Bet on Me

by Alisha Rai

  Tatiana moved to pull John into her arms, but she needn’t have bothered. Wyatt was already there, standing behind him. He leaned down to kiss the top of his son’s head. Casual affection came as readily to him as smiles now. He was a hugger, at least where his family was concerned. “It might take them some time to warm up to you. They might be scared because they’re in a new country and with a new family, but I’m sure you’ll help them.”

  John thought this over, his brow smoothing. “Yeah. Okay. Can I have sugar on my cereal?”

  “Absolutely not,” Tatiana said briskly, clearing her throat to hide a sniffle. “Your teacher almost killed me last time I sent you to school sugared up.”

  The car horn interrupted her. “Aunt Ellie’s here! She said she’d drive us.” Dee jumped up from her seat and grabbed her bag. John followed, picking up the nutrition drink Tatiana had placed next to his breakfast. The kid was always hungry but rarely able to sit still long enough to finish a meal.

  Wyatt scowled and moved to the huge picture window overlooking the front of the house. “If she’s with that new boyfriend of hers, tell her I don’t want him driving around with you,” he called after the children. The only response was the front door closing, which made his frown deepen.

  He turned back to the window, shifting to try to see Ellie’s car. Tatiana refolded the newspaper and set it on the table. “Wyatt.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Get away from the window.”

  “She needs to concentrate on school. For that matter, she needs to go back to school.”

  Having graduated college the previous May, Ellie had decided to take a year to figure out her options and work at Quest. Plus engage in a harmless flirtation with the rebel son of one of Wyatt’s competitors. Tatiana had shamelessly encouraged both of these endeavors.

  “How is she going to go to grad school if she insists on dating that loser?” Wyatt lifted his hand at her snort and pointed it at her, still straining to see out the window. “I don’t want to hear it. Not one word about irony. Or the shoe being on the other foot. Not one word.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Your dad’s lips weren’t when he was here last week.” Wyatt deepened his already deep baritone. “See, boy? Now you know my pain when you sniffed around my little girl.”

  “That’s because it’s Daddy’s sole joy in life to torture you.”

  “There is no comparison between me and this kid. Boy has a terrible reputation. I have half a mind to sic my PI on him, but Ellie would kill me.”

  “So would I.” She admired him standing there. The years had been kind to him. She had gray hairs popping up every day, while he got a spot of distinguished silver at the temples. Middle-aged pudge had settled around his stomach last year, an event which had so horrified him he’d gone on an exercise regimen that would have made a Navy SEAL weep.

  He wore a suit, but with the day-to-day busyness of their lives, he had to trust in his assistant to ensure they were the latest style. Wyatt rarely cared about image or appearance. Not when he could spend his free time wrestling with his son or helping his daughter with homework. Or, for that matter, seeing to his wife.

  Speaking of which. “Wyatt.”

  “Hmm.”

  “We have fifteen minutes.”

  He finally turned away from the window, shooting her a quizzical look. “Fifteen minutes for what?”

  “Fifteen child-free minutes. Before you have to leave for work.” She shoved back from the table and stood. “What should we do with that time, hmm?”

  A light lit his eyes. “I can think of a few things.”

  She gave him a slow grin. “Which room?”

  “Surprise me.”

  With a squeal, she turned on her heel and made for the foyer. He gave her a head start, but by the time she hit the stairs, he was fast on her heels.

  He grabbed her around the waist before she could make it to their bed. With his foot, he slammed their bedroom door closed. Important, though the house was temporarily empty. Between the housekeeper and the kids, the large place never stayed empty for long.

  He picked her up easily and carried her the rest of the way to the bed, tossing her on it hard enough that she bounced twice before settling. “The bedroom,” he mused. “How very conventional of you.”

  “I’m an old married lady,” she said, lowering her lashes demurely. “I have to be conventional.”

  His hands were at the fastening to his pants, unbuckling and unzipping. “How much time do we have now?”

