The Secret Wife

by Susan Mallery

  Relief blossomed into desire. Focusing on the latter was easier than thinking about why he would care about her being with another man. “You’ve been studying the subject?”

  She nodded. “A little. Want to hear what I’ve learned?”

  He would rather she showed him, but he was willing to accept a good telling instead.

  She took his hands and tugged him to his feet, then turned them until he was leaning against the desk and she was standing in the V of his thighs. They didn’t touch anywhere except their hands, but the knowledge that they could aroused him.

  “Men,” she said. “All men need to feel desired as well as loved.”

  Somehow that didn’t make him feel a whole lot better. If she’d said she desired him, that would be another story. But she hadn’t.

  “Women need to feel loved as well as desired. We spend a lot of time telling the other sex information they aren’t looking for. At least, not while making love. Yet both sexes can learn from the other. Men can learn it’s a turn-on to hear words of love and women can learn to appreciate and be aroused by their man’s desire.”

  Speaking of arousals, Cole thought, trying not to shift, despite the uncomfortable pressure in his groin.

  “I never got that,” Elissa said. “I know now that when your eyes are bright, like they are now, that you’re showing a vulnerability to me. You’re trusting me.”

  “Great,” Cole muttered, turning away, wondering if she could also read the humiliation. A couple more minutes of this and he wouldn’t have to worry about her seeing his arousal. It would be emotionally beaten into a distant memory.

  “I like it,” she whispered.

  Three small words. They whipped through him like a firestorm, leaving him hard and raw, every cell in his body ready for her and therefore exposed.

  She bit her lower lip. “It’s a little scary, but in a good way.”

  She rosé on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. This time when he didn’t respond, she moved her mouth back and forth.

  He held himself still, moving only his fingers, and that was to clench his hands into tight fists. He recognized her actions for what they were—a genuine effort to overcome her fears. Yet those fears had been a real part of her life for years. They would not be overcome in a single night.

  She put her hands flat on his shoulders and pushed down. It took him a second to realize she wanted him to shift lower on the desk. He did so, spreading his legs and sliding forward until they were nearly the same height.

  “Better,” she said. “Now open your mouth.”

  “Why?” he blurted out without thinking. He knew why, but he wanted to hear her say it.

  Color stained her face. Would she like the new rules or would she run? He held his breath.

  She used her thumb and forefinger to squeeze his cheeks together. “Open your mouth or I’ll be very crabby.”

  He shook his head. “Not good enough, Elissa. You have to be vulnerable, too.”

  She considered for a moment. “Fair enough.” She sucked in a deep breath. Her fingers slipped from his face to his neck. She stroked his skin. He clenched his fists tighter and prayed for control.

  “Open your mouth,” she said. “I want to really kiss.” She held up her free hand. “I know. I’m still cheating. I want to touch you with my tongue. I want our tongues to—”

  He didn’t let her finish. He bent forward and kissed her hard, parting his lips and letting her slip inside. It was that, or embarrass himself right there. Jeez, he’d never known words to be so damned arousing.

  She took back control quickly, angling her head and plunging deeper. She clutched at his shoulders, then slipped her fingers through his hair.

  He raised his hands to embrace her, then dropped them to his sides. He would hold on to the desk, something, anything to keep from frightening her.

  She surged against him, her body pushing against his as her tongue circled his. She squirmed and rubbed, her breasts hot points of pressure that made him weak with longing. Her hips rocked back and forth, the apex of her thighs stroking his arousal to the point of madness.

  Still he didn’t touch her.

  She broke the kiss and stared at him. “You’re not going to do anything but kiss me, are you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Even if I ask you to?”

  “Not yet.” God, if she knew what this cost him. “Not tonight.”

  Her brilliant smile nearly blinded him. It was as if his words had given her the permission she needed.

  She attacked him. Flirty little kisses dampened his jaw. Openmouthed kisses tormented his neck. She suckled his earlobe, then traced the outside of his ear.

  With her hands she touched his shoulders, his arms, down to his hands clamped to the front of the desk. From there she trailed across his belly, making him groan audibly and his muscles tense with painful need. Then she returned her attention to his mouth.

  This kiss touched his heart. He couldn’t say why. As far as he could tell there was no sudden change in technique, nothing new learned. Maybe it was the honesty in her touch, the desire he felt in her hot, wet mouth and rapid heartbeat.

  She clung to him as if he were her only point of reference in a rapidly spinning world. Her body was limp against his, her breathing coming in short gasps.

  When at last she stepped back, her mouth was swollen, her eyes glazed with a wanting he’d never seen before. If he touched her most secret place, he would find it damp and ready.

  He’d never wanted her so much in his life.

  She gave him a shaky smile. “Wow,” she managed, then licked her lower lip. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about good-night?”

  She blinked, obviously surprised. “What if I don’t want to go?”

  “It’s still good-night.”

  It was too soon. He wanted her to think about what had happened between them. He wanted her to be hungry for a while. Not to punish her, but so that she could anticipate what would happen the next time.

