grab my bag from the car and bring it to her dorm room before the classes start. Her name's Alice and she's from London."
He froze, staring. "Uh… is she a blonde with black nail polish and does she smoke?"
Amused, Joey chuckled. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Er, uh, I met her. She was standing around over there," he said, tilting his head back in the direction he'd come from. "We talked for a couple minutes."
"What'd you think of her?"
"Uh… she seems a little too cool for school, if you ask me."
She laughed. "Yeah, she does come across like she's way too sophisticated for this place." Reaching for his hand, she entwined their fingers. "Walk with me to the car. The first class starts at one-fifteen, and I don't wanna be late."
When they reached the Witter wagon, Pacey pulled Joey's duffel from the back seat. He noticed the anxious look on her face as he shut the door. "Do you want me to drive you over to Franklin Hall?"
"Do you mind?" she asked, not wanting to put him out, but at the same time, feeling daunted at the prospect of crossing the college green by herself. Despite having taken the guided tour, the campus seemed so big and easy to get lost in. She felt like a fool walking around with her head buried in a map.
"Of course, I don't mind."
He tossed her bag back into the back seat, and then after they got into the front seats, she directed him to the residence hall where she'd be staying the night. They were soon parking in the designated student lot adjacent to Franklin Hall. They found Alice standing in front of the four-story brick building that housed over two hundred students, primarily sophomores. She had a cigarette in her hand as she watched them walk up.
"Ah, Pacey Witter. We meet again, and so soon, too. Lucky me." The girl smirked at him knowingly.
Joey frowned slightly and looked at him, wondering what their conversation had entailed.
He kept his face a mask of politeness. "Uh, yeah. Hi."
Alice grinned. "My dorm room is number two-one-four, just so you know. Maybe when you come by later to get your girlfriend, I'll let you take a look around."
Pacey set his jaw and glared.
"So, be back here before seven, okay?" Joey said, grasping his arms, pulling his attention away from the weird girl she'd have to room with later. She could tell he was getting annoyed already, and she'd wanted this weekend to not be a pain in the ass for him.
"I will," he promised, and kissed her goodbye.
When Pacey arrived at the Boston Fenway Motel, just one mile from Worthington, he checked into his room. It was an older building, with small bare-bones rooms, but what else to expect for just thirty bucks a night? He set his bag on the double bed, unzipped it, and unfolded his black suit, hanging it up in the closet. He suddenly became filled with nervous energy.
Since knowing he would be coming to Boston with Joey this weekend, he'd been going back and forth about whether he should make the trip to Park Street. Was now the best time? Should he wait until after graduation? Or until he and Joey both moved to Boston in August? He hadn't come to a decision, but now that he was alone in this motel room with nothing to do to pass the time, it weighed on his mind and he couldn't keep still. He no longer wanted to wait.
Decision made, he undressed and jumped in the shower. Not wanting to show up wearing jeans and sneakers, he decided to dress up in the suit he'd packed for the reception later. Happy to at least get away with not wearing a tie, he pulled on his slate blue shirt, shrugged on his black suit jacket, and then slipped into a pair of dress shoes. Once he'd shoved his wallet in his pocket and grabbed the car keys, he was out the door.
Seated behind the steering wheel, he reached over and opened the glove compartment. There was wasn't much inside, and he rarely needed to open it for anything. There were a couple maps and an instruction manual. A flashlight. Months-old leftover napkins from some fast food place. He took out a map of Boston. Unfolding it, he quickly found the street the motel was on and then went in search of Park Street. It didn't take long for him to find it as it bordered Boston Common. Just a couple miles away, it would be an easy drive.
The Ambrosia was a popular European restaurant with great food, service, and atmosphere, and it was the kind of place where you had to make a reservation at least a month in advance. With several locations all over the world, the flagship one in Boston—Ambrosia On Park—was frequented by celebrities like John Malkovich, Steven Tyler, Ted Danson, and Noam Chomsky, and by regular people with families. If by regular you meant rich but not famous. It cost an arm and a leg to eat there. Well known for their filet mignon, side dishes large enough to share, and impressive desserts, the Ambrosia had long since become one of the leading downtown restaurants.
Even though it didn't have a dress code, they did have valet parking, which Pacey took advantage of after he drove up and couldn't find a parking space on the street. With great amusement, the parking attendant looked over the Jeep Wagoneer as he took the keys. Rolling his eyes, Pacey walked away and approached the entrance. A guard was standing there.
"Do you have a reservation?" he asked, looking at a clipboard.
"No, I'm afraid not," Pacey replied.
"You won't be able to get a table without a reservation," he said. "They're all taken."
"Was your last job as a guard at Fort Knox, by any chance?" The guy certainly had the attitude for it. The man stared at him, unamused. "Well, I'm not here to eat, so I won't be needing a table. I'm here to see James Moore."
The guard gave him the once over. He didn't look impressed. "Mr. Moore isn't here."
Disappointment welled up inside. "Well… okay. But he had told me that if I was ever in Boston I was to come here and ask for him. So… can you just tell him that I stopped by next time he's here?"
"Sure. Your name, kid?"
"Pacey Witter."
Taken aback, the man blinked. He was seemingly speechless for a moment. "You're Pacey Witter?"
"Er, uh, yeah…" He wasn't sure what would cause that reaction, but it was jarring. No one knew him in Boston. Part of the appeal of moving here was that he loved the idea of disappearing into anonymity by living in the big city. Of having a face and name no one recognized, unlike on the Cape. Boston was a place where being a Witter meant nothing—no expectations, nothing to live down or live up to—which was perfect for him.
"Go on inside," he said, nodding at the door as he looked him over again with an interest that wasn't there moments before. "The hostess will help you out."
"Um, all right, then."
Pacey opened the front door and walked in. He approached the hostess stand. The pretty girl standing behind it looked to be in her early to mid twenties. She was smiling. "Hi. I'm here to see James Moore. Is he around?"
"No. Mr. Moore isn't here today. I'm sorry."
"Well, the bouncer you got outside said you could help me. My name is Pacey Witter…" He watched her closely to see if this caused a similar reaction to the man outside. It did.
Her eyes went wide. "Pacey… Pacey Witter? Really?"
"Yeah. Really."
