by Zoey Oliver
Without protest, I let him take my hand to assist me from the chair. It’s ridiculous to feel shy, but I do. I try to look down, but his hands frame my face. I lick my lips, and he groans softly.
Jayson lowers his head, his tongue tracing the path mine left. His mouth devours mine, but I’m just as hungry. Almost mindlessly, I tug at his shirt, anxious to feel his skin against mine.
A harsh breath leaves him when he tears his mouth from mine, gulping for air. “Are you certain this is safe?”
I nod. “I read the literature the hospital sent home. I can have sex whenever I feel up to it.” I smile. “I feel up to it, and I’m not the only one,” I add, brushing my hand against his trousers.
With a sound between a growl and a grunt, Jayson lifts me into his arms. I cling to him, laying my head on his shoulder. “A girl could get used to this,” I whisper in his ear before planting a soft kiss against his jaw.
“I’d love to get used to holding you in my arms.”
“That wouldn’t be too practical for a captain of industry. You’d never get any work done.”
“To hell with work, and the Satyros Corporation.” Jayson angles his body to push open the bedroom door and strides across the room to drop me on the bed before returning to close it.
My eyes widen at his words, but I don’t let myself read much into it. It’s probably just a spontaneous response to our conversation, just his arousal. There’s no way he considers me more important than the family business now that I’m no longer pregnant with his child.
Jayson returns to me, and soon our clothes are off. He’s careful and gentle, moving slowly, as though I’ll break. It’s sweet, but also maddening.
As the minutes pass, and I grow increasingly frustrated, I finally seize control. “Enough.”
Jayson lifts his head from my breast. “Are you in pain?”
I nod, and an expression of alarm contorts his beautiful Greek features. “I’m in pain from how much I need you. Please stop torturing me.”
Jayson frowns. “I want to be gentle, agape mou.”
“I don’t want that. I just want you.” His resistance is obvious by the set of his shoulders and the firm line of his mouth, and I wiggle out from his embrace. He rolls onto his side, reaching for me as I get up.
Seizing the moment, I lean across the bed to push on his shoulders, turning him to his back. His eyes widen with surprise, but he doesn’t fight as I pin him to the bed to straddle him. I might not be stronger than him, but both of us are enjoying the illusion of my being in control.
I bend my head to trace my tongue across one of his nipples, torturing him just like he did me. Jayson grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh almost to the point of pain, while I suck the hard nub into my mouth.
“Harper, you’re playing with fire.”
I look up at him from the veil of my lashes as I slide farther down his body. Jayson gasps when I circle my tongue around the head of his hard shaft. Ignoring his head shaking, I say, “How hot can you burn, syzygos?” I can’t help but grin at his look of surprise when I say the Greek word for husband. “I’ve had some free time, so I started that language program on your computer.”
“Your husband is pleased.”
“Not yet.” I give him a wicked grin. “But soon.”
Jayson’s body stiffens when I take him inside my mouth, straining my jaw open to take in his size. Jayson shudders and trembles underneath me as I swirl my tongue around the corona and up and down the veiny shaft.
Soon he pushes me away from him. “God, Harper, you’re making me crazy. I’m going to explode! I’ve got to be inside you.”
I nod, getting how he feels. The things he does with his mouth are heaven, but sometimes I like to come with him inside me, his cock earning my orgasm. I straddle him, taking Jayson inside me, already slick, and swiveling my hips. He grips me by the hipbones, and I weave my fingers into the light dusting of hair on his chest. We move together, enjoying the ride, the togetherness, the deep coming together, until we both cry out and collapse. Time fades away.
Afterward, we shower together and finally return to the bed in order to sleep. I curl against him, letting my eyes drift closed as sleep creeps over me.
“Harper?”
I murmur a sleepy, “Hmm?”
“Does this mean you’re staying with me?”
The childish urge to squeeze my eyes shut seizes me. I hope he’ll interpret the lack of an answer as my being asleep. How can I answer the question when I haven’t figured that out yet?
Chapter 16
Jayson
I listen to Harper snore softly, pleased she’s resting, but a little envious. I’ve been lying beside her for at least an hour, but sleep refuses to take. Finally, although I’m reluctant to release her, I move away from her and out of the bed. If I can’t sleep, I might as well get some work done.
In a robe, I pad barefoot to the study, turning on the computer. As it boots up, I open the bottom drawer of the desk to replenish the printer paper and freeze. The stack of books I’d bought about pregnancy are in the drawer, where I shoved them the first day we came home.
My heart tugs painfully as I lift them from the drawer, one by one, and stack them on the printer table. It pains me that there won’t be a little Harper running through the house. With our future so unsettled, I can’t be certain we will ever have a child together. That’s nearly as heartbreaking as losing the baby.
It crosses my mind that we didn’t use protection tonight, but I rub my eyes without comfort. It’s unlikely she’s gotten pregnant again, but if she did, I wouldn’t use that as a way to keep her with me. As much as I want Harper to stay my wife, I no longer want it to be against her will.
I want her to love me completely.
Why it’s so important isn’t something I want to contemplate.
