“He’s her first foal.”
I slide one of my arms around her waist and pull her body against me. With my free hand, I push her hair over one shoulder and press my lips to the exposed skin on her neck, trailing kisses toward her ear. “I can’t stand it any longer. I need to touch you. Is that all right?”
“Yes,” she whispers, and her voice breaks halfway through the single word.
I glide my hand across her chest and push it down the top of her dress until my palm finds her lace-clad tit. I can feel her nipple growing hard through the lace as I slowly thumb it, but it’s not enough. This is only a small taste of what I truly want, so I push my hand inside the cup of her bra from the top, forcing her breast to topple out of her bra. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I should. I don’t even know you.” Her voice is barely audible.
“But you don’t want me to stop?”
Her head turns from side to side, the back of her hair rubbing against my chest. “No.”
She moans when I pinch her nipple between my thumb and index finger and leans against me, lacing her fingers through my hand on her waist and tilting her head to the side. Her breath increases and her bum grinds against my groin when I squeeze and release her breast.
Her invitation to continue. But we shouldn’t do this in the open. We could be seen.
“Come with me.” I slip my hand inside of hers and lead her into the tack room, closing the door behind us. “We can never be seen together that way. We must always be hidden from the view of others.”
She releases my hand and slowly backs away, stopping when her bum hits the table behind her.
Is she rethinking the situation? Thinking of telling me that I can’t touch her that way?
She grips the edge of the table and watches me move toward her. “Hutch…”
I grip her waist and lift her to sit on the table, bringing us face-to-face. “Yes, Lou?”
Her throat bobs when she swallows, and I wait to hear what she has to say. But nothing comes out. And before it can, I close my fingers over hers, gripping her hand inside of mine. That’s all it takes. Within two heartbeats she’s inside my arms, and we’re wrapped up in each other.
Her lips are pressing against mine, her hands roaming my chest. It’s been almost two years since I felt this—a woman’s kiss and fiery touch. And fuck me. Having a woman’s body pressed against mine has never felt so good.
I want to do so many things to her all at once, but I can’t stop kissing her. Her lips are so soft, and she has the faintest taste of wine on her tongue.
Her arms drape over my shoulders and I pull her body against mine until there’s not a single bit of space between us. And I don’t want any space between us. I want to feel her against me, her body tangled up in mine, even though we’re fully clothed and making out like a pair of teen lovers in the tack room of my barn.
She breaks the kiss and breathes in deeply. “Whoa.”
“I’m sorry but I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“You have?”
“Aye. Very much so. I’m sorry if I was a wee bit overkeen.”
“It was intense.” She smiles. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t like it.”
“I think that kind of kiss is confirmation that you don’t still see me as a stranger.”
“No, you’re not a complete stranger to me anymore.”
I push my fingers through hers, lacing them together. “You won’t regret saying yes to this. To me. The next three months are going to be fab.”
“I think so too.”
9
Caitriona Louden
Hutch is quiet during the ATV ride back to the house. Discomfort usually accompanies a lack of conversation, but I feel none. My mind isn’t flipping through a mental Rolodex of discussion topics, searching for what we can talk about next. Not talking is okay. The quiet is peaceful and being next to him is enough to satisfy me.
Epiphany.
Hutch is right about this. Despite our lack of acquaintance, we’re at ease with one another because there are no pretenses between us. Our expectations and boundaries are clear. And that eliminates the worry and anxiety that I would typically have at this point.
I’m his companion until the end of August, and I feel prepared for what that will involve. “I understand everything that you said about our relationship. It makes sense to me now.”
He stops the ATV and turns to look at me. “Tell me why it makes sense to you.”
“I don’t feel pressured to impress you. I can be myself without the fear of rejection. I have no worries about what today, tomorrow, or next month means for us because I already know.”
He reaches for my face and strokes his thumb over my cheek. “You can be whoever you want to be with me. Lou the inamorata or the true you… I’ll happily take either of you. But if there’s ever a time when you feel comfortable enough, I’d very much like to know your real name. Lou doesn’t fit you at all.”
I like Lou. I think it fits me perfectly. And if he knew that my real last name was Louden, he would agree.
I see how much Hutch wants to know the real me. A part of me wants to tell him who I really am, but my gut reminds me how unwise that would be.
“Maybe one day.” That should pacify him for now.
“‘Maybe one day’ isn’t a no. I’ll take it.”
We return to the house, and Hutch parks the ATV in the attached garage instead of returning it to its previous parking spot. I’m guessing that’s on account of my shoes, and I’m not mad about that. Walking in these heels on uneven ground without scratching them is no easy task.
“Will you have another glass of wine with me?”
I strongly suspect that Hutch has something in mind for us later tonight, especially after our little sexy romp in the barn’s tack room. I’d welcome a little bit of wine-induced bravery for whatever that may be.
“Yeah, I’d love another glass.” Or two or three.
I take the glass of red wine that he offers, and we go into the living room. We sit close to one another on the couch, close enough that his leg is touching mine, and damn, I feel like a silly teenage girl sitting next to her crush. The simple touch of his leg against mine thrills me beyond belief.