She started giggling. "Oh, my goodness." She turned as a waitress showed up to drop off a small stack of menus at the stand. "This is Pacey Witter," the hostess told her with a tone of triumph, as if she was gloating. "Everyone owes me twenty bucks."
The waitress turned sharply to look at him. Her gaze ran over him appraisingly. "We were starting to think you might never show up."
"Some of us, maybe," the other woman clarified. "I always said he would. So, pay up, Marcie."
"Excuse me?" he laughed, his brows furrowing with confusion.
The hostess reached into the back of the stand and pulled away a note that had been attached there. "This has been taped up here since January," she told him, flipping it over and holding it up so he could read it himself.
"If someone named Pacey Witter shows up, call me on my cell phone immediately. – JM"
Huh. "Okay, so, is someone going to call him?"
The bubbly hostess smiled, batting her eyelashes. "It would be my pleasure." She picked up the receiver on the stand's telephone and dialed a number. After a couple moments, she started speaking.
"Hello, Mr. Moore. This is Sara Hayes calling… Yes… No, there's no problem, sir. Pacey Witter is here… Yes, he's really here. He's standing right in front of me, sir…" She flashed another flirtatious smile his way. "Yes… Okay… Absolutely… I understand… I won't let him get away… Have a good day, sir."
She hung up.
"Well, you're in luck," she told him. "Mr. Moore is here in Boston, at his house. I have been instructed to make sure you don't leave. He's sending a car for you. It should be here in about half an hour."
"Uh, well, if you just give me the address, I can drive…"
The two women glanced at each other, smirking, before the waitress walked off. The hostess smiled at him again and shrugged. "Why drive when you can be chauffeured?"
He smacked lips, nodding. "You know, I've asked myself that same exact question too many times to count," he joked.
Pacey walked back outside to stand on the sidewalk. It was too gorgeous a day to stay inside, and he didn't particularly want to be ogled like a curiosity by the hostess. The guard gave him the once over again, but thankfully said nothing and left him alone. City sounds enveloped him: the hum of bumper-to-bumper traffic, the conversations of passersby hurrying down the sidewalk. Yet when he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, he could smell the Atlantic Ocean. It felt right. Boston felt right. He knew wherever he ended up in life, he would have to be near the water.
"Hey, kid. I think that's for you."
The guard's voice broke the spell and he looked over at the man, who nodded towards the street. Pacey turned. A shiny black Mercedes-Benz pulled up in front of the restaurant and parked. The driver, a conservatively dressed man in a black suit who looked to be about thirty years of age, more or less, emerged and stepped up onto the curb before opening the rear passenger side door.
"Mr. Witter?" he said professionally, and smiled. "My name is Miguel. I'll be driving you today."
Nerves fluttered in his gut. He nodded his head and got into the back of the car, staring straight ahead as the chauffeur closed his door. The car set off, driving around Boston Common and the Boston Public Garden before making a left on Beacon Street.
"So, uh, where we heading?" Pacey asked, looking up at the driver. With both hands on the wheel, the sleeves of his suit jacket had risen up, and he saw hints of tattoos on the man's wrists.
"Mr. Moore lives in Brookline."
"Brookline, huh?" He supposed that wasn't surprising. Some of the wealthiest people in Massachusetts lived in the Boston suburb.
"Yes, sir."
"How long you been working for Mr. Moore?"
The man thought for a second. "I've been driving for him for almost nine years, but I've been working for him since I was seventeen."
"What's he like to work for?"
"Oh, he's a real good guy."
"How'd you start working for him?"
"I got hired as a dishwasher in one of his restaurants, but it was a just a job, you know? I had no direction as a kid. I was… kinda lost. My family situation wasn't great. I was running with the wrong crowd. Mr. Moore tried to get me to take an interest in the restaurant, to find something to focus on, but I wasn't a natural in the kitchen. It wasn't for me. Anyway, I dropped out of high school and then I got in some trouble with the law for drag racing.
"Mr. Moore helped me out. As it turns out, I'm real good at driving, and so he put me to work at something I was actually good at. He has a knack for helping people hone their talents. Anyway, my life is good now. Yeah, real good. I met my wife seven years ago when she started waitressing at the Ambrosia and now I got three kids. When I was a teenager, I honestly never expected to live past my twenties, but here I am, thanks to Mr. Moore."
About twenty-five minutes after they'd departed the downtown restaurant, they arrived in a residential area. Everywhere Pacey looked, he was surrounded by wealth. Miguel turned onto Woodland Road, and minutes later, pulled into a private drive. The house couldn't be seen from the road. The driveway was nearly half a mile long, and was lined with trees and pristine landscaping. The drive led to a courtyard containing a cul-de-sac surrounding an ornate fountain. In keeping with its surroundings, the house was actually a massive three-story mansion.
"Wow," was all Pacey could say as the Mercedes idled up the long driveway.
"Pretty nice house for a guy who owns a bunch of restaurants."
"You call that a house?" he replied in disbelief.
The driver smirked. "Well… Mr. Moore does. Personally, I wouldn't call a place with eight bedrooms and twelve bathrooms, that the man paid twenty million dollars for, a house, but that's just me."
"You and me both," Pacey muttered, gazing up at the mansion in awe. Twenty million?
The car came to a stop in front of the mansion, and he got out of the car before the chauffeur could reach his door. "Doing my job for me?" Miguel joked.
He stared up at the mansion. The home was on a truly grand scale. "It's gotta be at least ten thousand square feet."
"Try twenty-six thousand."
Pacey whistled. "Damn."
Miguel grinned at him. "Go on up and ring the doorbell."
Feeling nervous, he did as he was told and walked up to the large front door. Glancing down at himself, he suddenly wished he'd worn a dress shirt and tie after all. Then he rang the bell. The door was opened by a butler. A real, live butler, dressed in livery. He was tall, heavy-set, and balding. He could have doubled as a bodyguard, Pacey thought. Maybe he did.
"Good afternoon, sir," he said.
"Uh, good afternoon."
"May I help you?" the butler asked, and now, on second hearing, the accent sounded foreign, but not quite British—he couldn't place it. He couldn't guess his age either, but the man might've been on the unfortunate side of sixty.
"I'm here to see Mr. Moore."
"Do you have an appointment, sir?"