Rising from the chair, I take the books and hide them in a cabinet filled with business tomes Harper would be unlikely to investigate. I don’t want her stumbling across the books like I did, experiencing the painful reminder of what might have been.
After stowing the books, I go back to the desk and open my email. I spend the next hour working steadily through the messages, many of them frantic ones from my assistant regarding a business deal that’s apparently on the verge of collapsing.
Leaning back in my chair, I consider the options. The sensible thing to do is to fly to London and secure the deal myself. The thought of leaving Harper, especially as vulnerable as she still is, has me rejecting the notion out of hand. In an unaccustomed move, I type a terse message instructing my assistant to go to London and close the deal. If he’s not able to, it won’t be the end of the world. The Satyros Corporation is stable and secure for Sophie if and when she’s ready to take it over.
Thinking of my niece brings me back to thoughts of Harper. The passionate time in bed lightened my heart, but I can’t be completely optimistic that she’s decided to stay with me. The sex between us may be amazing, but it might not be a good enough foundation on which to build a true marriage.
I continue sorting email as I consider ways to convince her to stay. Nothing comes to mind. But I freeze and lean forward when I see an email from Maia Papadas. My stomach drops as I reluctantly click on it.
I snort with disgust at the obscene picture she’s sent. The attached message is almost as unsettling. Enjoy the view. I will soon be in New York, and you can look AND touch. I look forward to when we are together again, now that you have no reason to stay married.
My eyes narrow as I reread the message. It’s clear she knows about the baby, and that Harper’s lost it. How could she know such intimate details? The only plausible explanation is someone’s been giving her information. But who?
I hit “Reply” and stare at the blinking cursor, finding I can’t muster a response. The things I want to write shouldn’t be said to anyone, even her. With a sigh, I close the message but don’t delete the email. I know I will have to deal with it soon, but can�
��t tonight. The need for sleep finally catches up to me, and all I want to do is crawl into bed, hold my wife, and slumber.
The next morning over breakfast, Harper seems to enjoy a friendly conversation with me. But I don’t feel comfortable to repeat the question that she can’t, or won’t, answer. Despite how much it burns me up to not know the answer. I set the tone, keeping the conversation light and centered on neutral topics.
As we near the end of the meal, my phone rings for the fourth time. I start to silence it like I did before, but Harper shakes her head. “You don’t have to avoid answering for my sake. Whoever it is obviously needs to talk to you.”
I nod and click the button. After a few minutes on the phone, I’m growing progressively more annoyed. When I hang up, I curse. “I have to go to London. My assistant is incapable of the simplest tasks, it seems.”
She clunks down her coffee cup, but otherwise shows no negative reaction to the news. “How long will you be?”
I shrug. “Honestly? I have no idea.” I eye her, thinking. “Come with me,” I venture.
She frowns. “What would I do in London?”
“London’s a fantastic city. You’ll have no shortage of things to do. I can’t be with you during the day, but I should be at your disposal most evenings.” I lift her hand, bringing it to my mouth to kiss her fingertips. “I could use a companion for the business dinners I’ll have to endure.”
Harper shakes her head. “You won’t need me for that.”
“Perhaps not, but I do need you, and I want you to come with me.” I lean closer. “Have you been to Kew Gardens?”
With a shake of her head, she says, “I’ve never been to London.”
“Now is the perfect time.”
She hesitates, clearly torn between the desire to go and the more prudent course of staying behind. As each moment passes I worry she’s going to say no. Then, with a sigh, she opens her mouth and I fully expect her to refuse, but says, “When do we leave?”
Chapter 17
Harper
Five days in London with Jayson have been wonderful, just what I needed to shake off most of my lingering grief. I’ll always think of our child with sadness and longing, but it now seems possible to move forward and be happy again. While wandering the sites of London, including Kew Gardens, I come to the tentative decision that I want to move forward with Jayson.
We celebrate our homecoming with glasses of wine by the fireplace, though it’s too warm for a fire, followed by a night in bed. When I wake the next morning, Jayson’s already left, but he did warn me the night before that he had an early meeting.
I stretch, working out all the kinks from the previous night. A hot shower leaves me refreshed, and I pad downstairs in my bare feet after dressing casually in a dress of soft material. The maid brings breakfast in the dining room, and I finish every bite. My appetite has returned in London, burning through curries during the day and finer restaurant fare at night. I could go for another round of greasy fish and chips, wrapped in the stereotypical newspaper, after having it several times at the stand just blocks from the hotel.
I go to the study, turning on the computer to check my email, which I’ve been neglecting. Most is spam, but happily there’s a long email from Sophie. She seems to be settling in happily and is about to pledge to a sorority.
With a smile, I prop my feet on the desk and continue sorting through the correspondence. I respond to an email from the advisor at City College, inviting me to register online. I’ve already decided to enroll there, due to the proximity to our apartment. It’s silly to go halfway across the city for another college, with an equally good program, when I can walk to City College. I know registering there is another little step to committing myself to remaining with Jayson, but I’ve been feeling fewer doubts than ever.
