The Arrangement

by Cat Grant

  "Allison, listen—"

  Jumping to her feet, she tossed the photos on the coffee table and sprinted for the bedroom, hoping Eric wouldn't follow her. After a couple of minutes it became apparent that he wasn't going to, so she went in to take a shower. She stood trembling under the hot water, emerging unrefreshed and still smarting with anger.

  She crawled into bed and lay there staring into the dark, waiting for Eric to join her. An hour later, she was still alone, and starting to realize how stupidly she'd behaved. Most women dreamed of their husbands whisking them off to paradise for a month, yet she'd had the nerve to complain about it? She couldn't believe her foolishness.

  Tugging on her robe, she peeked into the living room, kitchen, and Nick and Eric's respective offices, finding them all empty—which left only Nick's room. She hovered outside for a minute or two, listening for any telltale fucking noises, more than a bit surprised when she didn't hear a thing. Rapping gently, she opened the door a crack, spying Nick stretched out on the bed in his pajama bottoms, reading.

  He put his book down when he saw her standing there, and gestured for her to come in. Eric lay beside him, fully clothed and fast asleep. He seemed even more fragile and exhausted than before; in this muted light, the dark circles under his eyes looked like a pair of shiners. Perching on the edge of the bed, she reached over to stroke Eric's shoulder. His breath hitched for a second, but aside from that, he didn't move.

  Nick returned her worried look. “What happened?” she asked him.

  "One minute we were sitting here talking, and the next, he nodded off. I didn't have the heart to move him."

  "God, Nick, I feel like such a fucking idiot. I had no idea he'd been working himself so hard."

  "Neither did I, but I guess it shouldn't come as that big of a surprise. We both know he's a classic Type A.” He swallowed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Look, I have to tell you something. Your little meltdown the other night really freaked me out. So I gave Eric a call and told him we needed to do something about it. I guess that's how he came up with the idea for the trip."

  "Oh, Nick, you didn't need to do that. I'm fine."

  "No, you're not. You've been exhausted and on edge for months now. You both have.” He sighed, brushing a strand of sandy hair from Eric's forehead. “I think we should go, Ally. Eric needs to get away, and so do you. Besides,” he added with a grin, “Eric told me he's always wanted to take you to Florence for your birthday."

  That made her chuckle. With everything else that had been going on, she'd forgotten all about her birthday. “That does sound wonderful."

  "I can work on my book just as easily in Italy as I can here. And who knows—maybe the scenery will inspire me to work faster."

  She nodded. “Sad to say, I doubt the Herald will have much trouble lasting a month without me.” Leaning over, she planted a soft kiss on Eric's cheek. “He'll be pissed when he wakes up with his clothes all wrinkled."

  "I'll take care of it."

  "Okay,” she said, giving Nick a kiss. “Good night."

  She padded back to bed, sliding beneath the covers with a relieved yawn. Funny, she mused, but it wasn't so long ago that she would've felt threatened had Eric chosen to spend the night with Nick instead of her. The three of them had come a long way in their two years together. Nick and Eric were the most vital part of her life, but lately it seemed she'd lost sight of that.

  Now she had a whole month ahead of her to start seeing the glass half-full instead of half-empty. It was time to get back to essentials. Everything else could wait.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 11

  Three Tickets to Paradise:

  Arrival in Paradise

  Eric's photos didn't do the villa justice. It possessed a palpable sense of majesty, towering two stories above a gatehouse, private road and a smaller single-story building for the household staff. When Eric opened the limo door, helped her out and led her up a stone stairway to the terrace, Ally felt as if he'd just swept her away to Never-Never Land.

  A lush golden-green valley lay beneath them, olive groves and vineyards stretching to infinity in every direction. It seemed like the last place on earth, serene and peaceful, theirs to enjoy for as long as they wished. Ally smiled, throwing her arms around Eric and kissing him soundly. He'd promised her a fairy-tale vacation, and as usual, he didn't disappoint.

  Spacious and cool, the living room sported thick Turkish throw rugs, overstuffed leather chairs and a couch big enough to sink into and never be heard from again. A dining room and two smaller rooms set up as offices lay to the right of the living room, master and guest bedrooms off to the left, both with private baths.

