The Most Expensive Lie of All

by Michelle Conder

  ‘Of course not,’ she replied, feigning relaxed confidence.

  He frowned down at her plate. ‘Is it the birria? If it’s too hot for you I can order something else.’

  Oh, he’d meant the food. ‘No, no, the food’s lovely.’

  He put down his fork and brought his wine glass to his lips. Now, there was relaxed confidence, she thought a little resentfully.

  ‘Then why is most of it still on your plate?’

  He licked a drop of red wine from his lower lip and Aspen couldn’t look away. Remembered pleasure at the way his mouth had taken hers in the most wonderful kiss vied with sheer terror for supremacy. Unfortunately sheer terror was winning out, because he looked like a man who would expect everything and the kitchen sink as well.

  ‘I...um...I ate a lot at the party.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You barely touched a thing.’

  ‘I’m not a big eater at the best of times.’

  ‘And these are far from the best of times—is that it, Aspen?’

  It was more of a statement than a question and Aspen wondered if perhaps he felt the same way. ‘You could say that,’ she said carefully.

  ‘Is that because you’re still in love with Anderson?’

  ‘Sorry?’ She knew her mouth was hanging open and she snapped it closed. ‘No. No, that was a disaster from the start.’

  ‘So you’re not still pining for him?’

  ‘No.’

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Why was it a disaster?’

  Had she really just told him being married to Chad had been a disaster? ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘I just did.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.’

  He sat staring at her and Aspen wished she knew what to say next. His unexpected question about Chad had completely derailed her.

  ‘Come here.’

  The soft command made her senses leap and she felt her breath quicken with rising panic. He was trying to control her, and she knew she couldn’t let him do that.

  She tossed her hair back behind one shoulder. ‘You come here.’

  Despite the fact that he hadn’t moved she could sense the tightly coiled tension within him. It radiated outward across the table and stole the breath from her lungs. And for all her dismissive tone she still felt like a puppet on his string—despite her resolve not to be.

  He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes and she was totally unprepared for the scrape of his chair on the terracotta tiles as he stood up.

  Aspen’s heart jumped as if she’d been startled out of a trance.

  Determined to remain neutral—outwardly at least—she didn’t move. Couldn’t, if the truth be told. Her limbs were completely paralysed—by his laconic sensuality as much as her own blinding insecurities.

  ‘You have amazing hair.’

  She snatched in a quick breath to feed her starving lungs. She could feel the heat emanating from his strong thighs beside her shoulders and even though he hadn’t touched her she started to tremble. Her only saving grace was that he couldn’t possibly be aware of her inner turmoil, and she stared straight ahead as she felt him roll a strand of her hair between his fingers as if it were the finest silk.

  She couldn’t do this. Already she was freezing up, and to put herself at another man’s mercy was truly frightening.

  Chad’s roughness crowded her mind and permeated her soul, and it was as if Cruz ceased to exist in that moment.

  ‘Dammit, Aspen. What is wrong with you?’

  Cruz’s dark, annoyed voice only added fuel to the raging fire of Aspen’s insecurities. Panic enveloped her and galvanised her into action.

  Gouging the floor tiles with her chair, she forced it back and moved in the opposite direction from the one Cruz was in. Unfortunately that only brought her to the balustrade. She gripped the iron railing, enjoying the coolness of the metal against her overheated palms, and pretended rapt attention in the glowing lights that outlined the low boards around the darkened polo field.

  ‘What bothers you the most about this?’ he grated. ‘The money aspect or the fact that it’s me you’ll be sleeping with?’

  Aspen knew he stood close behind her—every fibre of her being felt as if it was attuned to every fibre of his—but she didn’t turn around. Honestly, she should have known that when it came to the crunch she would fall at the first hurdle. But of course she needed to do this—her mind was so fogged that she couldn’t comprehend any other way to save her farm.

  ‘It’s not the money.’ She tilted her gaze to take in the starry sky. She was planning to pay him back every cent he loaned her, plus interest, so she’d reconciled that in her mind before he’d even picked her up. No, it was... ‘It’s—’

  ‘Me?’ The single word sounded like a pistol-shot.

  Interesting, she thought, holding a conversation with someone you couldn’t see. It made her other senses come alive. Her sense of hearing that was so in love with the deep timbre of his voice, the feel of the heat of his body that seemed to reach out like a beckoning light, his smell... Unconsciously she rubbed at the railing and felt the smooth texture of the iron beneath her sensitive fingertips.

  ‘It’s more the fact that you don’t like me,’ she said on a rush.

  She hadn’t realised how true that was until the words left her mouth. A beat passed and then she felt his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her. Embarrassed by the admission, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Because she knew she was right.

  He stared at her, not saying anything, his large hands burning into the tops of her shoulders, his thumbs almost absently caressing her collarbones. It was hard to read his expression with only a candle flickering on the table and a crescent moon ducking behind darkened clouds. It was even harder when he lowered his gaze to his hands, his inky lashes shielding them.

