* * *
“I just want to make sure that you’re okay with it; I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.”
* * *
“The money you are helping me recover will more than cover it. But thank you for your concern.” He smirks, and it’s the kind that makes me want to yank open his fly and suck his cock right here.
* * *
“There is a second condition,” I say, dipping a piece of bread in olive oil.
* * *
“Yes?” he asks wryly.
* * *
“It involves our sleeping arrangements.”
* * *
The laughter leaves his eyes.
* * *
“If you want me to help you tomorrow, then I want to sleep with you while we are here. Not in the second bedroom of the suite. In your bed.”
* * *
It shouldn’t be an outlandish request. It should be something he agrees to easily, without hesitation, considering the fifty million dollars at stake—a lifetime of wealth. But I can see from his eyes, from his tight jaw and the hesitation with which he speaks, that this is difficult for him.
* * *
“You want to sleep with me,” he repeats. “That's your request?”
* * *
“Yes.”
* * *
“Why?”
* * *
I shrug. “Ever since I moved to Nashville, I’ve felt…” Like a whore. The words sit on the edge of my tongue, only I’m too ashamed to verbalize them. “Disconnected from you. I feel isolated. If I’m going to stay in this marriage, I need to feel some sort of normality in our fake relationship.” I grimace. “At least for a few nights.”
* * *
He nods and the candlelight reflects in the blue of his eyes. “I understand loneliness. I ache for Cecile in a way that hurts. But, I want to make sure that you know—”
* * *
“I got the memo, Nathan,” I interrupt him crossly. “You don’t love me. Aren’t going to love me. I hear it loud and clear. A fucking cuddle session isn’t going to change that.”
* * *
The response catches him off guard, a grin catching his mouth before he leans back and laughs. He shakes his head, taking a swig of beer before looking at me sheepishly. “I’m being a little conceited, aren’t I?”
* * *
I grin. “A bit. You give one hell of a fuck, but yes, you aren’t that tempting.” A bald faced lie. Give a girl some time with this version of Nathan, and she could easily drown in his blue depths.
* * *
“Hey,” he says with a devilish wink. “Back at’cha. In regards to the fucking, that is.” He reaches forward and snags my hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “As far as lovable, an unattached man would be insane not to fall for you.” As he brushes that delectable mouth over my knuckles, my heart tries hard not to swoon.
* * *
I tug on my hand, trying to salvage my most crucial organ before it shatters into a million pieces. “Any other reasons you hesitate to open that sacred bed up to me?”
* * *
He hesitates. “When Cecile comes back, I want to be able to tell her that any other women—you or anyone else I’ve been with—meant nothing to me. That I’ve been waiting for her. That it has been purely sex with them, nothing more.”
* * *
Aw fuck … My heart implodes, the sharp stabs of a thousand tiny emotions. I busy myself with lobster, taking out my aggression on an innocent claw, fighting to keep my face calm, and only half listening when he continues speaking.
* * *
“But, if it’s important to you, I'll do it. I need this money. There is an opportunity in Puerto Rico and I need this capital to take advantage of it. Asking for two nights in bed is a small request on your part.”
* * *
“And my father,” I remind him.
* * *
“That part’s easy,” he says, taking the lobster from me and breaking it open with one carefree motion.
* * *
Great. A long-term financial burden is easy. Two nights with me—that’s the part he finds difficult.
CHAPTER 45
NATHAN
* * *
It’s funny how your head can forget things. He looks in her eyes, shining from the alcohol, a grin stretched across her face, and can barely remember Cecile’s face. A woman once so ingrained in his thoughts, his mind so dominated by her absence, and now he can barely remember her smile. Candace smirks, and he leans forward. “What?” “Oh … nothing.” She fiddles with her watch, a Tag Heuer that he had given her during the flight. Lined with diamonds, it was a small concession to the favor that she was, rather cheerfully, performing. “Just thinking about your Jekyll and Hyde tendencies. He scowls, and she laughs. “I’m serious!” She reaches forward, touching his arm, and it’s all he can do not to grab her wrist and pull her into his lap. “In Napa you were wonderful. Then we got back to Tennessee and you were ice cold. Now you’re flirtatious and fun …” she wrinkles her nose at him. “I’m just a little afraid of the monster that’s lurking, once we touch back down on US soil.” He sits back, crossing his ankles, and pulls his beer toward him. “No monster anymore. Drew and I thought…” he tilts his head. “We thought it’d be easier for you if I was an ass.” He lifts his beer to his lips and watches her struggle with a crab leg, her forehead pinching in concentration. She glances at him. “So the asshole thing was all an act?” She sniffs, putting the edge of the leg in her mouth and cracking the shell with her teeth in a manner that would make Rosit Fenton shriek in dismay. “Nobody’s that good of an actor.” “Fine,” he snaps. “Maybe I enjoy being an asshole at times.” It isn’t exactly true. It wasn’t that he had ever wanted to hurt her. But sometimes, he had needed some distance, needed her to step away, to lose that look in her eyes, the glimmer of hope he saw come through that curve of her mouth. Sometimes, he’d needed to cut her just to save his own neck. She laughs, and he wonders if, maybe, this could ever be about more than just the money.