Afterward, I turn my attention to the pile of mail stacked in the basket on the desk. Most of the envelopes are addressed to Jayson, or Satyros Corporation. There are a few invitations from people in our social circle, and I set those aside to discuss attending with Jayson. A few letters from various charities thank me for my “dedicated service.” I’m even gladder that someone else is doing that work for me.
The last envelope is thickly padded, with my name printed in neat block letters. I use the letter opener to slice open the flap and extract a stack of papers. In shock, I read through them, finding several emails addressed to my husband from Maia. All are extremely intimate, if not pornographic, and all of them speak of when they would be together again. Soon, apparently.
Searching for a hint of who sent the envelope, there’s nothing besides a postmark from New York. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s Maia. My stomach clenches with the realization that she has to be in New York.
For a moment, I sit in the chair, paralyzed with anger. How dare Maia come here? Jayson and I are on the cusp of a real marriage. That bitch will only be trouble.
My anger grows with the realization Jayson hasn’t bothered to inform me of the emails. If they’re unwanted, why hasn’t he told me? It’s just next to lying, and I refuse to put up with more lies.
Spurred into action, I stuff the pages back into the envelope and carry it upstairs with me. I put on a skirt and a nice blouse, not wanting to look out of place at the Satyros Corporation’s headquarters. The sensible approach would be to wait until Jayson comes home this evening to have a discussion, but frankly I can’t wait that long.
I take the limousine, deciding I’m too angry to focus on driving myself, and the last thing I want to do is wait for a taxi. The driver negotiates through the heavy traffic, finally reaching the building shortly before lunchtime.
He parks in the parking garage, and I tell him no when he wants to accompany me. I’ve got no need for his protection in the safety of the Satyros Corporation.
A fuchsia Lamborghini, with a plate from a national car rental agency, catches my attention as I near the elevator. It bothers me, though I can’t pinpoint why until I step into the elevator and press the button to the top floor. It’s such a flashy, sexy car and seems like the kind Maia would rent. Is she already here? Has she been in New York for a while? Is Jayson keeping her a secret until he knows if I’m staying? It’s not just the sudden stop of the elevator that makes my stomach turn when I reach the top floor.
Trying to look confident, I stride to the reception desk. I haven’t needed to deal with security before now, because the driver has the code to the employee parking garage. What if the receptionist refuses to let me see Jayson? What can I do, besides cause a scene and hope he hears?
The blonde has silvery hair, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes. She’s svelte and makes the perfect ornament for Jayson’s inner sanctum. Has he slept with this woman, too?
The friendly smile she gives me changes her demeanor from one of an ice princess to a normal person. “Hello, Mrs. Satyros.”
I blink. I haven’t been to the building in years, since before this woman had started working here. “Do I know you?” Had we met at a company function, and I’ve forgotten?
The blonde shakes her head with a smile. “No, ma’am. I recognized you from the pictures in Mr. Satyros’s office.”
“Oh.” I don’t know how to respond to that. He keeps pictures of me? Why? I glance at her name plate and ask, “May I pop in for a moment, Kelly?”
She frowns slightly. “He’s with someone, Mrs. Satyros.”
Her tone sets the hairs on my neck upright. “Who?”
The other woman hesitates, which speaks volumes. I don’t wait for her reply. I ignore Kelly calling after me as I turn and walk toward Jayson’s office. With more force than I intend, I twist the knob and push, slamming the door against the wall. Family pictures of Jayson, Sophie, and me catch my attention momentarily. Focusing my gaze on Jayson, I’m unsurprised to find Maia standing beside him. The other woman leans against him, her lips near enough his that they could’ve been kissing just a millisecond earlier.
Jayson loo
ks up, going pale. Maia turns toward me, smirking with satisfaction as she trails a finger down his chest. My husband’s chest.
“You whore.” I toss the envelope full of emails in their direction. “That is my husband you’re pawing.”
“Not for long,” coos Maia.
“Maia.” Jayson sounds angry. No doubt he is—angry that I’ve caught him with his mistress.
“I agree,” I say with surprising calm. I turn to Jayson. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Jayson, and I really don’t care. If this is about the stock, you can keep it. You can have everything, including the settlement stipulated in the marriage contract.”
“Harper…” He finally steps away from Maia, reaching toward me.
I jerk away, hissing vehemently, “Don’t touch me. I don’t want your filthy, lying, cheating hands on me.” Turning on my heel, I almost collide with a shocked Kelly, but sidestep her at the last moment. “Excuse me,” I say with ridiculous politeness and walk around the other woman.
“Wait, Harper,” Jayson shouts behind me. I speed up, in no mood to face him right now. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and the sodden lump in my throat won’t allow me to talk, anyway. I refuse to cry in front of him. He’s seen enough of tears. He’s caused enough of them, too.
And I’ve wasted too many on him.
I reach the elevator with Jayson still following. I stab the “Close” button repeatedly, and it shuts before he makes it to the door. The ride down seems to take forever, and I rush out as soon as the doors open. Running, I make it to the limousine and climb inside before the driver even realizes I’m back. “Drive,” I say breathlessly.
