by Mia Carson
“Me, you, Natalie, of course,” Billy said, counting them off on his fingers. “Judge Harvey only might say something about the name issue, but I doubt it. No reporter is dumb enough to bother that man. The website company, and then your mother.”
“And Natalie’s twin,” Vincent added.
“Her twin knows?”
Vincent stared at him with a flat look. “Really, Billy?”
“Right, sorry. The twin had the idea in the first place. You don’t think she would say anything, do you? Could she be jealous of her sister for landing the billionaire?”
“No,” he argued. “No, her sister is engaged already.”
“Well, someone said something.”
“Did you catch the bastard’s name?” he asked, glancing at the crumpled card on the bathroom counter.
Billy dug around in his suit jacket and revealed a matching card. “Hank Butcher.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t pass him on your way in.”
“He was at the house?” Billy hissed.
“Natalie answered the door. She said he even tried to get himself inside.” Vincent tossed the card in the trashcan. “I think we might need to consider security guards if I’m going to have reporters showing up at the house like this.”
Billy nodded in agreement as his fingers flew across his phone’s screen. “I’ll get it set up.”
“Oh, and next weekend, I’m taking Natalie to the ranch.”
“Vinnie, man, I love you, but you have two events scheduled back to back.”
“I said I’m taking Natalie to the ranch,” he repeated. “I think it’s time we had a small honeymoon, don’t you?”
Billy frowned but gave in. “You see these wrinkles right here on my forehead? They’re all from you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for your facelift,” Vincent promised, and Billy groaned in annoyance behind him.
He wouldn’t worry about the reporter unless he showed up again or let something slip about the real story behind his and Natalie’s meeting. It wouldn’t do to start pointing fingers and accuse the few people who did know of ratting him out.
7
Natalie smelled the flowers on the kitchen table, running her fingertips along the delicate petals of the snapdragons and the tulips. Yesterday, she had been so close to giving herself completely to this man she put so much faith and trust in. She only held back because he scared the shit out of her. She wanted him, but it was more than that. She was comfortable around him, and since living with him, her memory issues were nearly non-existent.
Being with Vincent gave her a sense of freedom she thought she’d lost forever, but there she was, telling him all about her accident and why she had locked herself away in her apartment. Admitting to him how much she missed being outside and going on adventures every other weekend. She left the kitchen to hop in the shower. Vincent would be home soon, and she had to get dinner prepared for his mother’s visit. The warm water relaxed the tension from her shoulders from a day spent watching the front door like a hawk, terrified that reporter would come back and tell her flat out he knew who she was and that her marriage to Vincent was a sham.
Steam filled the bathroom, and she took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair, massaging her scalp to rid herself of the rest of her stress. Dinner with Vincent’s mother could either go really well, or she could bomb it and risk distancing herself from her husband.
“Just keep your cool,” she told herself firmly. “She liked you at all the events. I’m sure she likes you already.”
The water grew hotter, and Natalie let her head fall back, simply enjoying the heat rushing over her body. Her dream from last night played in her mind and her eyes slipped closed. The scene from the kitchen turned into so much more last night when she had gone to sleep. What he had done to her—hell, what she’d done to him! She’d never had such fantasies about a guy before. That morning when she woke, her nipples were hard and she was so aroused, every little shift of her hips sent a shiver up her spine. Her body begged for his touch, pleaded for it.
What happens when he sees your back? You sure you can handle another look of disgust?
Her eyes shot open under the spray of water. Could she? What if, after he saw her back, he refused to look at her the same? What if he never wanted to hold her again or kiss her?
As she dried her body and blow-dried her hair, she glared at herself in the mirror. Why did she have to ruin everything with her worrying? Vincent had already proved he was a good guy and that he cared for her. The flowers he brought her yesterday were about more than just an apology. He was being affectionate, and she sensed more behind his touch, perhaps even a glimmer of love.
