Tell Me a Truth (The Story Series Book 5)

by Tamara Lush

  It made me gleeful, the idea of practicing with my husband. I caught Caleb’s eye, and he seemed enchanted and cast his eyes downward, as if he was a bit bashful because he could detect I was so thrilled by the idea.

  “Tomorrow, I want you to kiss, but make it a chaste kiss. Then escalate from there. But—and this is important—I don’t want you to have sex this week. You can do as much as you both feel like, but no penetration. You two need to create a yearning for each other.”

  “Well, he needs to create a yearning for me,” I blurted. “I already have a huge yearning for him.”

  The two men looked at me with amused smiles.

  “What?” I asked. “I tend to talk pretty openly about sex because I’m an erotica writer. Well, was an erotica writer. I haven’t written anything lately. I’m being honest about my desire.”

  “And I’m glad you are, Emma. It will make therapy a lot easier. So, during the day, spend time together as a family. Take Charlotte out. And then at night…” His tone dropped and my skin prickled with anticipation. I cleared my throat and saw the corners of Caleb’s mouth quirk upward.

  Dr. Santamaria continued. “At night, or whenever is convenient, like when Charlotte is taking a nap, the two of you are allowed to be intimate. But remember: not too intimate. And only if you feel comfortable.”

  I suspected that the doctor knew exactly how intimate I wanted to be with my husband. I shifted in my seat, impatient. But this sounded fun.

  “And, Emma, this is important on your end. Don’t compare this Caleb—” the doctor waved his hand in my husband’s direction “—to the old Caleb. Don’t tell Caleb about sexual experiences the two of you used to have. However wonderful those might have been. You need to have zero expectations of this new Caleb. The goal of this homework is to make new memories together. To create a new craving for each other.”

  “To help us fall in love again,” I whispered.

  “Exactly,” said the doctor, while Caleb regarded him with a cool stare.

  I liked this man. Therapy wasn’t such a bad thing after all, and neither was the homework.

  * * *

  We pulled up to the condo in Caleb’s Mercedes, and he handed the key to the valet. Then we strolled into the sunlit atrium together.

  “Afternoon, James.” Caleb grinned as if he’d never been gone a moment. How did he remember the name of the concierge but not me? How could such important memories disappear?

  “Afternoon, Mr. King. It’s good to see you back and looking so healthy. Mrs. King, it’s great to see a smile on your face again.”

  I fumbled in my purse for the card key that we needed to swipe in the elevator to take us to the penthouse.

  “I’ve got it.” Caleb reached into his pocket with one hand. With the other, he spanned my lower back with his palm and guided me into the elevator. I leaned ever so slightly into his touch, not wanting him to take his hand away. He did, and I frowned a little as he pushed the button.

  The doors slid shut.

  “You enjoyed that, when I touched you, didn’t you?”

  Caleb spoke so low it was as if he hadn’t meant for me to hear him.

  My breath hitched, and I nodded. He came closer and touched me again, putting his hand on my lower back. He dipped his head, and I could almost feel his lips in my hair. Almost, but not quite. He was just far enough away to tease.

  With a maddening slowness, his hand traveled up my spine a few inches, then down again, stopping right above my ass. His thumb caressed me with a long, slow touch. I looked straight ahead, into the mirrored surface of the elevator doors—straight into Caleb’s eyes, which were looking right back at me.

  “You smell edible. Delicious,” he murmured.

  A touch, by my husband. A compliment. Something I’d wanted for months. I didn’t breathe, instead savoring every second and wishing I wasn’t wearing a sensible gray shift dress. His thumb trailed up my spine, to the base of my neck. He grazed the bare skin of my nape, and I sucked air in through my mouth. We stared at each other in the mirrored door, unblinking. I swallowed, fighting the urge to turn and kiss him. Instead I concentrated on my pulse, which was throbbing visibly on the center, lower part of my neck. Could Caleb see that, too?

  By the time the doors slid open, I was a wet, needy mess.

  My daughter and Sarah were sitting on the floor, Higgins the cat nearby. Toys were scattered everywhere in a column of sunshine pouring through the wall of windows.