CHAPTER 46
An hour later, my heart has forgiven him, aided by a half dozen bottles of ice-cold Bahamian beer. The alcohol has loosened our tongues, words spilling across the table before either of us can hold them back. We have agreed, in one drunken toast, to open the vaults: freedom to ask any question and receive a full, unedited response. We started off friendly, but the questions have gotten dirtier and more personal as the beers keep coming.
* * *
Nathan flips a bottle cap in my direction. “Worst strip club client ever?”
* * *
I tilt my head. “My third week at the club, a husband proposed I join him and his wife for a threesome; I refused, the wife got offended, and sprayed me with a mini-Mace canister she had on her keychain. I looked like a crazy psycho-stripper for the next three hours, my eyes bloodshot and face blotchy.” I grin at the memory, thinking about how close I came to quitting that night.
* * *
I bite my lip, looking at Nathan. “What’s the story on Drew?”
* * *
He leans forward. “Drew was a cop. When Cecile disappeared, I hired him to look for her full time. When I told him about CeeCee—my sister—and her account, he helped to come up with the plan to create a new Candace Dumont, and he was the one who searched for a suitable woman with the correct birthdate. Once we brought you home, he was supposed to keep you under control. To keep you unaware.” He snorts. “A job he failed miserably.”
* * *
He dips a piece of lobster into butter and glances at me. There is something in his eyes, a question unasked.
* * *
I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him, the alcohol in my system pushing me forward. “I slept with him.” I reach forward, grabbing my own piece of lobster. “I feel like you should know that.”
* * *
I expect fireworks, his eyes to blaze, hands to fists, nostrils to flare. Instead,
Nathan sighs, settling back in his chair. “Would you like to continue fucking him?”
* * *
I don’t have to think about the question. “No.”
* * *
“So, it’s done with.”
* * *
“Yes.”
* * *
“Good.” He pushes back, his chair sliding a few inches further from the table. “Now, come here.” He pats his thigh.
* * *
“What?” I lift my beer to my lips, and giggle nervously.
* * *
“Candy.” My name rolls off his tongue like silk, I can't argue with that look, the one that has issued so many delicious orders in the past. “I’m not going to do anything. Just come here.” He pats his thigh again, and I stand, setting down my beer and making my way around the table, his arms pulling me down, until I am seated on his thigh. I steal a nervous glance at the rest of the restaurant.
* * *
“Kiss me,” he commands, his hands sweeping up my thighs, and I pin my skirt down with my hands.
* * *
“Nathan,” I chide.
* * *
“Kiss me.”
* * *
I obey, and just the brush of lips reminds me of our chemistry, of the raw need that my body has for him. He takes a second one, then a third, moving off of my mouth and trailing kisses down my neck and onto my collarbone. I laugh, and he squeezes my side, and helps me back up with a groan. “Get back over there before you drive me mad.”
* * *
“Yes sir,” I mock, and his lips twitch, his fingers lingering on my thigh as I stand.
* * *
“I don’t understand - when Candace died, wouldn’t this account go to you as part of her estate?” We walk, hand-in-hand, past a line of yachts, the marina shops filled with tourists. Two kids run by us, shrieking, and we pause to skirt a family of four.
* * *
He grimaces. “She left everything to a local battered women’s shelter. Because this account was unknown to anyone but me, the estate wasn't aware of it. I don't have a problem giving the shelter the ten million dollars I originally owed CeeCee. But the forty mill of interest that I tacked on… he sighs. “I’d like that back.”
* * *
I nod, stumbling slightly on my heels and gripping his arm tighter. “And how does Mark fit into all of this?”
* * *
“You don’t like to sleep alone; I don’t like to be alone. A shrink would have a field day with that—and probably blame it on Cecile’s abandonment. Whatever the reason, Mark handles most of the day-to-day business of the house and handles a lot of the overflow from my job—little errands that I don’t have time to take care of.” He pauses at a trash can tossing in his empty beer bottle. “Ever been in love?”
* * *
I shrug. “Nah. I haven’t really met the right guy. A few crushes here or there. But the last three years haven’t put me in the right situation. Most quality guys aren’t interested in dating a stripper.” I nod in his direction. “Case in point.”
