Be A Doll

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Be A Doll Page 13

by Stephanie Witter


  “No comeback? I must admit I’m almost disappointed.’’

  “What do you want me to say? I can’t fight with you when you want me to behave for your guests. You can’t possibly have it both ways, Mathis.’’

  He walked closer to me until his warmth basked my back. He didn’t have to touch me for me to perceive his all encompassing presence. He sucked the air out of me without doing much of anything.

  “Something on your mind?’’ His voice, rough, trailed down my spine.

  “Why?’’ My shoulder tensed further.

  “I’ve seen you trying to act all proper and polished and I’ve seen your fire burning, but this is different,’’ he whispered close to my ear. His breath swiped over my skin on my neck and collarbone. I didn’t fight off the shiver that shook me.

  The doorbell rang, saving me from answering him, from getting more lost to that new sort of teasing he was offering. I turned around and sidestepped him without looking at him. My eyes stayed fixed on the perfect knot of his tie.

  “Ready to play act?’’ I asked my husband as we both walked to the door and I didn’t have to look at him to perceive the tension that rose in him.

  “I’m good at it,’’ he replied and didn’t give me the time to process his words or the dark way he uttered them as he opened the door to face a couple his parents’ age.

  LILA

  “It was delicious, Lila,’’ Mrs. Moran said after finishing her last spoonful of crème brûlée. Her praise made me smile genuinely for the first time that night and I risked a glance at Mathis who was already watching me with as intense a look as he always had when staring at me.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Moran. I’m afraid that I don’t merit any praise as this is all the caterer’s work.’’ I laughed daintily. I dried my mouth with my napkin and took a sip of chardonnay. “I will make sure to thank my mother-in-law for her referral of the caterer, though.’’

  “My mother always has the best contacts,’’ said Mathis with a smile that barely stretched his mouth in a move that was obviously not usual for him. His face was well-practiced for smirks and cold masks that could freeze the strongest.

  “She must be delighted that her son has finally settled,’’ Mrs. Moran said with a soft smile adorning her heart-shaped face. Small wrinkles in the corner of her soft brown eyes deepened, rendering her even more sympathetic. But I didn’t let her appearance fool me. One of the things the Manor had taught me was to decipher people. It’s something I was skilled at even though I seemed to be lacking when it came to my spouse, but with the Morans I easily picked up on a few things.

  Mrs. Moran was certainly nice, but also playing a part to dig up some things regarding my and Mathis’ relationship. She used her nice behavior to try and make me and Mathis so relaxed that we wouldn’t be on our guard. It wasn’t exactly difficult to pick up on, fortunately.

  Mr. Moran on the other hand was the epitome of the shrewd businessman who wanted to get the upper hand, more so when the one with the power was a man young enough to be his son. I had yet to see Mr. Moran smile. With his snow white thick hair combed back and his thick black eyebrows and equally dark eyes, I was reserved and expected a frontal attack at any time. I especially didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to follow me around, taking into account my every move toward Mathis. As a result, I believed that we had touched each other a lot more than we thought we would, with barely there touches on his shoulders, his fingers briefly caressing my hand and forearm and the lingering stares that were supposed to be enamored.

  “When I announced to her that Lila had agreed to become my wife she almost rendered me deaf in one ear,’’ Mathis said good-naturedly, a wry smile on his face and he made a point staring at me as if sharing a fond memory with me. He was a very good actor, so good that it made me wonder what else he had been acting about since I had met him.

  “You’ve received a warm welcome to your husband’s family then, Lila,’’ Mr. Moran said with an even voice that belayed nothing of his thoughts, but his cold eyes on me told everything I needed to know.

  He didn’t believe our charade.

  The only reason why he didn’t call us out on it was probably because he had no proof that our marriage was in name only. It would only take him a few weeks to find about Carter Manor if he asked the right people in his circle of acquaintances. That thought made me gulp the remaining wine in my glass.

