by Noelle Adams
He built up a fast, steady rhythm, and she pumped her hips up to meet each of his thrusts. After a minute, he began to make soft, primal grunts to the rhythm of his thrusting, and she matched them with little sounds of her own. Soon the bed was shaking, and Molly’s body was tight with the deep tension of a swelling orgasm.
“Luke!” she cried out, more loudly than she’d expected as her body began to tremble in expectation.
“Yes,” he rasped, leaning down to give her a clumsy kiss as his hips worked ceaselessly between her thighs. “Yes.”
“Luke!” she cried again, releasing the bedding she’d been clutching and clawing at the skin of his back.
“Yes.” The word was almost an affirmation—hoarse, like it was ripped out his throat. His features twisted, but his eyes never left her face.
For some reason, it was the sound of his voice and the expression in his eyes—even more than the working of his body—that pushed her into climax. Molly cried out his name as she came, riding him from below as the pleasure pulsed through her.
As her intimate muscles clamped down on him, Luke froze. Then he gasped, “Molly,” as all the tension in his body broke.
She wrapped her arms around him as he collapsed on top of her. Both of them panted desperately, heat radiating through the press of their skin.
Luke was heavy on top of her, but Molly didn’t mind. There was something about it she liked.
She also liked the softness of his body, now that he’d released so much tension.
She was a little sore but deliciously sated. She found herself stroking the skin of Luke’s back, where she’d been clawing at it before.
“You all right?” Luke asked at last. His face was buried in the hollow of her neck.
“Yeah. Good. So good.”
He pressed a soft kiss against her skin, but he sounded more natural when he asked, “You’re really all right with not using a condom?”
“Yeah. As long as there are no call girls.”
“There are no call girls.” His face was still hidden from her as he gently nuzzled her neck and shoulder. “I told you it’s been more than a year. I don’t want call girls.”
“Good,” she breathed.
There was a long pause. Then he added, “I just want you.”
“Good. Me too.”
It was good. She’d thought they were probably exclusive, but she’d needed to have it confirmed. Hearing him say that shouldn’t have felt so good, though, shouldn’t have felt like her heart had burst open and flooded her chest and belly.
No matter how careful she’d tried to be, she was treading very dangerous ground here. She wasn’t a fool. And just because she told herself theirs was an arrangement based on mutual convenience and satisfaction, it didn’t mean her feelings would necessarily be limited to those parameters. She suspected she was already emotionally invested way beyond the bounds of their agreement, and she really needed to sort things out and get some sort of perspective.
Otherwise, she’d find herself in too deep to ever pull out.
The last time she'd done something so foolish—with Baron, four years ago—her poor heart had been utterly crushed.
Nine
Molly reached behind her neck to hook the clasp of the antique necklace Luke had given her last Christmas. It was a stunning piece of jewelry—the thick white-gold chain looped into decorative knots with a dropped pear-shaped pendant of diamonds surrounding one large ruby.
As she always did with Luke’s gifts, she’d investigated to find out how much it cost, but she’d not been able to find anything similar enough to estimate a price.
She wasn’t thinking about how expensive the necklace was as she stared at it now. She was just thinking how beautiful it was, and how much she loved how it looked around her neck.
In fact, Molly was generally pleased with the world this evening. She was completely dressed for a black-tie affair in an outfit she actually liked. She hadn’t been rushed in getting ready, and she still had five more minutes before she and Luke were scheduled to leave.
She’d never considered herself the type to primp excessively over her appearance, but she couldn’t help but turn a circle and examine herself again in her full-length mirror. She wore a floor-length black silk evening skirt with very slim lines and a slit that reached up to her mid-thigh. In fact, when she extended her leg too far, she could see the lacy top of her stockings. But she wasn’t likely to strike such a pose at the museum gala, so she figured she looked respectable enough.
She’d paired the skirt with a top she’d just bought a few days ago. It was ruby red silk adorned with gorgeous black embroidery. It had a halter-style neck that dipped low at her cleavage and had almost no back.
She smiled at herself in the mirror.
Then she grabbed her black wrap and a clutch and glanced once more at the clock.
She still had two minutes before Luke was expecting them to leave. He hadn’t been back from work when she’d gone to take a shower, but she was sure he’d arrived by now and would be ready on time. He always was.
As she left her bedroom, she double-checked her rings and verified the diamond and platinum bands glittering on her left hand.
Molly was surprised not to find Luke waiting in the living room. She saw his keys and his phone on the entry table so she knew he was home. He must not be ready yet.
She waited four minutes, but when he still hadn’t emerged, she was surprised enough to go back to find him.
Knocking on his bedroom door, she called, “Luke?”
“Yes.”
“It’s time, isn't it? You ready?”
“Yes.”
So she swung open the door and blinked when she saw Luke standing across the room, wearing the black trousers to one of his tuxedos but just starting to fasten the studs on his white shirt.
He turned his head at her entrance and gave her an ironic look, his fingers working swiftly on the studs.
