Hence my self-banishment to the deck off the luxury suite we inhabit. I absolutely refuse to spend my time gazing at him like a lovesick fool while he ignores me and keeps giving me hints to leave him in peace.
This morning I’d pranced out of the bathroom, freshly showered and clad in a hot pink bikini small enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. He’d taken one look at me and then gone all stony-eyed before turning back to his laptop and ignoring me completely.
The satellite phone beside me chirps, and I look at it for a beat before answering.
“Hello?”
“God! You sound miserable! What the hell are you doing on this honeymoon?” Lena demands.
I’m so pathetically grateful to hear her voice my eyes mist, and I catch back a choked sob.
“Nothing! I spend all day keeping myself entertained while he works, and then all we do is have sex at night. I swear, Lena, if he keeps this up I am so getting an annulment when we hit New York,” I hiss in a whisper, glimpsing back at Gregory with a guilty scowl.
“I told you not to let him work!” she yells, and I pull the phone back to save myself from a lifetime of ear trouble. She’s worse than a dictator — I snort again and smile guiltily when my very own dictator glances up and locks eyes with me.
“Oh God, trust him to stop working when I don’t want him paying attention,” I groan, sliding off the lounger to walk a few feet away.
“Han.”
“Seriously, this is not my fault. Yesterday I pranced around naked for ten minutes pretending I couldn’t find my bikini. This morning I came out of the bathroom wearing the thing, and I ate breakfast that way. He didn’t even bat an eye!”
How demoralizing to know the sheen has worn off so quickly I could spread eagle myself, butt naked, and he’d still be unaffected.
“Not even a look?” she breathes.
“Nope.”
“A blink?”
“Like a goddamned statue. I swear, I was more turned on by me than he was,” I growl. “But I couldn’t help it. I got a look at my tan in the mirror, and it looks great. I didn’t even know I could go this shade of golden—”
“Han, focus! This is a major setback. You can’t keep him off balance if he isn’t paying attention.”
Yeah, tell me about it.
“Look, I’m just going to spend the last seven days reading or something, and then I’ll revisit and revise, okay? I’m tired of throwing myself at him. It’s getting goddamned embarrassing. I got more heat from the swimming instructor this morning, and she’s a woman!”
That had been really awkward, because despite loving my husband, that woman is really hot. Like, Cindy Crawford hot, and I’m only human. I have eyes. And I’m feeling a little vulnerable, so turning her down had gone against the newly awakened needy side of me.
“You got hit on by a woman! Really?” she squeals, and I practically see her salivate. “What was that like?”
“I dunno, like seeing the brand of lollipops you like but being offered strawberry, which is still good, but nowhere near as yummy as cherry.”
God, what am I saying? Am I really describing girl-on-girl flirting by using lollipop references? I’m pathetic.
Lena giggles, and I realize she’s trying to distract me long enough to pull me from the doldrums. Clever girl. I start giggling too, and soon I feel better enough to consider my options, misery-free.
“Thanks for that. I was getting ready to fling myself into the ocean, and at the speed this tub is going I’d be chum. So, what should I do?”
“Hmm, ever had a massage?” she asks, throwing me for a sec.
“Huh? Yeah, once. This tiny Korean woman went Bruce Lee on my ass. I couldn’t sit without crying for three days. What do they eat? Spinach?”
She laughs a little before hmm-ing some more.
“The cruise offers in-room massage to the guests, right?”
“I think so.”
“Then here’s what you do.”
***
I know what heaven feels like. It’s strong, capable hands sliding over your skin in an oily glide that pulls the tension out of your muscles a finger stroke at a time.
After Lena’s call I’d gone back inside and ordered a massage, fully intending to strip down in the presence of my husband and make him watch while a buff, extremely sexy but gay man runs his hands all over me.
When I’d come back out of the bedroom, he’d been gone, along with his laptop and my last drop of ego. I’d intended to cancel and sit on the deck, fuming for a couple of hours, when there’d been a knock and Fabio’s twin brother Gorgeous had walked in, crowing about how toned and fabulous I am.