  “Mathis’ family, or should I say my family now, welcomed me with open arms. I’m very lucky.’’ I smiled at my husband and linked my hand with his, twisting my fingers with his.

  While that move was purely for show, my body reaction was very real. Warmth invaded my body from my hand in his to my neck and up to my face, probably tainted it a light shade of pink. Goosebumps broke out over my arm and I thanked my long sleeves for hiding the extent of the effect a simple touch from him had on me.

  “Hm,’’ Mr. Moran began and ignored the dark look his wife tried to send him as discreetly as possible. Mathis’ fingers tightened around mine, making me all the more aware how much strength laid under his impeccable suit and in his big hand. “Do you know Mr. Karrowsky, Mathis?’’

  “He’s one of my father’s business partners, I believe.’’

  “He’s also a good friend of your father.’’

  “Charles,’’ Mrs. Moran said, a warning in her voice that made the blood run cold through my veins.

  If that Mr. Karrowsky was a friend of Mathis’ father I’d rather not imagine what he was told. A wave of shame hit me sideways, drawing out a shiver from deep inside me before anger rose steadily, both at the situation and at my own reaction. I needed to stop feeling like a common whore when in all truth I wasn’t and I had yet to open my legs for my damn husband. I wasn’t the first or the last woman to be in an arranged marriage.

  I had nothing to be ashamed of.

  All of my life choices had been motivated by one thing and one thing only; survival.

  “Apparently your father doesn’t think very highly of your charming wife.’’

  Mathis’ dark laugh took me by surprise and considering the slight arch of the older man’s eyebrows, he wasn’t any less surprised. Mrs. Moran cringed and dried her lips on her napkin, surreptitiously eyeing the front door in the far entry hall in front of her.

  “My father and I haven’t seen eye to eye in a very long time, Charles,’’ Mathis said with a condescending tone of voice he hadn’t used up until now and I immediately noticed the shift in the air. The niceties were over and Mathis took the reins again, ignoring the fact that his interlocutor was twice his age and expected to be addressed as such.

  My husband went from calm and collected young businessman hosting a nice dinner with his wife and two guests, to business mogul, powerful and without a care in the world who he would stomp on in the process of advancing.

  “But—‘’ Mr. Moran began, but Mathis held up a hand to silence him.

  “I’m not finished. Let’s be honest here,’’ he talked over him and didn’t make a move to remove his hand from mine. If anything, his grip only tightened possessively. “You only wanted to come here to get a look at my private life and judge my being a couple. I decided to play following your rules, opening my home to you and your wife after asking my wife, without any notice whatsoever, to organize this dinner. And now, you dare talk about how my father perceives my wife and my marriage?’’ He shook his head and stood up, tugging on my hand gently to match his stance. “My father has never approved of anything I ever did, starting with my business venture and as far as I know he isn’t the one at the head of a business empire. I will not listen to any more of what my father has to say regarding Lila and I will not let my wife be the subject of humiliation.’’ His cold voice slapped our guests who stumbled to their feet.

  Mrs. Moran shakily went to her feet, apologizing profusely as she made her way to the front door where her purse and light jacket awaited her at a coat rack next to the door.

  Mr. Moran looked
straight at Mathis, anger twisting his face and deepened his already very wrinkled face. His cheeks previously red from the wine turned purple. “You should respect your elders, young man, and your father’s thoughts too.’’ Then he shot me a nasty glare and walked away.

  “I’m thirty-two-years old, Charles. I know exactly what I’m doing and where I want my life to go. Maybe you shouldn’t listen as closely to your old friends’ gossip. Your business would be in better shape then.’’

  “You’ll be hearing from me,’’ he said louder, his anger making his voice shake slightly.

  “Oh, I’m sure I will,’’ Mathis replied even colder, his dark eyes staring down the older man.

  Mrs. Moran broke the stare-down by tugging on her husband’s suit jacket sleeve as she opened the door. “Charles, let’s go!’’

  As soon as the door closed after them Mathis released my hand and turned around, a hand in his hair and the other in his pocket.