  She glanced at her watch. “Twelve minutes. We’re getting slow.”

  He climbed on top of her, his muscular thighs bracketing hers. Wyatt’s big hands stroked down her sides and captured her leggings. He sat back and worked the stretchy fabric down, taking her panties with it. “That isn’t much time. We should hurry and get to the good stuff.”

  “Good thing I kept myself ready.”

  “Did you?” His hand stroked up her leg, finding her pussy. He froze, and his eyes flared as he dipped a finger inside her. “Oh. Yes. Smart girl. You’ve been wearing this all morning?”

  “Mmmm. I’m nothing if I’m not a dutiful wife.”

  “I’m so glad you know your place.”

  “On my back?”

  “Naked. Spread. Wet.” His talented fingers found the end of the emerald colored beads and tugged. She gasped as he fucked the string of beads back and forth, the friction of the smooth balls driving her crazy. “Not conventional at all,” he muttered.

  “You’d be bored if I was.”

  “I would. This design is one of my favorites. Simple. Elegant.”

  “I know how much you like it.”

  He tugged the beads out, her pussy clenching to keep them inside. He filled the emptiness, guiding himself in. They had a healthy sex life, and not just healthy with all the demands they had on their time, but healthy in general. Still, every time he sank inside her, she felt like it was the first time, that second of discovery and lust and eagerness still there.

  He framed her face and brought his lips to hers. “It’s going to be like this when we’re eighty, isn’t it?”

  “You’ll be eighty. I’ll still be young and beautiful.”

  “That goes without saying.” He brought his hand between them. She didn’t realize he still held the beads until the round balls rolled over her clit. She shrieked, arching up, which drove him deeper. He gave a tortured groan and thrust harder, faster, the friction sending them both into climax.

  When the spasms had subsided, Wyatt lifted his head from her shoulder. “We’re getting too good at quickies.”

  Tatiana traced her fingers over his back. “Out of necessity, but I’m hardly complaining.”

  He rolled over and slid off the bed, righting his clothes as he went. Tatiana yawned and stretched, supporting her head on her hand so she could watch him return to office-ready wear. Good thing his clothes don’t wrinkle easily.

  “It’s going to be more of a necessity when these two new ones show up,” Wyatt remarked.

  She gave a little bounce. “How much longer? How much longer?”

  He grinned. “One week, twelve hours and…” he checked his watch, “…eleven minutes before we get on that plane to Russia.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  His smile broadened. “Let me see them again.”

  Not at all surprised at his eagerness, Tatiana fished her phone from the wreckage of the bed. Wyatt pulled up the photo and stared at it, his expression softening. She climbed on her knees and looked at the two little girls who would be coming home with them soon. Katerina was four, Anna three.

  Tatiana had wondered if Wyatt would prefer they adopt infants, but when she’d questioned him about it, he’d stared at her as if she were crazy. “What would I do with a baby? They can’t even talk.”

  Tatiana cocked her head and smiled at the little girls’ solemn faces. “Are you worrying they won’t like you, too?” sh
e teased.

  He snorted. “No. Of course they’ll love me.”

  Her heart swelled so much, she had to hide her face in his back, lest she embarrass him. That kind of deep, inner security in their love had taken years, and the project wasn’t over yet, but she adored that he was capable of appreciating his own worth. Not only as a businessman, but as a husband and a father.

  Unaware of her emotions, he continued. “No, I was thinking they have your coloring, and they’ll probably be as pretty as you. I already worry about Ellie and Dee. When did I get to be responsible for so many girls?”

  “Quit being sexist. You can worry about John, too.”

  “I caught him trying to use my razor on his eyebrows yesterday. Trust me, I worry plenty.”

  She chuckled. He twisted around and surprised her by bearing her down to the mattress, his gaze intense. “Listen, Ellie’s on break. She can watch the kids this weekend. Or Ron would take them. We won’t have a chance like this for a while after Kat and Anna come. Why don’t you and I slip off? Back to the penthouse for some alone time.”

