Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation

by Michelle Celmer

  She slid her hand down his taut and warm stomach, under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. She felt the muscle just below the skin contract and harden under her touch. She moved lower still, tunneling her fingers through the wiry hair at the base. He was so warm there, as if all the heat in his body had trickled down to pool in that one spot.

  She played there for just a few seconds, drawing her fingers back and forth through his hair, wondering what was going on in his head. Other than the tensing of his abdomen and the slight wrinkle between his brows, he appeared to be sleeping soundly.

  When the anticipation became too much, she slid her hand up and wrapped it around his erection. The months without sex must have taken their toll because he was rock hard, and as she stroked her way upward, running her thumb along the tip, it was already wet and slippery.

  She couldn’t recall ever having done this before—though she was sure she had, probably more times than she could count—but she inherently seemed to know what to do, knew what he liked. She kept her grip firm and her pace slow and even, and Ash seemed to like it. She could see the blood pulsing at the base of his throat and his hips started to move in time with her strokes. She looked up, watching his face. She could tell he was beginning to wake up, and she wanted to see his expression when he did.

  His breath was coming faster now and his head thrashed from one side to the other, then back again. She was sure that all he needed was one little push…

  She turned her face toward his chest, took his nipple in her mouth, then bit down. Not hard enough to leave a mark, only to arouse, and it worked like a charm. A groan ripped from Ash’s chest and his hips bucked upward, locking as his body let go. His fingers dug into her flesh, then he relaxed and went slack beneath her.

  Mel looked up at him and found that he was looking back at her, drowsy and a little disoriented, as if he were still caught somewhere between asleep and awake. He looked down at her hand still gripping him inside his pajamas. She waited for the smile to curl his mouth, for him to tell her how good she made him feel, but instead he frowned and snapped, “Mel, what are you doing?”

  Mel snatched her hand from inside Ash’s pajamas, grabbed the sheet and yanked it up to cover herself. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or hurt, or a little of both. But Melody didn’t do angry. Not with him anyway. At least, she never used to.

  “I think the appropriate thing to say at a time like this is thanks, that felt great,” she snapped.

  Yep, that was definitely anger.

  “That did feel great. The part I was awake for.” Which wasn’t much.

  He knew last night, when he’d pulled back the covers and discovered she was naked, that sleeping next to her would be a bad idea. When he woke in the middle of the night with her draped over him like a wet noodle, limp and soft and sleeping soundly, he knew that he should have rolled her over onto her own side of the bed, but he was too tired, and too comfortable to work up the will. And yeah, maybe it felt good, too. But he sure as hell hadn’t expected to wake up this morning with her hand in his pants.

  Before the accident it would have been par for the course. If he had a nickel for every time he’d roused in the morning in the middle of a hot dream to find Melody straddling him, or giving him head.

  But now he almost felt…violated.

  Looked as if he should have listened to his instincts and slept on the damned floor.

  The worst thing about this was seeing her there barely covered with the sheet, one long, lithe leg peeking out from underneath, the luscious curve of her left breast exposed, her hair adorably mussed, and all he could think about was tossing her down on the mattress and having his way with her.

  Sex with Melody had always been off-the-charts fantastic. Always. She had been willing to try anything at least once, and would go to practically any lengths to please him. In fact, there were times when she could be a little too adventurous and enthusiastic. Three years into their relationship they made love as often and as enthusiastically as their first time when it was all exciting and new—right up until the day she walked out on him.

  But when it came to staying angry with her, seeing her in such a compromised condition and knowing that she had no recollection of cheating on him took some of the wind out of his sails. For now. When she got her memory back, that would be a whole other story.

  But that did not mean he was ready to immediately hop back into bed with her. When, and if, he was ready to have sex with her, he would let her know. He was calling the shots this time.

  “I don’t get why you’re so upset about this,” she said, sounding indignant, and a little dejected.

  “You could have woken me up and asked if it was okay.”

  “Well, seeing as how we’re engaged, I really didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  “You’re not ready for sex.”

  “Which is why I don’t expect anything from you. I was perfectly content just making you feel good. Most guys—”

  “Most guys would not expect their fiancée, who just suffered a serious head injury, to get them off. Especially one who’s still too fragile to have him return the favor. Did you ever stop to think that I might feel guilty?”

  Some of her anger fizzled away. “But it’s been months for you, and I just thought…it just didn’t seem fair.”

  Fair? “Okay, so it’s been months. So what? I’m not a sex fiend. You may have noticed that my puny reptile brain functions just fine without it.”

  That made her crack a smile. “It didn’t seem right that you had to suffer because of me. I just wanted to make you happy.”

  Is that what she had been doing the past three years? Making him happy? Had she believed that she needed to constantly please him sexually to keep him interested? Did she think that because he paid for her school, her room and board, kept her living a lifestyle many women would envy, that she was his…sex slave? And had he ever given her a reason to believe otherwise?