She was still in a towel, finishing her makeup and putting in her earrings, when Vincent called through the bedroom door. “You can come in,” she told him and steeled herself for what might happen in the next few minutes.
“I wanted to let you know I was home,” he said as he walked in.
When she stepped out of the bathroom in the towel, his feet froze and he looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. “That’s fine. I still have to finish cooking,” she said, letting her right foot glide slowly up her left calf. His eyes watched the movement and her hopes rose. “Vincent?”
“Yeah. I…I’m sorry. You are stunning,” he whispered and stalked closer.
Natalie’s body flushed, and she smiled shyly. “I have my days.”
“No, every day,” he corrected. His eyes glanced over her shoulder, and his smile turned into a look of awe. “Do you mind if I see it?”
“See what?” she asked, knowing what he was asking.
“Your tattoo.”
He motioned over her shoulder, and she looked back to see part of her back reflected in the mirror. Natalie’s gut roiled at the thought of him seeing her whole back, but he would see it eventually. It might as well be now before they were in the middle of having sex and he suddenly stopped. Her knees shaking, she turned around slowly and let the towel droop to the top of her rear, exposing her back for the first time to someone new. She closed her eyes, scrunching them shut as tight as they could go, and held her breath. By the count of ten, she expected some sign of disgust but heard nothing. Vincent’s feet moved closer, and when his fingertips reached out to caress the base of her neck and moved lower, her heart nearly stopped.
Her body trembled as his fingers traced the lines tattooed on her skin to cover the horrible scars left by the accident. He started at her shoulder blades where the phoenix’s wings spread wide, stretching up her shoulders, the feathers spreading along the back of her biceps and down to her ribs. His other hand joined the first as he moved lower, covering the head of the massive bird and the flames surrounding its body before moving even farther down. With each brush of his fingers against her back, another bit of the fear Natalie had held onto for so long fell away, then another, and another. He was the first man—the first person—to touch her back with such care since the damn tattoo artist. Her toes curled when his fingers ran across her lower back, dipping slightly below the towel where the rest of the phoenix’s tail feathers twirled together in a spiral of flame.
The tattoo did a pretty good job of covering most of the burn scars, but the skin was still marred and bumpy underneath. A tear slipped from her eye, and Vincent’s thumb was suddenly there, wiping it away. She opened her eyes and spied their reflection in the mirror. His eyes were narrowed in anger, and her forehead crinkled, wondering what pissed him off.
“Vincent?”
“Those bastards must not understand beauty,” he grunted, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He lowered his head and kissed her left shoulder then her right, and then along the base of her neck. She sucked in a breath when his tongue flicked out, licking the ruined skin.
“Vincent,” she whispered. “You can’t possibly think that is beauty.”
“I do,” he argued, his kisses trailing even lower, touching each vertebra.
Her legs qui
vered at the overload of sensations, and his arm snaked around her waist to hold her up. “No one’s touched me there…since…since before…” She trailed off, unable to finish as another tear slipped from her eye, filled with bitterness at what she thought she’d lost.
He straightened behind her, nuzzling her neck. “Then I’m happy to be the first. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Natalie. The phoenix was a nice touch.”
She smiled and rested her head back. “I thought so.” He was so comforting, she never wanted to leave his arms. All she had to do was drop the towel at her feet and see what happened next, but his mother would be there soon. When she gave herself to Vincent, she didn’t want an hour. She wanted days.
As if reading her mind, his arm tightened around her middle and he kissed her earlobe, sucking on it hard as he growled, “I guess I should let you finish getting ready.”
“You probably should.”
Neither made a move to separate, and Natalie chuckled. How the hell would they make it through dinner tonight? The lips between her legs were swollen, and one shimmy of her thighs told her they cried for his touch, throbbing with want. And she wasn’t the only one having problems. His erection was a welcome presence against her lower back. For the past few years, she’d expected to remain alone, unable to find a man who could see past the scars to the woman beneath, but she was with a man who clearly wanted her even after he saw her back.