Molly broke out in a wide grin, feeling a rush of victory at being ready to leave on time while catching Luke not even close.
“Don’t say it.” Luke gave her a narrow-eyed look.
She managed to repress her amusement and just asked sweetly, “Running a little late?”
He appeared to be hiding a smile, but all he did was arch his eyebrows and say, “I’ll be ready in two minutes.” He started to tuck his shirttails into his pants, but he scanned her from top to bottom as he did. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” she said sincerely, flushing with pleasure. She could hardly doubt that appreciative look in his eyes.
She glanced at his left hand, hoping to catch him without his wedding ring the way he so often caught her, since he'd obviously just gotten out of the shower. But he was wearing it. In fact, she couldn't remember ever seeing him without it. He probably wore it in the shower. Molly always took her rings off—even though she rationally knew the water wouldn't hurt them. She just wasn't comfortable getting such expensive jewelry so wet.
He was adjusting one of his cufflinks, but he must have noticed her gaze. He glanced down at his left hand and then gave her a quizzical look.
She pretended not to have been looking at his wedding ring. "Just checking out your cufflinks. Those are the ones I gave you for your birthday." That had been his first birthday after they'd gotten married. She knew she needed to get him something since he'd gotten her a present for hers, but she'd been completely at a loss. Choosing and dismissing about a hundred possibilities, she'd finally gone with the cufflinks and stud set.
"I remember."
While Luke was shrugging on his jacket, she noticed his bow tie lying on the dresser. She picked it up and carried it over to him. Since he was working on his second cuff, she wrapped the black tie around his collar and then knotted it into a neat bow, trying not to focus on how deliciously clean and masculine Luke smelled.
“Thanks.” His eyes rested on her face as she finished with his tie.
For some reason, sh
e felt shy and then wished she hadn’t fixed his tie after all. He obviously was capable of doing it himself. She’d never done anything like that for Luke before.
Of course, he was always dressed before she was.
She took a step back and watched as he went over to the bench at the foot of his bed to put on his socks and shoes. He looked as handsome and pulled-together as he always did, but—now that she looked at him more closely—she could tell he also appeared a little pulled.
Even though most of his days were packed full, he usually wasn’t this rushed.
“Is everything all right at work?” she asked.
“Why do you ask?”
That answer was a little strange. He normally would have just given her a simple assurance. She watched, wondering what might be wrong, as he tied his shoes.
When he looked back up and she realized he was waiting for an answer, she gave a little shrug and said lightly, “You’re running late and you look a little… Is everything all right?”
Luke didn't answer right away. Then he stood up and straightened his tux in the mirror, still not answering. Finally, he said, “We may have to close the tearooms.”
Molly gasped. “Shut them down permanently? All of them?”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes.
Last year, his company had started a new initiative, opening a new chain of tearooms to appeal to Anglophiles and old-world nostalgics. So far, there were less than a hundred stores, but he’d been hoping they would take off like the coffee shops had.
“You can’t,” she choked, raising a hand to her mouth. “All those people would lose their jobs.”
Luke’s jaw clenched as he turned his head. “I know.”
Her belly flipped and she made herself moderate her tone. “I’m sorry. I know you know that. I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off. Then restarted with a different question. “Are they really doing that badly?”
“They’re bleeding money. I’ve been doing everything I can to turn them around, but it’s just not happening.”
Molly felt kind of sick at the idea of such a huge downsize—not just the staff at the tearooms but all the corporate machinery that backed them.
Luke was putting on his watch but he slanted a look over at her. “I can’t let it go on like this indefinitely. I have the good of the entire company to think of.”
She realized he was defending himself against what he believed she was thinking. “I know. I know. I wasn’t judging you.” She twisted her hands together and wanted to cry at the thought of Luke’s having to make such a horrible decision.
He was fully dressed now and they were already late, but he just stood in the middle of the floor and studied her face, something quiet and unreadable in his eyes.
She cleared her throat and tried to sound natural as she asked, “Are there any other options at all?”
“I’m working on a new marketing strategy. I can give it maybe six months.”
Molly nodded. “I’m sure you’ll do everything you can.”
He stared at her for a moment, not saying anything and not moving. She couldn’t exactly read his expression, but it was almost questioning—as if maybe he didn’t believe she meant what she’d said.
He was gorgeous in his tuxedo. It was modern in its sleek cut and the lack of cummerbund or vest—but there was still something traditionally elegant in the way he looked in black tie, something that made Molly’s belly twist.
He looked affluent, powerful, infinitely sophisticated, but he was so much more than that.
“What’s the matter?” Luke asked, his brows drawing together.
Responding to instinct, Molly stepped over and wrapped him in a soft hug. He was stiff for a few moments, but then his body relaxed and he hugged her back.
When she pulled away, he looked down at her with that same questioning gaze. “What was that for?” he asked, almost suspiciously.
She couldn’t tell him that it was because she felt soft, protective, almost tender. So she said lightly, “That was so you wouldn’t feel bad about running so late.”
