Inconveniently Wed

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She had to admit that she felt a little as though they’d slid immediately back into their old roles. Him working all the hours while she waited at home for him. Except this time around she’d been busy, too. There’d been days when he’d beaten her home because she’d been interviewing candidates for the CEO role or tied up in other matters that couldn’t be taken care of during business hours. She got it. When you were in charge the buck stopped with you and you had to deal with it. She could hardly complain when something came up that he hadn’t anticipated.

  “Valentin, please, don’t worry. It can wait.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  “I’ll look forward to that,” she said, smiling.

  They said their goodbyes and she turned to survey the kitchen and her preparations to make tonight special for them. Yes, she was disappointed but at least she’d matured enough now not to take that out on him. Not like she used to before. It was a sobering realization and she was still lost in thought when Dion entered the kitchen.

  “Was that Mr. Horvath?” he asked.

  “Yes, it seems he has to work late tonight.”

  “That’s a shame. Would you like me to finish up in here and put things away?”

  Imogene thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I want you to help me find a way to take all this to him. If the mountain won’t come home for dinner, then I’ll just have to take dinner to the mountain.”

  Dion’s wrinkled face creased into a smile. “That sounds like a perfect solution, madam. I have just the equipment you’ll need. You go and get ready and leave the rest to me. I’ll order the car to be out front for you in half an hour.”

  “Excellent, thank you, Dion. I appreciate your help.”

  “It’s what I’m here for, madam,” the older man said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Imogene fled for her bedroom. Suddenly tonight was looking a whole lot more interesting after all.

  * * *

  From the moment he’d ended his call with Imogene he hadn’t been able to concentrate. The spreadsheets on his computer had begun to blur and all he could focus on was the hastily disguised disappointment that had been in her voice when he’d said he wasn’t coming home for dinner. He looked at the date at the bottom of his computer screen and understanding dawned. He was such an idiot. How could he have overlooked that today was a month since their wedding? And it augured well for their marriage that she’d wanted to mark the occasion. Not so great was the fact that he hadn’t even noticed.

  Guilt slashed across his mind. His obsession with work had been a major player in the discontent in their first marriage. His hours had led to more than one argument at home. Arguments that had ended with passionate lovemaking and promises to try harder but that hadn’t saved his marriage in the end. Nor would they now if he didn’t improve his awareness.

  He was torn. Instinct told him to get up from his desk and head home to his waiting wife. Logic told him that one more pass of the spreadsheets would allow him to see exactly where the problem lay. It wasn’t like Carla to make a mistake in her budgets, but the flaw in the calculations that he’d been provided with could derail this whole deal by ballooning the costs.

  A sound at the door made him look up. As if he’d conjured her up with his imagination, there was his wife. She wore her cashmere coat buttoned up to the neck and a pair of sinfully high pumps that highlighted her slender ankles and finely muscled calves. Her hair was up in one of those twists that looked entirely feminine and exposed the delicious sweep of her slender neck. A pair of diamond studs glinted in her earlobes. Valentin felt a jolt of sexual awareness, but as had become his habit since their return from their honeymoon, he quelled it just as quickly as it arose.

  “Imogene?” he said, pushing up out of his chair and going to meet her. “This is a surprise.”

  “A good one, I hope,” she said, holding the door open with her foot and maneuvering a small cart through the door from behind her.

  A delicious scent permeated the air in his office and Valentin stood, rooted in shock. “You brought me dinner?”

  “Happy monthiversary,” she replied with a satisfied smile on her face. “Now, where would you like me to put this?”

  When he was too stunned to reply she carried on as if his response wasn’t necessary.

  “Okay, how about over by the window? Dion assures me that this folds out into a little table, so maybe if you could bring a couple of chairs over...?”

  She gestured to the two guest chairs sitting opposite his desk and he hastened to comply. While he did so, Imogene undid the buttons on her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders. Any and all attempts at controlling his libido were moot at that point as she revealed a figure-hugging dress that ended high above her knees. Long-sleeved, it gave the impression of demureness—the boat neckline skimming across her collarbones modestly and the rich purple fabric making her skin appear to glow. But when she turned around to fold out two sides on the cart and apply the brake, she exposed her back—bare from nape to just below her waist with a drapey thing of fabric that hung like a shawl around the edges. His mouth dried and his hands clenched on the back of the chair he was carrying. The rest of his body? Well, that just went up in flames.

  Imogene continued to set up her surprise for him, shaking a pristine white tablecloth over the makeshift table. Then she reached underneath the trolley, pulled out several dishes together with plates and cutlery and set it all on the table. She even had a small posy of flowers in a crystal bowl in the center. Throughout, she remained oblivious to the torment she was inadvertently putting him through. Or was it inadvertent? They’d been married a month. They’d been “dating” when time permitted. They’d observed all the rules they themselves had set in place. Was it too much to wish that they—no, she—was ready to take it up to the next level?