Pacey stared, and then glanced over his shoulder at Miguel, who was leaning back against the Mercedes-Benz with a grin on his face. "Uh… I'm pretty sure I'm expected…"
Suddenly he heard laughter behind the butler, and then James Moore appeared, dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Boston Red Sox shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. He was taken aback at seeing the man dressed so casually. Even in the tropical paradise that was Key West, the man was never seen without a button-down shirt.
"Varty, stop messing with the boy." His gaze then turned from the butler, and he smiled warmly. "Hi, Pacey. Come on in."
"Hi, Mr. Moore," he replied as the butler stepped aside, and he approached the doorway.
"I keep telling you, Pacey: call me James."
"Right." He glanced behind him as the butler closed the front door. "Where is he from?"
"Varty? South Africa."
"Where'd you get him?"
James laughed. "He came with the house."
"You're kidding. What, like the furniture?"
"No. The previous owner would only sell it to me if I promised to keep one Mr. Daniel Varty on as butler for as long as he wishes to remain employed here. He's been with me for ten years now, so for better or worse, I've got him."
"Why didn't the previous owner take him wherever they were moving to?"
"Well, the previous owner met a woman more than half his age and decided to eschew mundane life in the U.S. and purchased a private island for her somewhere in the Caribbean. I'm sure he would've taken Varty if Varty had wanted to go, but… I don't think spending the rest of his days catering a romantic bungalow in the tropical heat was to his taste."
"So, you make him wear that whole get-up?"
He laughed again. "No. He insists on it. You should've seen the look on his face the day I moved in and told him he could wear jeans instead of the monkey suit. You'd think I'd told him to go drown some kittens."
Pacey laughed breathlessly. As he walked into the mansion, he was surprised at how warm and welcoming the inside was. Based on how grand it looked on the outside, not to mention a butler answering the door, he'd half-expected the inside to be rather cold and austere. He was happy to be wrong.
He quickly realized that the sound of their footsteps was the only thing punctuating the silence. "Is anyone else here?" he asked, spooked by the quiet.
"Just me and old Varty right now. Oh, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Stebbins. Along with some business partners, I'm throwing a charity event tonight at the Convention Center, which is where my wife happens to be at the moment, meeting with the event planners. My daughter goes to school in New York. She's a freshman at NYU. She couldn't make it this weekend. She's up to her eyeballs in term papers."
"That's it? Just the one kid? Why do you need eight bedrooms?"
His face clouded over, and James was quiet a moment. "Well, way back when… it had been our intention to fill a lot of them, but… didn't work out." Then his expression was once again bright and cheerful. "The house is great for parties, though. My wife threw my fortieth birthday bash here a few years ago and it was a hell of a party."
Pacey nodded, his gaze turning from side to side, trying to take in everything around him, from the furniture to the artwork to the family portraits. He supposed it was just like any regular house, except massively larger.
They walked through the mansion's corridor and James led him outside to the garden patio. "It's too beautiful a day to stay inside," he said as he sat down at the oval-shaped glass top table.
Varty the butler quickly followed carrying a silver tray with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses, setting it down on the table.
"I can pour," Mr. Moore told him, and Varty huffed in annoyance. He then disappeared back inside the house, muttering under his breath the whole way. "Poor guy hates it when I do things for myself."
James then poured himself and Pacey some tea, and slid one of the glasses over.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. It's good to see you. I'm glad you finally contacted me. So, how have you been?"
"Good."
"You're graduating soon?"
Pacey smiled. "I am. In about six weeks."
"Congratulations. I recall last summer you were uncertain whether you actually would. And has your opinion about college changed since last summer?"
He shook his head. "Not really."
"That's unfortunate. Summer is around the corner. School will be letting out, and a lot of the city's kids will have one less guaranteed meal a day. For some kids, school lunch is their only meal. We—my business partners and I—just launched a charity called the Summer Supper Program that will provide meals every day for families with school-age children during the summer months. There's a lot of families in need in this city, so it'll take a group effort. I'm hoping the event tonight is a hit. A summer gala might have some trouble attracting big-name donors. These things are usually more successful in the fall and winter. I'll need to charm a lot of money out of some tight fists."
James eyed him for a moment, and then his mouth curved into a knowing grin. "Hmm. You got any plans tonight?"
"I do, yeah. There's a reception over at Worthington College."
"Worthington." James' brows shot up. "That's rather prestigious."
"Joey was accepted. The reception is for prospective students, and I will be her plus-one. That's technically why I'm in Boston right now. It's Admit Weekend over there."
The man nodded and took a tip of his iced tea. "So, you're still with the girlfriend."
Pacey swallowed as James measured him with a penetrating gaze. If he didn't know any better, it almost seemed as if the guy disapproved or was disappointed for some reason. A twinge of something twisted in his stomach. "Uh, yeah."
"Do you still enjoy cooking, Pacey?"
"Yes. I've been working as a cook at that bed and breakfast I told you about. The one Joey's family owns."
"Right. The Potter B&B."
He was almost surprised the guy still remembered. "Yeah."
"Have you given culinary school any serious thought?"
"Yeah. I applied to the schools here in Boston, but I wasn't accepted."
"Well, what about schools that aren't in Boston?" James asked. "I happen to know one or two really good ones."
Pacey's jaw clenched, and then he took a deep breath, shaking his head. "There's no point in going to any schools that aren't in Boston because Boston is where Joey is gonna be."
"I see."
Ignoring the guy's sober expression, he decided to just get down to it. "Which is why I came here to see you 'cause, well, Joey will be going to Worthington in the fall, and I'll be moving to Boston with her, and I thought that…" He swallowed, the nerves fluttering like mad in his gut. "Well, you said that I should stop by and see you if I ever wanted to talk about my future, and… well… here I am."
A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I am very interested in your future, Pacey. Frankly, I'm willing to put a lot of investment into it."
"Why?" he asked with a breathless laugh. "I mean, I appreciate that at least someone is, but… honestly, it does kind of baffle me. You barely know me."
"True enough. I don't know you personally that well… yet. Let's just say I have an eye for talent and I'm an excellent judge of character. You also seem like a good kid who's desperate for some direction in life."
"I have direction," he contradicted.
"Yes, well, your direction seems to revolve solely around a girl, with little regard to any ambition of your own."
And there it was. He thought he'd sensed disapproval. Pacey frowned, but there was no use denying it, so he said nothing.