  The lower story of the house was devoted to the kitchen, laundry room and a huge pantry. Eric had hired a local woman and her two daughters to do the cooking and housework, though they wouldn't live on-site. Dalton and two more bodyguards had come along with them, much to Ally's chagrin, though Eric assured her that they would be staying at the staff quarters down by the front gate, with instructions to keep a discreet distance from the house unless an emergency arose.

  Which was a good thing, she supposed, with Nick flying in to join them later tonight. She'd been deeply disappointed that he hadn't come along with them on the Courtland Industries jet, but of course they couldn't run the risk of the paparazzi photographing them together.

  The bedrooms faced east, missing the worst of the brutal afternoon sun. The master bedroom was only slightly smaller than the one at the penthouse, with the exception of vaulted ceilings and an antique rosewood bed that looked like it could sleep an entire family. Ally kicked off her sandals and flopped back on it with a contented whoosh of breath, pleased to find the mattress suitably firm, with just enough give in all the right places.

  "I'm assuming that means the place meets with your approval?” Eric dropped onto the bed next to her, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  "You assume correctly,” she replied, her eyes drooping blissfully shut. “In fact, I might not move from this spot the entire month."

  "That's too bad. I'd hoped to ravish you in every room."

  One eye popped open. “Um ... How many rooms was that again?"

  "Seven or eight on this floor, if we count the bathrooms."

  "In that case,” she cooed, “how'd you like to rinse off before dinner?"

  "I'd rather get dirty first.” Scooting off the bed, he fell to his knees, grabbing hold of her thighs to pull her down to him. He reached under her skirt, yanking off her panties so quickly she cried out in surprise. She expected him to unzip right then and there and fuck her to a fare-thee-well, but instead he shoved open her thighs and planted his face between them, licking and sucking her as if she were his last meal. He knew exactly how she liked it, working a finger up inside her, finding her g-spot while he diddled her clit with the tip of his tongue. Within seconds he had her screaming and moaning her head off, coming right into his mouth.

  It took her longer than usual to get her breath back, but she almost lost it again when Eric bent down, kissing her deeply and thoroughly. God, she loved tasting herself on him.

  "I've been having fantasies about that for a week,” he whispered.

  "Only a week?"

  "It's been far too long since I've tasted you,” he said with such sincerity she could've slapped herself for her flippant reply. She'd gotten used to laughing and joking in bed with Nick, which was plainly the wrong approach here.

  Between the afternoon heat and their impromptu romp, she found herself burning up, her clothes plastered to her. Shifting onto her side, she lifted her hair so that Eric could unzip her silk blouse and help her tug it over her head before unbuttoning her skirt, shimmying it down and off her legs, kicking it to the floor. She rolled onto her stomach, raising herself up on her hands and knees. “Here's what I've been fantasizing about,” she purred, wiggling her ass to give him an extra hint.

  Not that he needed one, because h
e was already down at the foot of the bed again, spreading her legs wider with a rough nudge of his knee. Before she knew it, he'd shoved inside her, grabbing hold of her hips with both hands, fucking her hard. She braced herself on the mattress and pushed back, meeting every thrust, glancing over her shoulder to give him a defiant look. He was still fully clothed, except for his cock sticking out of his pants; the sight of it fanned her arousal to a fever pitch. He knew she loved it when he fucked her like this, using her like a whore.

  He grabbed her by the neck and pushed her head down, draping himself over her back, slamming into her without mercy. She could feel his breath hot and labored on her skin, his nails digging into her hips, his cock reaming her like a steel bar. With one last tortured grunt, he rammed inside her so deeply her thighs cramped, then he rolled off.

  She rolled over too, for fear she'd never move again if she remained on her stomach. Every muscle in her body screamed, especially her clit, throbbing in protest over her missed orgasm. She'd always counted herself lucky that she usually had no problems coming, even during rough sex. Damn. Maybe if she hadn't encouraged him to fuck her so vigorously, he would've stayed in the saddle longer.

