by Joya Ryan
“I understand.”
“Great! Then we’re good.”
“Now if you ladies care to join me, I’d like to introduce you to a few people.” Preston casually rested his palm on the small of my back. Since the first night I met him, he’d been guiding me through rooms. Gently coaxing me in the direction of his choosing—a fact that was not lost on me.
My powder blue dress barely grazed the floor as he led me toward a small crowd of people on the other side of the room. The silk was tight from my breasts to my hips then subtly flared out. Emma and I looked to be the only ones who wore our hair down instead of some intricate up-do. As if Preston could read my thoughts he leaned in and said, “I’m proud to have you on my arm.”
We reached the group of older gentlemen, all looking like a cross between Bill Gates and the Monopoly guy. Except for one.
“Rhys, this is my fiancé Megan and our friend Emma Wade.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Rhys said and shook my hand. The man was massive. Not quite as tall as Preston, but over six foot with the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen. His smoky gray eyes and longish blond hair made him look more like a superhero in a tux than a CEO of Striker Solutions.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled, but his attention was already turned to Emma.
“Miss Wade,” he said. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought Emma shuddered a little when he took her hand in his.
Preston and Rhys started talking business, a few details spilling out here and there. Rhys was a former Marine and moved as though he knew where everyone in the room was at any given time—a trait that likely made him very good at his job. But his gaze kept landing on Emma.
I stood there, sipping my champagne, perfectly happy to be listening and not talking. Emma, on the other hand, kept fidgeting and looking at Mr. Marine. I’d never seen her so affected by a man.
The orchestra slowed the beat and Rhys held out his hand to Emma. “Care to dance, Miss Wade?”
Emma put her empty champagne flute on a server tray passing by and nodded. Holy crap! Brassy, tough-talking Emma was speechless. Rhys led her to the dance floor among the other couples swaying. When she looked over her shoulder at me, I smiled wide.
“Preston.” A middle-aged man approached and shook his hand. “Strauss Hotel is doing well. I hear John is retiring soon.”
“We’ll see,” Preston replied. “David, this is my fiancé, Megan Riley.”
More pleasantries, handshakes and fake smiles took up the next two hours. I hadn’t said more than a few words to anyone, and most were just formal greetings. Over and over Preston was approached, confidently holding court in his own corner of the ballroom while the crowd came to him. And I was just another bird in that flock. Pulled in by that invisible power and charisma he radiated.
Emma was doing her own mingling, mostly with Rhys, and I stood, staring into space, trying to figure out what part of Preston was more enthralling—
“A-hundred-thousand for your thoughts?” Preston whispered into my ear.
I smiled at him. “Isn’t it, ‘a penny’?”
He shrugged. “I like to aim high.”
“Well, that’s quite a price for a single thought.”
“Depends.” He faced me fully, the crowd around us faded away and the heat of him engulfing me. “Tell me your thoughts were of me and I’ll double my price.” His green eyes shimmered like glossy emeralds and like usual, I was mesmerized.
“Would you like to dance?”
My heart pounded hard, and while this night hadn’t gone as I had originally planned, there was nothing more I wanted to do in that moment than wrap myself in Preston’s arms and let the world fade away.
“So much,” I whispered.
Taking me by the hand, he led me to the center of the room and I realized that it could have been to the gates of hell, I still would have followed.
Chapter Nine
It was late. I didn’t know exactly how late, but enough to where my body ached and my feet stung from being pinched in the high heels. I walked into the closet, stepped out of the strappy death traps and peeled off the dress. I was too tired to rummage for a nighty and honestly, I wasn’t feeling sexy enough for any more silk and lace. Grabbing one of Preston’s white tee-shirts off the shelf I pulled it on and walked out of the closet and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.
“Did you have a nice time?” Preston called from the bedroom.
“The Armory was beautiful and Rhys seems nice.” I needed to talk to Emma about how nice of time she had. She was quiet on the ride home and I didn’t want to push for details in front of Preston, but it was obvious she seemed to connect with the security CEO.
“Rhys is a good friend,” Preston called out again. This time it sounded like he was in the closet. It was funny how we seemed to move around each other so fluidly at times. “He’ll be at the wedding.”
Walking from the bathroom I pulled the comforter back on the bed. I glanced up to see Preston standing on the other side—
“Whoa,” I breathed.
Sheets in my hand, I froze and simply stared. Preston in a pair of low slung gray pajama pants and nothing else. There was something so incredibly sexy about him, but this? Hard, tan torso muscles tapering to lean hips and that small trail of hair that started just below his navel and disappeared below his pants made my mouth water.
“I see you have the top to my bottoms,” he grinned. I looked down the front of me. His shirt hit mid-thigh and I hadn’t bothered to cover up further.
“Hope you don’t mind?” I asked, hadn’t thinking to do so before.
He shook his head. His expression was stern but other than that, he looked so relaxed, so normal, in slightly disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow. He slowly walked around the edge of the bed toward me, never taking his gaze from my face.