  She nodded slowly, then walked to the door. Once there, she looked back. “That was just chapter one,” she said.

  He grinned. “How many chapters are there?”

  “Nine.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elissa looked at the small pedestal table she’d borrowed from the storeroom. The round, antique lace tablecloth Millie had loaned her added a level of elegance to the setting, as did the simple white plates. There was an arrangement of cut flowers, white wine chilling in an ice bucket and a chicken-and-mushroom casserole on the heating plate in the corner.

  She’d planned a dinner that was easy to keep warm, easy to serve and one of Cole’s favorites. At least, it used to be. Surely a man’s tastes didn’t change that much in five years.

  She glanced at the candles sitting in the center of the table. She could light them now or she could wait until Cole arrived. When she reached for the matches, she realized her hands were trembling. Okay, she would leave that for him to do. It might be more romantic, anyway.

  “How much longer?” she asked out loud, and checked her watch. Five forty-seven. One minute later than the last time she’d looked. Was it possible to be this nervous and live? Her heart thundered in her chest, while the fluttering in her stomach had increased from the delicate sensation of butterflies to something that more closely resembled elephants line-dancing.

  She forced herself to close her eyes and draw in a deep breath. Cole was coming to her room for dinner. That was all.

  “Oh, but that’s not all,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. Since late last week, when he’d told her about the letter from his grandfather and they’d shared those few intimate moments together, something had changed. Maybe it was Cole’s admission that he liked her. They’d never been friends before, and that added a new dimension to their relationship. Maybe it was her growing confidence about the physical side of the relationship. She was starting to u
nderstand what was supposed to happen between a man and a woman, as well as what had gone wrong in their marriage.

  Knowing full well what he would expect from her invitation, she’d asked him to her room for dinner. Amazingly enough, he’d accepted.

  Elissa tried to comfort herself by remembering Millie’s words of counsel.

  “You don’t have to do everything the first night,” the older woman had said that afternoon when Elissa had confessed nervousness. “Pretend to be teenagers. Make out on the sofa. Get to second base. Leave the rest of it for another time.”

  Good advice, Elissa thought, dropping her hands to her sides and opening her eyes. She’d reached the point in her education where she was book smart, but ignorant in practice. Although, keeping in mind all the things she’d learned, it was easy to see what had gone wrong.

  No wonder Cole had been frustrated with her. She’d lain in bed like a lump. The more she didn’t respond, the more desperate he’d become to connect with her sexually.

  The whole idea of an orgasm was still weird. Maybe they existed and maybe they didn’t. At this point, she didn’t care. Elissa simply wanted to seduce her husband. If she could get him back in her bed, and this time make him happy, they might have a second chance at their marriage. Millie had told her several times that passion allowed a marriage to ride out the rough patches. As important as that was, if Cole would trust her with his body, he just might be willing to trust her with his heart.

  A knock on the door broke through her thoughts. One hand flew to her throat. Dear God, please let her get through this night without doing anything horrible. She and Cole needed a good time together, and not just in bed.

  She crossed the floor and reached for the door.

  * * *

  Two hours later they left the table and headed to the sofa. The pleasant conversation, not to mention the wine, had gone a long way toward blurring the edges of her anxiety.

  Elissa sat down first, choosing a spot halfway between the middle and the edge of the couch. Cole did the same. When they angled toward each other, their knees brushed.

  “You’re drunk,” he teased.

  “Oh, please.” She leaned forward and set her wineglass on the coffee table. “This is only my second glass.”

  “You didn’t eat anything at dinner, so you’re drinking on an empty stomach.”

  “I had some salad.” And a couple of bites of the chicken, but little else. The edges of her anxiety might be blurred, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still nervous.

  Cole stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and rested his fingers on her shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his dark gaze meeting hers. “You invited me to your room for dinner and I accepted. I wanted to spend some time alone with you because it’s something we rarely get to do, but I’m not expecting anything to happen tonight. I’m enjoying being friends with you. It’s enough.” He gave her a slow, sexy smile that made her toes curl. “So relax.”

  Easy for him to say; nearly impossible for her to do. After all, while there was no script that said they had to do anything, she’d been thinking about it a lot and the idea was intriguing. Also, whether or not they even kissed, just being in the same room with Cole was enough to make her nervous.

  “You just don’t have a clue, do you?” she asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She waved toward him. “You. Everything about you. Look at that.” She leaned over and fingered the edge of his shirt. “A plain white shirt, right? No big deal? I said casual, so you show up in this shirt and jeans. What could be simpler?”

  “Elissa, what are you talking about?”

  She patted the fingers still touching her shoulder. “This was supposed to comfort me, right? A little contact to ease my worries.”

  He nodded, obviously bewildered.

  “It’s been like this from the moment we first met. You intimidate me. You always have. You’re so amazing. This casual little touch doesn’t comfort me, Cole. It makes my skin all hot and prickly. These clothes—” She threw up her hands. “A long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbow is so sexy, and you don’t know.”

