Stealing the Bride

by Lee, Nadia

  Slowly, I lean toward him, then wrap my arms around his neck and lick his lips. He tastes like wine we just shared.

  No. Better. Warm and delicious with an undertone of hard male and a sweet, generous heart.

  He pulls back slightly. “Skittles…”

  I bury my nose in his neck and inhale the warm scent on his skin. “Don’t. Let me take advantage of you.”

  “But—”

  “No more talking.”

  I claim his mouth. It stays firm and unmoving, hesitation making his body tense. The fact that he doesn’t want to take advantage of my vulnerable state makes me want him more. But I probe with my tongue…and finally he kisses me back.

  I push my tongue in, then coax his into my mouth. I want to feel all the wonderfulness of him, all the heat. No indecision, no second guesses, and no thinking.

  I pull his shirt over his head, then throw it on the other side of the couch. My hands greedily skim the hard planes of his lean, powerful body. His naked skin is taut and hot. I place my palm over his heart, feel it hammering underneath. I smile with satisfaction, my pulse racing to match the rhythm.

  He runs his hands along my spine and unbuttons my top, his fingers shaking slightly with impatience. When he’s finished, I shrug, letting the garment drop. He unclasps my bra, and I push it out of the way, the lacy thing sliding along my arms.

  I cup the undersides of my breasts and push them upward. His eyes grow dark, a flush coloring his sharp cheeks. He dips his head and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

  I arch into him, needing more, wanting more. Heat flares between us, burning away my earlier misery, until only bright, beautiful light remains.

  I’ve never felt this way before. And I know it’s not the sex, but Court.

  “I want you inside me right now,” I demand.

  “Not yet. You need to take very thorough advantage of me.”

  He pulls the other nipple into his mouth. I cry out, my toes curling as white-hot pleasure shoots all the way to my clit.

  His large, warm hand rubs the back of my thigh. I shiver at the delightful contact. He cups my ass, then pushes my underwear out of the way until he can touch me skin to skin.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  He slips his fingers between my legs, grazing the most sensitive skin gently. I whimper, my hands clenched in his hair. He spreads my liquid heat all over me.

  “Do you think I’ve taken enough advantage of you?” I ask, the question coming out in a needy whisper.

  “Almost.”

  He starts to shift and gather me up, his muscles bunching, and begins to lift me. I can sense that he’s going to carry me to a bedroom. But I don’t want that. I don’t want anything to break the moment between us. I want him right here, right now.

  I grab the back of the couch and pull, forcing us back down onto it. I unbuckle his belt, undo the fastener on his pants and unzip him, then push his boxers out of the way and wrap my hand around his huge, hard cock. It pulses in my fist, and I smile when a low groan tears from his throat. I run my thumb across the tip and feel the slipperiness covering it.

  My eyes on his for as long as possible, I lower my head and suck. His breathing grows rough.

  “You sure I haven’t taken enough advantage of you?” I give his cock a few slow pumps.

  Cursing under his breath, he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a condom.

  I arch an eyebrow. “You had that all this time?”

  He grins. “I started carrying it after Maui, hoping I’d get lucky.”

  “Hmm. I think your numbers just hit.”

  He covers himself with the rubber. As soon as he’s finished, I sink onto him, inch by inch. He’s so big that he stretches me until I gasp. We move up and down together, his hands on my hips, then on my breasts, his fingertips brushing my nipples.

  Our gazes connect and fuse. His is so blue, so brilliant. Desire and something soft and sweet shimmer in its depths. And a small ache starts in my chest, warm and beautiful.

  My pussy isn’t the only thing that he’s filling. He’s filling my heart with pure brightness. Searing bliss swells inside me, and I let out small whimpers and moans.

  “You make the sexiest sounds,” he says.

  He rubs his thumb over my clit, and the pleasure crests so hard, so fast, that the room spins for a moment. I cry out, clinging to him.

  “Again,” he demands. He puts his feet on the floor and levers himself, pushing into me harder and faster.

  I hold on to him, an anchor in a maelstrom of sensation. When I shudder with another incandescent climax, he screams my name and joins me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Court

  I run my fingers along the beautiful curve of Skittles’ spine as we lie on the couch. Her chest rises and falls gently.

  “It’s really tiring, all this taking advantage of people,” she mumbles against my chest.

  My lips twitch. I flatten them into a sober line. “It is.”

  She taps her index finger right over my heart. “Just so we’re clear, I took advantage of you.”

  “Yup,” I say agreeably. “All I did was lie here.”

  To be honest, I don’t know who took advantage of whom. We were chasing our pleasure, pushing each other to it, while I did my damnedest to erase every bit of pain in her heart.

  But none of that matters. After the career she worked so hard to build imploded in her face, she probably needs to feel in control again. And I don’t mind at all that she’s using me.

  The notion makes me pause. I never thought I would let anybody exploit me again after what happened with Mom. God knows, she used me for almost two decades to soothe her pain without really dealing with it like a responsible adult. It didn’t matter how I felt…how anybody in the family felt.

  But the funny thing is, even though Skittles is using me, I don’t resent it. She’s independent and strong—hell, she didn’t even want me to pay for the hotel or lunch. I know this is just her leaning on me for a moment until she centers herself again. And I like it that she can be strong on her own. I don’t want her to want me because she’s helpless without me. I want her to want me because she likes me as a person, not as a crutch.

  My phone, sandwiched between us in my pocket, buzzes.

  Skittles shifts, her eyebrows arching. “That is some strong vibration. You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “Haha, not a toy. It’s a call.”

  She starts to sit up. “You need some privacy?”

  “No.” I pull the vibrating gadget out of my pocket and see that it’s Edgar.

  Every three months, he calls to ask me to come home to talk with Dad. He’s doing it because that’s what Dad’s been asking him to, and our father can be pretty persistent. If he could, he’d get all my exes, not just Tiffany, to guilt me into going back to Tempérane and taking a position at the company.

  But sometimes he calls because of something truly urgent, and it hasn’t been quite three months since last time he asked me to come to Tempérane. So I feel like I should answer…just in case.

  “What’s up, Edgar?” I say, keeping my voice brisk so he knows I’m busy.

  “Where are you?”

  I frown. It isn’t like him to skip all the social niceties. “Home. Why?”

  “Oh, okay. I thought you might be on your way here.”

  “Why would you think that?” He knows I’m not taking the job offer from Dad.

  “The hospital call you about Mom?”

  Oh, crap. I totally forgot. I squeeze my eyes shut and place a hand over them. “Yeah.”

  “It turned out to be nothing. Just the usual drama. I went over, and she’s been discharged, no problem.”

  “Thanks.” Guilt ripples through me anyway. I feel the weight of Skittles’ curious gaze.

  “Also, if you don’t have a job or know what you want to do, consider taking a position at Blackwood Energy,” Edgar says in a flat, lifeless tone, as though he’s been given a line he
’s embarrassed to read in a play rehearsal.

  “Oh yeah. Think about it every day. Hey, I have a guest. Gotta go.”

  “Okay, take care. Bye.”

  I toss the phone, and it clatters onto the coffee table. I sigh heavily.

  “You all right?” