He cups the side of my face, leaning over me and pressing his lips to mine once more. “I miss your lip ring,” I say against his mouth, knowing he didn’t wear it tonight because Romanov Industries had asked him not to.
“I’ll put it back in right now if you want.”
I grab his shoulders, holding him tightly. “Don’t you dare.”
Laughing, his fingers touch my neck, skating along the length and down to my collarbone. “I want to make you come, gorgeous. Will you let me?”
“What about your bed?” I say, licking my lips.
“I’m not letting you off this sofa.” One of his hands covers my breast, and I arch into him. “Show me what you’re wearing underneath this.”
Standing, I unzip the back of my dress and let it fall to the floor. His eyes darken as my lacy bra, thigh highs, and thong are revealed. “What do you think?”
“You should always wear this when we’re in private,” he says, fingering the side of my thong and then pulling me to him on the sofa. I rise up on my knees, feeling sexy and bold.
“Now show me your pretty nipples.”
My hands tremble in excitement as I unfasten the bra’s front clasp and let it fall to the floor. Those talented fingers of his trace the upper swells of my breasts, dipping into the vee of my cleavage and leaving goose bumps in their wake. “All that gorgeous skin... show me the rest, baby doll.”
Keeping my eyes on him, I shimmy out of my thong and then begin to roll down one of the thigh highs. “Those stay.”
My hands seek his shoulders, pulling him to me, until his hard, shirt-covered chest touches my bare one. He skims the backs of his knuckles over the side of my breasts and my breath hitches.
“Beau,” I moan. My head drops back and my eyes close.
“You. Are. Beautiful,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
I do as he says. “I’m looking at you.”
“But can you see what I see?” His thumb flicks over my nipple. “Such pretty pink nipples. So tight from me touching you.”
I whimper.
He flicks my neglected nipple. “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen is to watch you respond the way you do. Lie down for me, sweetheart.”
I stretch out on the sofa and he moves over me. His hand flattens on my stomach, and I suck in a breath.
He grins, his hand travelling lower, stopping right above where I’m throbbing and wanting and needing him to touch me. My legs part, thighs going as wide as I dare. “Are you wet for me?”
“Yes,” I moan as his fingers part me, touch me, and make my hips come off the sofa.
“Very wet,” he agrees. “I bet your panties were soaked. They had to be, because you’re coating my fingers with all this honey.”
The tip of one finger teases me, slowly but surely sinking inside. My muscles clench at him and he groans, his head falling to my chest. He lifts up slightly, sucking at a particularly sensitive spot on my neck.
“Look at you,” he whispers into my ear. “All wanton and nude while you let me play with your hot little pussy.”
I spread my thighs wider and grab his wrist, sending his finger deep. “Touch me more.”
He groans. “Landry Basnight, you are a naughty girl, and I fucking love it.” He adds another finger, moving in and out of me. “Tight, so damn tight, I want to add another finger to stretch you a little bit.”
He’s so arrogant and sure of himself that I want to say something, but all I can do is tremble against him as he adds another finger.
“Clamp down on me again. I want to pretend it’s my dick you’re squeezing.”
“You don’t have to pretend.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he growls. “I didn’t plan on being in this room tonight, so you’ll have to make do with my fingers.”
Make do? Is he insane? How am I making do with this sort of pleasure? He pressed the heel of his hand against my clit and curls his fingers at the same time. I let out a sort of a scream/moan, unable to help myself.
He curls his fingers again, and my back bows. Turning my head to the side, I catch sight of myself in the full length mirror propped against the wall. I want to die at what I see.
My hair spills across the pale sofa as I lay across his lap. My cheeks are flushed and my mouth parted. I’m lying nude but for a pair of black thigh highs while he’s fully clothed. I watch his fingers work inside of me, his head lower, and then I feel his hot mouth cover my hard nipple. I sink my fingers into his hair, urging him to suck harder, to go deeper and—and a third fingers teases my bottom, only the tip sliding in.
My body shakes, trembles, and finally breaks apart. I cry out his name, over and over while his fingers sink inside of me harder and faster. I can’t stop coming, and he won’t stop touching me.
I don’t want him to stop touching me. “Please,” I beg. “I want you inside of me.”
He shakes his head, face tight. “Not tonight.”
“Please. I’ll do any—”
“Don’t say it, baby. This is my punishment and my greatest pleasure.” He kisses me softly, his fingers leaving my body. He sits up, the bridge of his nose flushed, and his erection straining against the fly of his pants as he stands. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”
“Your room or mine?” I ask weakly.
“Ours.” Sweeping me up in his arms, I feel so boneless that I can barely move. He walks across the hall and opens the door without letting go of me.
“But this is your room.”
“Not anymore.”
He lays me down in his bed and kisses me, achingly sweet. I moan a little and run my fingers through his hair, wanting him closer. He turns his head away.
“Landry, no. I mean it, I put you through hell tonight, and I don’t deserve any relief for it.”
Yeah, every bit of gossip is right about him. Damn every last one of them for making his life miserable. “Fine,” I pout, and he nips on my lower lip.