"Look, I get it. I was young and in love, too. Hell, I married my wife when I was twenty-one. But I had a whole other part of my life that was completely separate from her that allowed me to bring something to the table. Pacey, your girlfriend is going to Worthington, you say? So, in four years she'll be a college graduate and will likely be embarking on a very promising career. She'll have a lot to bring to the table. She'll probably be a well-rounded person with a very full life that has nothing to do with you, which would only serve to make your relationship richer and more interesting. Now, if your life is about her and only her, what can you bring to the table to match what she's bringing?"
He had no idea what to say to that.
"I guess the point I'm trying to make, Pacey, is have you considered doing anything that was purely for yourself and yourself alone? Is there anything you want out of life that has nothing to do with Joey? Is there anything you want for yourself, with or without her?"
He frowned again. Without her? She was his world, the center of his universe. Without Joey, he was nothing, and nowhere. Without her, he'd be an empty husk, a shell of a man with nothing to live for. He was nothing without her. Nothing. She made him real. He wouldn't want anything if he couldn't have her. What would be the point?
"Well, I want to be in Boston, Mr. Moore. If you can think of any place for me, and if you still want me to come and work for you in one of your kitchens, then that's what I want for myself."
James crossed his legs, fingers entwining on his lap, and then fixed him with that penetrating gaze again. "What if I could offer you something far better than a job?"
Pacey sat back and stared.
At quarter to seven that evening, Joey stood outside Franklin Hall, her black jacket buttoned and belted around her dress, waiting for her boyfriend. Her afternoon classes had been long, and somewhat tiring, but very interesting. Being on campus filled her with a sense of hope and excitement, but the ever-present guilt was never far off. She had him, and Worthington, and she was going to end up having all his money that he'd spent years saving for his future. He kept telling her that she was his future, and it was all worth it. But what did he have besides her? She wasn't enough. She wasn't nearly enough.
It wasn't long before she saw Pacey striding towards her, a smile spreading across his face. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat as the dormant butterflies awakened in her stomach. She beamed at him. Only he could make her come alive so quickly. She had never been so in love before, so unconditionally in love with anyone the way she was with Pacey.
"Hey. You know, you didn't have wait outside for me, Jo. I would've gone in and knocked on the dorm room door like a proper gentleman."
"I've been ready for a while," she shrugged. "Which has given me far too much time to look at myself in the mirror. Never a good thing. Plus, Alice is a little… intense."
"Right," he chuckled.
She stepped towards him and pressed her lips to his. He returned her kiss. Sparks charged the air between them as he moved his mouth over hers, drowning out her guilt with that rush of adrenaline and loving lust his nearness always created.
"You look so handsome," she said, her eyes shining with happiness and pride.
He blushed at her compliment. "Why, thank you, Miss Potter. You look stunning, as usual."
She glanced down at herself, and then pulled a sarcastic face. "You can't see my dress under this jacket. Also, it's brand new and you don't even know what it looks like."
"But I already know you're gorgeous in it."
Blushing, her arms went around his shoulders and she captured his mouth again. He wrapped her in a warm embrace and melted into her sweet kiss.
They arrived at the reception shortly after and a hostess checked Joey's jacket at the coat room. "Do you think it would be possible for us to get out of here by nine o'clock?" Pacey asked.
"Um… I don't know. Maybe. Why?"
He removed his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out two tickets. "There's a charity gala being held in the grand ballroom of the Hynes Convention Center."
Confused, Joey reached for the tickets and looked at them. "Where did you get these? And why do you want to go to a gala?"
"I, uh, I went to see James Moore this afternoon."
She gaped at him. "As in the James Moore we met in Key West?"
"One and the same."
He hadn't said a word about Mr. Moore since last summer. "When did you decide to do that, Pacey? I don't understand," she said as she handed back the tickets.
"Well, he'd told me to stop by his restaurant in Boston if I ever wanted to discuss my future, and I figured since I was here, you know…" He shrugged. "So, I went. He told me all about this charity event tonight that he's throwing for a summer meal program for kids, and he gave me the tickets."
"And you really wanna go?"
Pacey took her by the hand and turned her away from the coat check. "Well, it's not imperative or anything. It was just an idea, Jo."
"So, what did Mr. Moore say?"
"About what?"
"About your future."
James had said a lot of things. "Uh, well…"
Hand in hand, they entered the crowded banquet room. Trays of hors d'oeuvres and beverages circled the mingling guests. Only moments had passed before they were accosted by a familiar face.
"Hey there!" the Worthington alumni rep said. He seemed very happy to see them.
"Hi, Mr. Kubelik," Joey greeted. "It's seven o'clock and the party is already swinging. I'm impressed."
"Well, I take no credit. The promise of free food always draws a crowd. You look lovely, Joey. And I see you brought that charming boyfriend of yours."
Pacey smiled and held out his hand. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Kubelik."
They shook hands. "Likewise. I'm glad you're here. You certainly did liven up the last party."
"Oh, well, that's Pacey," Joey snarked. "He never misses an opportunity to show himself off in a suit."
He chuckled appreciatively. Funny, he mouthed silently, and she smirked at him.
"Oh, there's Dean Newman," Mr. Kubelik said, his attention drawn away.
"The Dean of Admissions?" Joey followed his gaze into the room.
"Did I meet him at the last party?" Pacey asked.
"That was the Dean of the College. You know, I'd really like you to meet Dean Newman," Mr. Kubelik told him.
Then the alumni rep was waving and moments later a middle-aged man joined them. The Dean was dressed in a suit and tie and looked immaculate. "Pacey, this is our Dean of Admissions," Mr. Kubelik introduced. "Andrew Hill Newman."
Pacey stuck out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Newman, or Dean Newman, whichever you prefer."
"The pleasure is all mine," Andrew Newman replied, shaking his hand. "Walter here has told me all about you."
"Really?"
"Yes, I tried my hardest to woo Mr. Witter into applying to Worthington, but he says he's a Yale man through and through."
He laughed nervously and turned a wide-eyed gaze at his girlfriend. His face burned with embarrassment. "Uh, well, Mr. Kubelik, it's funny you should mention Yale… because… well… the truth is…"
Joey, realizing Pacey was about to confess and humiliate himself in front them just because she'd told him not to talk about Yale after stupidly getting pissed off about it the last time, jumped in. "Yes, please don't mention it because then he'll never shut up about it," she said, rolling her eyes and laughing.