  “Look who’s home!” Sarah yelled as Charlotte raised her tiny fists over her head in triumph. She’d learned to do that recently, as if every new moment required the gesture of a boxing champion. I always found it adorable, and I laughed out loud.

  It was possibly the first real laugh I’d let out in nine months.

  Chapter 6

  Caleb held my hand for the first time the next morning.

  Appropriately and literally, we were in Fantasyland.

  It was early, an hour before Disney World opened to the public. Because the King family had special park privileges, we were allowed in before the crowds with scant few other VIP guests. We strolled past Cinderella’s Castle, took a photo of Charlotte near Peter Pan’s Flight—she was too small to ride—and spent a while gawking at the Little Mermaid. Caleb and Charlotte grinned a lot, and to me, everything seemed in Technicolor, from the perfectly groomed flower hedges to the cartoon attractions to the impossibly bright blue Florida sky.

  I’d always loved going to Magic Kingdom during off-hours with Caleb, because it was as if the park was our own personal playground.

  True magic.

  I was pushing Charlotte in her stroller and stopped, gesturing to the It’s a Small World attraction. “This one, let’s do it.”

  “Can we all go on that? Is she too…um, tiny?” Caleb asked.

  I shook my head. I’d read up on this last night, after Caleb and I had made plans. We’d awkwardly mumbled goodnight to each other while standing in the hallway. I’d wanted to kiss him, but hadn’t. He’d chewed on his lip, seemingly unsure. In the end, we’d both fled into our respective bedrooms.

  “She’s okay if one of us holds her.”

  One of my hands stayed on the stroller, while the other hung at my side. Charlotte had recently learned to make a raspberry sound with her lips, and she was doing that and pointing at the flags atop the ride’s entrance.

  I was thinking of how we’d wrangle Charlotte onto the ride when Caleb slipped his hand into mine, as if we’d been doing it every day for years. His skin was pleasantly warm. My eyes widened behind my dark sunglasses.

  “Do you think she’ll be frightened?” Caleb asked and squeezed my hand. “Perhaps it might be scary for her, because the ride is in the darkness? I haven’t been on it in years.”

  I didn’t remind him that we’d been on the ride several times our first year of dating. I was fascinated with vintage Disney, and Caleb had indulged my obsession.

  “No. She’s fearless,” I replied. Dammit, my hand was starting to sweat.

  “Very well. Let’s try it.” He stood behind me and put his hand on the stroller handle, then took control from me and wheeled it to the stroller parking area. His other hand went to the small of my back and we walked to the ride entrance, like a real family.

  We were a real family.

  I lifted Charlotte out of the stroller, and we entered the darkness of the attraction.

  There was only one other group boarding the ride, and they were several boat-cars ahead of us. So it was like we had the entire Small World to ourselves. Another benefit of being in the King family: no wait times for theme park rides.

  In my fog of depression and post-partum life, I’d forgotten the perks of being part one of Florida’s most powerful families. I hadn’t taken advantage of any of this since giving birth, because I’d been too sad and overwhelmed.

  Caleb got in the little boat first, in the first seat. I handed him the baby and climbed in. First I flipped my sunglasses on top of my h
ead, then reached for Charlotte once I was settled.

  “Here. Come closer, next to me.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and one over my lap, physically dragging Charlotte and me into his embrace across the slick fiberglass seat. I turned my head toward his chest and inhaled.

  Oak and vanilla and mint. Pure pleasure. I shut my eyes for a second, savoring the scent and enjoying the tingles running over my skin.

  The little boat floated gently forward while the iconic song echoed only for us. The blast of the air conditioner cooled the sweat on my skin, but I quickly heated from the nearness of my husband.

  Caleb stayed tight near me for the slow ride, one arm fused around my shoulders, the other on my knee or rubbing the baby’s back. Charlotte was rapt in my arms, mesmerized by the dolls and the rhythmic song and the gentle rock of the boat. Every so often she’d make a raspberry sound at something and chuckle to herself.

  Me? I was melting down. I wasn’t sure if it was the rhythmic repetition of the song or Caleb’s arm around me or the heat from his body. It was as if here, in the darkness, the old Caleb was back, under a rough and unfamiliar façade.