  He gently slid those large hands up her neck to the line of her jaw, setting off a whole host of sensations in their wake. Aspen stiffened as she felt the pad of one of his thumbs slowly graze her closed mouth. His eyes locked on her lips as he pressed into the soft flesh, making them feel gloriously sensitised.

  They were both utterly still. The only movement came from his thumb as it swept back and forth, back and forth, across her hyper-sensitive flesh. Back and forth until her lips started to buzz and gave beneath the persuasive pressure, allowing him to reach the moisture within. Aspen trembled as he spread her own wetness along her bottom lip and then opened her lips wider, until he was touching her teeth. He traced their shape just as thoroughly, only they weren’t as malleable as her lips and stayed firmly closed.

  She should have known that he wouldn’t stop there. Unfairly he was bringing his fingers into play, to knead the side of her neck, pressing firmly into her nape. On a rush of heat her senses were overloaded and her teeth parted, giving him greater liberties.

  Only he didn’t immediately take them, and without even realising it Aspen tilted her head, seeking to capture his thumb between her teeth, silently inviting him inside. Still he hung back, and with a small sound in the back of her throat she couldn’t stop her mouth from closing around his thumb and sucking on his flesh, couldn’t stop her tongue from wrapping itself around it as she sought to taste him.

  Cruz didn’t know if he’d ever experienced anything as erotic as Aspen drawing his thumb into her wide mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked firmly and then softening as she used her tongue to drive him wild. With every stroke his erection jerked painfully behind his zipper and, unable to hold back any longer, he pulled his thumb from her mouth and replaced it with his own.

  She immediately latched onto his mouth as if she was just as desperate as he was, and he backed her against the cast iron balustrading and didn’t stop until he was hard up against her.

&n
bsp; Incapable of thought, he let his instincts take over and hooked one of her legs up over his hip so he could settle into the cradle of her thighs, all the time ravaging her mouth until she fed him more of those hot little moans.

  The deep neckline of her otherwise demure dress, which had tantalised him all night, was no barrier to his wandering hands and he deftly moved the soft jersey aside and cupped her, squeezing her full breasts together. He strummed his thumbs over her lace-covered nipples and felt exalted when she arched into him, moaning more keenly as he slowly increased the pressure.

  He groaned, licked his way to her ear, bit it, and then trailed tiny kisses down over her neck, sucking on her soft skin. She smelled like flowers and tasted like honey and he knew he’d never experienced anything so sweet. So heady.

  Her leg shifted higher as she sought a deeper contact, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as if she was trying to hold herself upright.

  ‘Cruz, please....’

  Needing no further invitation, he pushed her bra aside and leant back so that he could look at her.

  ‘Perfect. You fit perfectly into my hands.’

  He moulded her fullness, watching her beautiful raspberry-coloured nipples tighten even more as they anticipated his mouth on them. His body throbbed as it anticipated the same thing, and he tested the weight of each breast before drawing his thumb and fingertips together until he held just the tips of each nipple between his fingers, his touch too light to fully satisfy.

  She cried out and arched impossibly higher, as if in pain, and he bent his head and gave her what he knew she needed, soldering his lips to one peak and pulling her turgid flesh deeply into his mouth while rubbing firmly over the other.

  ‘Cruz! Oh, my God!’

  She buried her hands in his hair and clung—and thank goodness she did. The taste of her made his knees feel weak and his hunger to be buried deep inside her impossibly urgent.

  Wrapping one arm around her waist, he lifted her and ground his hardness against her core, his self-control shredded by her wild response. ‘I want you, Aspen.’ He smoothed his hand down the silky skin of her thigh and rode her skirt all the way up. ‘Tell me you want me, mi gatita. Tell me this has nothing to do with money.’

  He registered the rigidity in her body at the same time as his rough words reverberated inside his head, and both acted like a bucket of cold water on his libido.

  What was he saying? More importantly, what was he asking?

  ‘I...’

  She looked up at him, flushed with passion. Dazed. Beautiful. The breeze whispered over her hair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered breathlessly.

  Sorry?

  So was he.

  The last time he had wanted something this badly he had lost everything. And he couldn’t take her like this.

  Couldn’t take her because he was paying her.

  Once again the image of a lustful Billy Smyth with his hand stroking her face clouded his vision. Up to yesterday Cruz would have said that he wasn’t a violent man, but just the thought of her sleeping with anyone else curdled his blood. If he hadn’t offered her this deal where else might she be tonight—and who with?

  The question just added ice to the bucket and he unwound her arms from around his neck.

  ‘Cruz...?’

  Was he crazy? He had a hot woman in his arms so why was he hesitating? He couldn’t explain it; he just knew it didn’t feel right.

  His hard-on pressed insistently against his fly, as if to say it had felt very right ten seconds ago, and he stepped away from her so he wouldn’t be tempted to pull her back into his arms.

  Something of his inner turmoil must have shown on his face, because she blanched and he thought she might throw up.

  ‘Steady.’

  He went to grab her but she pulled back sharply and quickly righted her dress as best she could before wrapping her arms around herself.

  ‘I can’t believe it. I’ve ruined it,’ she muttered, more to herself than him.

  On one level he registered the comment as strange, but part of him had already agreed with her—because, yes, she had ruined it. She was ruining everything.