  He stared at his forearm as if he’d never seen it before. “Sexy? No way.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me on this. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe the bare wrist and hand thing, or the muscles, or imagining what you looked like when you actually were rolling up your sleeve.” She paused to catch her suddenly tight breath. “And the jeans. Do not get me started on them. Worn denim hugging…” She cleared her throat. “Never mind. You get the point.”

  He gazed at her solemnly. “You’re crazy. Or drunk.”

  She laughed. “I’m neither. I’m telling you the truth. If you being so darned good-looking wasn’t bad enough, you’ve always known what you wanted. I can’t tell you how much I used to admire that. I still do. You have drive and purpose. And confidence. I guess you’re a natural leader.”

  His mouth twisted. “No, I’m just better than most at faking my way through. Half the time I don’t know what I’m doing with these kids. I’ve learned to trust my gut and pray nothing horrible happens because of a decision I’ve made. Besides, you used to intimidate me.”

  She touched her chest. “Me? You’re kidding. How?”

  The fingers on her shoulder squeezed gently. She leaned into the contact, enjoying both the conversation and the man.

  “You were so beautiful. Famous. At least you weren’t rich. That would have been too much for me to handle.”

  Elissa swallowed a sudden bubble of guilt. She refused to think about her trust fund tonight.

  “I never knew what a girl like you would see in a guy like me,” he continued. “Maybe that’s why I worked so much when we were first married. I wanted to prove myself to you.”

  “You had nothing to prove. I thought you were perfect already.”

  He shook his head. “Not perfect. So far from that. I really messed up, Elissa, and I’m sorry. When I think about all the nights I was gone, all the times I left you while I worked on a case. After a while I figured out something was wrong between us, but I didn’t know how to fix it. The more you withdrew, the more I insisted that we—” He met her gaze. “I’m sorry about that, too.”

  She reached up and took his fingers in hers, then lowered both their hands to the sofa cushion between them. “It was both of us.”

  “Maybe.”

  Her nerves had settled a bit. Even though it was too late to go back and change the past, it was nice to know that Cole had regrets, too. If only they’d had this conversation five years ago, when it could have done some good.

  No, she thought. It wouldn’t have worked then. Neither of them was grown-up enough to hear it.

  “Do you miss it?” she asked. “The law firm, the city?”

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I like my work here and I love the kids, but there are days I want more of a challenge. I miss the pace of the city a little. I suppose in a perfect world I’d split my time between the two.”

  She linked her fingers with his and looked at their hands. They were a study in contrasts. Tanned skin to fair, large palms to small. Yet they were right together. At least, that was her fantasy. What was his? Who was his?

  “Have there been others?” she asked, not daring to look at him.

  “Job offers?”

  “Women.”

  He leaned toward her and touched a forefinger to her chin, nudging until she raised her gaze to his. Perfect cheekbones, a bone-melting smile, eyes that promised the world. How many had tried and failed? How many had tried and succeeded?

  “You’re my wife,” he told her. “I meant forever when I spoke the vows, and I’ve never gone back on my word.”

  She vaguely recalled she was supposed to be seducing him, but right now this seemed more important. “Why didn’t you ask for a divorce?”

  His expression shuttered. She couldn’t have said how. No muscles made obvious movement, his mo
uth didn’t straighten, he barely blinked. Yet he’d gone somewhere else and she hadn’t been invited along.

  But he didn’t release her hand, and she clung to that thought, along with his fingers, as if her life depended upon holding fast.

  The silence stretched until she could hear her heartbeat and the faint sound of their breathing. She searched her mind for something to say, anything that would change the subject and make things right between them again.

  “I never wanted to be with anyone else,” he said.

  She stared at him. His words filled her mind until everything else had been pushed away.

  I never wanted to be with anyone else. It wasn’t a confession of love, not yet. But it was close. It was a place to start. It was the signal she’d been waiting for.

  She released his hand and slid toward him. After cupping his face, she pressed her mouth against his.

  This time he kissed her back without needing to be urged. This time his arms came around her, pulling her closer and keeping her safe.

  She stroked his face, loving the soft skin that told her he’d taken the time to shave before coming over. She traced his ears, his jaw, the strong line of his neck, then wrapped her arms around his back and surged toward him.

  They were locked together, her breasts flat against his chest, their mouths clinging and pressing and brushing in an erotic dance of discovery.

  She parted her lips and he slipped inside. He’d kissed her that way before. She suspected he could do it every day for the rest of her life and she would never grow tired of the shock of his heat or the sweet shiver that rippled through her as his tongue first teased the inner skin of her lower lip before flicking delicately against hers.

  There was a rightness in their embrace, a sense of homecoming. Elissa didn’t know if love was like raging fire or more like a slow burn. Either could be true. Whatever the correct definition, she knew that she loved Cole, had always loved him. He was her mate, her other half, her destiny.

  He raised his head and stared at her. “You always were a great kisser.”