  The song repeated over and over, and the wild colors, the dolls, the movement of the animatronics—everything was vivid and new.

  I wasn’t sure where to focus, what to think. It was the first time since being a mother that I’d experienced both familial love and carnal lust in the same moment, and the effect was heady. Dizzying.

  Caleb drew me closer and leaned in, his lips hovering near my ear. “This is as surreal as I remember. But awesome, right?”

  A lump formed in my throat and I nodded. “Awesome doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I murmured back, not knowing if he even heard me. Not caring, because his hand was on my bare knee, his thumb stroking a chaste strip of skin underneath the hem of my skirt.

  Never did I think I would get wet by the stroke of his thumb. On my knee. On a theme park ride. With a baby in my arms.

  Surreal, indeed.

  We passed through an area with some hanging monkeys overhead, and Charlotte squealed and pointed. I’d noticed lately how she loved all things natural and figured that all of my reading aloud was paying off. She responded to nature and animals viscerally, with all her heart—like me. I kissed her cheek and she squealed loud again.

  Caleb looked startled and then laughed deep. He leaned into me, his nose and lips brushing my temple. I stopped breathing for a few bars of the song.

  The ride was long, ten minutes. Long enough for me to soften into Caleb’s embrace and feel secure. I sighed pleasurably when the ride came to an end.

  When the little boat stopped, he stepped out and I handed Charlotte up to him, acutely aware I was perspiring despite wearing a thin cotton dress. I watched him hug her to his chest, and I was seized by the desire to kiss my husband, slow and deep in the cool darkness.

  But I also needed him to make the first move. I wanted him to want me. That was how it had worked when we first met, and that’s how it needed to unfold now, I figured. I’d hold back and not throw myself at him. Not yet, anyway.

  Caleb buckled Charlotte into her stroller, and we meandered into the extra-bright Florida morning. “God, when she cried out at the animals, the monkeys, that was strange.”

  I frowned. “Why? She was excited and does that when she sees animals.”

  He shrugged. “Right, she seemed so happy. But I don’t know why I had such a stirring reaction to her, as if something inside of me remembered something. She sounded familiar somehow. Maybe it’s how my sister used to sound when we were kids? Hmm.”

  I smiled and nodded sagely, flipping my black cat-eye sunglasses back over my eyes.

  Or maybe, I thought, something inside him recognized me.

  I pondered this as we strolled through the park. There must be some inner spot inside him that recalled me. Remembered our love. What could I do to trigger that?

  If he didn’t remember, then what was I doing with him? Wasn’t love about the memories you made with someone? Could I love a man who had no recollection of our shared history, our inside jokes, our mutual likes and dislikes?

  “You want a hot dog?” he asked me as we passed by a food cart, jarring me out of my musing.

  I shot him a skeptical grimace and then realized he didn’t remember I was a vegetarian.

  “I don’t eat meat,” I said sadly.

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll take note of that.”

  But there were moments during the day when I could sense our old selves, in furtive glances and small caresses that we exchanged like handwritten love letters. It was like that all day, us touching and connecting in fits and spurts.

  Sometimes he was quiet and distant, staring off into space. Other times, the familiar spark of our attraction flared up. At one point, he ran his fingers down the back of my arm as we stood waiting to buy ice cream. I shivered, even though the sun was boiling hot and high in the Florida sky.

  “Maybe we need to head home. I think Charlotte’s getting warm.” I leaned toward his chest and spoke low so he’d have to put his ear next to my mouth.

  He nodded. Could he tell that I was more than warm?

  Later that night, we ordered pizza, ate on the terrace, and then put Charlotte to bed. Like any normal couple. Afterward, in the kitchen, Caleb loaded the dishwasher.

  I raised my eyebrows as I watched him. “Impressive.”

  “What?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “You never did this before. Either you let me load the dishwasher or you left it for the housekeeper.”

  He snorted, almost defensively. “I did a lot for myself in Brazil. You put Charlotte to bed, so it’s only fair I do this.”

