Temporary Wife

by Aria Ford

  That night seemed to go on forever, and yet I never wanted it to end. We made love and held each other, made love again and then held each other again. I kissed and licked every inch of her sweet skin, lapping my tongue between her legs. She caressed my body and nibbled my skin, sucking my cock in her mouth and lightly trailing her tongue over my balls.

  By the time the night ended, we were like one body, permanently fused together by our shared desire and emotions. I held her close that night, playing with her hair and placing gentle kisses on her head. Exhaustion overwhelmed us both, but we didn’t sleep. It was as if our energy was endless that night. While I held her, I felt a surge of emotions I’d never felt before.

  “I’m glad you decided to move in here,” I said softly. “I can’t imagine not seeing you every day.”

  “Me neither,” she said. “It’s strange. We just met but already I—”

  “I know,” I said. “I feel the same way.”

  She smiled and nestled into my chest, kissing me softly and sighing. We held on to each other into the early hours of the morning, not moving or speaking. We didn’t need to. That night, our feelings were written in on our skin, and we poured them into each other again and again. I’d fallen in love with Olivia without realizing it, and that night I knew I could never lose her.

  Chapter 20

  Five Months Later

  Olivia

  It took five months, but I finally felt like I was doing something right here in Santa Fe. After moving in with Brad, everything sort of fell into place. I painted and sketched more than ever, constantly drawing inspiration from my love for him. This place, Santa Fe, inspired me in a way nothing else ever had. I felt at home here and with Brad. It didn’t take long for me to decide I’d never leave. This was home. This was where I belonged.

  For the first few months, I painted like crazy and sold everything I could. I worked tirelessly at Carla’s shop, trying to save up extra money and make a name for myself. Eventually, my paintings became a local hit. Everyone came out to Carla and to the farmer’s market to request one. Business was insane. I never imagined I would become so successful so soon. It wasn’t long before Carla realized I needed a place of my own. She found a few shops nearby that I could rent out for very little money. I worried about getting into business on my own, but with Carla’s help, I managed to do so successfully.

  Brad helped me design and organize my gallery, and now, a month later, it was fully up and running. I’d sold a few high-dollar items and countless smaller ones. People came from inside the city of Santa Fe to check out my work and reserve future pieces. The local businesses all bought a few paintings to hang in their stores. It was crazy how quickly my life turned around. Just a few months ago, I felt helpless and lost. I never thought I would make it as an artist, and now I owned my own gallery.

  As I locked up the gallery one evening, my mother called me. I stared down at my phone, nervous and breathless. We hadn’t spoken in months. I didn’t know why she was calling and for a split second, I worried something might have happened to my dad.

  “Mom,” I said as I answered the phone. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine,” she said, her voice guarded but kind. “I’m just calling to see how you are.”

  “Um…” I said, confusion setting in. “I’m fine. I actually opened my own art gallery about a month ago. Business has been good.”

  “From what I’ve heard, it’s been more than good,” my mom said.

  I blinked. What was she talking about? How did she know anything about my work or my gallery?

  “What do you mean?” I asked nervously.

  “Well, I got an interesting phone call a couple of days ago,” Mom said. “From Brad Jones?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And what did he say?”

  “He just told me all about your gallery and how successful you’ve been,” she said. “He spent almost an hour gushing about how amazing you are and how you’re an inspiration to him. He’s very proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and he thought I would be too.”

  “Oh,” I said, unsure of what else to say.

  I never imagined Brad to be reserved or standoffish. Brad would call my mother to talk about me. It was crazy and yet, I believed it. Brad would do anything for me. He’d proven that time and time again since I moved in with him.

  “Well,” my mom said. “I won’t keep you. I just thought I would call and say congratulations on your success.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” I said.

  “And…” she hesitated. “I’m sorry about everything, Olivia. I was wrong. We, your father and I, were wrong. You obviously have a talent for this that we didn’t see before.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, though it wasn’t.

  “Maybe you can come home for a visit soon,” she said softly, “with your friend Brad.”

  “Sure,” I said. “That sounds nice.”

  We said our goodbyes and hung up. I stared at my phone in shock, unable to believe what just happened. It wasn’t like my mother to admit she was wrong. In fact, I’d never once heard her utter an apology in my entire life. Not to me or anyone. I felt like I was living in a dream as I locked up the gallery and climbed into my car.

  My little car wasn’t new. It was a rundown little thing that Brad fixed up for me, but I loved it. It was perfect, and it was all mine. As I drove it toward Brad’s shop, I tried to make sense of my conversation with my mom. She was kind, nice, and supportive. Three things she’d never been before. She even wanted me to visit and she wanted me to bring Brad. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I knew it was a good thing.

  As I pulled into the parking lot of the auto shop, I saw Brad working in the garage. I grinned and let myself into the lobby, pouring a cup of coffee and admiring my paintings on the wall. Brad insisted on buying them for the shop and the apartment. I tried to give them to him for free, but he refused. I loved seeing them hanging on the walls of this shop, the place we first met.