  “I was going to bring candles, too,” she said, straightening a knife beside one of the plates. “But I wasn’t sure what the regulations were in your building regarding open flames.”

  He was speechless. She’d gone to all this trouble for him. No, he corrected himself again, for them. Which only served to make it all the more special. He carried the second chair over to the table and the moment his hands were free he reached for her, pulling her close.

  “You are an incredible woman,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned in the past seven years, it’s that if I want something, I have to reach for it myself. I can’t just sit around waiting for things to happen or expect other people to do things for me.”

  He looked into her eyes, more green than gray tonight, and felt himself fall a whole lot in love with her all over again. This was it. The real thing. He had been an idiot to let her go before, and he wasn’t going to let that happen ever again.

  “Shall we eat?” Imogene said, interrupting his intention to show her exactly how he was feeling right now.

  “Sure,” he replied, releasing her and turning to the table. “You did all this yourself?”

  “I had a little help from Dion but he mostly just supervised. Seems he’s quite the romantic beneath that hoary exterior.”

  Valentin suspected it had a lot more to do with the nature of the beautiful woman in front of him and how she brought light into every place she went rather than Dion’s romantic side. He held her chair out for her, bending over her slightly as she settled herself. Her scent wafted up to him. Fresh and clean and with that little something spicy underlying it—the spiciness a reminder of Imogene’s hidden depths. His fingers tightened on the back of her chair as he pushed it in. If they were a normal couple he’d have kissed the exposed nape of her neck just now. But, he reminded himself, they weren’t like other couples. Instead, they were a couple working their way back to where they ought to be, from a past fraught with suspicion and misconceptions. They had both been immature about
relationships that first time. Obeying the demands of their bodies over any semblance of rational thought. It was no wonder they’d crashed and burned. But this, tonight, it was a symbol of what they were building together. Something with strong bones, a joint purpose. Hope.

  Before they ate, Valentin adjusted the lighting in the office, dimming the overheads and leaving just one lamp on in a corner. The action increased the sense of intimacy in a way he wouldn’t have dreamed possible in his workplace. And so, with the Manhattan skyline twinkling outside the window, they dined together and sipped one of the very good bottles of red wine from his well-stocked wine racks that she’d brought to complement her cooking. And Valentin felt his desire for his wife grow by steady increments.

  “I never knew you had this hidden talent for great cooking,” Valentin said, toasting her with his glass. “Kudos to the chef.”

  “Thank you,” she answered, accepting his compliment with an inclination of her head. “I surprised even myself.”

  “Oh, come now,” he said, putting down his glass. A tendril of hair had slipped from its twist to frame her face. He reached across to gently twirl it around his forefinger. “Don’t tell me you’re not adept at everything you put your mind to. I know that much about you. In that regard, you’re a lot like me. Neither of us accepts failure.”

  He let the piece of hair drop from his finger and saw the light tremor that traveled through her as it drifted back across the responsive skin at the side of her neck. She was so sensitive to touch. Always had been. He picked up his wine again and took a generous sip. Anything to avoid touching her again and potentially breaking the spell that had surreptitiously wrapped around them in the cocoon of his office. Tonight it felt as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist—as if there were only the two of them. Oh, how he wished he could touch her. Properly touch her.

  “Valentin?” Her voice had grown husky.

  “Hmm?” He looked up and saw raw hunger reflected back at him. Desire punched through him and his voice was less than steady when he spoke. “Please tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

  A playful look stole across her face. “Well, that depends. Maybe you should tell me what you’re thinking?”

  “I’ve always preferred actions over words.”

  “Show me, then.”

  Nine

  Valentin didn’t need telling twice. He rose from his seat and reached for Imogene, pulling her up into his arms and against his body. Her do-me heels brought her almost to his height. She hooked her arms around his neck and her lips parted on a short intake of air.

  “I didn’t make dessert,” she whispered. “I kind of hoped...” Her voice trailed away.

  “For this?” he asked.

  He took her lips with his. There was no finesse to the kiss. It was hard. It was hot. It was wet. It was everything he hoped for, wanted and needed and, judging by the way she responded in kind, it was everything she wanted, too. He could taste the red wine on her lips, her tongue, and the flavor blended with the essential flavor of her. It was something he knew deep on an instinctive level, something he’d missed without realizing it. But she was here now. In his arms. Against his body. Heat flaring between them so they were aware only of each other.

  His hands splayed across her bare back. Her skin was heated, as if she burned with a fever. He knew he burned with one. A fever for her. He reached one hand beneath the bottom edge of the dip at her lower back, lower still until he felt the bare curve of her buttocks beneath his touch. His arousal grew painfully hard as skin met skin. She’d sat there, opposite him, in that deceptively prim dress—eating dinner, sipping wine—and all the time with no underwear? Perhaps it was just as well he hadn’t known or he might not have been answerable for his actions. But he planned to be answerable for them now.

