by Naima Simone
Her imagination had supplied several scenarios…each one worse than the last.
Xavier hearing Evelyn out, then escorting her to the door.
Xavier listening to Evelyn’s pleas of forgiveness, accepting them then kissing her farewell before she left the house.
Xavier wiping away Evelyn’s tears as she begged him to come back to her, him telling her of course he had missed her desperately, and then the pair surrendering to passion right on the floor.
“Damn.” She groaned and tunneled her fingers through her hair, sweeping the curls away from her face. Like a glutton for punishment, she stepped in front of the wall mirror and stared. The curls tumbled down in a wild, burnished mass. So unlike Evelyn’s smooth, stylish chignon she cringed.
The other woman embodied the cultured, moneyed world Xavier moved and lived in. She was the accomplished hostess he required for business dinners. The connected socialite who could trace her family roots back to the Mayflower.
And she…she was…
The woman who loved him.
In the mirror, her brown eyes narrowed, turned fierce.
Yes, Evelyn might belong to Boston’s elite, but Xavier belonged to her. She could give him laughter, passion, tenderness and a swift kick in the ass if he needed one. In the last week, she’d done all of those things and, God willing, she would continue for the next fifty plus years.
Shaking off the melancholy and self-pity, she wheeled away from the mirror and headed toward the bedroom door. Twenty-four—another quick glance at the clock—twenty-eight minutes should be long enough for the other woman to unload her guilt and apologies. It’d better be, because she sure as hell refused to stand by and hand-deliver Xavier to his ex without coming clean herself. Time to admit everything. About Joshua. His death.
Her love for him.
The thought of his reaction caused a vise to grip her stomach and tighten. But she breathed through it. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow anxiety to deter her. At least if he sent her home, it wouldn’t be as the coward she’d been for so many years—first with Joshua and then with him. She’d been held captive by fear and insecurity far too long. Xavier wasn’t her mother. He wasn’t—
The door flew open. The wood bounced against the wall and her heart lodged in her throat. She bit back a squeak, but couldn’t prevent her eyes from widening at Xavier’s sudden and dramatic appearance.
His name hovered on her lips but remained there, unspoken, as he entered the room and shut the door behind him with a quiet click more ominous than his arrival.
Shock hadn’t released its cold grip. She remained a frozen statue, lips parted, eyes as wide as saucers. The austere lines of his face revealed nothing. But his eyes. Whoa. They betrayed what seethed behind the stern mask. The green fire blazed and for an insane moment it was as if flames licked over her face and throat.
What the hell had happened downstairs?
“I have a question and I want you to answer it,” he said quietly. An uneasy shiver skated down her spine. “Yes or no. Do you understand?”
She nodded, loath to disagree given his present state.
“Did you call off the wedding and break off the engagement to Joshua the night he died?”
She gasped. Nausea cramped her stomach and rolled over her like an enormous tidal wave, threatening to suck her under. Black, fuzzy dots swarmed her peripheral vision. The air in the room thinned, disappeared and, damn, she was going to faint.
“Gwendolyn.” The razor-sharp voice lashed out at her and cleared her head like an arctic blast. In seconds, the dark edges in her vision receded and she could breathe again. Her heart slowed to a somewhat normal rate, but the nausea lingered, as did the twisted knots in her stomach.
She met his bright stare. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Why? Moments ago she’d been ready to confess all, but now…now that the time had arrived dread filled her chest like a block of concrete. The courage she had gathered trickled away like water circling down a drain. God, he had the power to crush her.
“I couldn’t.” She shook her head and held her arms out, palms up, as if she didn’t have anything else to offer him. “I’d convinced myself I could go through with the wedding and the marriage, but sitting there at the rehearsal dinner, I knew I couldn’t. Not when…” She faltered and her heart pounded so hard, she feared it would burst out of her chest. “When I couldn’t give him what he deserved in a wife.”
“What, Gwendolyn?” He stepped forward. His gaze bored into her, commanding the truth. “What did he deserve?”
“Love. Honesty. Fidelity,” she confessed, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. “I might not have betrayed him physically, but he didn’t own my heart. I told you we had agreed to abstain from sex a year before our marriage. The truth was I couldn’t have sex with Josh any longer. It damaged something inside me every time. Not only was I deceiving him, but the guilt sickened me.” She splayed her fingers over her abdomen as if even now shame churned in her belly. “In the long run, I would have made him miserable and I couldn’t cause him any more pain. Even though I didn’t love him as a lover and wife, he was still the best friend I had.”
“Who did you love?” Xavier moved so fast her breath snagged in her throat. One moment he’d been several feet away and the next he loomed over her, her face cradled between his large palms. He stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs, the caress firm and demanding. “Tell me, Gwen.”
Gwen. Joy surged, hard and fierce. He’d called her Gwen.