The men laughed along with her, and Pacey stared at her, a surprised smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Twinkling with amusement, her gaze was loving and tender, and he thought he saw an apology in her eyes. His heart glowed with warm feelings of gratitude and appreciation for her.
"Yeah, that's me. I will always bleed Yale blue. Go Bulldogs." He looked over at Joey as she snickered.
"Well, that's too bad," the Dean said, still chuckling.
A young man then approached Mr. Kubelik. "I think we've gathered most everyone by the fireplace, sir."
"Wonderful. Joey, why don't you join Brad? We're taking a few photographs of next year's freshmen."
Smiling, she glanced at her boyfriend, who winked and nodded, and then she walked with the boy named Brad towards the group of students standing around the brick fireplace on the other side of the large room. He started introducing to her to some others in the incoming class of 2005.
Pacey watched her with a contented look on his face. Eventually Mr. Kubelik and Mr. Newman left his side, laughing and clasping his shoulder good-naturedly as they walked off to speak to the others in attendance. Left on his own, he wanted to blend in, disappear. He had nothing to say to these people, and the thought of being forced to engage in meaningless small talk with a bunch of academic elitists made him want to find the nearest cliff. He moved over to stand in front of the wall, leaning back against it.
He hadn't felt comfortable, didn't feel like he belonged. And he didn't. He didn't belong there. He could only observe the people in the room, a mixture of prospective students, their families, and various members of the school's faculty. Joey mingled with the other guests, confident and elegant.
It was a stark contrast to the last Worthington party, where she'd been a jumble of nerves, frozen with fear and anxiety and feelings of inadequacy. That wasn't the case tonight. She didn't need him to be her savior. She'd never needed him to be, if truth be told. She'd had the power to save herself all along, and only lacked the belief in herself. She moved with ease from person to person, conversing naturally with genuine smiles and laughter. There was nothing to fear now. Her future at Worthington was secure, thanks to him and his savings. He could take pride in that. For the first time, he felt like he was actually helping her get here, instead of holding her back.
The large grandfather clock stuck nine, drawing her attention away from the conversation with another student and two faculty members belonging to the English department, Professors David Wilder and Debra Martin. Joey scanned the room for Pacey, but couldn't spot him. She excused herself and walked away, and then began searching for him.
After several minutes, she found him in the back of an adjacent room, leaning against the wall, talking to two girls. She could tell by the look on his face that he was bored out of his mind. The party was still in full swing, and she'd like to stay and talk to more people about life at Worthington, but if she wanted to keep her boyfriend happy, she'd better not.
As she closed the distance between them, she started to notice the two girls' body language. It appeared as if they'd cornered him. One kept flipping her hair, while the other giggled at everything Pacey said. Joey smirked as this only made her boyfriend look desperate for an escape.
She quickly reached his side. He turned to her and smiled. Leaning over, Joey lifted her face to his and kissed him in front of the two girls. Pacey was caught off-guard, but genuinely surprised, and returned her kiss. His arms pulled her closer and he deepened the kiss. His mouth plundered the sweetness of hers as she clung to him. When he pulled away slightly, he saw the girls had disappeared.
"I missed you. Thanks for saving me," he whispered against her lips. "What was that for?" He kissed her again.
"Do I need a reason to kiss the boy I love?"
He looked down at her smirking face. "Well, no… but we are at a fancy Worthington party and someone important might have seen you kissing your boyfriend in public, and rather enthusiastically, I might add. I'm pretty sure the important people would look down on such a thing."
"There's no one here more important than you, Pacey."
The affection in her gaze sent his heart racing.
"And maybe I needed to let those two-bit floozies know that you're taken and I'm not gonna share."
He laughed through his nose. "Girls schmirls, I was barely paying attention to them." He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, and she warmed at his touch. "I'm very proud of you tonight."
"For what?"
"Jo, I've been watching you in there. You've been… gliding from conversation to conversation with complete confidence and ease this time. After the last Worthington party that you and I attended together, it's obvious everything's different now. You didn't need me to save you. I think it's much better this way. I mean, you should see yourself, Jo. The only thing that remains the same is you're still the most beautiful girl in the room."
"Pace," she breathed, her cheeks turning red. "I may not need you to rescue me, at least tonight, but that doesn't mean I don't need you. Pacey, it's your love that gives me all the confidence I need. I can risk walking in there and falling flat on my face because I know you're there to help me back up. Just knowing that you're there for me no matter what, and me for you. It's my trust and faith in you and your love for me that gives me the courage to just… be myself. To go after my dreams. Without you, I probably wouldn't even be standing here at this party."
"Well, that's true, compliments of my savings account," he said, his eyes dancing with humor.
She frowned as guilt gnawed at her insides. "I wasn't talking about the money, Pace…"
"I know," he smiled.
"So, you wanna get out of here?"
"Of course, but do you?"
She shrugged. "I think we've had our fill of this party. Want to check out another one?"
A delighted smile spread across his face. "The charity thing?" he said excitedly.
"Yeah. Let's go."
During the short eight-minute drive from the Worthington campus to the Hynes Convention Center, Joey peppered Pacey with questions about his afternoon spent with James Moore. He told her all about the mansion in Brookline, the chauffer, Miguel, and Varty the butler. He told her about his conversation with Mr. Moore and the job he was going to be giving him, although there were parts of the conversation he kept to himself.
"A prep cook is entry level," Pacey said with a nonchalant shrug. "And the pay isn't that great, but James said it was important to learn every role. He said if you ever want to become a head chef, then you'll need to be trained in every area of the kitchen as it's much easier to supervise work that you understand and have actually done yourself."
"Seems smart." He gave her a teasing smile, and she felt something stir inside her as she saw the way his eyes lit up. His beautiful blue eyes. The darkest blue she'd ever seen, and his dark lashes long and thick. "You really like him, don't you?" she asked quietly.
"Who, Mr. Moore? Yeah, I do." He smiled to himself as he turned onto Gloucester Street. "I mean, if I grew up to have the kind of life that he does…" He shrugged. "I mean, he's been married for over twenty years. They have a daughter. He's successful. He seems content. He also just… seems like a really good, decent guy."