  “Alone time of the non-quickie version?”

  He lowered his head and kissed her, long, drugging kisses. “Filthy alone time,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Ooooh. I like that.”

  “I thought so.” His hand groped around the bedsheets until he found the beads. He placed one hand on her stomach and slipped the orbs back inside her, holding her still when she writhed. “In the meantime, you can have this.”

  “So generous,” she murmured, loving the sensation of being filled. His finger dragged over her clit, and she purred at the surge of pleasure.

  “I try.”

  “I’ll set things up for the weekend.”

  “Perfect.” He gave her a final kiss and pushed himself off the bed, surveying her with a self-satisfied grin. “How did I wind up with you again? Luck, right?”

  She extended her arms over her head and arched her back, displaying her body for him. “You and I, we make our own luck, Caine.”

  From the Author

  Thanks so much for reading Bet On Me! I hope you enjoyed it.

  If you would like to know when my next book is available, please sign up for my new release e-mail list at www.alisharai.com, or follow me on twitter @AlishaRai .

  Reviews help other readers find books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.

  Bet On Me is the third and final book in the three-book Bedroom Games series. The first book is Play With Me. The second book is Risk & Reward.

  Love Akira? Me. Too. Keep an eye out for Akira’s story, coming Summer 2014.

  Curious about what Tatiana and Wyatt were up to in the time between Play With Me and Risk & Reward? Turn the page for a special bonus short story.

  Bonus Story

  This short story takes place shortly after the events in Play With Me.

  “Is that a vagina?”

  Tatiana Belikov sipped her wine and cocked her head, studying the painting of the bright red poppy that graced her living room wall. “Where do you see a vagina? It’s a flower.”

  Wyatt Caine placed his half-finished wineglass on her coffee table, an old steamer trunk she’d found at a garage sale. “Aren’t all flowers secretly vaginas?”

  “Only if you’re a perv.”

  Wyatt nodded. “That explains it. I am a perv.”

  “Or your vision has been impaired by the hideous abstract crap you have at your place.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea how much that crap cost.”

  “Oh, I know.” Tatiana shook her head. “Sadly, you can’t buy taste.”

  “Those paintings are an investment.”

  “An investment doesn’t have to be painful.” She nodded at the art. “That’s going to appreciate, and I love looking at it.”

  “Who’s the artist?”

  “A friend. I traded with her for a bracelet. Isn’t she phenomenal? Undiscovered yet, but look at these brushstrokes.”

  “Yeah. The strokes on that vagina are inspired.”

  Rolling her eyes but secretly amused, Tatiana curled her legs up underneath her. “My, you have vaginas on the brain.”

  He shot her a pointed look. “Gee. I wonder why.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him, as innocent as can be. “Me too.”

  They subsided into a comfortable silence, lulled by the radio she’d turned on. She snuck a glance at Wyatt, marveling that he was sitting right there. She felt like she’d barely scratched the surface of the man he was now, though they had spent one lovely night fucking each other’s brains out last week when they’d reunited in Vegas.

  As exciting as it was to tentatively embark on the relationship they’d decided to rekindle, Tatiana hadn’t been able to quell her nerves when he’d kissed her soundly at the Vegas airport and announced that he’d be coming to San Francisco this weekend. This was her territory, after all.

  And his large frame took up most of that territory. His navy suit was still crisp and pressed, the sophistication a contrast to her cluttered space. Tatiana didn’t understand how people could travel in suits. It was probably one of those things businesspeople were simply adept at doing. Like not napping after downing martinis at lunchtime.

  He ought to have looked out of place in her world, this new, wealthy Wyatt. But he fit in perfectly, another mismatched piece in her mismatched life.

  Mentally, Tatiana exhaled, a long sigh of relief. No need to fret, not right now. This felt….right.

  He shifted, reached behind him and pulled out one of her throw pillows, this one shaped like a mushroom. After pondering it for a moment, he placed it aside. “You have an interesting place.”

