by Shayla Black
“Excellent.” I work myself loose from Linda’s grip. In no way, shape, or form do I want to give that woman any idea that I’m interested in her overtures. “Harlow would like peace and happiness in her life. It’s come to my attention these are two things you’ve never cared whether she’s had in the past. That changes now. Mr. Reed—”
“Barclay, please. Harlow has misrepresented her childhood, I’m sure. She had the best of everything—schools, clothes, cars. The truth is, she suffers from a bit of leftover teen angst.”
It’s all I can do not to call bullshit as I throttle the asshole. “I tend to believe my wife. She desires your absence from her life. In exchange—”
“That’s absurd,” her father insists. “We had no intention of barging in on her honeymoon. Of course we’ll give her a few weeks of privacy while she settles into married life.”
“Exactly.” Linda sends her soon-to-be ex-husband a sidelong glance as if she’s reading him so they can plot, then sidles closer to me again. “We were thinking that we should have a lovely cookout for Fourth of July. Or perhaps later that month we can celebrate my birthday together as a family.”
“No. She desires both of you absent for the rest of her life.”
“What?” Linda looks shocked and perplexed. “What stories has that silly girl been telling you?”
I know of few women who are less “silly” than Harlow, and her mother’s question only pisses me off more.
“Details are unpleasant and unnecessary. Let’s get down to business. Mrs. Reed, if you’ll sign an agreement to walk away from Harlow and abide by it, I’ll give you five million dollars—evenly divided over the next ten years.”
The woman’s blue eyes widen with a gasp. She licks her lips, looking nervous.
“Linda…” Barclay growls in warning as if he knows she’ll be tempted.
She ignores him. “You’ll put that in writing?”
“I’ve already got it right here.” I extract the agreements I had drafted, which are sealed in envelopes. “If you sign tonight, I’ll give you a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus.”
“No,” Harlow’s father answers for his estranged wife.
“Yes,” she snaps defiantly, then whirls on him.
“We value family too much.”
She scoffs at his clenched-teeth assertion. “When have you ever given two shits about your children unless they could somehow help you? Never.” The woman turns to me. “I’ll take it.”
“I forbid it,” Barclay insists, fists clenched.
That makes Linda laugh. “You don’t have that power anymore. If I want to escape you, I need money, you tight-fisted bastard. Our new son-in-law has just given me the means to say sayonara to you forever. I’ll see you in court, of course. After all, I helped you make most of that money and spent more than one evening on my back with your sweaty colleagues to make deals happen, so I’m entitled to half.”
Holy shit. Linda isn’t exaggerating, either. Not if Barclay’s face is any indication. That’s how much this man wanted money and power, enough to whore out his own wife?
“Prenuptial agreement, remember?” The man smiles acidly.
“It’s ancient,” she insists with a stomp of her foot.
“But binding.”
“We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m taking Weston’s money and spending my life with Marco, a real man who gives a damn about someone besides himself.”
“He’ll give a damn about you as long as you have cash, Linda. As soon as it’s dried up, so will his affection.”
“You don’t know anything about us.” She turns back to me. “Where do I sign?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” I say, glad the bickering twosome finally gave me an opening. “Mr. Reed—”
“I don’t need your money.”
“You don’t.” I nod. I’ve had this guy investigated over the past couple of days. He’s got a healthy bank balance to go with his rotting heart. “But as I understand it, you’re about to close on big deal with some slightly reluctant owners of a lucrative family-owned business. Great product, by the way. With the right exposure, it will take off and make everyone millions. You have an obviously good nose for business.”
“I do, which is why if you stop listening to whatever nonsense Harlow is spouting, you’ll see that you and I can make serious bank together and—”
“How would an openly religious family feel about knowing that you have a nasty predilection for seducing your very young secretaries and getting them pregnant? How would they feel about knowing you have two illegitimate children and another on the way?”
“You have no proof!”
“I do. Evan Cook bumped his DNA against Maxon’s. We have the test results. I’m also in the process of tracking down your other daughter, Bethany, right now.”
“That was decades ago. I’ll tell them I’m a born-again man.”
“Well, I also have a sworn statement from one of your more recent assistants, Liselle. She signed an affidavit that you hired her at twenty and had her pregnant a few months later. You fired her when she had an abortion and refused to warm your bed again. You’re on the verge of settling her lawsuit, aren’t you?”
“You bastard! What do you want?” He flushes red, green eyes flaring as if he’d like to get violent.
But Barclay is too smart for that. As much as it clearly chaps him raw, he knows I’ll annihilate him if he throws down.
“I want you to sign an agreement that, in exchange for my silence on this matter, you’ll never speak to Harlow again unless she makes a written overture to you first, which I will have to approve and have my lawyers vet. This offer is only good tonight. If you leave the reception before agreeing, I’ll be leaking the information of your indiscretions the second you drive away.” I turn back to Harlow’s mother. “And you won’t get a dime unless your husband falls in line—and stays there. So I suggest you start talking him into it now. I’ll give you two minutes to discuss.”
