by S. L. Scott
He lowers me to the bed and I fall under his spell, into the purgatory that keeps us caught between the future I want and the future he’s creating. With my hands on his shoulder and neck, our lips part, our eyes wide open to what we are—together and separately. We signed a deal with the devil before we read the contract. We’ll take this journey together, because it’s too late to turn back now.
I slide my hands up until my fingers dig into his hair, and I bring him down, our lips meeting again. Moving one hand lower, I drag my nails over the front of his T-shirt and lower until I find the bulge in his jeans. “I want to make you feel good, Alexander.”
His hand covers mine, and he starts to pull me back. “No, you shouldn’t do too much. It’s too soon.”
“Please. I want to be here for you. Let me.”
The moment he stops tugging, he presses my hand down. “It feels so good to have you touch me again. I’ve missed you so damn much.”
Palming him through his jeans, a dull ache starts pulsing between my legs. Ignoring what I shouldn’t be doing, I focus on what feels good, and being with him feels so good. His hands move quickly to the button and his jeans are unzipped right after. “Fuck, Firefly. I’m not going to last. Again. You feel too good.”
“You don’t have to last. Let me please you.” Reaching beneath the cotton of his boxer briefs, I slide my hand along hard muscle covered in smooth skin. I palm the head and take a firm hold, sliding up and down slowly at first then picking up my pace.
Alexander’s hand finds my thigh and slides between my legs. “You don’t have to,” I say, my breath already coming in short pants.
Looking at me, he smiles. “Don’t you know I get off when you do?” The tips of his fingers drag just under the hem of my underwear. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“You always were a quick learner.”
He kisses my nose and closes his eyes, his lips parting when I tighten my hold. I bite my lip to keep from moaning when a finger dips into my opening. Sliding in and then pulling out, he adds another before thrusting in again. My hips move with him, and my mind blurs, craving more friction but afraid to wiggle too much. My hand becomes sloppy and inconsistent. When he rubs against my swollen clit, my back arches just enough to remind me to not move too fast, my side flaring in pain. I pause, but when he groans in desire, I ignore my pain for his pleasure and start stroking him again.
The fire inside me spreads, reaching my cheeks and fueling them with heat burning my body and I come. “Alexander.”
“Cruise says we should think about—Oh shit.”
I gasp, and am left cold, coming down when Alexander scrambles to his feet. Jason backs out of the cracked-open door just as Alexander swings it open and shoves him against the far wall of the hall. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Scurrying to push my skirt down, my cheeks flush for different reasons now, humiliation setting in. I check to make sure I’m covered before covering my face with my hands. Oh my God.
I hear a scuffle and sit up. Jason has pushed Alexander, and I yell, “No. Don’t fight.”
Alexander takes him by the shirt and slams him against the door. “You think you have rights when you have none. Get the fuck out.”
Jason glances my way. I feel exposed as his gaze covers every inch of my body. When his eyes go back to Alexander’s, his voice is calm. “You need me, so I suggest you let go of my shirt and back the fuck off.”
“Fuck you.”
“If for no other reason, back off out of respect for your girlfriend.”
Alexander’s body shudders with anger as he holds Jason by the top of his shirt. “What does that mean? How am I disrespecting her?”
Taking a deep inhale through his nose, Jason grabs Alexander by the wrists. He lowers them and then presses his shoulder against him in some kind of macho move. Whispering loud enough for me to hear, Jason says, “Because I can smell her on your hands.”
The fight starts so fast I don’t know who swings first. I just know they’re both taken down at the same time. I jump up as Cruise runs between them. Cruise isn’t small, but he’s no match for them.
I am.
Moving between them before they can throw another punch, I throw my arms out. “No. You will not fight.”
Cruise helps push Alexander back. “Calm down, King. He’s on our side. We need him.”
“We don’t. We were fine before him.”
“Don’t let your jealousy cloud your mind.”
Jason laughs, blood running from the side of his mouth. “Yeah, don’t let your jealousy get the best of you, King.”
I push Jason to the opposite end of the hall. His hands grab hold of my elbows. As if my boyfriend isn’t there, he looks me in the eyes, and whispers, “One day we’ll get that dance we never had.”
I’m shocked by how forthright he is. His intentions are clearly to piss off Alexander, and I think I know why, so I ask, “Are you sure a dance is all you want?”
“One step leads to two.”
“No steps. No dance. I’m with Alexander.”
Our gazes are locked when I hear Alexander’s voice—calm, eerily so—call me, “Firefly.”
Not a question. Not a demand. One word used as ammo against Jason. One word that clearly articulates his love for me.
Cruise yells, “What are you doing, Koster? Stop it. She’s King’s woman.”
Taking a step back, I blink, still surprised by Jason and his actions. He watches me, yet I see no remorse. I take another step, backing away before turning and tucking myself into Alexander’s side. Wrapping his arms tightly around me, he says, “I’m taking you to the manor. I’ll deal with him later.”
While wiping the side of his mouth onto his T-shirt, we head for the door. Once it’s opened, I can’t stop myself. I look back. Cruise is griping at Jason. I can’t hear what Cruise is saying, but I do see the smirk on Jason’s face.
What the hell is he doing? Does he have a death wish?
The door closes, and I snuggle closer to Alexander as we leave, not sure if he needs it more or I do.
What the hell just happened?
17
Sara Jane
Walking out to the terrace, I see April sitting in a chair overlooking the gardens. I’m not in the mood to chat, but she sees me before I have a chance to go inside. “Join me. It’s a lovely day.”
I look toward the manor’s gardens, trying to spot the lake. I smile when I see it, the memories made in innocence, something that seems so distant now. “It is. Blue skies.”
“It might rain.”
Glancing up, there’s not a cloud in the sky. Odd she would say that. I sit across the table from her, still unsure of her presence here and my place as Alexander’s fake wife.
“I get so tired in the late afternoon.”
“I’ve always loved a good nap.”
“How have you been sleeping?”
I slept well last night at the penthouse, but I’m not sure passing out counts. “Not too bad. I’m frustrated staying in bed all the time. I wish it wasn’t the middle of the semester. I’d be more than happy to return to my classes.”
“You’ve made good progress. Most people would still be in bed at least another week, if not two. Not you. You’re up and about.” She spins her mug around by the handle. “I heard you left the manor yesterday. All by yourself. Do you think that was wise?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“If you could, you wouldn’t need Alexander’s charity.” She sips her coffee while my mouth hangs open, stunned.
“Is that what you think I am to him?” I stand, almost laughing by how wrong she is. “A charity case?”
“I’m not sure what you are to him—a fixation or someone he thinks he can save.”
Pressing my palms against the cold metal of the heavy iron chairs, I endeavor to maintain a façade of strength while trying to ease the stabbing pain. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not a passing fancy or a teenage crush he never got
over. I’m the woman he will do anything to be with, the one who holds his heart and his love completely.”
“He’s one of the most powerful men in the country, maybe the world now. He needs—”
“Don’t tell me what he needs. You don’t know Alexander like I do. You barely know him at all.”
She flinches under the insult, but recovers quickly. “He’s changing. I watched him while you were gone. He’s a man now, not a boy. What you have is—I don’t know what it is, but he deserves something more than a childish fascination.”
“You don’t understand what we are because you’ve never had what we have. I suggest you mind your business, whatever business it is you think you have here.”
“Are you threatening me, Sara Jane?”
“I don’t have to threaten you. I’m not walking a precarious tightrope between his past life and the present.” I turn to leave, but stop to add, “As for the latter, is he saving me or am I saving him?” I go back inside. So much for fresh air. Thirsty, I make my way to the kitchen where I find Neely.
She smiles. “Sara Jane,” she says in a warning tone, though from her it’s from a place of true concern, “why are you out of bed?”
“I can’t take lying around all day. I’m starting to lose my mind in that room.”
“I can bring you anything you require.”
“Require. I really don’t like that word.” It’s one that Alexander Kingwood III used liberally when it came to his demands.
She laughs. “Does anything you want or need sound better?”
“I think it’s more the premise. I don’t want you waiting on me.”
Her eyebrows push so high that lines define themselves across her forehead. “It’s my job. I like my job and would like to keep it.” Her smile reassures me.
“I’m a bad patient and a bad houseguest. Batting two for two.”
“Let’s change that average. You must have come in here for something—drink? Food?”
My stomach growls, and I smile this time. “My body’s a traitor these days.”
“Ha. Let’s make you something. It will be my pleasure.”
April’s insinuation that I’m not enough for Alexander bothers me. What does she know anyway? Nothing. Nothing about me, and even less about Alexander. I sit at the bar and trace a black line that swirls through the expensive natural stone surface.
A glass of orange juice is set in front of me. “You seem to have a lot on your mind.” Leaning down, Neely rests her head on her hand, like me.
Neely’s young, not quite forty. No ring on her finger. Pretty, with her dark hair and deep-chestnut eyes. I put on a smile again for her. She doesn’t deserve to have her day burdened with my problems. “How long have you worked here?”
“Too long. Over twelve years now.”
“Twelve years. Neely, why have you stayed?”
“Where do I have to go?”
“Surely you could have found another job, rather than staying here.”
“Your Alexander was here, Sara Jane. I couldn’t leave him. I wouldn’t leave him alone.”
She sets a plate down with two homemade blueberry muffins on top, and then I see that Alexander did have an ally here. I’m glad, and while looking into her kind eyes, I think I just might as well.
I’m awoken with kisses down the length of my arm, ending on the top of my hand. I open my eyes lazily, enjoying the feel of Alexander consumed by me. “Climb in bed with me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. I reach behind me as he curls to my backside. “You’re naked. Were you waiting for an invitation?”
My shoulder is kissed, his tongue and lips trailing up my neck as his hand takes hold of my hip. He doesn’t touch the bandaged area. He’s always so careful with me, as if I’ll break. I’m sturdier than he realizes. While one hand gets a handful of my right breast, he says, “I will never get enough of you, Firefly.”
“I hope you’re always as needy for me as I am for you.”
“More. I’m always more, my queen.”
The endearment triggers flashbacks of being in the car on the way to the hospital. “You were born to be queen. My queen, baby. Stay with me.”
“I can’t make that promise . . . but the ride was good. We were good. So good.”
I squeeze my eyelids, hoping to rid myself of the memory, not wanting to relive my death.
“Hey.” Alexander’s voice breaks through my fogged head, giving me something to hold on to.
My mouth opens and I take in a deep breath and slowly exhale. I open my eyes and look up into his comforting ones. “I need to tell you something.”
Rubbing my arm, he nods. “Okay.”
“I died, Alexander.”
The gentle slope up of his smile falls down, his lips now a straight line. “What do you mean?” He moves to his back, and I turn and cuddle close, as close as I can get to him with my leg draped on top of his.
“I died. In your arms that day in the car.”
“Sara Jane, you’re here. You’re here in my arms now. Alive.”
I run my nails lightly over his chest, not wanting to leave a mark. “I wasn’t there—for seconds, minutes.” The stillness of his body is unsettling, every muscle paralyzed for seconds. I lift up to look into his eyes, and say, “I remember it and it freaks me out.” I can’t help the stress in my voice. It’s something I’ve not allowed myself to worry about.
He sits up, dragging his weight until he’s propped against the headboard. “Don’t let it bother you. You lived. You’re living. Thank God.”
“Other stuff has happened.”
“Like what?”
“Today at the penthouse. I could feel Chad’s presence.”
Relief brushes across his face as if I’ve put his mind at ease. “I feel Chad there too. It’s strange without him.”
“I miss him.”
“Me too.”
“His funeral is in two days.”
“Yeah,” he says, staring across the room. When his eyes return to mine, as if he can read my mind, he asks, “What else is bothering you?”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“I’m here for you. What worries you?”
“Not so much worried as I’m weirded out by some things that April said. She told me you’re changing, as if I hadn’t noticed. As if I wouldn’t notice. I see you, Alexander. You can change. You can become whoever you want to be, but please don’t forget about me.”
“I don’t know why she would say anything that would worry you, but ignore her. I think something else is on your mind. What do you think brought this on?” Ever astute is my Alexander.
“You’re not going to stop until you get answers, so let me be a part of things. Let me help you get what you need.”
“No. It’s too dangerous. Look what’s already happened. I can’t risk your life again. Just focus your energy on healing and finishing your degree. You have one semester left.”
“My life is at risk simply because I’m with you.”
His eyes harden as he stares across the room, thoughts he doesn’t want to share clouding his eyes. When he finally looks back, resolve coats his tone. “You have a point, but what do you think you can do to help that won’t include front-line exposure?”
Front-line exposure? It still surprises me how deeply into this mission he’s become. “Maybe I could do what Chad did.”
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. I can tell this isn’t comfortable for him. “Shelly is the best candidate.”
“Shelly?” My voice pitches as I shake my head. “You’re asking Shelly to come work for you full-time?”
“She was practically there day and night with him. She would hover over his shoulder, and she understands his practices.”
“You can’t just slot her into Chad’s spot like you found a missing puzzle piece.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t be callous. That’s not who you are.” I maneuver to the side and look down before peeking back up at him
. “She blames me for his death. She doesn’t think any better of you. She’ll never work for you.”
“Everyone has a price, Sara Jane. It’s only a matter of finding out what it is.”
My head jerks back as I stare at him. I scoot away, needing space between us, shocked by his words. “That’s how your father used to think.”
I get out of bed, but my wrist is grabbed. “I’m nothing like my father.”
Glancing down to the hold he has on me, I ask, “You sure about that?”
His hand releases me, his fingers flexing as if they had been bound to me and are now free. “I’m going out.”
“What?” I’m angry as well as sad, but mostly ticked off that once again he’s creating walls and keeping me out. He starts to get up, but I grab his arm this time. When his furious blues hit me, I sit up on my knees and say, “Don’t let your anger make decisions you’ll regret later.”
He laughs humorlessly. “My whole life is full of regrets. What’s one more?”
“I know what you’re doing, and I want you to stop. Don’t push me away, Alexander.” He crosses his arms and doesn’t move, just stares, making me feel naked, vulnerable before him. I cross my arms over my chest and stare right back. “Can we lower our emotional weapons? Caught up in a game of mental warfare is not how I want to be with you.”
“Nor I with you. I don’t even know how this fight started.”
Standing up on the mattress, I uncross his arms and wrap them around me. I hold his head against my chest, and he lets me, his body easing as he submits to me. “We’re in this together. We don’t have a choice.”
“We never did.”
I kiss the top of his head. “No, we never did, did we?” Leaning my head on top of his, I whisper, “I know we’re only pretending, but I meant what I said at the hospital. I want to be married to you. We can do it your way, but please don’t make me wait too long.”
Looking at me, the intensity of his love strikes me. I don’t think he could hide the depth of that eternity he plans to spend with me if he tried. God, I love him. So much. He kisses my chin. “I won’t. I promise.”