She was rewarded a moment later when he laughed in response.
* * *
They were driven to the natural history museum, where they were going to attend the annual museum gala. Molly had gone with Luke for the last three years. She didn't mind it too much, since there was only about an hour of mingling and cocktails and the rest of it was dinner and speeches. While the speeches were often boring, at least she could sit at a table and not worry about making small talk.
Besides, she actually liked the museum and always looked forward to hearing any updates and news on recent acquisitions and new exhibits.
They made their way through the museum until they entered the huge hall that housed the marine exhibits, including the enormous, life-sized blue whale that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The hall had been set for banquet seating, but first they had to make it through the cocktail hour.
Luke snagged them both glasses of red wine and they circulated through the hall, making casual conversation with dozens of acquaintances. Molly noticed that Luke wasn’t as “on” as he normally was—he was smooth and civil but not up to his normal level of schmoozing. And more than once she had to pick up the slack in the conversation.
He’d had a hard day. He was worried about the situation with his company. And she could hardly blame him for not wanting to conquer the room at this gala tonight. She wished she could simply take him home.
They’d just escaped from a long conversation with the museum director, who was giving them a major sales pitch on the fundraising the museum was trying to do. They hadn’t made it two steps before they were greeted by Michael Patrick and his wife Heidi. Michael was big in the Toronto business scene, and Molly was used to talking to the Patricks at events of this kind.
“Good to see you, Luke,” Michael said, in a booming voice. “How’s life treating you and your lovely wife?”
They responded appropriately and the conversation went on predictably for a minute or two. Then Michael asked, “So are you gonna close the tearooms? I’ve been hearing rumors.”
Molly felt Luke stiffen beside her, although nothing but smooth composure was reflected on his face. “We have no such plans at this time.”
Michael looked dubious, and Molly could see he was about to pursue a further inquisition. Annoyed by his nosiness and sure Luke didn't want to talk about it, Molly spoke up before Michael could voice his next question. “Heidi,” Molly said, wrapping her arm around Luke’s waist in an unspoken attempt at support, “I just love your necklace. Is it new?”
It was a perfect distraction, since Heidi Patrick loved to talk about clothes and jewelry. So after they’d covered all of Heidi’s jewelry and then all of Molly’s jewelry, someone else had called Michael over into a conversation.
When Molly and Luke were left alone, he draped an arm around her and pulled her against the front of his body.
He’d done that sort of thing in public before. He’d always liked to give the world the impression that they were not just in a stable marriage but in a loving, passionate one. But at the moment Molly wasn't even aware of the eyes that might be watching them.
She peered up at his face. He still looked tired, stretched. “We can go home, if you want.”
He shook his head. His lips parted, as if he would speak, but he didn't shape any words. Instead, he just bent his head down and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth. It wasn’t deep or intense—but it caused a rush of pleasure, more emotional than physical, to wash over her.
He’d kissed her before as part of their marriage pretense to the world, but this kiss felt like he might really mean it.
Molly didn't have time to think too deeply about the kiss because, just as Luke pulled away, looking like he might say something she wanted to hear, they were approached by a couple of Luke’s work associates, who clearly wanted to talk business for a minute. Molly went to refill their drinks.
On her way back
to Luke with two full glasses of red wine, she ran into Mason Eckard. She'd known Mason for a couple of years from dozens of these social events. He was the curator of one of the local art museums and an intelligent, engaging man. She paused to say hello to him.
“That is a gorgeous necklace,” Mason said, his eyes on the diamond and ruby pendant resting at her cleavage
Molly smiled sincerely at the compliment. “Thank you! It was a gift from Luke, of course.”
“He does have good taste.” Mason smiled back at her before his gaze returned to the necklace. “I just love art deco jewelry. Is it from Paris in the 1930’s?”
Molly didn’t know many men—or women either—who would have been able to place the date and location of a random necklace, but Mason had always been superbly informed on art, architecture, and jewelry. He was attractive, with silvering hair and beautifully sculpted features, and both clever and articulate. He’d never been married, and he never took a date to any social event he attended. She’d always assumed he was gay but, since he’d never brought up his sexual orientation, she’d never gotten confirmation.
“That’s probably right,” she said, still smiling at him because he was nice and she was in a good mood. “You’ll have to ask Luke for more details. He didn’t give me all the information on the necklace because he knew I’d snoop until I found out how much it cost.”
Mason laughed appreciatively and reached out for the pendant. Before he actually touched it, he glanced up at her for permission. “May I?”
“Of course.” Molly didn’t care if he touched the necklace. She knew it was an unusual piece, and Mason obviously loved such things.
Both of her hands were full with the wine glasses so Mason gently lifted the necklace from where it rested against her skin and inspected it, turning it over to look at the back and stroking the ruby with his thumb. His knuckles accidentally brushed the top of her breasts exposed by her low neckline—which admittedly felt a little weird—but he obviously was interested in the necklace and not her body. He felt safe, so she didn’t pull back the way she would have with another man.
