“There’s absolutely no way I am letting you quit,” he said picking up the cards and shuffling them with a mastered precision. “Your winning was pure luck, nothing more.”
Charlotte laughed at him. “Luck,” she repeated, amused. “Tell me Caleb, was it luck, or your being distracted that resulted in you getting your ass handed to you?”
Caleb’s dark blue eyes narrowed at her. “Both,” he said, smugly. “At the same time.”
Shrugging her thin shoulders, Charlotte perched her lips. “Or, here’s a thought . . . and I need for you to seriously consider the possibility . . . I am simply better than you at Speed.”
“I can assure you that is not the reason.”
“Mhm,” she mused, her browns alight with humor. Leaning back on the black leather couch, she blinked at him with big doe eyes. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
“One more game−”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Menzie interjected, taking the deck from his hands. “How about a movie?”
“A movie sounds great,” Charlotte smiled, standing to her feet with a zeal that was meant to agitate Caleb even further. From the time she and Menzie had arrived, Caleb had challenged her, arrogantly believing that she would be easy competition. Little did he know, she had an extremely competitive nature and was more than ready for the challenge. From Jenga to Trouble . . . Sorry to UNO she had beaten him, and to put the icing on the perfectly frosted cake she had taken the win for Speed as well. “Next time, Caleb,” she smirked, tapping him on the shoulder. “Menzie, I’m going to run to the bathroom before we start the movie.”
“You’re a tease, Charlotte,” Caleb yelled after her.
“Caleb, stop!” Menzie admonished him, covering his mouth with her small hand. “You’re a sore loser.”
Rolling her eyes at Caleb’s charge, Charlotte giddily made her way to the bathroom. Walking down the long, narrow hallway, she jumped when Nicholas rounded the corner coming from the open kitchen. Bringing a hand to her chest, Charlotte gasped. “Nicholas, you scared me.”
His smile was immediate. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, taking a step toward her. “You seem to be having a blast emasculating my brother,” he laughed.
“Caleb’s overly- confident disposition makes it so much more rewarding to beat him,” she said, echoing his laughter. “Like seriously, the man is out of this world a terrible loser.”
Nicholas’ silvers danced with amusement. “You have no idea.” Closing the space between them, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist. “I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look this evening?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“My apologies. Dimple, you’re gorgeous,” he made the acknowledgement with the brush of his lips against hers. “And this dress,” he said, moving his hands from her waist to the small of her back, “this dress,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, “Looks so good on you.”
Color filled Charlotte’s cheeks. “I’m glad you like it,” she returned breathlessly. “I have to go to the bathroom.” She needed an escape, to retreat. Where was Menzie when she needed her? “I just need a minute to−”
“Go to the bathroom,” he finished for her. “If you hold it . . . your orgasm will be so much more intense, or so I’ve heard,” he smiled innocently. Pushing his larger body against hers, Nicholas backed Charlotte into the bathroom and closed the door behind them with a swift kick of his foot. Wasting little time, he lifted her onto the edge of the sink and with forceful hands spread open her legs to give him full access. “Lace panties,” he smiled down at her. “You really went all out for me.”
“Nicholas,” she groaned. “We can’t do this.”
“We can’t do what?”
“This,” she said, squeezing her thighs together and gesturing between the two of them with her pointer finger. “We can’t do, this.”
“If you’re worried about Caleb or Menzie walking in−”
“No, I’m not worried about that . . . although, that would be awkward,” she frowned.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Charlotte swallowed hard, and then sighing, she said, “We have too much sex.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Nicholas frowned deeply, his thick ash brown brows knotting together to create wrinkles around his mercury eyes.
“Menzie said that we have too much sex, and that if we want to work on our marriage . . . like really work on it, we have to focus on having innocent fun and not focus all of our attention on being intimate.”
Nicholas gazed down at her with curiosity, his steel eyes sparkling mischievously. “So, you think that my ability to make you cum is counterproductive to the effort we’ve put in to working on our marriage?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she met his gaze with confused eyes. “I just don’t want our reconciliation to be based off sex.”