Hutch rests his free hand on my leg and gently kneads the muscle of my thigh. “I’ve sent the staff away for the weekend.”
“Then who just prepared and served dinner?”
“Sonny left after cleanup. It’s just you and me at the house until everyone returns on Sunday night.”
We’re alone and I’m no fool. He definitely intends on at least trying to see how far he can go with me.
“If the staff is gone, why were you so worried about someone seeing us in the barn?”
“You never know when someone could pop in for a visit.”
An unannounced drop-in introduces all kinds of potential problems. “It’s inevitable that one of your friends or family members is going to see me here at some point. What are you going to tell them about me?”
He takes his hand away from my leg and runs it through the top of his hair, making it fluff up. “I’ve been thinking about that. A lot, actually.”
“And?”
He chuckles. “You could be the dog walker.”
The dog walker? Is he serious? “Do you even have a dog?”
“No, but I can get one if it gives you a legitimate reason for being here.”
I love animals but I’m not going to pick up dog shit for anyone. “I need you to be more creative.”
“Such as?” He stares at me while I draw a blank. “Go ahead. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Interior designer?”
“Mina hired a designer to redo the entire house a couple of years ago.”
That’s not surprising. The decor is new and beautiful. Come on, Cait. You’re a smart girl. Come up with something.
“Got it. Event organizer for a party that you’re planning?”
He frow
ns. “It’s not a terrible story but it has holes.”
“What kind of holes?”
“An event planner wouldn’t make multiple visits to my house so that explanation feels more like a one-shot deal. And I also don’t think it would come off as the truth if you were seen wearing anything other than professional clothing.”
I have no intentions of walking around here in a pantsuit. “All valid points. What about housekeeper?”
“I’ve had the same housekeeper for years. Everyone knows that I wouldn’t replace her.”
I’ve met his housekeeper. She’s no spring chicken. “Maybe you could say that she needs a little help with the housework because she’s getting older and can’t handle all of it by herself? This is a big house.”
A line forms over Hutch’s brow and he rubs his thumb back and forth over his bottom lip. “That would cover any questions about your frequent presence in the house.”
I think that we have an ace in the hole. “Housekeeper beats dog walker, hands down.”
“I like it. And it’s one less thing that I have to figure out about this arrangement.”
Hutch has so many people to answer to. He’s a grown man with incredible success. He should be able to do what he likes without everyone else’s input.
“Does your friend, the one who brought you to the Inamorata gala, know about me?”
“Aye, but not near as much as he’d like to know. He’s eager to meet you.”
“Are you eager for me to meet him?”
“I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to keep you all to myself.”
I wonder if I met his friend the night of the gala. “What is your mate’s name?”
“Brady.”
“I don’t recall meeting a man by that name, but I met a lot of men that night.”
I wonder if Rachel knows him. It’s possible that she’s been on a date with him.
“Brady stayed back while we were introduced, per Cora’s request. She didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
She didn’t want to overwhelm me? That’s a hoot. “Umm, that entire event was the epitome of being overwhelmed.”
Hutch reaches out, returning his hand to my thigh. “I hope that I didn’t contribute to overwhelming you.”
“No, it was the other men.” They made me feel like a fresh piece of roadkill surrounded by starving vultures.
“Good news. You’re done dealing with that shite.”
“Thank God for that.”
Hutch’s fingers skim back and forth across the top of my leg. It’s beguiling and yet somehow soothing. “Tell me about your week.”
God, I can barely think with him touching my thigh like that. “I worked on my manuscript a couple of days, and then my roommate and I went shopping one day.”
“What is your manuscript about?”
“It’s a psychological thriller. Stalker becomes boyfriend kind of thing. Maybe.” I shrug. “It’s still very early.”
“Can I read it?”
“There’s not anything to read. I’m still working on the outline.”
“Ah, I see. Did you buy anything when you went shopping?
I grin, thinking of the lingerie. “Girl stuff.”
“Did you happen to bring any of this new girl stuff with you?”
“I brought all of it.”
Hutch takes my wine from my hand and places it on the coffee table. “I’m not thirsty for wine and I don’t think that you are either.”
He slides closer and I twist so that I’m facing him. His eyes leave mine, moving lower, and he looks at my mouth. “You have great lips.”
“I like yours too.” They’re so soft and full and framed perfectly by the scruff on his face.
“Do you always wear red lipstick?”
I lick my lips. “I never wear red lipstick.”
He touches his thumb to my bottom lip. “You’re wearing it tonight. And you wore it the other nights that I saw you.” He noticed and remembers.
“Only because I thought that you might like it.”
“I do like it. It’s sexy and it looks beautiful on you.”
“Thank you.”
I lick my lips again and press them together, preparing for the kiss that could be coming.
Come on, Hutch. Kiss me. I want you to.
He leans closer and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, gently tugging on it. It’s not one of those gross I’m-going-to eat-your-face-off kind of sucks. It’s a sexy kind of suck. The foreplay kind of suck.