“You,” she whispered. “I love you.”
He moaned her name and crushed his lips to hers. Teeth collided, tongues tangled, lips suckled. He feasted on her like a starving man at a banquet. Equally hungry, she cuffed his wrists, rose on tiptoe and claimed him even as he branded her.
“Baby,” he murmured, scattering kisses over her chin and jaw. He returned to her mouth and groaning, plunged deep, his tongue sweeping the interior.
Gwendolyn loosed his wrists and squeezed her arms between his to wrap him in a tight embrace. She clung to him, pressing her breasts to his hard chest. The rigid column of his erection nudged the flesh between her thighs and she rolled her hips against it, a sweet ache radiating from her sex to every limb.
She dragged her mouth away from his.
“Xavier.” Her breath burst from her lungs as she buried her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” He released her face, but as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her, he cupped her nape and gripped her waist.
She lifted her head and shook it. “I thought you would blame me for his death. I did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Josh was so angry that night.” The images were so clear even six years later. “I couldn’t blame him. I’d hurt him so horribly and I hated myself for a long time. When he left, he wasn’t rational. If I hadn’t ended the engagement, he wouldn’t have been so upset. He wouldn’t have died.”
Finally, she’d admitted her secret guilt. Silence permeated the room. Each second ticking by was like a lifetime and she couldn’t bear not knowing his reaction. She opened her eyes.
And stared into the face of redemption.
A soft cry escaped her lips. She bowed her head and leaned forward until her forehead bumped his chin.
“I was so scared,” she rasped, voice hoarse with the weight of unshed tears. “So scared you would hold me responsible.”
“Gwen. Baby.” Xavier pinched her chin and tilted her head back, forcing her to look at him. “Joshua’s accident was a senseless tragedy. No one is to blame. For six years you’ve been a prisoner of a shame not belonging to you. If you had come to me, I would have never let you bear the burden alone.”
Again she shook her head. “That would have been incredibly unfair. You were with Evelyn and dealing with your younger brother’s death. How could I tell you I had broken up with Josh the night before our wedding because I loved yo
u?”
“How could you not?”
The quiet question arrested her. Set her pulse off in rapid beats. Doubt veered toward longing. Longing edged toward cautious joy.
“Your turn,” she insisted and delivered the same demand he’d issued minutes earlier. “Tell me.”
“I love you.” Xavier speared his fingers through her curls, gripped her head tight and demanded her undivided attention. “I loved you when I had no right. Even when I felt guilty as hell for wanting you, I did.” He gave her head a small shake. “You’ve pulled me back from the abyss, Gwen. I have hope when a week ago I was hopeless. I look into your eyes and believe I can be the man I once was. And the person I could be for you. With you.”
“I’ve dreamed of you saying this to me.” She touched his jaw, his lips, the precious, precious scar. “I never thought my dreams would come true.”
Xavier lowered his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth. Joy filled her, spilled over in breathless laughter.
“I love you,” she vowed and reached up to cradle his cheek. “So, where do we go from here?”
A blinding smile spread wide over his face, stunning in its beauty.
“Why that’s simple, baby,” he murmured, and she melted at the tenderness reflected in his eyes. “We live happily ever after.”
About Naima Simone
I was born the daughter of a sharecropper…okay, maybe not. But I am the daughter of a pastor, from whom I inherited my love of romance. The man can preach a mean Song of Solomon! (There’s that plug, Daddy! You can pay me later!)
Although my first book starred a cucumber named Fred, my first romance came several years later in the seventh grade when I wrote myself as a heroine opposite Ralph Tresvant from New Edition. Through the power of my pen and imagination, Ralph took one look across a crowed stadium, met my dark, mysterious gaze, fell passionately in love and serenaded me in front of everyone—once we had the inevitable fight, a.k.a. black moment, and made up with a passionate declaration of love and fidelity. The same story reincarnated itself many times over the years—with Donnie Wahlberg from New Kids on the Block, Brad Pitt, Denzel Washington and, as recently as last night, Vin Diesel.
Though the characters have changed, my love of love has endured. Shaping the lives of the unique men and women who experience the first, hungry bites of lust, the dizzying heights of passion and the tender, healing heat of love—nothing compares to it. Except maybe discovering new material for love scenes with my husband, the head of Research & Development!
Naima welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Naima Simone
Desire in the Dark
Love and Protect
Stroke of Midnight
Sweet Ultimatum
Under His Wing
Print books by Naima Simone
Sweet Ultimatum
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Bargain With the Beast
ISBN 9781419942624
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Bargain With the Beast Copyright © 2013 Naima Simone
Edited by Violet Hughes
Cover design by Kendra Egert
Cover photography by Jennleblanc.photoshelter.com and Shawshot/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication April 2013
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