  He kissed her on the lips before dipping down to lick droplets of sweat off her breasts. His hand drifted southward, seeking out her clit, rubbing it gently as he bit and sucked her nipples. She was so overly sensitized that it took a minute or two before the pressure of his hand began to feel pleasurable, then she squeezed her thighs around his hand and rode it till she screamed.

  She hated floating down from such an incredible high, but when she did she found him still there next to her, stroking her sweaty skin with a bemused smile. “We should probably clean up and get ready for dinner."

  "You're making the rather bold assumption that I can walk."

  He stood up, reaching for her hand to help her to her feet. “I think you'll perk up when you see what's in the bathroom."

  Once more, he didn't disappoint; it was without a doubt the most gorgeous bathroom she'd ever seen, the floor and vanity made from the palest rose marble, with gleaming polished brass fixtures. It had two sinks, a shower big enough for all three of them at once, and....

  "Oh. My. God!” she breathed, nearly melting on the spot when she saw it—an old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. “This is like heaven, only better!"

  He laughed. “If I'd known I could get you this excited over a bath, I would've had a Jacuzzi installed at the penthouse."

  "Oh, stop teasing!” Grinning like the world's goofiest idiot, she started water running in the tub. She found a wide assortment of bath oils within easy reach on a nearby shelf, but couldn't make up her mind between plain vanilla and attar of rose.

  "I'll leave you to relax.” He dropped a soft kiss on her shoulder before heading for the door.

  "Don't you want a shower?"

  "I'll use the one in Nick's room."

  The water started out a bit too warm, stinging her skin rather than soothing it, but after a few minutes it cooled to a damn near perfect temperature. She soaped and rinsed her hair, then sank in up to her chin and closed her eyes. Every muscle in her body ached, her folds sore and slightly swollen, both the inevitable, not-unwelcome result of Eric giving her a good pounding. As much as she adored Nick, at times his sweet, gentle lovemaking frustrated the hell out of her. Every now and then she had an absolute itch to be held down, dominated and taken, but no matter how much she wheedled and cajoled, Nick always refused. With his huge hands and muscular ex-football player's body, he'd always had this awful—and in her estimation, completely silly—fear that he'd end up crushing the life out of her if he ever let himself cut loose.

  After about half an hour the water grew uncomfortably chilly, so with a sigh of regret she climbed out, towel-dried her hair with a soft Egyptian cotton bath sheet, wrapped it around her and padded back to the bedroom. A small table and two comfy-looking armchairs stood beside a huge picture window overlooking the valley, none of which she'd noticed before with the curtains drawn. Eric sat there sipping an iced tea and enjoying the waning sunshine, clad in a crisp white linen suit with a lightweight, pale lilac dress shirt open at the collar.

  He nudged a second glass of tea in her direction as she approached. She sat down across from him, taking a grateful sip. “Well, don't you look fresh as a daisy,” she remarked.

  "I take it you enjoyed your bath."

  "Mmm.” She took another, longer sip. “Multiple orgasms and a nice, luxurious soak, all before dinner. I could get used to this."

  "That's why they call it a vacation.” He smiled. “Not that I particularly want to rush you, but Luciana's informed me that dinner should be ready in about half an hour."

  She went to get a fresh dress from her suitcase, but found it already unpacked; her favorite cream-colored cotton sun dress with red and blue flowers on it had been laid out for her on the bed, along with a pair of strappy red sandals she'd bought especially for this trip. “Did you pick this out for me?” she asked, dropping the towel so she could hold the dress up. The fabric felt whisper-light against her skin.

  "Why, did you want to wear something else?” he replied, getting up and coming over to her.

  "Not necessarily, but I think you've misplaced my bra and panties."

  "I thought you might go without them while we're here."

  "Oh, that's...” She couldn't help it; she burst out giggling. “Eric, that's a very wonderful—and very hot—idea, but my breasts aren't nearly perky enough to go braless. Not unless you want them dangling down to my waist by the time we leave."

  "But going without panties doesn't bother you?” Taking the dress from her, he gestured for her to hold up her arms so he could help her slip it on over her head, his fingers lingering at the spot on her neck where he'd held her down earlier; it felt tender to the touch. “There's a bruise coming in,” he remarked with a tinge of concern.