“Thank you,” he says, his eyes are tender and yet oh-so-possessive as they roam over my nude body while he undresses.
“For what?”
“For believing in me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Beau
Landry and I stayed up most of the night talking as our hands found one another and wouldn’t let go. I’m never letting go of her.
She sleeps on her stomach beside me, and I trace each vertebra of her spine with the tip of one finger. Her skin is delicate and smooth, cool to the touch from where it’s been exposed to the night air.
Mia babbles, the baby monitor lighting up with all her talking and moving around. She’s not fussing, so I’ll stay in bed a while longer and keep touching my woman.
Unable to help myself, I kiss Landry’s shoulder, her neck, and then her cheek. Smiling, she stirs.
“What time is it?”
I grin. She always asks the same question when she wakes up. “Not time for you to get up.”
“But I hear Mia and—”
“I kept you up late last night, and my morning kisses weren’t supposed to wake you up.”
Rolling onto her back, she brings the sheets with her and smiles. “Mmm. Late night talks and morning kisses.”
“Dessert in bed?” I ask, tracing the curve of her ear with my tongue. I know what to say next, because I remember what she said to me. I want to give her the love she craves, the perfect-for-her kind of love that seems so easy for her to express.
Her phone rings, and she freezes. “That’s Paisley.”
I flop onto my back. “Answer it.”
Staring at the wall while Landry gets out of bed and answers the phone, I go over my schedule. Today, I’ll be up against Pierre Gaston, a three-time Grand Prix champion. He’s a good driver, aggressive, and not afraid to chance it in tight places. He’s also a sort of a hometown favorite, so I have my work cut out for me.
All in all, it should be an amazing pre-run. I grin, tucking my hands behind my head.
&
nbsp; “She wants to talk to you.” Landry holds out her phone over my face. “I’ll go get Mia dressed and see if the chef is here yet.”
I take the phone, but before I can kiss Landry, she’s out of the room. At least she has on a robe, and not the one she wore last night, so our personal chef won’t get a show.
“What?” I growl into the phone.
“Now that doesn’t sound like a man who spent the night satisfying his woman,” Paisley says.
“Say what you need. I got things to do.”
“Mia needs to come home. Now.”
“No. You agreed to one month. It’s been three weeks,” I point out.
“I don’t care,” she snaps. “Mia is my daughter. I want her.”
“She’s not a thing, damn it.”
“Yeah, and she’s not something you play house with either.”
“Fuck you,” I say, losing my patience. “We’ll come home, when we come home, and not a minute sooner.”
“I’m sick, Beau.”
“No shit,” I say with a laugh, shaking my head. “I’m so tired of your bullshit. You only want Mia, because I’m with Landry.”
“Isn’t that special,” Paisley coos. “Have you let her take your virginity, or are you saving it for your wedding night? You’ll look ravishing in white. Hmm, maybe pink is more your color.”
I grind my teeth and sit up in bed. “A virgin? Honey, I recall fucking you for so hard that you couldn’t walk the next day. Then we did it all over again. Hell, you even let me replace that stick up your ass with something bigger, and I don’t remember you saying anything but, “Fuck me harder, Beau.” So don’t talk to me about saving anything.”
“Is that an invitation for more, lover boy?” Paisley purrs. “All this reminiscing has all me hot and bothered. And you are much, much bigger than Austin. Maybe I should fly out and see you.”
I bang the heel of my hand against my head. Shit. I let myself be drawn in. I have to end this now.
“You heard what I said, and you already agreed. Deal with it.” I end the call and toss the phone, only to realize that Landry is standing at the end of the bed, holding my daughter.
“Breakfast is ready,” is all she says as I stand up. I reach for her, but she backs away. Her eyes are huge and her lips are pale.
Mia reaches for me, almost swan diving out of Landry’s arms. “Let me take her for you.” I grab my daughter and kiss her head. “Morning, sweet pea.”
“Did you mean what you said to Paisley?”
Oh, please let her have just heard the part about me telling Paisley to deal with it. I’d rather she think I was an asshole than I still have a hard-on for my ex. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Paisley gets something up her tail every now and then.”
Wrong thing to say.
Landry’s brows rise almost to her hairline. “I, um... could you please warn me the next time the two of you want to talk about what y’all did in the past?”
“You don’t understand—”
“You’re right. I don’t understand at all.” Her gaze goes to the floor. “I think you and Paisley still have a lot to work out.”
“We have nothing to work out, beyond custody agreements.”
Landry’s gaze snaps to mine. “Then take her to court so you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t, that’s why.” I will her to be as understanding as she was last night.
Landry
“Let me in,” I demand. “Help me understand the hold she has over you. Please. If you care anything about me, then you’ll be honest.”
His jaw works, and for the first time, I can see a hint of embarrassment on his face. “I put up with Paisley like I do, because I’m afraid she won’t let me see Mia.”
“She can’t do that,” I say with a shake of my head. “You’re Mia’s dad,”
He places Mia in the middle of his bed. I hand her the bottle I brought with me, and she begins to drink it.
He makes a sort of grunting/laughing sound. “I’m sure she’ll tell the world before long.”