It doesn’t even take them that long to come to a consensus. They start whispering furiously before I’ve even walked away. Thirty seconds later, Barclay clears his throat. “Fine. We’ll sign. That whore of a daughter never lived up to her full potential. I’m happy to dump her worthless ass in your lap. You can take care of her now. But you mark my words…” He points a finger in my face, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to punch the smarmy sneer off his lips. “She will be nothing but a disappointing albatross who drags you down. Enjoy that.”
It’s late when we leave the merriment. Harlow and I finally retire to the suite Maxon and Keeley reserved for us. A big tester bed draped in pure fluffy white, almost like a cloud, beckons. As we reach the threshold of the room, I hear the revelers fading in the background. Harlow fidgets by my side.
When I lift her into my arms, she clasps her hands around my neck and relaxes into my hold. “I can’t believe we’re married.”
“We are. And now I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”
Even in the low, flickering light of a dozen candles scattered around the room, I see her flush as I kick the door shut and carry her across the room while her shoes drop to the bamboo floor in a tumble.
“What does male ána mean?” she asks about the decorative sign on the door.
“Wedding.” I set her on her feet at the side of the bed and draw the gauzy white drapes shut.
“That’s fitting, then.” Her voice shakes. “You know, Maxon and Keeley have done a lot to spruce up this place in a short time and I think they—”
“Do you really want to discuss their decor right now?”
Harlow presses her lips together. “No. I’m just…nervous.”
“You’re not alone,” I assure Harlow as I bring her close again and whisper in her ear, “Aloha au ia ’oe.” When she searches my face for the meaning, I tell her in low tones, “I love you.”
“Noah…”
She’s afraid to admit she loves me, too. I’m almost conv
inced she does. A hundred times in a hundred ways every day, she says or does something to prove it. For whatever reason, the words are trapped in her heart. But I have a year with her now. I’ll coax them out.
“Shh. Nou No Ka ’I’ini.” I untie the delicate white sash around her dress and let it flutter to the floor. “I desire you.”
Before she can answer, I place my fingertip at the hollow of her neck and trace my way down to the hint of cleavage visible above her dress. Her eyes drift shut with a sigh.
“Touch me,” she murmurs. “I want you so much…”
I lower the zipper down her back. “In good time, wahine.”
“Wife?” she asks breathlessly as the dress clings only to her shoulders.
“Exactly.”
Seconds later, I push the fabric down one arm, then the other. The gown slithers to her feet, revealing a gift that leaves me hard and aching and amazed that this woman is mine.
“You looked beautiful in your wedding dress, but this…” I blow out a harsh breath. “Whoa.”
I have no words to describe Harlow standing before me in a creamy-white baby doll made entirely of transparent lace—except the silk covering her nipples and the underwires supporting her plump breasts. A big bow at the bottom of the silk shows off her tiny waist and the long line of her flat abdomen before tapering down to the flare of her hips and the shadow between her thighs, barely covered by a gossamer strip of peekaboo silk.
I’m going to lose my mind before I get my hands—and my mouth—on all of her.
“You’re beyond gorgeous,” I finally finish. “But what you’re wearing is dangerous.”
She raises a brow at me. “Dangerous? It’s not the kind of outfit I’d wear if I wanted to Krav Maga your ass.”
“It’s the kind of outfit you wear to seduce a man.” My fingers skim down, knuckles brushing the swells of her breasts. “And trust me, you’re going to get fucked.”
“Oh? I thought you’d make me feel tender and adored, like a delicate flower, on our wedding night,” she baits me with a flutter of her lashes.
“I will,” I assure her, caressing her hair back from her face before cupping her nape. “When we leave here in the morning, you’ll have no doubt I value you above everything else. But you’ll also be wrung out, deliciously sore, and smiling.”
“You say the sweetest things, you big hunk of romance.” She winks.
I chuckle as I undo the bow of her nightie and watch it loosen around her body. “I’m the most romantic bastard you’ll ever be married to.”
As the garment falls into my palms, I lean in to kiss my bride again, the way I’ve wanted to since the officiant said I could earlier this afternoon. As before, our lips meet, slow and sweet, clinging and brushing. A spark. A tingle. A thrill racing through my body as I peel away the rest of her clothing and leave her in nothing except the diamonds I bought to fasten around her neck and the ring I put on her finger.
“That may be, but…aren’t you overdressed?”
I send her a lazy grin as I shrug out of my suit coat, bow tie, and shirt. Harlow’s breath catches as she caresses her way up my bare chest as if she can’t stop herself from touching me. I let her palm my shoulders and my pectorals as I unhook the fastening at my fly and yank down my zipper. I toss everything onto a nearby chair and face her, wearing absolutely nothing.
“This what you had in mind?”
She eyes my cock, saluting her at full staff. I had her last night…and this morning—hard. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m beyond eager to sink inside Harlow again, to make our union official in every way.
“I think you’ll have to come a bit closer,” she coaxes.
“Why don’t you get on the bed, lie on your back, and spread your legs for me?”
She blinks…but I don’t change course.
I haven’t forgotten her reaction to my subtle hint of dominance our first night together. I’ve waited, bided my time until I thought she trusted me enough to give me not only her body but her free will for a night. I’m not sure how she’ll react, if I’m asking for too much, too soon. But some part of her wants a man she can trust, who will take care of her in every way. I’m hoping she’ll let me start here and now.