“Mhm,” he breathed. Tightening his hold on her, Nicholas brought Charlotte further into him and then inserting his hard body in between her legs, brought his hand to rest at her sex. “Just so I’m hearing you right,” he said as he began to rub his thumb up and down her panties, once, twice. “Sex is off limits.”
An ache spread through Charlotte’s now trembling body, an all- consuming need sparked to the very core of her being. “Not permanently,” she groaned.
“Not ever,” he groaned. Possessively pressing his mouth to hers, Nicholas kissed Charlotte deeply as his fingers preceded to stroke her clitoris. His words brought her every nerve- ending to life.
“Charlotte!” Menzie called from outside the bathroom door. “Charlotte! Remember what we talked about.”
“Go away,” Nicholas grumbled.
“I’m coming in,” Menzie yelled from the hallway. Opening the bathroom door, she shook her head at the other woman who looked like an embarrassed school- girl that had just been caught in the act. “The movie has already started.”
“Awesome,” Nicholas returned, his tone sarcastic. “Thanks for letting us know.”
Reaching around Nicholas’ blocking frame, Menzie grabbed Charlotte’s arm and pulled her off the sink. “Come on, Charlotte. You don’t want to miss the previews, do you?”
“No,” Charlotte answered, clearing her throat. “Previews are great.”
***
Nicholas sat quietly beside Charlotte, his eyes on the flat screen television− his mind on more matters far deeper than Bella’s plight of being in love with a vampire. Exhaling his growing agitation, he repositioned himself on the leather couch. Boredom could never even begin to describe what he felt in that moment. Not that he wasn’t a fan of the teen fantasy, personally he thought the romance between Bella and Edward was top notch, but to have to sit through it with a hard-on because his nosey sister-in- law wanted to play therapist was beyond irritating. Stealing a quick glance at his watch, he wondered how much longer the film would last.
Catching his growing agitation out of her peripheral, Charlotte turned in his arms so that their eyes met. “What’s wrong?” she asked him, a small frown hardening her lush mouth. “You don’t like Twilight?”
“Twilight’s fine.”
“It’s a great movie, right?” Menzie cut in, tearing Nicholas’ attention away from Charlotte. “I’ve read all five books already. Stephenie Meyer really knows how to tell a story,” she beamed at them from across the room.
Nicholas stared at Menzie, his expression unreadable. In all the years that he had known her, she had never proven to be more annoying than she had been that evening. “That she does,” he said, pulling his lower lip into his mouth and biting down the urge to share some choice words with his brother’s wife.
Placing her hand on Nicholas’ cheek, Charlotte pulled him into her so that her mouth skimmed his earlobe. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered into his ear.
“Nothing,” he answered, offering her a half smile, and then turning his attention back to the movie.
“Liar,” she sighed. Taking his face
in her small hands she forced him to look at her once more. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m going to sound like a prick.”
His words caused a smirk to form at her lips, instantly softening her already delicate features. “When has that stopped you before?”
Nicholas laughed. “Fine. Total honesty?”
“Always.”
“Our time would be better spent in private. I would rather be in my bedroom finishing what we started earlier, instead of watching Kristen Steward excessively blink and take deep breaths as she fidgets to get her words out.”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open. Pressing her lips into a tight line, she fought to keep the laughter threatening to pour out of her at bay. He was right, their time would be better spent in private. As hard as she tried to shut the image of them making love out of her mind, she couldn’t. Everything about Nicholas screamed seduction, from his chiseled chest that was unapologetically visible through his black sheer V-neck, to his clean citrus scent that left her feeling intoxicated. Just sitting beside him was an enticement, a temptation that she wanted to give into, but couldn’t. Or, could she?
“You think I’m an ass?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him.