Dread drops like a rock into my stomach. “Tell the world what?”
His beautiful gray eyes close briefly, and when they open again, they are full of pain. “I don’t know if Mia’s mine.”
“I don’t understand,” I say lamely, though I know exactly what he meant.
He rubs his face with his hands, obviously struggling to get his frustration under control. “Paisley and I weren’t an exclusive couple when she got pregnant. Is that explanation enough?”
I nod quickly, wanting to stop him from explaining anything else. My mind whirls. He’s taking care of a child who may or may not be his? Who would do that, except for a man in love enough to overlook something like that?
Tears pool in my eyes, and then fall on my cheeks.
“Say something, instead of looking at me with those big eyes,” he growls. “Say something instead of crying. I hate to see you cry, especially when I’m the reason for it.”
“I’m not crying for me. I’m crying for you.” I turn my gaze on Mia, lying in the bed, drinking her bottle and oblivious to everything. “I’m crying for her.”
His hands are suddenly on me, turning me to face him. “Then you understand.”
Beau
“I understand that the two of you need to grow the hell up and work things out for Mia’s sake.” Landry jerks herself out of my grasp. “Better come downstairs soon, before your French toast gets cold.”
“You had the chef make French toast for me?”
She pauses by the door. “It’s Saturday. I wanted to surprise you.”
I watch her walk away, and then join my daughter on the bed. She crawls to me, bottle hanging out of her mouth by the nipple. “Ouch.” Then I blink. “You crawled. Holy shit, sweet pea, you crawled.”
I grab her and kiss her milk covered face. “Landry,” I shout.
Landry’s footsteps echo up the hall. She bursts into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, placing Mia on the bed again. I lay down beside her. “Watch this.”
Slowly but surely, Mia sticks the bottle in her mouth, lets it hang, and then crawls to me.
“Ahh!” Landry squeals and claps, jumping on the bed with us. “You did it. Oh my gosh, Beau, she did it.” Then that sexy woman kisses my daughter, me, and then Mia again. “I’m so proud of you.”
“She looks a little weird crawling like that, but—”
“She’s just like her daddy, doing it her own way,” Landry says firmly.
The room gets all hushed as I realize what she says and now knows. My cheeks heat, and I duck my head. “You don’t have to—”
“Just.” Kiss. “Like” Kiss. “Her.” Kiss. “Daddy.” Landry sits back with a satisfied look her on her face. “Don’t make me lick you for emphasis.”
“Tonight, I’m feeding you dessert in bed, and that’s a promise,” I tell her.
Satisfied gives way to one of her dreamy smiles. “Dessert in bed. That sounds perfect.”
Chapter Thirty
Beau
The next day gets off to a horrible start. Mia stayed up crying half the night with some kind of stomachache and I couldn’t help Landry tend to her, because I had to be ready to leave at seven a.m..
I barely slept, because I felt so guilty. And to top it off, because of some scheduling conflict, the race has been moved up to tomorrow.
Now Remington’s here, and one of the eight thousand lights that shouldn’t stay on after I turn over the engine, won’t shut off.
“Want me to take a look at that?” he asks.
Yvette looks from me to him, a glimmer of a smile on her face. She motions one of the paparazzi over. “Take a picture with Father Montgomery.”
With a forced smile, I stand beside Remington and let the cameras do their thing. As soon as they are gone, I go right back to my car while my pit crew works on th
e engine.
“Simmer down, Beau. A Montgomery never lets them see him sweat.”
“Did you just rip off a woman’s deodorant slogan?”
“Smelled right at the time.”
I roll my eyes. “I thought you knew to stay away.”
He tugs on his hat. “That’s always been a problem of mine—staying away.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I start to walk away, but Remington grabs me by the arm.
“You will hear it.”
I throw my arms up in frustration. “I’m all ears.”
“I met your mother after Judith and I filed for divorce.” He sits down in a nearby chair and motions for me to do the same. Since I can’t help the pit crew and I want to get this over with as soon as possible, I join him.
“I loved your mother. You should know that,” he says, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I loved Judith too, but my wild ways were too much for her, so she sent me packing.”
“So it’s Judith’s fault, or my mother’s?”
“It was mine.”
I try not to let the surprise show on my face. “Roni was a beautiful woman, full of herself and funny as hell. She’d just come off a tour with Desert Storm.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know all that.”
“Anyway, the two of us—” He whistles. “It was explosive, crazy. That woman wrung me out to dry more times than I can count, and I kept coming back for more. Then she got pregnant with you.”
“So you quit coming around.”
Remington nods. “For a while, I did. I already had a boy at home I needed to look after. It didn’t seem right to neglect him.”
Of course, he couldn’t neglect Chase, the golden one. “Good for you.”
“Look, this is coming out all wrong, and I know I’m going to make this sound all wrong too, but Roni had a lot of problems that had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with what she saw over in Iraq. Bad enough what it does to a man, but to a woman... most people like the whole everybody’s made the same bullshit, but the fact is, we’re not. Men are made for war, for hard labor, and for all the dirty crap in the world so our women don’t have to deal with that shit.”
Burn for You Page 18