  I walked around the counter and let myself into the garage. Brad saw me and stood up straight, grinning widely and opening his arms for a greasy hug. I hugged him tightly and leaned up to press my lips to his. I sighed against his lips, melting into his chest. No matter how many times I kissed him, I never got used to it.

  When we pulled away, I saw a woman standing just outside the garage. She was glaring at me with earnest. I just grinned at her and waved, making her storm off in a huff. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Brad.

  “Still hanging around, huh?” I asked, gesturing toward where the woman disappeared.

  “I didn’t even notice,” Brad said, shrugging.

  “Which is why I love you,” I said.

  It wasn’t anything new, these women hanging around Brad. They’d always done so, and now that we were together, they were even more persistent. They hated me for taking him off the market, but I didn’t care. Brad was mine, and I loved him for it.

  “I love you too.” He grinned and kissed me again.

  “So,” I said. “I got an interesting phone call from my mother today.”

  Brad’s face fell for a split second. He flashed me a guilty smile, and I just laughed, taking his hand and pulling him into the office. We each fell into a chair so we could talk freely.

  “I can’t believe you called her,” I said.

  “Are you mad?” he asked, worry crossing his face.

  “No,” I said. “I’m just surprised. Why did you do it?”

  “I thought she should know how you’re doing,” he said, shrugging. “She’s your mother. I know your parents have been terrible to you, but I don’t know. I just wanted them to know they made a mistake. I wanted them to know that your talent is undeniable.”

  I smiled and sighed. “Well, she was nice about it.”

  “She was?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Yup,” I said. “She even said she was sorry for everything. She congratulated me on opening the gallery. I honestly don’t
think I’ve ever been so surprised. I didn’t know what to say. It was crazy.”

  “That’s amazing!” Brad said. “She finally sees the mistake she made.”

  I nodded. “She wants me to come home for a visit,” I said. “She said I should bring you along with me. I guess she wants to meet you.”

  “She does?” Brad asked. “Wow, I thought for sure she would hate me after I called her out of the blue like that.”

  “Nope, I think she actually kind of likes you already,” I said.

  Brad laughed, making my stomach fill with butterflies. I could never get used to being with him. From his cobalt eyes to his big belly laughs to his soft kisses. He was everything I always dreamed of and more. I never imagine the sexy, bad boy mechanic I met on my first day in town would become the love of my life. Now I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

  “I think we should do it,” Brad said firmly. “We should go to New York.”

  “You do?” I asked, surprised. Brad always talked about New York like it was hell on earth.

  “I do,” he said. “I mean, I don’t want to live there. God no. Never. But a visit wouldn’t hurt.”

  “No.” I smiled. “It wouldn’t.”

  “Especially now that your parents are being nice,” Brad said, shrugging. “Maybe you guys can finally have a good relationship, you know?”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Brad smiled and pulled me into his lap. He kissed me softly, wrapping his arms around my waist. Whatever happened with my parents, I knew it didn’t matter. As long as I had Brad, I’d have everything I need.

  The End

  DADDY'S TEMPTATION

  Prologue

  “Oh! Oh…”

  I groaned as he pushed inside me, his hard cock pulsing and shuddering as he came. I arched my back, and my arms drew him against my chest, pressing him against my rounded breasts. I drew him closer, gritting my teeth as he pushed into me.

  He shivered in my arms, pumping deep inside me. Each thrust rubbed over my places of pleasure, sending little shivers down to my toes. I had already came twice, but I felt myself almost coming again. Just then he let out a deep, throaty growl. I felt the full force of his release. I sighed and felt a deep satisfaction as he collapsed on top of me. His weight was warm and firm on my body.

  When I woke again, he rolled off me. Lying beside me, he gave me a weary grin.

  “Oh, baby,” he moaned, “that was fantastic.”

  I smiled and nestled against him as he held me close. “Thanks,” I said. “It was.”

  Then he turned into a monster.

  I screamed. The face looking into mine was hideous. His flesh was ragged and decomposing. He was a terrifying distortion—an awful mask. I could smell the scent of corrupted flesh and feel the wetness of it. He grinned at me, and I screamed.

  I sat up, eyes open, still screaming.

  I blinked and discovered that I was looking up at my own ceiling and then into my own cupboard-sized bathroom, where I had fortunately left the light on.

  Collapsing back on to the bed, I sighed.

  It had been a dream.

  “Nightmare, more like,” I said to myself.

  I was used to these dreams. It had been a year since I left Mike, but I still had nightmares about him and about what he had done to me. So suave, so kind. He had slowly turned into the kind of abuser that was accurately represented by the vile thing of my dreams. Not that the dream-monster was the same every time, but each time it was horrible. I imagined that’s how he really looked behind the mask.

  “Whew.”

  I leaned back on the pillows and let reality slowly sink in. It was warm in my room. The duvet was tucked up to my chin, and yet I did not feel warm or safe. I missed closeness. Even Mike, as cruel as he was, was something.

  Now I am all alone.

  I sighed. I knew two o’clock in the morning tended to do things like that to someone. In the morning I would surely feel better.

  Come on, Emma, I told myself. Yes, you are twenty-eight and single. But so what? That isn’t really so terrible, is it? So nightmarish?