  His fingers flexed against the lush fullness of her, pressing her hard against his straining erection. She sighed into his mouth, running her hands through his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

  “Yes,” she murmured softly. “Do that again.”

  She ground her hips against him as he did her bidding and cursed gently beneath her breath before she kissed him with a need that screamed how much she wanted him right now. Her tongue swept his mouth, her teeth grazed his lips, her fingers now tightened almost painfully in his hair, tugging him closer to her with each desperate mesh of their lips.

  “The couch,” he managed to say, pulling her with him as he backed up toward that blessedly close piece of furniture.

  He almost fell to the cushions and watched in awe as Imogene spread her legs and moved to straddle his lap. She tugged at his belt, deftly undoing his button and zipper and delving beneath his boxer briefs to release him into her hands. He groaned as her fingers closed around his length and stroked him from base to tip.

  “Were you hiding this from me all through dinner?” she asked with a teasing note to her voice that made him want her all the more.

  “Uh-huh.”

  It was all he could manage as she chose that moment to squeeze him just that little bit tighter. Sensation swamped him, making him tip his head against the back of the couch and groan again. She leaned forward and kissed him, more sweetly this time than before.

  “I’ve missed this,” she said softly against his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

  He felt her shift and opened his eyes in time to watch her shimmy her dress up over her hips, exposing the cleft of skin at the apex of her thighs and the neatly trimmed thatch of dark red hair above it. She pulled the garment up over her head and let it fall behind her somewhere on the floor. Valentin’s fingers ached to reach out for her, to cup her pink-tipped breasts and to roll her nipples between his fingertips. He continued to watch her as she positioned her knees on either side of him on the couch and rose up. He could feel the heat of her body as she hovered over his engorged length. If she didn’t do something soon he thought he might be forced to take control. To pull her down onto him until he was buried so deeply he might never want to be separated from her again. To bury his face against her breasts and lave them with the attention they deserved. He licked his lips in anticipation.

  “Uh-uh,” she cautioned. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re about to go all he-man on me, aren’t you?”

  “It’s under discussion with my self-control right now,” he admitted.

  “Well, then, you’ll just have to be patient. I’ve forgotten one very important step.”

  Imogene gracefully removed herself from straddling his lap and walked, naked and still in her high heels, to her bag. He cursed himself for being an idiot the second he saw her remove a foil packet. How could he have forgotten contraception? Because of her, that’s how, he thought, watching her walk back toward him and reassume her position. She quickly sheathed him, her touch a torment as she slid the condom over his length.

  “Now, just in case you think you need to take control, I think we’ll do this,” she murmured as she reached for his hands and pinned them against the back of the couch. “You might be the big boss here, but right now, I’m the boss of you.”

  And with that she took him inside her body. Her inner muscles tightened almost unbearably around him.

  “Oh.”

  It was all she said before she began to move, her hips tilting and rolling, lifting and dropping until all Valentin could think about was the pleasure that coiled and tightened at that point where they joined. He wouldn’t have dreamed it humanly possible but he grew even harder. And try as he might, he couldn’t remain an inert recipient of her attention. His hips began to thrust each time she dropped or tilted toward him. He watched her move, saw that moment her climax stole her breath and forced her to close her eyes and ride out the deep-seated rolling paroxysms of pleasure that rippled through her body. And then he saw nothing as he was gripped by his own orgasm, his body jerking and thrusting in unison wi
th the clasp and release of hers. Satisfaction pumping from his center and through to his outer extremities.

  * * *

  Imogene collapsed against him, her breathing harsh, her heart racing and sweat soaking her back. Through the front of his shirt she felt the answering beat of his heart and it occurred to her that while she was completely naked, he was still essentially fully dressed. The concept made her laugh and squeeze against him.

  “Well, that’s a new take on the concept of office romance, isn’t it?” she said lightly.

  “Hey, the boss isn’t complaining at all,” Valentin answered as he nuzzled her neck and nipped her skin lightly with his teeth.

  A shiver ran through her body, desire climbing again hard on the heels of what they’d just done together. She rocked against him and an aftershock of pleasure jolted her anew.

  “It seems I can’t get quite enough of you tonight,” she observed, pulling away from him and reaching to loosen his tie. “And it would also seem that I dispensed with a few of the necessaries.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as ensuring you’re as naked as I am. I want to see you, Valentin. I want to touch all of you.”

  “I’m yours, Imogene,” he answered. His voice was deep and steady and there was a look in his eyes that promised that and so much more. “Touch me. Do whatever you want with me on one condition.”

  “And that is?” She paused in undoing his buttons and chewed her lower lip as she thoughtfully regarded the skin she’d already exposed on his chest.

  “You allow me to do exactly what I want with you, too.”

  “Hmm,” she said and cocked her head as if she was giving serious consideration to his words. Ridiculous, really, she thought, when he was still buried deep inside her body. She gave him another squeeze just because she could and just because she really, really wanted to. “I think that sounds reasonable.”