Charlotte shook her head. “No,” she answered quickly, her voice low− husky. You only need a taste, a quick fix, her subconscious whispered. Groaning inwardly, she pulled her lower lip into her mouth and squeezed her legs together attempting to ease the ache that was beginning to form there.
The act wasn’t lost on Nicholas. “Something wrong?” he smiled, knowingly.
Staring up at him with innocent eyes, she remained silent. Jerk! She thought. Swallowing hard, Charlotte dropped her hands from Nicholas face and straightened her posture along the back of the couch. Nicholas moved then, wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her off the couch to straddle his lap. The sudden unexpectedness of the act caused her to gasp aloud.
“Charlotte!” Menzie yelled her name, but the sound was lost to Charlotte’s ears. She heard nothing but the thud of her own heart beating violently in her chest.
“Nicholas!” Menzie called out to her brother-in- law when Charlotte didn’t respond.
Ignoring her, Nicholas fisted his hand in his wife’s hair and pulled her head down to his. “Tell me to stop and I’ll listen,” he said to her. His tone was provoking, his voice barely above and octave. Staring down at him, Charlotte parted her lips to speak, but knowing that her words would be a lie, she kept quiet. To him, her silent spoke volumes− spoke a muted consent that he graciously accepted. “Good girl,” he whispered against her lips and then he was kissing her deeply.
“Charlotte!” Menzie continued to call the other woman’s name.
“Babe, they aren’t going to stop,” Caleb said, standing to his feet. “And unless you want a live view of my brother’s penis, I think we should go.”
“But−”
“It’s okay babe, you tried. Proved to be one hell of a cockblocker . . . but it’s time to admit defeat.” Pulling Menzie from the loveseat, Caleb ushered her out of the living room and down the long hallway toward Nicholas’ bedroom.
“Why are we going to Nicholas’ room?” she huffed, frustrated at her failed attempt to keep her friend from giving into temptation. “You know what? He is incorrigible. To not be able to go one night without sex . . . it’s a problem, you know? They have a serious problem.”
“Oh, yeah, totally babe. I hear you,” Caleb said, closing his brother’s bedroom door once they were inside. Unbuckling his pants, he used the weight of his muscular frame to push Menzie onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“I lost way too many times tonight at the hands of my brother’s wife, I’ll be damned if he gets one up on me, too.”
“We can’t have sex in his bed.”
Caleb’s smile was boyishly handsome. “Sure, we can,” he said, amused at the thought. “Now, babe, I want you to be incredibly loud, okay?”
“Caleb,” she began, but her words were lost in his kiss.
Chapter Nine
The building was in an uproar as word of Gizzelle Bridal’s COO, Hayward Fissicle’s impromptu visit spread like wildfire. Whispered assumptions for the millionaire’s sudden pop in at the magazine overshadowed all other gossip which by circumstance made Charlotte’s morning all the brighter. Any reprieve from the heedless banter her counterparts insisted on directing toward her was a blessing. Skillfully ignoring her surroundings, Charlotte casually leaned against her cubicle wall as she sorted through the magazine’s promotional receipts. With practiced patience she looked over each receipt, trashing those older than a year and filing all others. “Ms. Elliot,” called an unfamiliar male voice from behind her. The sudden interruption caused her to jump, completely tearing her from the needed reverie which worked to keep her mind in perfect peace. Daydreaming while working was not optional, if she planned on keeping any remnant of sanity, fantasizing about being elsewhere was a must. Dropping the thick folder of receipts, Charlotte turned to face the stranger behind the voice. Her bright brown eyes met the dark blues of an older gentleman who looked to be in his early sixties. By all standards he was attractive for his age. His salt pepper hair was neatly cut, as was his perfectly outlined goatee. Meeting his gaze, Charlotte tilted her head to the side as she tried to recollect where she had seen the man before because this was not their first encounter, of that she was certain. “Charlotte,” he repeated, offering her a warm smile. “If you have a moment, I would like to speak to you in the conference room.”
“Sure,” she said, stepping out of her cubicle. Stopping just short of the workspace beside hers, she waited for the older gentleman to start walking.