“This arrangement is different for me too, you know.” His voice was low and those green eyes seared hot. My body responded in every way, recognizing that once again, I was the piece in his sights. Any feeling of exhaustion was gone, replaced with anticipation. My nipples hardened and the scratch of the soft cotton tee was enough to make me groan. “I don’t stay the night with women.” Step. “I don’t play house.” Step. “I don’t share my clothes.”
I swallowed hard. His gruff voice would have supported the idea of him being mad, but the hunger in his eyes, the way he shifted his body with every move toward me made me think he was after something very different. Me.
Rounding the corner of the bed, he closed in. “So explain to me why, standing in my shirt, next to my bed, in my penthouse, do I want you more than I have before?”
Breathing was proving more difficult the longer I stayed near Preston. There I stood, no makeup, tangled hair, and he made me feel more beautiful in that moment than the entire evening I stood by him in a designer gown.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
He cupped my hips. Fisting the material, he slowly tugged the shirt up, exposing more of my thighs.
“Maybe things are different for you now.” My voice trembled.
His eyes were fixed on the hem riding higher and higher. “No. You are different.”
His mouth hovered over mine and the crisp smell of him engulfed me. Placing my palms on his hard stomach, I lifted to my toes and pressed my lips against his.
A small groan vibrated down my throat. I kissed him like I had been wanting to for the past five hours. Like I did the night we first met. Planning the wedding, running errands and adapting to the contractual life we’d set up melted away. It was just us. And we knew the truth. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him closer. Desperate to hang on to this moment. Hang on to him.
“Megan,” he growled between laps at my mouth. His big body gently pushed against me and I fell back on the bed. He was over me in a heartbeat, kissing my neck. His warm hands slid up my thighs and gripped my panties, slowly trailing them down my legs and off.
&n
bsp; Moving that amazing mouth lower, he bit at my nipple straining beneath the white cotton. I jolted from the delicious sting.
“We’re going to keep this on,” he said, tugging more of the shirt, and my breast, between his teeth. A sharp sizzle of lust coursed through my veins. “Because the next time I wear it, I want to picture you,” he sucked hard on my other nipple, wetting the material covering it, “like this.”
I gripped his shoulders, willing him to continue. Anything he wanted, I’d give him, so long as he just stayed with me. Stayed right there, holding me. Surrounding me with his warmth. His affection. I didn’t care what that meant. Didn’t care that this man had already consumed such a big part of me in a short amount of time. None of it mattered. Because he was more than anything I had ever experienced. Made me feel like I was beyond the person I was.
“Want you,” I whispered. “More.”
With his face buried between my breasts and delivering licks and nips of pleasure, I reached down and fumbled with his pants, finally working them off his legs and to the floor.
His hard cock pressed against my inner thigh and burned me like a hot steel rod. I needed him. Inside me. Part of me.
“Please Preston. Now.” My voice was more like a sob, begging for the connection I had been missing from him.
“You’re not ready.” Fists on either side of my head, he rose up and kissed me hard. Delving his tongue deep in my mouth then retreating, mimicking what his intentions were. Gripping his wrist, I pulled his hand to my mouth and sucked his fingertips.
“Now.”
He growled and took his newly wetted fingers, reached between our bodies and rubbed the head of his cock, moistening it.
“You drive me crazy,” he grated, positioning himself at my entrance.
“Good,” I whispered. Because he was taking over my mind completely.
He thrust hard, seating himself to the hilt in one stroke. I hissed a breath. It was a tight fit, but it felt so good. He felt good. Wrapping my legs around him, I cupped his face in my palms and kissed his chin, his nose, his cheeks. Wild and out of my mind for him, I just wanted to touch him, taste him everywhere.
He grabbed my wrists and yanked them over my head, pinning them into the mattress. He rocked in and out, his chest scraping against my breasts causing the barrier of the shirt to ride up. A surge of wetness rushed, making his cock slide easier within me. I was already on the brink.
“Not yet,” he growled.
In one quick movement, he withdrew from me, rose to his knees and flipped me to my stomach. Lifting my hips, he positioned me so that I was on my hands and knees, my ass high in the air. He threw the hem of my shirt up so more of my bottom was exposed and gripped my hips.
“You’re going to come when I’m deep inside you.” He buried himself once more into my pussy.
“Oh, God!” My finger dug into the sheets.
Preston’s strokes quickened. Pumping in and out, hitting that spot over and over. My inner walls clamped down on him, ready to erupt from the pleasure he was driving into me. He grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me up. Never severing the connection, I straddled his thighs, my back against his chest, and gave myself up to his desires.
One strong arm wrapped around me, just below my breasts. He held me flush against him while his other hand came around to rub my aching clit. Heat surged and I was on the edge of losing myself. My body. My mind. All of it to him.
“Now,” he nipped my earlobe, “you can come.”
His hips shot up and plunged even deeper while his fingers worked the sensitive bundle of nerves in fast circles. I catapulted over the ledge so hard and fast that my vision went blurry and all my muscles tensed and relaxed over and over in a mind-blowing orgasm. My head fell back against his shoulder and I cried out his name as the pleasure continued. He didn’t stop and I loved every slide and retreat of his thick cock.