  My eyes landed on the table and the empty plates and glasses half filled with water and wine. The discarded white napkins thrown on the table and the chairs pulled back haphazardly were the only clue as to how abruptly the evening ended.

  At Carter Manor we had been taught countless scenarios regarding dinner with guests, but I hadn’t been ready for my husband’s temperament to take the better of him and ruin our efforts. It only took the mention of his father to make him lose his cool.

  “You did well tonight, Lila,’’ he said, breaking the heavy silence. His voice seemed distracted as his eyes lost focus as if he was withdrawing into himself instead of raging as I’d expected after his outburst with Mr. Moran.

  “For what it’s worth,’’ I mumbled and started to pile the empty plates, but I was immediately stopped with a hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t. Mrs. McCarthy will take care of this tomorrow.’’ His voice was no louder than a whisper.

  I turned toward him and my eyes locked on his without much effort. His dark orbs were hard for me to decipher, but I thought I saw a desperate need to get out of his head, probably trying to escape some awful memory that stemmed from his twin’s death, something I would bet never truly left him.

  Without thinking and only following the tingle in my arms and the hard beats of my heart, I brought my hands to his chest over his firm pecs, so well-defined under his white dress shirt and unbuttoned jacket.

  His hands fell to my hips. His palms warmed me through my wrap dress and his fingers gripped me tightly, making me feel each and every touch of them. His touch was powerful, strong. Heady.

  Mouth dry, I frowned up at the man who was my husband, a man I didn’t understand, couldn’t make up my mind about.

  “How bad will the consequences be?’’

  His eyes fell to my mouth before he found mine again. “Let’s say that I’m going another route now.’’

  I bit on my lip and looked down at my small hands, too small to even cover the whole expanse of his pecs. “Was he one of the reasons why you were looking for a wife?’’

  “Not exactly.’’ At my deepening frown he sighed. “He is one of the few businessmen that were bothered by my lack of personal stability as they see fit, but he isn’t the one that made me turn to Carter Manor to find a quick solution. At least, he didn’t seem to doubt the truth of our marriage.’’

  I went to pull away, ready to put an end to that disastrous evening, but Mathis’ hands prevented me from leaving. The tightening of his grip on my hips made me visibly shiver and audibly gasp.

  “What, are we already finished with the little touches, Lila?’’

  “You know damn well that it was only pretend for the guests,’’ I replied, forcing an annoyed tone of voice when a lump grew in my throat. I pushed against his solid chest, but he didn’t release me. In fact, under my hands his muscles flexed and one quick glance at his strong arms showed me that the muscles in them bulged under his suit jacket. I wondered how much more it’d take to burst the seams of his Armani suit. “Let me go, Mathis.’’

  The small muscle in his jaw ticked when his name left my mouth, something I had noticed a few times already.

  “No.’’

  “Don’t start.’’

  He tilted his head to one side and then drew small circles with his thumbs on my hips. I mentally cursed how thin the fabric of my dress was. It was impossible to miss the heat spreading all over me from his hands, the way his fingers curved around my hips.

  “You were the one touching my chest first.’’

  What could I answer to that? It was the truth. I touched him. I willingly and without thinking, touched him. I pushed against his chest again, but when he didn’t move I let my arms drop alongside my body.

  “Stop,’’ I whispered and let him hear the exhaustion in my voice and see it on my face. I didn’t force my shoulders to stay straight, instead I slouched slightly and sighed deeply. “I’m tired and I don’t want to play another one of your games.’’

  “A game?’’ The wicked smile that appeared on his face stole my breath. His eyes trailed all over my face and stopped at my mouth. “Playing with you isn’t a game, Lila.’’

  “No?’’ I snorted and shook my head, doing my best to ignore the intensity in his stare as he was still locked on my mouth, eliciting more tingles there, more warmth too. “What do you call it then?’’