Gesturing for her to lead the way, he offered a small smile. “After you.”
Charlotte nodded her thanks and without hesitation, quickly made her way down the long hallway toward the floor’s conference room. Opening the large glass door, Charlotte froze immediately. Her almond gaze skeptically moved over the faces of the individuals seated at the large mahogany table.
“Ms. Elliot, please come in and have a seat,” Hayward Fissicle ordered from his seat at the head of the conference table. “Thank you, Brooks,” he nodded at the man standing just behind Charlotte.
Brooks, she mused. Brooks. Where have I heard that name before? Brooks . . . Yes! The Sullivan’s New Year’s Eve Party. Finally, the man’s identity came to her, he was Hayward Fissicle’s head of security. Exhaling deeply, she felt a sense of unease as she passed her onlookers . . . they were vultures, anxiously waiting to feed on her remains. Ignoring their watchful gazes, Charlotte silently prayed for strength as she made her way through the brightly lit room to sit at the nearest available seat.
Fissicle waited until Charlotte was seated before he addressed the room. “Making unscheduled visits to my corporations has never been a practice of mine. However, when I get word that my editor is responsible for making coffee runs, that is, when she’s not being asked to deliver mail to her subordinates− what choice do I have other than coming to see the tumultuous fiasco with my own eyes.”
Nicholas. Instantly, she became enfolded by the thought of him. Fissicle’s coming here . . . was this your doing? She wondered.
“Ms. Elliot,” Fissicle called her name, his voice was strong and held authority. “Prior to coming to this meeting what task had you been in the middle of completing?”
Blinking rapidly, Charlotte looked from her co-workers to Hayward Fissicle, her perplexed expression evidence that she too was caught off guard by what was happening. “I was sorting through Gizzelle Bridal’s promotional receipts.”
“Sorting through receipts,” Fissicle laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. Slamming his fists onto the table, he turned his hard gaze to Dean. “The editor of my most profitable publication is toying with receipts . . . does that make any sense to you?”
Dean’s eyes widened under Fissicle’s scrut
iny. “Sir, I can assure you that the magazine is in capable hands. I’ve promoted Penelope Lawson to editor, and I am certain that−”
“Ms. Lawson is not an editor; she is a columnist that I re-hired in the spring. If I wanted her as my editor, I would have given her the position upon her return to my magazine. She has zero experience editing, nor does she have a degree in English.”
“Yes, sir. I understand your position completely. However, if I can speak frankly, Ms. Toutant no longer seemed interested in her position as editor. She was continuously late both to work and to meetings. She did not maintain a professional relationship with her co-workers, as she remains to be the topic of gossip around the building. Due to her less than ethical romantic relationship with your former Editor-in Chief, she has become bit of a pariah, that very few respect. And what’s more she has proven extremely disrespectful to myself, her superior.”
Fissicle regarded Dean carefully for several moments before he spoke again. “This is not a discussion where your opinion holds any value. My decision is final. Ms. Elliot will resume her position as editor for Gizzelle Bridal effective immediately.”
Dean forced a smile. “Of course, sir,” he said, his tone a contrite one. “It was my mistake to−”
Holding up his hand, Fissicle easily silenced the other man. Then turning his attention to Charlotte once more, he said, “Ms. Elliot. Had I known what was taking place sooner, this would not have gone on as long as it had− of that you can be certain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fissicle,” Charlotte answered him. “I appreciate your making a trip to the magazine for my behalf. I am truly humbled that you would take time out of your busy schedule to set things right for me. And so, I hope I am not being overly presumptuous in asking a favor from you?”
“A favor?” the man repeated, his expression thoughtful.
“Yes, sir. Patricia Foster, who was once the Advertising Director at Leisure Me Ready before the takeover, is now working as an Accounts Clerk at one of your acquaintance’s law firm. If possible, could she, too, return to her position here at the magazine?”
A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5) Page 7