So sue me, I need a little boost right now, and if it takes a gay hunk running his hands all over me to get me there, I am so there.
“You have amazing skin, Han. So smooth and silky,” he croons, hitting a particularly tender spot on my upper thigh.
“God, do that again and I’ll give you anything you want, hot stuff,” I groan, pushing into his strong hands.
Bliss, bliss, bli—
“Get your goddamned hands off my wife!”
I rear up to see Greg stalking our way, his fists clenched at his sides, with a look so murderous I flinch before indulging in a silent fist pump. It’s not until I realize his intent that I swing up, truly afraid for poor Gorgeous.
“Greg, stop!” I yell as he grabs the frightened behemoth by the collar and tenses. “He’s just the masseuse! And he’s gay!”
I’m up and off the table by this time and hanging onto his right arm for dear life when he freezes and glances down, his eyes going molten.
“Cover yourself.”
I look down and gasp, diving for the towel on the table, my cheeks heating so quickly my hair fizzles.
“Sir, I—”
“Get your shit and get out.”
I watch as poor Gorgeous scrambles for his kit, not even folding the table down properly before running from the suite so fast I see streaks of smoke funnel out behind him.
That leaves me alone with Greg, and I cringe before peeking up at him fearfully. His eyes…I have to look away they hold so much rage, and at the moment it’s all directed squarely at moi.
I want to run and hide and hope he calms down enough tha—
Wait a minute! It worked!
“Do you want to tell me why another man had his hands all over my property?” he asks so quietly I quail at the violence inherent in his voice.
I’m happy I’ve managed to shake him a little, but I’d never expected this level of anger, and now that I’m faced with it I’m at a loss as to how to respond.
Till I realize what he’s just called me. Property? Did he just say property?
“Run that by me one last time,” I say in a voice so brittle I see his eyes stretch the tiniest bit. “Did you just call me your property?”
His eyes go hard, and I realize whatever advantage I thought I had is so not on the cards. I’m pissed, but he’s…volcanic.
“He had his fucking hands a hair’s breadth away from your—”
“He’s gay!”
“No. He. Isn’t.”
Oh God, then I shouldn’t tell him I’d dropped my bikini right there and revealed everything in God’s glory as I’d inelegantly hoisted myself up onto the table.
I cringe slightly and promise never, ever to mention that unless I don’t want to sit for a week.
“Uh…”
“Why did that man have his hands all over you?” he asks, stalking closer.
I’m a little wiser nowadays, so I take a step back, clutching the towel closer to my chest.
“I was getting a massage?” I ask in a small voice.
He stalks closer, eyeing my towel with a glare that strips the flesh from my bones.
“Did you enjoy it?” he asks silkily, coming closer as I retreat, his face so hard I swallow.
“Um, yes?”
Well I’m already in deep shit, so what’s the use of lyin
g at this point? Anyway, I rather suspect he heard me calling the not-so-gay masseuse hot stuff. My goose is already cooked.
His eyes burn brighter, and I see his eyes tic as his muscles coil. Oh crap. I lunge left and make a break for the bedroom, intending to hide out in the bathroom till he cools down.
I’m in front of the bed and diving for the bathroom door when I feel a freight train hit me from behind, sending me sprawling face down into the mattress with Goliath resting on my back.
“Tell me again how much you liked it,” he snarls, pushing me down and pulling my hands up to lock above my head.
“Hmmm fohee,” I mumble, gasping into the sheets.
He levers up enough that I can turn my head and gulp in a breath, his hot breath fanning the skin at my cheek.
“Again.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know he wasn’t gay! No straight guy has that much style. He was wearing a scarf!”
His body tenses above mine, and I scream as he rips the towel from me and settles back over me, grinding himself into my butt. He’s angry and aroused, and I have no doubt he’s about to show me exactly why he calls me his property.
Yay!