“What?” She sounds somewhere between shocked and breathlessly aroused.
“You heard me.”
A hint of thrill dawns on her face as she shuffles toward the mattress and tumbles back, eyes wide and on me. She parts her thighs shyly. I can see a mere hint of the pink slickness between. “Like this?”
Her question has my stare jerking back to her face. She’s biting her lip, and that rosy pout is making me think all kinds of sinful thoughts about how to put her lips to good use.
Jesus, I’ve barely touched her and my chest is heaving. Even the suggestion that I could command a woman as independent as Harlow floods my system with desire. It runs thick and hot through my veins.
“Wider. Show me your pussy. Show me what’s mine.”
Bracing her feet on the edge of the bed, she flares her legs farther apart, giving me a glimpse of everything wet and feminine and rosy in between. She’s aroused, too. I know her body well now. I know when she’s swollen and pouty. Already her clit looks hard. Harlow is ready. Hell, she’s eager.
A thousand urges pelt me at once, but one towers over the others. I need this—need her—now. Face to face. Heart to heart. Lips connected. Bodies joined.
I caress my way down her thigh and drag my fingers through her glossy folds, gratified by the catch of her breath. After leaning in for a kiss, I sit beside her and grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug. “Straddle me.”
Without hesitation, she tosses one thigh over my hips and rises onto her knees, positioning herself above my cock. I hold myself in place, nestling my head at her opening and aligning us. When she tries to slide down my length, I hold her hips, make her wait.
Harlow loves every position. She’s enjoyed sex against a wall. She shivers when I take her from behind. She loves the way I kiss her when I’m on top. But after hundreds of hours making love to this woman, I know that nothing sets my wife on fire more than her impaling herself on my shaft as I guide her hips while she rides me.
When I drag my lips up her jaw and skirt the edge of her lips, the seconds tick by. I dive into her mouth. Our tongues tango as I cup one breast, teasing her hard nipple with my thumb. I taste her growing need. She starts to whimper, shifts restlessly, and tries to sink onto my cock. I tighten my hand on her hip to stay her.
“Not until I say so, wahine.”
“But Noah…”
“Not until you admit you want me.”
“I want you. So much. So bad.” She shakes her head at me. “All the time. You know that.”
I do. She’s never shy sexually, always willing to reach out day or night to tell me that she desires my touch and aches for the satisfaction I give her. It’s one of the reasons I feel so connected to Harlow. Not a day goes by that we don’t get lost in one another.
“Not until you admit that you’re mine.”
She peers into my eyes, as if understanding that I’m finally asking for more than her body. “I’m your lover and your wife.” Her exhalation rattles as if my demand has stirred her nerves again. “And I’m yours, Noah Weston. Only yours.”
Primal satisfaction roars through my body. I desire this woman with every cell in my body, every beat of my heart. And right now, I need to know that she belongs to me.
The next demand comes harder. “Not until you tell me how you feel about me.”
I’d give almost anything to hear that she loves me, but I can’t insist that she say it if she’s not ready. I want her words—whatever they are—to come from her heart.
Harlow opens her mouth, closes it, swallows. In my grip, she trembles. The movement is almost imperceptible…but I feel her.
“It’s okay, baby. Whatever you’re going to say, it’s fine. Just talk to me.”
For a moment, she closes her eyes, al
most like she’s afraid to admit defeat. Then she sucks in a rough breath and nods. “Kāne… Did I say that right?”
“Husband?” I give her the translation of her Hawaiian word in English. “You said it perfectly.”
“I love you.”
Joy buoys me. She said the words freely, every syllable soft but heartfelt.
I let out a whoop. “That’s what I’ve waited to hear—for so long.”
“I know. I tried not to,” she says solemnly. “Fall in love, that is.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” I cup her cheek. “But I’m so glad you lost the battle with yourself. I’ll never make you regret it.”
“Tonight, when I saw my parents, when I realized what you were willing to do for me simply so I’d have peace…it all clicked. I couldn’t keep you at arm’s length because of anything they had done to me in the past. I couldn’t compare you to Simon, either. And I couldn’t punish you when you’ve done nothing but try to make my life better every day, in every way. You’ve tried to heal me and understand me and… It hit me when I saw you strolling back to the reception tonight after talking to them, whistling and looking so self-assured. You’re not the kind of man to make yourself bigger on the back of someone else’s degradation. You’re fair when treated fairly. You’re kind and funny and…everything I dreamed for as a little girl and didn’t think existed in this world.”
Hearing the cynicism in her voice give way to hope—and knowing I had something to do with that—makes me feel a hundred feet tall.
“Thank you for being so honest. I wanted to make you happy.”
“You have. More than I ever dared to wish for.”
She’s looking at me so solemnly, so sweetly. I can’t not touch her.
“Oh, baby…” I move in to kiss her.
She braces her hands on my chest. “Wait. Let me finish. I want to tell you everything I haven’t yet, everything that’s been holding me back. My…past. But not now. This is our wedding night. This is our night to celebrate us. I don’t want to take that away.”