He planted one final kiss on her cheek and let her go. “I’ll be downstairs in a few,” he promised.
She watched him go, her hand holding up the towel nearly letting it drop, but she stopped herself. After she was dressed in a snug black dress with a scoop neck and two short slits up the sides, she considered her choice of outfit tonight. Her arms, usually covered by sleeves, were visible in the sleeveless dress. Vincent said he wanted her to be herself and that’s who she would start being—scars, tattoos, piercings, and all.
An hour later, she heard Vincent’s steps thunder downstairs. He poked his head into the kitchen and cursed. “Jesus, woman, are you trying to drive me insane?” His arms wrapped around her middle and kissed her neck as she squealed, his fingers tickling her ribs.
“Stop it! I have to finish this,” she argued, smacking him playfully with the oven mitt.
“Fine, fine. I’ll just have to come back for more later.”
His words sent a white-hot thrill through her body, and she clamped her thighs together. “Go wait for your mother—out of grabbing reach of me, preferably. Too much more of you and I’ll burn the damn steaks.”
He sauntered away, whistling as he went, and Natalie sank against the counter, trying to collect herself before their guests arrived. How long could a dinner last, anyway?
Stop talking and just leave already, Vincent thought, annoyed, as he poured himself another glass of wine and offered the bottle around. Todd, his mother’s date for the evening, drawled on and on about the damn cattle prices and this and that. Vincent stopped listening an hour ago, too distracted by the blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty who stole the rest of his heart today.
Billy leaned forward eagerly on his elbows as Todd brought up the latest Rangers game. All he needed was them bringing up damn baseball when what he wanted to do was kick everyone out of his house. He shifted his chair slightly so he had a straight view of Natalie standing at the kitchen island while she cut up the pie she’d made for dessert. She laughed at something his mother said, actually cackling. She had to set the knife down, holding her sides as Doris howled loudly, her face bright red as tears of mirth slipped from her eyes.
“What are you two getting on about over there?” he asked loudly.
“You wouldn’t understand, dear,” Doris said, shooing him away with her hand. “This is women’s talk.”
“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”
His gaze raked over Natalie’s body, starting at her calves and trailing up to her ass. His hand curled on his lap as the other threatened to break the wine glass. She turned, and the slit on the side of her dress parted, giving him more of that delicious flesh he wanted to spend all night tasting. The back of the dress covered her back, but her tattoo peeked through her hair hanging over her arms. He half expected his mother to point it out, or the earrings in her right ear, but Doris was either pointedly ignoring them or had grown soft over the years.
“Oh, now, dear,” Natalie said through her laughter, “we’re just getting to know one another. Nothing wrong with that, is there?” She sauntered to the table carrying two plates with pie slices. As she set his down, she sidled even closer, rubbing her thigh against his leg and bending over. Her backside out of everyone else’s view, he snuck a quick squeeze, and she pressed herself into his hand. He swallowed the groan nearly falling out of his mouth. “Eat your damn pie.”
He wasn’t sure why he would expect anything less from her, but she sat down on his lap as if they had indeed been together forever. He wrapped an arm around her middle as he dug into his dessert, imagining digging into something much sweeter soon enough.
She’d stopped playing fair over an hour ago when her foot trailed up his leg during dinner and landed in his groin. His hand found its way to her lap, pushing her dress languidly higher and higher up her thigh, but if he went too much further, he worried she would jump and smack her knees on the table. Or he would simply throw her over his shoulder and excuse themselves from the table while he explored every inch of her body, including her back with its impressive artwork. When she dropped the towel and showed him her most vulnerable spot, any lingering doubts Vincent had of Natalie trusting him, of being right for him, fell away until all that remained was that future he saw with her by his side.
“I was simply asking your lovely wife about children,” Doris said as she took her seat at the table.
Vincent choked on his pie, and Billy leaned over, giving him a helpful whack on the back. “Mother, come on.”