“You want a man’s hands all over your skin, you come to me,” he growls, clamping one hand around my wrists to free up a hand. That hand skates down my back and wiggles between our bodies, coming to rest at exactly the spot the masseuse had been rubbing earlier.
Strange how I hadn’t felt the proximity before, but now that it’s his hand I feel my core clench, moistening for him, begging him to shift up just an inch closer.
I grit my teeth, unwilling to cede this round just to get his hands on my sex. Sure I want him. Sure I’m desperate for all the passion I feel simmering off him, but I want more than sex and ownership. I want him, loving me back, and the only way I’ll get it is if I push him to the point of no control.
“I wouldn’t want to disturb your precious schedule. Let me up, and I’ll go sit in the corner like a good little asset until you’re ready for me,” I say sweetly, taunting him by shoving my butt up and wiggling out from under him as much as I can.
I get exactly one leg free before he’s back on me, his mouth so close to my ear.
“You’re feeling neglected, darlin’?” he purrs.
His tongue flicks at my earlobe, and he gently bites down on it, sending shivers through me.
“Greg, please.”
The hand on my thigh shifts up, and I feel him between my legs, his fingers delving, rubbing at my clit.
“Who do you belong to?” he purrs, rubbing at me till I’m on the edge before stopping to demand again. “Who do you belong to, Hannah?”
“You,” I gasp, trying to push closer, needing that touch, the closeness I feel when he’s like this, even though I can still feel his anger.
“Louder, darlin’,” he growls, sliding his hand lower to thrust a finger deep into my core.
“You. I belong to you, only you.”
He gives me what I want as soon as the words leave my lips, and I am crying out in ecstasy even as he lowers his pants.
“Never forget. You are mine.”
“And you are mine,” I whisper as he thrusts into me and wraps himself around me.
Chapter Thirty Two
“You look awesome.”
“Thanks. I feel awesome.”
Lena and Chris have kidnapped me for a full on dish session, and invaded the Garden City house the minute we got home, and my devoted husband left for the office.
I haven’t been back an hour before they descend, along with Nana and her new love, not so virgin martinis.
“Nana! You shouldn’t be drinking with your medication,” I yell, grabbing the drink from her bony hand and downing it before she can rise. “Josey! Can you please lock the liquor away!”
“She’s been this way since the wedding. I swear to God, that old lady has more apples than all of us put together,” Chris mutters affectionately, returning Nana’s air kiss.
I roll my eyes and glare, fighting the urge to laugh. Put these two together and you’re sure to have mayhem. Not so great for me, but then, the old bird is seventy-three, and spoiling all her fun is not on my agenda.
What is, is that rat bastard I married.
Good grief, is the man stubborn.
“So he goes all Tarzan on you and ‘you my property,’” Chris says, doing a great caveman impression. “And then what?”
“Weeell…” I eye Nana and wince.
“I have a vagina too, you know.”
God help me, after what I’ve seen, I’m not likely to forget.
“Okay, well, things led to their…natural conclusion. Obviously,” I aver, shrinking at the thought of discussing sex in front of my nymph Nana. “It was good, too. What happened afterwards, not the…okay, well, that was awesome,” I say, sighing dreamily.
“Stop sex replaying and tell us!” Lena demands, and I cut my visual memory short in order to recap my horrible honeymoon.
“We had dinner and went to bed…ya know. And then the next morning he carried on as if nothing had happened. Back to work and ignoring me, and…I spent the next seven days watching three cougars have a go at the barman on deck two.”
I still shudder just thinking of what the four of them had on the day I’d seen them sneaking off together. Talk about instant libido killer.
“That’s it?”
“Yup. I spent all day waffling around before going back for dinner and his customary night games. During the day it was work, no compromise. The jealousy thing worked only so far before he went back to his routine. I even tried the whole masturbating in the bathroom thing you told me about, Lena. Nada.”
Even Nana gasps and looks like she just smelled something bad, telling me loud and clear how well it should have worked.