  His desire to buy Ocean Haven.

  His peace of mind.

  ‘That sounds like revenge,’ she’d said earlier.

  ‘Go to bed, Aspen,’ he said wearily, upset with himself and his unwelcome conscience.

  Her eyes were uncertain pools of dark green when she looked at him. ‘But what about—?’

  ‘I’m not in the mood.’

  He turned sharply and tracked back into the penthouse before he threw his aggravating conscience over the balcony and did what his body was all but demanding he do.

  * * *

  Aspen stood on the balcony, the night air cooling her overheated skin as the realisation that he was rejecting her sank in. She swallowed heavily, her mind spinning back to those last few moments. She felt like an inept fool as memories of Chad’s hurtful rejection of her years ago tumbled into her mind like an avalanche. His repulsed expression when he’d told her to go out and buy a bottle of lube.

  At the time she’d been so naïve about sex she hadn’t even known what he was talking about. So he’d clarified. ‘Lubrication. You’re too dry. It’s off-putting.’

  Completely mortified, she’d searched the internet and learned that some women suffered dryness due to low oestrogen levels. She hadn’t investigated any further. She’d shame-facedly done what he’d asked, but they’d never got round to using it. He hadn’t wanted to touch her after that.

  And no matter how many times she told herself that Chad’s harsh words were more to do with his own inadequacies in the bedroom than hers it didn’t matter. She didn’t believe it. Not entirely. There was always a niggle that he was right.

  Don’t go there, she warned herself, only half aware that she had pressed her hand to her stomach. Chad’s long gone and you knew this was going to happen with Cruz so, okay, deal with it. And quickly. Then you can go home to Ocean Haven and be safe again.

  Fortifying her resolve, she moved inside and found Cruz pouring a drink, his back to her.

  ‘You still have to lend me the money,’ she said, glad that her voice sounded so strong.

  Cruz felt his shoulders tense and turned slowly to face her.

  She was a cool one, all right. Haughty. Dismissive. Way too good for him.

  Slowly he folded himself into one of the deep-seated sofas. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said, wanting to annoy her.

  ‘Yes, you do. You signed—’

  ‘I know what I signed.’ He swirled his drink and ice clinked in the glass as he watched her. Her eyes were cool to the point of being detached. Damn her. That was usually his stock in trade.

  ‘Then you know that if it turns out you don’t want...’ She stopped whatever it was she was about to say and raised her chin. ‘I trusted you.’

  He ignored the way those words twisted his gut. Her soft declaration was making his conscience spike again. ‘The agreement didn’t stipulate which night.’ He waited for his words to sink in and it didn’t take long. ‘Consider yourself off the hook for tonight. As I told you, I’m not in the mood.’

  She frowned. ‘When will you be in the mood?’

  Right now, as it happens.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said roughly, annoyed with his inability to control his physical response to her.

  Of course that answer wasn’t good enough for her.

  ‘And if I’m not in the mood when you decide you are?’

  This wasn’t going to work. If he stayed here he’d damned well finish what he had started outside.

  He sprang to his feet and those green eyes widened warily. And well they might. He stalked towards her and wrapped one hand around that gloriou
s mane of hair. He tilted her face up so that she was forced to meet his steely gaze, unsure if he was angry with her or himself or just in general.

  ‘When I decide to take you, Aspen, rest assured you’ll be in the mood.’

  Then he kissed her. Long and deep and hard.

  * * *

  Aspen held the back of her hand against her throbbing mouth as Cruz marched out through the main door to the lift.

  And good riddance, she wanted to call out to his arrogant back. Except she didn’t. She felt too shattered. Lack of sleep last night, the roller coaster of a day today. It all crashed in on her.

  Not wanting to wait around in case he suddenly reappeared, she fled to the bedroom, hoping sleep would transport her back to East Hampton. Literally.

  Only it wasn’t her room she was in, and she quickly snatched her things together and headed to one of the spare bedrooms.

  Ha—she would show him who wasn’t ‘in the mood’.

  She let out a low groan as those words he had flung at her came rushing back. The embarrassing thing was she couldn’t have been more in the mood if he had lit scented candles and told her he loved her.

  And he had seemed to be totally in the mood.

  When she found herself trying to analyse the exact moment it had all gone wrong she pulled herself up. That was a one-way street to anxiety and sleeplessness and she wouldn’t go there again. Not for any man.

  * * *

  By the time Cruz let himself back into the penthouse his frame of mind had not improved. He’d gone down to the stables—something he’d always done when he felt troubled—but it hadn’t made him feel any better.

  In fact it had made him feel worse, because now that Aspen had walked back into his life—or rather he had walked back into hers—he couldn’t get her out of his head.

  Worse, he couldn’t get the game he was playing with her out of his head. He’d had a lot of time to think about things since he’d picked her up, and although he’d like to be able to say that it had started out as an underhand way of getting what he wanted the truth was it hadn’t even been that logical. He’d taken one look at her and wanted her. Then he’d made the mistake of touching her. Kissing her. He’d never felt so out of control. Something he hadn’t anticipated at all.