* * *
He winces. “Touché, my wife.” The endearment rolls so easily off his tongue that we both startle at it. Then our eyes meet, and I smile. He leans forward, and with one gentle tug of his hand, pulls me to him for a kiss.
* * *
Spark. I can’t kiss this man without my insides melting and my heart awakening. He deepens our kiss, his other hand stealing into my hair, tugging on the elastic band until my hair falls free. I grip his shirt, our mouths colliding in frantic passion. He pulls away, and I gasp for air. “Let’s go. I fucking need you right now.”
* * *
We hurry, my hand tight in his, up the stairs, through the casino, and into the elevator, where he takes me into his arms, my back against the wall, heart hammering in my chest. Then, the doors open, and a dozen steps later, we are in our suite.
* * *
I drop to my knees on the carpet, keeping him close, my mouth begging for a taste of his cock. He stops me, tugging on my arms, and I resist, looking up at him. “Nathan, I need this. Please. Sucking your cock has been on my mind for over an hour.”
* * *
He looks down at me, his face heavy in need. “Trust me, I’m not stopping you. Move in front of the mirror so I can watch.” He pulls me over until we are both before the large mirror, his hands unzipping and reaching into his pants, my heart leaping when all of him is before me.
* * *
Good Lord, he is magnificent. I move closer, devouring him with my eyes, barely feeling the tug of strings as Nathan undoes the ties that hold up my dress, the material pooling around my knees when he is done. I hold him in my hand, gently gripping it, feeling the skin move around hard bone, his breath inhaling sharply when I squeeze. I hold it up, the area around it neat and well-manicured, his obsession with control encompassing his nether regions as well, everything perfect, framing a package which I can’t stop thinking about.
* * *
I start at his base, trailing my tongue along the veins and bulges of his organ, my eyes glancing up to find him staring straight ahead into the mirror behind me, his hands gathering my hair, his expression strong and possessive. “God, I love … everything,” he groans, his eyes dropping to meet mine. “The curves of your back, the dimples above your ass … the feel of your wet tongue against my cock.”
* * *
My tongue reaches the lip of his head, swirling around the base, and then I take it in my mouth, sucking it in and out, my hand gripping and tugging on his shaft, each downward pump hitting his balls. I move my hands, placing them on his thighs, tugging his pants down until they hit the floor, my hands sliding back up his bare legs as my mouth takes him deeper, wet sucks taking him to the back of my throat. He takes a fistful of my hair, holding me still and taking over the motion, thrusting quickly, then slowly. I look up into his eyes as he slowly withdraws, my lips tight around his cock as it leaves my mouth.
* * *
“You will be the death of me,” he mutters, bending down and gripping my waist, lifting me easily up and walking me over to the bed. There, he repays me as we lay on our sides, facing each other. His mouth brushes my lips, kissing them softly, the hard length of him bumping tantalizingly against my legs as his fingers gently move over my pussy, teasing the velvet folds. My body arcs against him when he slips a crooked finger inside, a shot of electric pleasure that causes me to gasp, his mouth curving into a smile against my neck, as his finger brushes gently over the spot that was made for this. My inner walls contract and lubricate, the spot beneath his fingers swelling.
* * *
My fingers run down the planes of his body, traveling over the hard bone of his hip, moving down the V of his stomach until I reach my goal, my hands wrapping around him, my own mouth taking on a smile, my hand moving on its own accord, admiring the rigidness of his member as I explore its length. Our mouths find each other, a soft kiss turning deeper, our hands busy as we both move deeper into the sea of arousal.
* * *
I break the kiss, the intensity of my climax too great, my eyes clenching shut as my body tightens, a stream of words spilling from my mouth, the warm chuckle of Nathan only increasing the pleasure. My head drops back and I moan, a long guttural sound as sweet, pure intensity radiates out from deep inside of me, and it’s satisfaction of the most intense kind.
* * *
I am coming down from my high when his fingers stop, pulling out of me and I feel the wide girth of his head, pushing through my folds and thrusting inside, my wet hot center ready, expanding and contracting around him as he pushes deeper inside. I wrap my leg around him and he rolls, putting me on my back as his cock fully buries.
* * *
There, he takes control, his breath ragged as his cock sets a firm rhythm, his intensity taking me, as it always does, by surprise. Hard thrusts let me feel exactly how aroused he is, every stroke bringing a new burst of pleasure.
* * *
<
br /> I have fucked Nathan countless times. Standing, sitting, bent over or on his lap. But never this completely, never without an emotional wall of some sort between us, constructed either by him or me. This time, as his cock thrusts, as our eyes lock and our bodies move as one, my wall crumbles down.
Trophy Wife Page 18