  I smiled and watched him yawn. Interesting, what he’d picked up in his nine months of unintended exile from his billionaire’s life.

  “I never dreamed a six-month-old would have that much energy,” he chuckled, folding a dishtowel and setting it on the counter.

  I was exhausted, too, but also jittery and needy after a day of prolonged flirting and handholding. I laughed. “Oh, she has more energy than you and I put together. She’ll sleep soundly tonight.” I extended my hand and pointed to his sharp cheekbones, at the layer of fresh pink over his bronze skin. “You got some sun.”

  He captured my fingers in his and pulled me toward him. Suddenly I wasn’t tired at all. I was wide awake as sexual fireworks burst through my body.

  “Come here, Emma.” His tone was commanding, and his lips twitched with a hint of a smile.

  If I looked down, I suspected I would see my chest pulse from the wild thumping of my heart. My bosom was actually heaving.

  His eyes scanned my face and rested on my lips.

  “I think it’s okay for us to kiss, right?” He held me closer in his arms, and I nestled my body into his. We still fit perfectly together. His mouth was inches from mine. “Or are we supposed to take it slower?”

  “I don’t think I can take it any slower. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

  Actually, I’d been dreaming of kissing him for nine months.

  My lips parted and my breath hitched as he came closer. His lips met mine, and I frowned a little, so I wouldn’t start crying. His kiss was soft, softer than the ones we’d last shared before he went to Brazil. But it was an amazing kiss nonetheless, gentle and perfect. Reassuring, somehow. I started to tremble, and I inhaled a shuddery breath.

  He pulled away, and I noticed he was breathing hard. “Well, there’s definitely no question that I’m attracted to you. I mean, really attracted, Emma.”

  “I’m glad.” I beamed, wrapping my arms around him, so my hands met behind his neck. I leaned in to kiss him again, needing more.

  This time the kiss was more ravenous, probably because I made it so. I bit his bottom lip, and he drew me in, his hands on the back of my head drawing me closer. Our tongues touched, then we kissed deep. He let out a low groan-growl, and I unlocked my mouth from his and gasped a little.

&n
bsp; “Fuck,” I whispered.

  His blue eyes turned carnal at my use of the word, and a slight snarl appeared on his lips. “Fuck is right. Do you know how hard I am right now?”

  I opened my mouth in a half-smile, then went in for another kiss, pressing my hips into his and feeling his erection through the layers of our clothes.

  “I can feel how hard you are.” I let out a throaty chuckle, a surge of electricity ripping through me at the thought of talking dirty to my husband. At the thought of seducing him.

  “Do I kiss like I used to?” he whispered, and I ran my hands through his short, silky hair. He squeezed my ass through my dress. Harder, squeeze me harder, I wanted to beg him. But I’d have to wait for that. Or would I?

  “Hmm. Do you know what kind of man you used to be?”

  “Are you supposed to ask me that kind of question?” He nipped at my neck.

  “Maybe not.” I brushed my chest lightly against his.

  “You’re teasing me. What kind of man was I? Tell me,” he whispered.

  “The kind who would open doors for me when we were out, and when we were at home, the kind who would throw me against them and fuck me hard.”

  He paused to stare in my eyes. His look was stunned, snarly, ravenous. That’s when he devoured my mouth, and I mashed myself into him again. By now, one of his hands was cupping my ass and the other was on the back of my head.

  We kissed and kissed. Made out like we were sixteen. Our lips slipped against each other, our tongues twirled, I laughed a little into his mouth. Breathy. Breathless. Breathtaking.

  “No wonder I married you,” he murmured as I pressed my lips to his neck.

  “And why would that be?”

  “Because,” he said, anchoring my jaw in his hand and stilling my face so it was inches from his, forcing me to look into his eyes, “you’re fierce when you kiss. It’s like you’re pouring your soul into me. It’s fucking incredible.”

  We stared at each other, unblinking.

  “You seem shocked by this. Surprised.”

  “I guess I’ve never been kissed by someone who was so…I don’t know, passionate? Intense? It’s amazing. And, yeah, a surprise for me. I’m pretty tightly wound. And you’re striking right into my core with your kisses.”