"Are you sure it wasn't just the size of his mansion that impressed you?"
Pacey started laughing. "Okay, so the guy is loaded. Miguel, the driver, on the way back to the restaurant, told me he has homes in the Hamptons, in California, in Miami, London, Paris, Rome, the Bahamas…"
"I thought he was just a restauranteur."
"Well, he owns restaurants in all these places, but I guess he made most of his money in real estate. He bought dilapidated properties or vacant lots in super ritzy areas, fixed them up, and sold them for boat loads of cash. Now he has all kinds of business ventures."
It was just past nine-thirty when he rolled up behind a silver Bentley and a jet-black BMW, waiting for the valet. Pacey reached over and took hold of Joey's hand. "I think the Witter Wagoneer is slightly underdressed for this shindig," he smirked.
"Well, no one inside will know what car we drove here in."
The Bentley drove on through. A burly guard with a clipboard came to the window.
"Your name, sir?"
"Pacey Witter."
The guard glanced down his list, nodded, and said, "Just you and the lady?"
"Yes."
"Do you have tickets?"
He pulled them from his suit jacket and held them up.
"Pull up front. A valet will take your car."
Once inside, they followed signs to the Grand Ballroom. A coat room attendant checked Joey's jacket. When they entered the large space, they were immediately greeted with the sights and sounds of a big society event. The women wore fancy gowns. Jewels glittered on their necks and wrists. The men dressed sharply in immaculate suits.
"Your car's not the only thing underdressed," Joey remarked out of the side of her mouth, and he snorted.
"You're still the most beautiful woman in the world."
She smiled, but nerves suddenly erupted in the pit of her stomach. "Don't leave me alone in here, Pace."
He grasped her palm, and held her hand in his firm yet gentle grip. "I won't let go. I promise."
All of a sudden, they saw Mr. Moore coming towards them, a friendly smile on his face. He greeted them warmly and told them that the guard outside had told him of Pacey's arrival, as instructed. "I'm glad you came," he said to Pacey. "There are over fifty thousand millionaires in Boston, but there are some real cheapskates here tonight."
"What do you want me to do?" he replied, laughing. "I don't know how to go around asking for money."
James shook his head. "No, no, no. That's not what you'll be doing. I just need you to mingle."
He stared in disbelief. "Mingle?"
"That's it. We're gonna head out there and I just need you to be yourself."
"Just… be myself?"
"Exactly. You're gonna charm the money right out of their bank accounts."
Shrugging, he nodded. "Well, okay, then." He glanced at Joey and lowered his voice. "I know I promised I wouldn't utter a single stupid joke tonight…"
Her mouth curved into a teasing smile. "You know I love your stupid jokes."
"Let's go talk to Robert Kraft," Mr. Moore said.
His eyes popped. "Robert Kraft as in the owner of the New England Patriots? He's here at this party?"
"You wanna meet him?"
"Oh, my God."
James put his arm around him and started walking him toward the crowd, filling his ear with information about the CEOs, business investors, and tycoons of various industries that were in attendance.
Joey swallowed hard as Pacey's hand slipped from hers. Without moving, she watched him walk away. Her heart caught in her throat and instantly she could feel the tension take over her with an almost smothering effect. It was thick enough that she could have cut it with a knife.
In that breath, she knew she was going to lose him.
She was going to have to let him go, or he would leave her. Not today and not tomorrow, not next week or next month, but at some point, he would. She remembered what he'd said earlier about Mr. Moore buying run down properties, fixing them up, and then selling them for profit. It now somehow seemed like a metaphor for Pacey. There was a whole world out there waiting for him, a world that could offer him so much more than anything she could. It was a world he deserved.
Then Pacey suddenly turned around. His brows furrowed with a mixture of confusion and amusement, and a soft smile lit his face at the sight of her. He reached out his hand. Unable to resist the pull of the affection in his gaze, knowing she wouldn't ever be able to let him go, she closed the distance between them. She took his hand and laced her fingers with his, knowing deep down it wouldn't be enough to keep him.
James took them around the ballroom. Pacey was magnetic, captivating. He grinned from ear-to-ear—when he wasn't whispering sweet nothings or muttering dirty thoughts into Joey's. He had tremendous charisma, and charmed everyone in the room. It was clear his infectious humor, easy good looks, dynamic personality, and reassuring confidence had the desired effect Mr. Moore was aiming for.
"You're loving this, aren't you?" she grinned, feeling proud and happy for him.
Pacey didn't quite understand why he felt more at ease here than at Worthington. It was a totally different kind of atmosphere, for one. The ballroom was packed with people who were worth more money than he'd ever see in twenty lifetimes, and it still didn't feel as pompous as that reception at Worthington. He'd felt out of place at the college, like he didn't belong and everyone there knew it. Even those guys who thought he was going to Yale. But here in this ballroom? These people just wanted to be entertained, and he could schmooze with the best of 'em.
He kissed her cheek. "I'm good at this. I've got them eating out of the palm of my hand."
After a while, Joey excused herself to find the ladies' restroom. "Don't stay away too long," Pacey murmured in her ear. "I'll be lonely without you."
"I find that hard to believe. You're the life of the party."
He stared at her, not knowing where that remark had come from. "I always miss you when you're gone, Jo. So, hurry back."
"I will," she assured him.
It wasn't very long before she found the bathrooms, and then ten minutes later, she was back inside the ballroom. She scanned the crowd for Pacey, and didn't see him. Then her eyes fell on Mr. Moore, who was standing on his own, separate from the others, observing the festivities. She walked over to stand next to him, and as she followed his gaze, she finally spotted her boyfriend.
"How are you enjoying the party, Miss Potter?"
"Just fine, Mr. Moore. You put on a really nice event. Even better that all the money will be going to feeding kids this summer."
"Call me James. Mr. Moore is my father."
She swallowed and glanced at him. "Uh… Pacey told me about your offer."
"Did he really?" he asked, his expression one of surprise.
"Yes. I think it's great he'll have a good job lined up in Boston when we end up here full-time."
James Moore stared at her a moment and then cleared his throat. "Ah, right. Yes, the job. He will make an excellent addition to the Ambrosia's staff."
They both watched Pacey laugh with one Mr. O'Donnell, the founder and chair of the concessions giant Boston Culinary Group that provided food services to stadiums and other venues.