  "It'll only last a couple of days.” Turning to kiss him, she added, “But to answer your question ... No, it doesn't bother me."

  "Good.” He kissed her again, deeply this time, with enough urgency that her nipples stood at attention in seconds, brushing tantalizingly against the soft cotton of her dress. “I like knowing that anytime I want to bend you over a chair, you'll be ready."

  Despite her soreness, she could feel herself growing wet again. “I-I think—"

  "We should go in to dinner.” He nodded. “Shall we?"

  "Let me put on my shoes and some lip gloss and I'll join you in a minute."

  Dashing back into the bathroom, she quickly combed out her hair and pinned it up, using a red clip that matched the flowers on her dress. She dabbed on some clear gloss and considered giving herself a light dusting of blush, but after Eric's teasing, her cheeks were pink enough. She found her lingerie in the top drawer of the huge hand-carved wardrobe in the bedroom and put on her favorite lacy white bra. Despite Eric's suggestion, she didn't think he or Nick would appreciate her prancing around with sagging tits.

  She found Eric in the living room with Nick—who, for once in his life, had actually arrived early. “Well, this is unprecedented,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “We weren't expecting you until after dark."

  "I decided to catch an earlier flight.” He grinned. “So what's for dinner? I'm starving."

  Rolling her eyes, she took his arm and followed Eric into the dining room. Some things never changed, thank God!

  Their cook had prepared a lovely summer supper—prosciutto with melon, cheese and spinach ravioli so light it practically floated off the plate, and an equally delectable veal picatta. Eric had wine with his meal, but Nick stuck to water, and after a few moments of silent deliberation, so did she. She didn't want alcohol muddying her memories of their first evening together in Tuscany.

  Dusk had fallen by the time they finished, leaving it cool enough outside that they took their coffee on the terrace. Ally and Nick stretched out on the double chaise, while Eric pulled over one of the ch
airs from the small round table in the corner. Ally was so comfortable she started to drop off, until she felt Nick's hand stroking her arm. “I'd ask what's for dessert, but something tells me you two had dessert before dinner,” he said.

  Laughing, she opened her eyes. “There's no rule against second helpings, is there? But actually,” she purred, stretching like a cat in the sunshine, “I believe I'm in the mood to be entertained tonight.” Rolling to her feet, she crooked her finger at them. “C'mon, you two."

  She doffed her dress and bra as soon as she reached the bedroom, then tugged one of the armchairs closer to the bed and curled up on it, one hand trailing down between her parted thighs. She couldn't help giggling at the stunned look on Nick's face when he saw how wet she'd become. “You're going to put on a nice little show for me, aren't you?” she murmured.

  Nick looked as if he expected her to shout “April fools!” any second, but Eric, of course, took the whole thing in stride. “Any requests?” he smirked, shrugging off his jacket and shirt, moving on to his slacks, unzipping them and letting them drop. Ally wasn't the least bit surprised to discover he wasn't wearing any briefs.

  She pondered her choices for a long moment, grinning evilly. “I think I've got something to start with,” she said, nodding first to Eric, then Nick. “Your mouth. His cock."

  "You heard the lady,” Eric growled, licking his lips, grabbing Nick's belt to tug him closer. They kissed urgently, tongues working, while Eric kneaded the front of Nick's jeans until the huge bulge inside practically bored a hole through his zipper. Ally gasped when Eric fell to his knees and yanked Nick's jeans down over his hips, but when he opened his mouth and took half of Nick's impressive length with one long swallow, she felt an acute stab of envy. It was one of her few true regrets that she'd never blown Nick to orgasm. Her damned gag reflex tripped her up every time.

  Eric had his face buried in Nick's crotch now, lips stretched wide around the base of his cock, head bobbing up and down while Nick made deliciously hoarse panting sounds. Eric slowed down, then sped up again, driving Nick insane and, from the smug sparkle in his eyes, obviously relishing every tortured moment of it. At last Nick glanced down at him with a particularly pained, pleading expression and grabbed Eric's head, holding him still while he gave several short, shuddery thrusts and came with a groan.