His body hummed, his gripped tightened. He bit down on my neck and a low growl shot from his throat as he came inside me. Hot and heady. I felt whole. Warm and wanted from the inside out.
But when he didn’t loosen his grip, just kept me close, I turned my head enough to kiss the base of his jaw. The last thing I heard was him murmuring my name and asking, “What have you done to me, Megan?”
Chapter Ten
I sank back into the water and closed my eyes. Resting my neck against the edge of the bathtub, I let the bubbles dance around me and soothe my skin. It had been a long day. Not particularly bad, but long.
The last week had been great. He worked a lot and while we only saw a bit of each other in the mornings and evenings, progress was being made. Everyday things seemed more real. Felt more real.
It was late and once again, Preston still wasn’t back. I didn’t know why I was tired lately. The list of things I had to do was growing daily, but my energy seemed to be lessening. Number one on the “to do” list was tell people I was engaged.
Emma was the only one who knew and I had asked her not to say anything to Adam or Kate until I could tell them. She hadn’t. And besides a few text messages about how I’d better not make her wear an ugly bridesmaid’s gown or carry a parasol down the aisle, she hadn’t really pushed me on the details. Every time I had tried to ask her about Rhys, she avoided the topic. It looked like we both had our own private issues.
“What the hell are you doing?”
My eyes snapped open and I looked at Preston standing in the doorway, leering down at me. I’d never seen so much rage on someone’s face.
I sat up and wrapped my arms around my breasts. “I’m taking a bath.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he examined the obviousness of what I just said. His green eyes held so much bleak hate as he looked along the length of the tub, then at me.
“Get the fuck out.”
He turned and stomped away. Stunned that he just spoke to me like that, I shot out of the bath, grabbed the robe on the back of the door and fastened it. Rushing to the bedroom, Preston stood by the mini bar, pouring himself a drink.
“What is your problem?” I demanded and swayed a bit on my feet. Between my body temperature quickly changing from a hot bath to cool air adding to my already dizzy exhaustion, standing was a bit tough.
He faced me, drink in hand. “I don’t like you in the bathtub,” he stated plainly, as if that should clear everything up.
“Yeah, caught that. But why?”
“Because.” His glare was so strong I was worried just aiming that thing at someone could cause internal combustion. Something was obviously up with him, but there was no way he’d get away with speaking to me like that.
“I didn’t sign up to be barked at, and I certainly didn’t see a ‘no bathtub’ clause in the contract.”
“Then I’ll get that amended and have a fresh document for you to sign tomorrow,” he snapped.
“No way.” I crossed my arms. “I agreed to play by your rules but you can’t go changing things on a whim. Especially stupid things like bathing and—”
“Yes. I can,” he growled.
“No. You can’t, Preston.”
“And what are you going to do? Walk away?” He closed in on me and my heart sped up a bit. He was so imposing.
Preston wasn’t the type of man to hurt a woman, if anything, he was more gentle in a lot of respects when it came to them, from what I’d been able to tell. But this was the first time his anger was directed at me. And I had no idea why.
“I can walk away, Preston. If we’re going to start to play chicken with each other, see who will walk first on day two into this arrangement, then you need to seriously consider how badly you want this to work.”
His nostrils flared. He knew I was calling him out and honestly, I hoped my nerve held up. Backing down now would make for a rough three years…if we even made it that far.
“There is a perfectly good shower. Don’t take a bath again.” His voice was deeper, rougher in a way I’d never heard. Normally he projected power and a kind of
charisma that drew people in. This was different. Like wrath was swirling over him and something every dark was clawing at the surface.
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking.” That time his voice held an edge of vulnerability.
I wanted to remind him that this whole situation was based on trust. Instinct told me that this was an issue and to push now would be a mistake. A big one. And a man like Preston didn’t do a damn thing if he didn’t want.
“Since you asked,” I drew out the last word, “I won’t take a bath again.”
“Good.” He nodded and stomped into the closet. I could hear him changing but he didn’t say another word. I stood there wondering just how much of Preston would remain a mystery.
***
“It’s dinner, not a sentencing,” Preston said in my ear.
“I hope so, I didn’t dress for death row.” I tried to joke but my nerves were wired and going crazy. I was nervous. Actually, far, far beyond nervous.
“You look lovely,” Preston said and steered me out of the town car and onto a busy sidewalk.
I was really starting to hate that word because he always said it with such indifference. He could have chosen a worse phrase though, I suppose. We hadn’t said more than two words to each other in three days. Ever since that bathtub incident. If I’d known better, I’d think he had been either ignoring me or avoiding me.
Despite the distance between us, he had come to bed every night. Always sneaking in after I fell asleep and up before I woke. The only reason I knew he’d been there was because the sheets were still warm and his wonderful masculine smell still lingered on his pillow. It was odd, but a part of me was missing him.
We walked into a very nice, very expensive-looking restaurant in downtown Manhattan. The host led us to a private room where Preston’s father, brother and another woman sat waiting. They all stood when we entered.
“Megan, my dear!” John came around the table and wrapped me in a hug. He was so warm and happy it calmed my nerves a bit. “You look radiant.”