  For him, their relationship was as much about companionship as sex. Although, in three years, of all the times she had offered herself so freely, not to mention enthusiastically, had he ever once stopped her and said, “Let’s just talk instead?”

  Was that why she cheated on him? Did she need someone who treated her like an equal and not a sex object?

  If she felt that way, she should have said so. But since they were stuck together for a while, he should at least set the record straight.

  “The thing is, Mel, I’m not suffering. And even if I was, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “You sure looked like you were this morning when I woke up,” she said.

  “Mel, I’m a guy. I could be getting laid ten times a day and I would still wake up with a hard-on. It’s part of the outdoor plumbing package.”

  She smiled and he offered his hand for her to take. She had to let go of the sheet on one side and it dropped down, completely baring her left breast. It was firm and plump, her nipples small and rosy, and it took all the restraint he could muster not to lean forward and take her into his mouth. He realized he was staring and tore his gaze away to look in her eyes, but she’d seen, and he had the feeling she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

  “Not suffering, huh?” she said with a wry smile.

  Well, not anymore. Not much anyway.

  “I honestly believe that we need to take this slow,” he said. “If you’re not physically ready, we wait. Both of us.”

  “Okay,” she agreed solemnly, giving his hand a squeeze. “You mind if I use the bathroom first, or do you want it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  She rolled out of bed and he assumed she intended to take the sheet along to cover herself. Instead she let it fall and stood there in all her naked glory, thinner than she’d been, almost to point of looking a little bony, but still sexy and desirable as hell.

  Instead of walking straight into the bathroom, she went the opposite way to her suitcase, her hair falling in mussed waves over her shoulders, the sway
of her hips mesmerizing him. He expected her to lift her case and set it on the bed, but instead she bent at the waist to unzip her case right there. She stood not five feet away, her back to him, legs spread just far enough to give him a perfect view of her goods, and he damn near swallowed his own tongue. He saw two perfect globes of soft flesh that he was desperate to get his hands on, her thighs long and milky white, and what lay between them…damn. Doing him must have turned her on, too, because he could see traces of moisture glistening along her folds.

  He had to fist the blankets to keep himself from reaching out and touching her. To stop himself from dropping to his knees and taking her into his mouth. He even caught himself licking his lips in anticipation.

  She seemed to take an unnecessarily long time rifling through her clothes, choosing what to wear, then she straightened. He pulled the covers across his lap, so she wouldn’t notice that conspicuous rise in his pajamas, but she didn’t even look his way; then, as she stepped into the bathroom she tossed him a quick, wicked smile over her shoulder.

  If that little display had been some sort of revenge for snapping at her earlier, she sure as hell knew how to hit where it stung.

  Seven

  They got back on the road late that morning—although it was Melody’s own fault.

  She’d already had a mild headache when she woke up, compounded by the sexual arousal, but bending over like that to open her case, and the pressure it had put on her head, had been a really bad move. The pain went from marginally cumbersome to oh-my-God-kill-me-now excruciating. But it had almost been worth it to see the look on Ash’s face.

  She popped two painkillers then got dressed, thinking she would lie down while Ash got ready then she would be fine. Unfortunately it was the kind of sick, throbbing pain that was nearly unbearable, and exacerbated by the tiniest movement.

  Ash’s first reaction was to drive her to the nearest hospital, but she convinced him that all she needed was a little quiet, and another hour or so of sleep. She urged him to go and get himself a nice breakfast, and wake her when he got back.

  Instead, he let her sleep until almost eleven-thirty! It was nearly noon by the time they got on the road, and she realized, with a sinking heart, that they would never make it back to San Francisco that evening. On the bright side she managed to stay awake for most of the drive, and was able to enjoy the scenery as it passed. Ash played the radio and occasionally she would find herself singing along to songs she hadn’t even realized she knew. But if she made a conscious effort to remember them, her stubborn brain refused to cooperate.

  When they stopped for the night, this time it was in a much more populated area and he managed to find a higher-class hotel with two double beds. However, that didn’t stop her from walking around naked and sleeping in the buff. The truth was, when it came to sleeping naked she wasn’t really doing it to annoy Ash. She actually liked the feel of the sheets against her bare skin. The walking-around-naked part? That was just for fun.

  Not that she didn’t think Ash was right about waiting. When she’d invaded his pj’s yesterday morning she really hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he didn’t want to, that he might feel guilty that it was one-sided. If she wanted to get technical, what she had done was tantamount to rape or molestation. Although, honestly, he hadn’t seemed quite that scandalized.

  Really, she should be thrilled that she was engaged to such a caring and sensitive man. And she supposed that if the burden of pent-up sexual energy became too much, he could just take care of matters himself. Although deep down she really hoped he would wait for her.

  Despite wishing she was in Ash’s bed, curled up against him, she got a decent night’s sleep and woke feeling the best she had since this whole mess began. Her head hardly hurt and when they went to breakfast she ate every bite of her waffles and sausage. Maybe just knowing that in a few hours she would be home was all the medicine she needed for a full recovery.