"You've seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, right?"
Joey laughed, not having expected such a question. "The movie with Gene Wilder? Yes, I've seen it."
A contemplative smile slowly curved his lips. "You know the moment when Charlie opens that bar of chocolate and finds the golden ticket?"
"Yeah…"
Mr. Moore said nothing, and merely gazed out at the crowd, his hands shoved in his pockets, casually watching Pacey move from Mr. O'Donnell to another guest, eliciting smiles and laughter, still charming everyone he came into contact with. Then he turned to her and tilted his head in Pacey's direction. "The golden ticket."
She watched him move away, heading back to the clusters of high society. Realization began to dawn. Her jealousies and fears over competing with other women, fears that had once choked her, had been totally baseless, and now seemed utterly ridiculous. She would never lose Pacey to another girl, and she took comfort in that.
No, it was this man, Mr. Moore, and the life and career he could offer that was going to take him away from her.
It was almost midnight when Pacey and Joey walked hand in hand from the convention center. When they reached the valet stand, they only had to wait a few minutes for the Witter wagon to reappear. The drive back to the Worthington campus was a quiet one.
"I'm exhausted," he told her.
"Me too. It's been a really long day."
They shortly arrived in the parking lot designated for Franklin Hall. Holding on to Joey's hand, Pacey walked her inside the building and up to the second floor. They stood outside room two-one-four. "Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked her.
"Yes, I did. I loved meeting other students who were going to be at Worthington, just like me, and I loved seeing you in action. You could charm the skin off a snake, as Bodie likes to say."
He laughed breathlessly. "Well, thank you for agreeing to go. I thought it was fun. We met a lot of interesting people."
"That we did."
Gazing at her, worry began to twist his guts into knots. There was some kind of weird tension between them, but he had no idea why or where it had come from. "Are you all right, Joey?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired."
"Okay…" He swallowed, unsure whether that was a real 'fine' or a girl's 'fine.' He placed his hand in hers once again. "I love you."
She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I love you too, Pace."
"Goodnight, Jo. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight."
They kissed, and then he turned to walk away. Joey watched him go with sadness in her eyes so profound that if he had seen it, it would have broken him. As she watched his departing back, that horrible fear rose up inside to choke her. "Pacey!" she called out almost desperately.
He turned to look at her, his brows furrowing as he started walking back to her. "Joey, what is it?" he asked, searching her face.
Tears burned her eyes. "Don't leave me here."
"But I thought you had to—"
"I don't wanna sleep here, Pacey. Can I stay with you tonight? At the motel?"
"Of course," he said, pulling her into a hug, his hand sinking into her soft hair. She held him tight, as if she never wanted to let go. "Is it Alice? Are you afraid she'll murder you in your sleep?"
She laughed through her tears, and breathed a deep sigh as she pulled out of the hug. He always knew how to make her feel better. "That's certainly a possibility. Okay. I'll go get my bag, and I'll be right out. Don't go without me," she pleaded, the fear returning.
He had no idea what had come over her. "I won't. I'll be right here waiting for you. Okay?"
A little later, when they were inside his small bare-boned motel room, she started to undress him. He saw the desire in her eyes. "I thought you were tired," he whispered, even as his blood started to heat up and his groin began to tighten with arousal.
"I'm not too tired for this." She pulled off his shirt and tossed it into a chair to join his black suit jacket. "Do you have a condom in your wallet?"
"I don't," he said, his breathing becoming ragged as the realization hit him. He hadn't planned on needing one. She was supposed to be staying in the dorm. He should put a stop to this, but his erection was growing stiffer by the second. "Look, we probably shouldn't—"
She took down his zipper and reached inside his boxers, wanting to feel the hardness of his need for her. As she wrapped her hand around it, his moan echoed her own desire. She captured his lips in a passionate kiss as she stroked him with her hand. She wanted to please him, pleasure him, make him completely hers.
"I'm on the Pill, Pace."
"It's still not a good idea, Jo…"
"Pacey, our graduation is guaranteed. Worthington is a done deal, and so is your job in the city. Our life can start. Our future. Nothing's going to take it away from us. I won't let it."
His success at that party had filled him with a sense of elation, as if he was invincible and nothing could ever go wrong. He knew that wasn't true, of course. Everything could easily go to shit. And it'd be all his fault. It always was. He knew he was cursed.
He shook his head.
"Pacey, please." Her voice choked on emotion. "Please."
"Joey," he whispered. "Joey, don't." He tipped her head back so he could look at her.
Tears filled her eyes and brimmed over, rolling down her cheeks. Those beautiful brown eyes were burdened with sadness. He hated himself for doing this to her. He'd made her beg, and he was so far from being worth it. "We really shouldn't. It's not—"
She lifted her arms around his neck, and with a desperation as sharp as the hurt in her eyes, drew his head down to hers. "Don't talk," she murmured against his mouth. "Just make love to me. Please… just love me now."
A better man would have resisted. A better man would have done the right thing. But he tasted the salt of her tears on her lips, and it was all over for him. He had no defense against this. No resistance. No restraint.
He slammed his mouth over hers and kissed her with a fiery passion. The instant her body pressed against his, he stopped thinking about right and wrong and just reacted. Like he always reacted when surrounded by the taste and the feel of her.
"Pacey," she whispered, her voice tender, full of love.
He made quick work of her clothes, and then scooped her up and carried her naked to the bed, where he laid her down and kissed her deeply. Then he wrenched himself away and shucked the rest of his clothes. His pulse thundered like crazy as he tossed the suit pants to the floor. Her gaze followed his every move and hunger flamed in her eyes as he stripped off his boxers and joined her on the bed.
"I love you," she whispered, her fingers slowly skimming up the length of his thigh, then circling over his hip, before trailing across his belly.
"Love you," she repeated on a breathy sigh, and finally brushed her fingertips along the throbbing length of his erection.
He groaned and she moved over him, forcing him to lie on this back as she slowly pressed her mouth to all the places her fingers had been. Her lips trailed fire along his thigh, his hip, his belly. He was one live electric nerve, one raging sexual urge, when she finally caressed the sensitive head of his cock with a slow stroke of her tongue… and damn near blinded him.