  Maybe it isn’t, I thought wryly. But tomorrow might be that scary. Tomorrow I started work again, and it wasn’t just any old job.

  Since I left college seven years ago, my jobs had varied from being a writer to a teacher. I left my teaching job at Redwood Kindergarten following a bout of depression and started working as an au pair. I was going to work on my first assignment tomorrow.

  And what an assignment. Whew.

  The universe really knows that I like a challenge. So instead of starting off on some easy task, like helping out some stressed-out single mom, I got Alexander Carring, a stunning, reclusive billionaire.

  Being nanny to Alexander Carring’s children was not just a challenge. It was a task to scare even the most confident. And after a year with an abusive partner, I was far from that.

  All I wanted at this point in life was peace. As I lay there in the darkness of the two o’clock morning, peace seemed like the one thing that eluded me. I would just have to wait until tomorrow.

  Chapter 1

  Emma

  I let my off-key voice fill the small kitchen in my bedsit as I put the coffee on. Singing always made me feel better. I needed it this morning. This was the morning I would start my job.

  I put the kettle on and then went upstairs to dress. This was the bit that always scared me. Ever since Mike, I had thought of myself as frumpy, unattractive, and graceless. I had no idea if I could even make a good impression anymore.

  Well, if you don’t try, you don’t know.

  One thing I still had was my tenacity. I went to my cupboard, opened it, and pulled out a pinstripe blouse and some blue slacks. Let’s try this, then.

  They were both an nearly identical shade of blue, the blouse from Gant, a present from a friend who always looked cut. I pulled them on. The slacks fit well, and the shirt was a nice loose, one that draped beautifully. I shook out my honey-blond hair over my shoulders—Mike always liked it wild and un-brushed. I glanced at myself in the mirror.

  There.

  The girl looking back at me was tall, neither super skinny nor super-anything-else, with a long oval face and hazel eyes. Her lips were a natural brown and her skin was clear, slightly freckled over the nose. The blue actually suits me. A color somewhere between Slate and Prussian, it was very pretty. I drew on some navy shoes with a slight heel and turned to the mirror, viciously arranging my hair in the mock French roll I thought was suitably severe.

  Giving myself a critical squint, I went through to put on makeup and thence to see if the demon coffee machine could be persuaded to give me a second cup.

  Breakfast was hasty. The clock was ticking, and I had agreed to be there by eight thirty so I could meet my employer before he jetted off somewhere. Then I was on the road.

  Life either likes you, or it doesn’t. This morning, it seemed to violently hate me for some reason.

  “For pity’s sake!” I shouted out of the window as the traffic backed up in front of me. The workday rush seethed and hooted and gathered round me, hemming me in with the scent of exhaust fumes and the rising pressure of a thousand tempers, loosely held. I put my head on my steering wheel and practiced the ancient art of screaming quietly.

  After about a minute of that, I felt better. I looked up and looked around. We were still moving, if just. I let myself roll forward the next inch or so, and decided to turn on the radio. At least if I had to be stuck, and I was destined to be late for my first job in four months, I might as well have music.

  “Non…regrette…rien!”

  I was shouting along with an Edith Piaff song on the radio as I finally rolled into the car park at my work. The Reliance Au Pair Agency was on the fifth floor of the massive building that reared up ahead of me. Edith Piaf had put me in a great mood, and I was ready to go. I ran up the short flight of steps with perhaps a minute to spare. I could make it. I really could! I collapsed into
the lift, panting.

  The man in the lift with me insisted on going all the way down to the basement, but I was exactly on time as I fell out of the lift on the top floor. I ran down the hallway, clutching my bag, keeping my balance just on my heeled shoes.

  “Watch out!”

  I shouted it exactly as I ran into the tall, dark-suited man in the corridor ahead of me. He staggered back, and I went down hard.

  I was hissing in agony when I stood up. One of my ankles had twisted, and my shoes insisted on twisting and compressing my little toe wickedly.

  “You might have minded out of the way!” I said quite loudly at the tall man. My hair had fallen loose, too, and it flowed over my shoulders, a mass of honey-dark curls down to my shoulders. “You might not be late, but I am!”

  I glared at him and pushed my way past. As I did so, he turned toward me.

  “If you are late, I presume you are Miss Blunt?”

  I stared at him, mouth open. “What?”

  “I am Mr. Carring. You are assigned to work for me?”

  Brilliant. I would have passed out. I swear I would have. If my blood pressure was slightly lower, I would have been lying unconscious on the tiles at that moment. Life is what it is, though, so I was left standing upright to face my tormentor.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  He said it thinly, a thread of a word. If he had been even a fraction ruder, he would have sniffed as he said it. As it was, he looked me up and down. I flinched. I imagined I must have looked a sight, with my slacks now dusty and my hair all loose about my shoulders. I bit my nail and met his gaze.

  He was, as I noticed earlier, taller than me, his body lean but well muscled, his hair cut severely, his eyes a shade paler than his black hair. His face was thin, cheekbones sculpted in a way that would make Michelangelo proud, mouth sensitive and full. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. I cleared my throat and looked hastily away.

  “What?” he asked.