  Ash spent a lot of the drive on the phone with work, and though she wasn’t sure exactly what was being discussed, the tone of the conversation suggested that they were relieved he was coming back. And he seemed happy to be going back.

  They crossed the Bay Bridge shortly after one, and they were finally in San Francisco. Though the views were gorgeous, she couldn’t say with any certainty that it looked the least bit familiar. They drove along the water, and after only a few minutes Ash pulled into the underground parking of a huge renovated warehouse that sat directly across the street from a busy pier.

  He never said anything about them living on the water.

  “Home sweet home,” he said, zooming past a couple dozen cars that looked just as classy as his, then he whipped into a spot right next to the elevator.

  She peered out the window. “So this is it?”

  “This is the place.” He opened his door and stuck one foot out.

  “What floor do we live on?”

  “The top.”

  “What floor is that?”

  “Six.” He paused a second and asked, “Would you like to go up?”

  She did and she didn’t. She had been anticipating this day for what felt like ages, but now that she was here, back to her old life, she was terrified. What if she didn’t remember? What if the memories never resurfaced? Who would she be?

  Stop being such a baby, she chastised herself. Like Dr. Nelson had reminded her the day she was discharged, it was just going to take time and she would have to be patient. No matter what happened up there, whether she remembered or not, it was going to be okay. She was a fighter.

  She turned to Ash and flashed him a shaky smile. “I’m ready.”

  She got out and waited by the elevator while Ash collected their bags from the trunk. He pushed the button for the elevator and it immediately opened. They stepped inside and he slipped a key in a lock on the panel, then hit the button for the top floor.

  “Does everyone need a key?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Only our floor.”

  She wondered why, and how many other condos were on the top floor. She was going to ask, but the movement of the elevator made her so dizzy it was all she could do to stay upright. Besides, as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, she got her answer.

  They stepped off the elevator not into a hallway, but in a small vestibule in front of a set of double doors. Doors that led directly into their condo! They weren’t a condo on the sixth floor. They were the sixth floor, and what she saw inside when he unlocked the door literally took her breath away. The entire living area—kitchen, dining room and family room—was one huge open space with a ceiling two stories high, bordered by a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean.

  The floors were mahogany, with a shine so deep she could see herself in it. The kitchen looked ultramodern and she was guessing it had every device and gadget on the market. The furniture looked trendy but comfortable, and everything, from the oriental rugs to light fixtures, screamed top-of-the-line.

  For a second she just stood there frozen, wondering if, as some sick joke, he’d taken her to someone else’s condo. If they really lived here, how could she not remember it?

  Ash set the bags on the floor and dropped his keys on a trendy little drop-leaf table beside the door. He started to walk toward the kitchen, but when he realized she wasn’t moving, he stopped and turned to her. “Are you coming in?”

  “You told me you do okay,” she said, and at his confused look she added, “financially. But you do way better than okay, don’t you?”

  He grinned and said, “A little bit better than okay.”

  Her fiancé was loaded. She lived in a loft condo overlooking the ocean. It was almost too much to take in all at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “It just didn’t seem that important. And I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “Oh, awesome idea, because I’m not the least bit overwhelmed now!” She was so freaked out she was practically hyperventilating.

&
nbsp; “I take it nothing looks familiar.”

  “Curiously, no. And you’d think I would have remembered this.”

  “Why don’t I show you around?”

  She nodded and followed him to the kitchen, looking out the bank of windows as they passed, and the view was so breathtaking she had to stop. She could see sailboats and ships on the water and they had a phenomenal view of the Bay Bridge.

  Ash stepped up behind her. “Nice view, huh?”

  “It’s…amazing.”

  “That’s why I bought this place. I always wanted a place by the water.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “I bought it after the divorce was final. Right before we met. You’ve lived here almost as long as I have. You’ve always said that your favorite room is the kitchen.”

  She could see why. The cabinets had a mahogany base with frosted glass doors; the countertops were black granite. All the appliances, even the coffeemaker, were stainless steel and it looked as functional as it was aesthetically pleasing. “Do I cook?”

  “You’re an excellent cook.”

  She hoped that was one of those things that just came naturally.

  There was a laundry room and half bath behind the kitchen, then they moved on to the bedrooms, which were sectioned off on the right side of the loft. Three huge rooms, each with its own full bath and an enormous walk-in closet. He used one as a home office, one was the master, and the third he told her was hers.

  “We don’t share?” she asked, trying hard to disguise her disappointment.

  “Well, you’ve always used this as an office and kept your clothes and things in here. I just figured that until things settle down, maybe you should sleep here, too.”

  But what if she wanted to sleep with him?

  He’s only thinking of your health, she assured herself. She knew that if they slept in the same bed they would be tempted to do things that she just was not ready for. Look what had happened in the hotel. And last night she had wanted so badly to climb out of her own bed and slip into his.