  She followed his gaze around her small, beloved apartment, wondering what he saw. Color, for sure. From her crimson couch to her purple armchair to her bright green bookcase and her red walls, she embraced color.

  She liked what she liked, and oftentimes, none of what she liked complemented anything else. Some of her accents were whimsical and cheap, things that caught her eye at the flea market. Sprinkled amongst them was priceless art she purchased from galleries or, preferably, bartered from local artists she knew.

  Some people would find her taste gaudy, or even nauseating. Curious, Wyatt took it all in. His sharp black eyes missed nothing as he catalogued every detail of the room before glancing back at her. “This suits you.”

  She straightened and smiled. “Does it?”

  “It does.” He scooted closer, tossing the mushroom pillow to the floor.

  She made a mental note to tell him the cushion’s market value later. It might flabbergast him.

  “I remember how annoyed you would get that your parents wouldn’t let you decorate your room as you wished. So the minute you got to college, you painted the walls of your dorm room yellow.”

  The recollection of her hall director’s irritation made her nose wrinkle. “Ugh. They made me paint it back right away. Totally unfair, since I was the one who had to live with that ugly off-white for eight months.”

  His mouth kicked up at the corner. “I’m sorry. Who had to slap on four coats of white to cover up that yellow?”

  A rush of affection ran through her at the memory of young Wyatt. Jesus, Tatiana. Couldn’t you express yourself with posters? His frustration with her hadn’t stopped him from grabbing a paint roller. “You helped.”

  “Helped?”

  “Helped a lot,” she modified. She’d done some of the work. Or tried to. Painting a wall a boring color was, well…boring.

  He pulled her wineglass from her fingers and placed it next to his on the table. Coming closer, he curled his hand around her neck. “I like your style.”

  She was an experienced woman, hardly a shy virgin. Yet her stomach fluttered when he looked at her that way. “Thanks.”

  “Mmm.” He leaned in closer until his breath fanned her lips. “Are you going to take me on a tour?”

  “This isn’t your h
otel, Wyatt. You don’t need a tour to navigate a space that’s eight hundred square feet.”

  “I haven’t seen your bedroom.”

  No, that was not a blush creeping up her cheeks! She was not a blusher. But she couldn’t help it. The way he said that word, bedroom, was criminal. “Maybe we can do the tour after dinner.”

  His finger swept over the pulse beating in her neck. “Did you make plans for us tonight?”

  A shiver ran down her spine at the intent in his gaze. The man had some plans in mind. Naked plans, probably. “There’s a great Thai place down the street. It doesn’t look like much, but they make an awesome panang curry.”

  “Hmm.” He dropped his hand from her neck. She mourned its loss. His fingers worked his tie, until it hung in two strips. “I can get Thai in Vegas.”

  “Jamaican?” Her breath caught when he loosened the top three buttons of his shirt, those long, elegant fingers nimble, revealing the tanned column of his throat.

  “Same.”

  “What can’t you get in Vegas?”

  A slow smile crossed his lips, filled with enough wickedness that her tummy flip-flopped. “I know for a fact that you can get that all over Vegas. On every street corner, in fact,” she said archly.

  He pulled the tie off and placed it between them. She stole a glance at it, imagining it wrapped around her wrists or her ankles. Totally an oversight, not dating more businessmen. They had kinky bindings with them at all times.

  “Not with you.”

  She swallowed, her throat dry. “I’ll give you that.”

  Another button. “Will you give me you?”

  Ah, fuck. There came that blush again. It was the novelty and excitement of the situation that was making her revert to a giddy schoolgirl. A new, tentative relationship with the guy she had loved long ago? Things were all shiny and sexy and fun. So the blush was justifiable, damn it.

  As was her yearning. Oh, yeah, she’d love to lie down, spread her legs, and let Wyatt have his way. She knew it would be time well spent. The man had been good at fucking ten years ago. He was great at fucking now.