“Why, I can’t believe it. That old trick worked on your grandfather a time or two. I remember the day I saw him talking to that neighbor woman, Velma, and I got so jealous. I waited for him to come inside, and then I went to the bathroom and—”
“Whoa! Nooo, no, no, no. TMI, Nana!” I yell, blocking my ears with a shriek.
“Oh, now, Hannah dear, we’re all women here.”
“Except me, apparently. What’s wrong with me?” I groan, keeling over to shove my face into a cushion.
If that trick could work for my gray old grandmother, there must be something seriously wrong with me. I mean, I’ve done everything but actually rub my naked vagina in his face, and still, nothing.
“Nothing, sweetheart. He’s just playing hard to get. Know what I think?” Chris asks, and I sit up to see her eyes take on a very unhealthy sparkle. “I think you’ve made things too easy for him. Throwing the goods in his face is all fine and good, but it’s stupid — no offense, Lena — to try and outplay a player like Gregory.”
Heh. Maybe she’s right.
“So you think I should what? Stop having sex with him?”
They all snort and I blush at that kernel of idiocy. Yeah right, like he’d ever allow that. I’d be seduced and fucked in under a minute flat, and we all know it. The man is just that good. And super sexy.
“No, dummy. You make yourself physically available and keep the emotional shit locked down tighter than a miser’s purse. You’re too…easy right now,” she says with an apologetic grimace. “You’ve basically shouted your love from the rooftops, which makes him thinks he’s got nothing to worry about.”
“Yes, dear. Rule number one: never give everything right off the bat. You should have left him to simmer in his own juices. The moment he started questioning your commitment, he would have started worrying, which always makes men go the extra mile.”
The others nod sagely, and I pull a face, acknowledging my stupidity. Thanks a lot, heart, and big fat mouth, for royally screwing everything up.
“Great. I’ve already spilled the big ole beans. I’m doomed,” I moan, covering my face with a curse.
“Not necessarily,” Lena coos, and I
look up with the eagerness of a student at the knee of its master. Or a dog, your choice.
“No, indeed, your avowal of love this early on could just work in your favor. Have you said it again, recently, dearest?”
My pathetic, chagrined expression says it all, and they all start laughing.
I actually scream it, loudly, when I orgasm, but I hesitate to say this with the level of amusement at an all-time high.
“So then all you have to do is stop,” Chris says seriously. “Stop telling him, and he’ll stop jumping at his every crumb with an affectionate gratitude that spells it out for him.”
“Won’t he get all weird if I ignore him?”
“Don’t ignore him. Be polite and serene at all times. If he gets all cold and distant, just smile and keep on keeping on. Be the soul of calmness. No temper outburst, no trying to seduce him. Just go about business exactly as he would,” Lena says, smirking softly.
“This will…what exactly are we looking for here?” I ask.
Stop being so judgmental. I’ve never mind-fucked a guy before. I prefer honesty and openness and results, not cloak and dagger love play. Obviously, though, my approach is not working.
“He’ll slowly start to notice that you’re no longer as emotionally available as you were, and it’ll make him wonder. Are you pulling away? Have you lost interest? And horror of horrors! Do you simply not love him anymore? Men are simple creatures, Han: they always want what’s unavailable. So make yourself unavailable.”
This sounds so easy, easy enough that I can pull it off without too much trouble.
“Oh, but don’t forget to make yourself as physically alluring as well, dearest. As you’ve learned, there’s nothing worse than a lover who is totally open and responsive physically while being emotionally closed. It makes the contrast all the harder to ignore.”
“That’s it. Be totally open to his physical needs while holding my feelings in check. So basically you want me to think like a man.” I lean back and smile.
“Oh God, I pity that poor fool when she gets that smug, determined look.”
As we give Nana the martini shaker back and watch her perform cocktail magic, I drink with a satisfaction I haven’t felt since the wedding.
LAWSON (A Standalone Billionaire Romance Novel) Page 52