Pacey sucked in a harsh breath, let his head fall back, and sunk his hands in the silk of her hair. Then he lost himself in the sweet, wet caress of her lips. Let her enfold him in sensation with the delicate tip of her tongue and the hot, fluid suction of her mouth. He concentrated on the pleasure building inside him, hoping she might be satisfied with this and they could put off the condom debate for another time.
She always drove him out of his mind with the selflessness of her giving, and tonight was no exception. She humbled and thrilled him with the passion of her sighs, her touch, until mindless pleasure gradually transitioned to a dawning understanding.
He didn't know what had finally triggered his brain to connect and make him realize that her fervor had evolved to desperation. That her desire had become a plea.
Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.
She didn't say the words. She didn't have to. She'd already said them standing outside that dorm room. He didn't know why this fear persisted. Didn't know why she didn't understand by now that it was impossible to leave her. There was no way that could ever happen. It'd be like severing a limb. It'd be like cutting out his own heart with a spoon. He wished he could alleviate her fear, make her believe he would never, ever leave her. She was it, for him. He belonged to her, forever. He could only prove it with the passing of time.
Or maybe there was another way to prove it.
Knowing what she wanted and helpless to deny her, Pacey pulled her up and rolled her under him. He lowered his body over her and captured her mouth with his. "Wrap your legs around me," he said, his voice thick with desire. "I want be inside you when I come."
Joey's heart swelled, full to bursting. "I want that, too."
Her hands splayed over his back, holding him tight against her, as he took her mouth in hot, deep kisses.
When she wrapped her long legs around his hips and opened herself for him, he positioned the tip of his hard cock at her entrance. The feel of him against her sent a spasm of anticipation through her.
She put her hands on either side of Pacey's face and looked into his eyes. Her emotions were so strong they choked her, overwhelmed her. She was afraid she would weep, though from joy or sadness she wasn't sure. She wanted to take him inside her and make him a part of her forever.
The sensation of him sliding inside her was so intense, she gasped and squeezed her eyes closed. Pacey was the only one for her… and she'd wanted to be skin-to-skin with him. She'd needed this.
"Joey, oh baby, holy fuck, Joey," he groaned, unable to believe the exciting, mind-blowing pleasure coursing through his body. This was the best thing he'd ever felt in his entire life. The sensations around his cock were so warm, so soft, so tight, and so damn wet, his mind and body were in sensory overload. Completely overwhelmed. The words came pouring out his mouth and he couldn't stop himself. "Sweet Jesus, no pussy should feel this good."
He knew he should care about not wearing a condom, but then she squeezed around him and he couldn't make himself care anymore. God, he'd wanted this with her. Nothing between them.
Hearts racing and breathing hard, they clung to each other, fighting to remain still to prolong the moment. When he reached between them to touch her, she was almost too sensitive to bear it. Then he began to move inside her.
Christ, he was seeing stars as he stroked himself with her tight heat and wetness. She felt the exquisite pressure build and build inside her until a burst of stars lit up her vision as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.
But he didn't stop. With his hands gripping her hips now, he moved against her without mercy, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The tension built inside her once more, and she arched her hips up to meet his, her hands clawing at his back.
She was tightening around him and he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. His body vibrated and trembled as he fought to breathe. He burned with lust. The pleasure surging through his body was fraying his control.
"Oh, my God, I'm gonna come," he moaned, thrusting harder.
"Yes," she whimpered in his ear, the tension bursting inside her again. "I want it. I want you."
She was rocking his world. His orgasm crashed over him, causing his vision to go black, and his entire body felt as if it went up in flames. Her name started to fall from his lips, over and over again. He cried out in satisfaction as his hips bucked against her. He throbbed and pulsed inside her, filling her with his release, and he'd never felt closer to her before as their orgasms rippled and mingled together.
He plunged deep over and over, making her climax last so long she couldn't catch a breath. But she felt Pacey when he came inside her, a hot eruption she'd never experienced before, and a fresh wave of pleasure crashed over her. She could feel his release. So deep inside. So special. She felt a closeness to him that she'd craved with every fiber of her being, but hadn't been sure it was possible. Jolts of sensation shook her again. This time, they were so strong that she cried out. She called out his name.
She was clenching around him so tight. Every time she clamped down on him with her velvet vice, he cried out. It felt like he was coming again and again. There wasn't an end to it. Finally, her body began to relax, releasing his cock from the clamp of pure nirvana it had been pulled into.
For a long time, he hovered over her, his arms shaking with the effort. She caressed up and down his back. Finally, he kissed her neck, and then he came up with a burst of energy and kissed her everywhere, his mouth moving from her neck to her chest as he rose up several inches. He devoured one breast and then the other, kissing, licking, tasting, suckling.
She slid her hands into his hair and cupped his head, reveling in his affection. He moved up to gaze down at her as her arms wrapped around him. Not wanting to crush her with his weight, he rolled them until he was under her, and she collapsed against him, completely spent.
He wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life. She lay on top of him, both of them panting for breath. Raw emotion seized his throat, and he felt as if his chest had cracked wide open with the power of his love for her.
"Holy mother of God," he said, as if in praise of the miracle that had just occurred between them.
Joey pressed her face into his neck, breathing in his delicious scent. His heart was beating as fast as hers, urgent and insistent against her breast. This could not be normal. Other people could not feel like this. Nothing and no one else could ever feel like this.
At this moment, everything she was, everything she wanted was here with him. She forgot school, her impending finals. Forgot Worthington. When she was in Pacey's arms like this, everything else faded to nothing. Nothing else mattered. Sometimes it frightened her that something so fleeting could make her forget everything else she wanted, everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
If she forgot them, then what would she have when he inevitably left her?
Joey tightened her hold on him, needing to feel the press of his body against hers, needing to feel his warmth radiating through her. Lifting her head, she gazed down at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing was starting to even out.
When Pacey opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth curved up. "That was incredible. You're amazing, Jo. I love you so much."
"I love you, too."
He brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek. Then he drew his brows together. "But why do you look so sad?"
She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. Pacey pulled her down against him and gave her a melting kiss that eased the ache in her heart. Joey would not be sad. She would be happy because he made her happy. He made her happier than she'd ever thought possible. No matter how much it would hurt her later, she would make the most of the time she had with him, however long that might be. She could only hope and pray it was forever.