“No, it’s fine,” Natalie told him with a wink. “Apparently, your mother had a dream.”
“A dream? How much were you drinking before this dream?”
“Oh, you hush,” she teased and flung a dollop of whipped cream at him. Vincent hadn’t seen his mom this happy since his dad died. As much as he hated to admit it, he probably had Todd to thank for that. “I had a dream of my three grandchildren running around me. It was a wondrous sight, absolutely wondrous.”
“Three, huh? Boys? Girls? Give me a little something to go on,” Vincent murmured.
“She said they were triplets,” Natalie supplied, and Vincent had to chug water to get the food to go down his gullet.
“Triplets?” he gasped.
“Yes, and they were all girls. Fancy that,” Doris mused as she forked a piece of pie into her mouth. “Oh, come now, Vinnie, you could handle it. I have faith in you.”
“That makes one of us.”
“Two,” Natalie chimed in. “You’d be fine. Maybe deranged by the end of it, but you’d make it out in one piece.”
He hugged her close, and she leaned down to kiss him. “I’m glad to hear you think so.’’
He wanted to kiss her longer. She tasted of cherries and whipped cream and smelled like the coffee she just brewed, but he released her lips reluctantly and sighed.
“Natalie, I can’t help but notice the bit of tattoo on your arms,” Doris said lightly, and Vincent froze, ready to jump in and defend his wife if need be. “Can I ask what it is?”
“Of course. It’s a phoenix. I’m sure you all know about the car accident I was in.”
Everyone bobbed their heads around the table. Vincent didn’t want her to talk about it if she wasn’t up for it, but could only offer his comfort by wrapping his other arm around her and holding her close.
“I was burned pretty badly in the crash and thought it fitting to cover up the scars with a tattoo of a phoenix.”
“How fitting indeed,” Doris said admiringly and smiled. “Rising from the ashes.”
Natalie leaned back int
o Vincent’s arms. “That’s what I thought back then, but it wasn’t until I met Vincent that I really felt like I survived that accident.”
His heart swelling with love, he planted a kiss against her neck, whispering in her ear, “You have no idea how alive you make me feel, too.”
She settled even more into his arms, and Vincent swallowed the words to kick their guests out of the house. Billy finished his pie and drained his coffee before he stood, patting his stomach.
“All right, if I sit here any longer, I’ll fall asleep. Doris, Todd, can I walk you out?”
Todd appeared disappointed, but Doris patted his hand. “Come along, dear. Natalie, that is one of the best steak dinners I have had in a very long time. We would love to do this again.”
“Of course, Doris, anytime.” She pushed herself out of Vincent’s lap to walk everyone out.
When Billy passed Vincent, he reached out and squeezed his friend’s arm. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Billy winked, patting him on the shoulder. “I can tell when I’m not wanted. Besides, the tension between you two is so thick I could’ve forked it.” He bent over and added, “Go get her, tiger.” He grinned all the way to the front door.
Vincent cleared the dishes from the kitchen table and waited impatiently for Natalie to close the front door. He met her at the bottom of the steps as she locked the front door and sagged against it.
“Well, that went well,” she mused, kicking out of her heels.
Words failed Vincent as he gawked openly at her curves outlined in the tight black dress. He held out his hand for her, and she sauntered towards him. The moment her fingers touched his, he grinned wickedly and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder as she squealed with laughter.
“I can walk, you know,” she said.
He gave her ass a squeeze, and she gasped, wiggling on his shoulder. “You looked exhausted after making such a perfect dinner. How could I let my tired wife walk?”
Once he was at the top, he set her back on her feet outside her bedroom door. His fingers lingered along her cheekbone before gliding along her jaw, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her lips. Her normally light blue eyes darkened with desire. Her mouth opened, and she nipped his thumb. Was she ready for this, to have him in her bed? He didn’t want to push, and he wasn’t sure how to ask if he could join her in bed. Both options sounded terrible, so he remained silent and waited.