  His eyes slowly went back to mine. He leaned down to erase more of the space separating us. His forehead almost touched mine, his nose almost brushed mine. His mouth, still smirking, was just inches from mine. I saw his every dark lash so thick and accentuating the intensity of his gaze. I saw the whiskers that had grown on his cheeks and chin. I saw the indent of his dimple in his cheek. I also saw the specks of gold adorning his dark orbs like tiny lights floating in darkness, fighting to shine their light in a lost place.

  “It’s foreplay.’’

  I blinked and stopped breathing. I also shivered. I didn’t stop his hands from moving from my hips to my waist and then up. Up and up until he cupped my face in his big hands, trapping me in his grip.

  I was at his mercy.

  I was trembling.

  I was burning up.

  I was aroused.

  The blood buzzed at my temples while my heart didn’t just hammer in my chest, it created a frenetic melody that beat so hard and fast I couldn’t follow its pattern. My flesh, so sensitive that even my dress brushing against it made me weak at the knees, begged for more of a stimulation when my brain screamed at me to remember who that man was.

  Breathing loud and fast, I didn’t try hiding the effect he had on me. It was a lost cause and that had no meaning. He already knew he could arouse me.

  “Feel this, little wife?’’ he asked seriously, his voice so low it rumbled in my ears.

  I licked my lips and he groaned. I couldn’t take anymore. I held onto his upper arms when my legs wobbled. The muscles under my hands were hard, unyielding and all the more enticing. My core tightened and my panties seemed to disintegrate.

  My cheeks flamed at the signs of my arousal that made it impossible for me to ignore.

  “Let me go,’’ I pleaded, but the way my voice sounded and the way I couldn’t stop my eyes from fixing on his mouth I knew I sounded more like I was begging for him to do the opposite.

  “You make me so hard, Lila.’’ He traced my lower lip with his thumb, drying the last trace of moisture left by my tongue seconds ago. His frown deepened, but I knew the glint in his eyes had nothing to do with annoyance or anger. It was pure lust. “I want to throw away the empty plates and glasses and fuck you on the table until you scream my name. I want to take you against the tall windows and hope some fucker watches me fuck you good and hard.’’ He grabbed my chin between his fingers and tilted my head up, another inch closer to his mouth. “But most of all I want you to beg me to do those things to you and more.’’

  Lost to his words and images they conjured up, forgetting who I was and who he was, ignoring the situation I was in, I o
nly reacted. I closed my eyes and fisted the lapels of his Armani suit jacket. He didn’t need another word.

  His mouth attacked mine, or maybe I was the one attacking him. I didn’t know. Didn’t care. I only felt.

  His lips brushed mine with force, the kind of force born from days of pent-up sexual frustration and anticipation. His whiskers abraded my skin around my mouth so deliciously that I shivered and moaned in his mouth, opening for his tongue to slip inside and meet mine.

  Even when we kissed we battled for dominance, but for that I was willing to let him have the upper hand. I sighed and went to my tiptoes as he deepened the kiss and ran his tongue along the roof of my mouth. His hands stayed on my face, caging me there, keeping me rooted there at his mercy and his kiss that robbed me of any common sense.

  I was shaking. My hands fisting his suit jacket shook and pulled him closer until he groaned. The sound reached through the fog of lust and it was like throwing gasoline on a fire. My core tightened again as if the deepest part of me begged for his cock that was out of my reach. But then he groaned again, louder and with more desperation as his kiss turned more urgent.

  That’s when my mind decided to start again.

  I froze and pulled back, fighting against the pressure of Mathis’ hands to keep my face to his. His teeth nipped my lower lip and I gasped, my eyes opening and I locked on his. So dark that not even the small specks of gold were visible. All I perceived was a desire so strong it almost pushed me back to the fog of lust.

  Almost.

  This time when I put my hands flat on his chest and pushed, he let me go. His arms fell to his sides before he tucked his hands in his pocket, but not before I registered the shaking in them. His eyes never strayed from mine, but quickly distance grew to leave behind the cold man I knew he was most of the time.

 

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