His mouth opens, covering mine, and our tongues fall into a rhythmic wave. It’s a seductive swirl of soft, wet velvet and wine. And damn, I think that the wine tastes even sweeter on his tongue.
I push my fingers into the back of his hair, and everything moves faster. Our kiss is no longer slow and sweet. It’s carnal and demanding.
Pulling away, I pant for air, and his eyes connect with mine. “Do you want me to stop?”
This relationship isn’t normal. It has its own set of rules and those don’t include the norm. It’s okay to have sex for fun and not for love. This has nothing to do with my stupid heart.
Placing my hands on each side of his face, I drag my fingertips through his facial scruff. “Don’t stop.”
An angel on one shoulder, a devil on the other. And even that dark bastard is asking me what the hell I’m doing.
“Are you sure?”
I’m about to cross a line, and when I do, I can’t return. “I’m sure.”
Hutch places his hands on top of mine and turns his face into my palm, kissing it through a wide smile. “Not here.”
He gets up from the couch and takes my hands, pulling me to stand. With his hands holding mine, I follow him down the hallway to his bedroom.
“Do you need your bag?”
“Yes.”
My heart is pounding against the interior side of my chest. Each beat is pulsating in my face and ears and hands. I feel hot and cold at the same time. Shit, I think that I’m light-headed. Am I going to pass out?
I cannot pass out. That would be humiliating.
We grab my bag and go into Hutch’s bedroom. His room wasn’t on my house tour, so this is my first time seeing it.
King-sized bed. White and gray bedding. Light-colored furniture. Clean lines. Simple and masculine. I don’t want to kill the mood by thinking about Hutch’s late wife, but I don’t see a woman’s touch anywhere in this room. Has he changed the bedding? Did she once sleep here?
“I moved out of our bedroom. I never shared this bed with her.” I turn and look at him. “I could tell that you were thinking about it.”
Am I that transparent? “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but wonder.”
“It’s fine, Lou. No pretenses, remember?”
“Right.” That’s something that I’m going to need to remind myself of on a regular basis.
“With me, you can say whatever’s on your mind. Never be afraid. Got it?”
“Got it.” I look at the door to my left. “Bathroom?”
“Aye.”
“I won’t be long.”
He tries to suppress a smile. Total fail. “I’ll be out here waiting for you.”
I close the bathroom door behind me and breathe in deeply as I look at myself in the mirror. Slow breath in, slow breath out. I repeat the process a few more times, hoping that it will help me gather some courage.
Calm down, Cait. Tonight is going to be fun. No pressure.
Except that I do feel pressure. A ton of it, actually.
I’m twenty-two years old, and I’ve had one boyfriend my entire life. My list of sexual partners comes to a grand total of one. Uno. I’m a girl who has almost no sexual experience, and I’m supposed to somehow know how to give an experienced man like Hutch the full girlfriend experience.
I lean toward the mirror and stare into my own eyes. Windows to the soul, they’re called. Behind the green, brown, and gold flecks of color, my windows are slammed closed. Not so much as a crack for anyone to ge
t a glimpse into my core where I’ve become so numb. My heart is desensitized because it’s been betrayed by every person in this world who should have cared about me. But didn’t.
Everyone except Rachel. She’s the one exception in this shit show called my life.
Fuck it.
Those two words have seen me through a lot of shit, and they’re going to see me through this too.
“Time to do this, Cait.”
I brush my teeth and change into the pink baby-doll set I bought earlier this week. The baby-pink color is misleading. It looks innocent at first glance, and then you notice my deeply exposed breasts and the barely there G-string in the crack of my ass.
Misleading. The same could be said for me—I may look like a skilled inamorata, but I’m really only an amateur in disguise. And this sexy lingerie is my masquerade.
I brush my hair, detangling the bottom layer that constantly moves against my back and shoulders, and twirl the ends back into loose curls. Lucky me. My hair is actually cooperating tonight.
I smooth the few unruly tresses and think about what tonight is going to be like with Hutch.
Will he be hot and kinky?
Will he be dominating?
Will he only care about his own pleasure?
So many unanswered questions.
My body tingles as I imagine his hands moving all over me. My nipples get hard when I imagine his thumb and index fingers rolling and pinching them. And his tongue licking them. I’m wet and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
Another epiphany.
Tonight isn’t about the money. It isn’t about our arrangement.
I want this man.
You are about to make yourself a true inamorata, Cait. I hope you know what you’re doing because there is no going back after this.
I come out of the bathroom, stopping in the doorway when Hutch’s eyes move over my body. I place my hand on the doorframe and shift my weight to one foot, doing my best to look seductive instead of scared to death.
“Fuck.” I don’t hear the word come out of his mouth, but I read it on his lips.
I’m wearing sexy lingerie, and Hutch has stripped down to his boxer briefs. There are zero pretenses happening in this bedroom right now. It’s after ten o’clock and both of us know that we won’t still be unfucked at eleven.
Beautiful Illusions Duet Bundle: Eighty-One Nights and Beautiful Ever After Page 7
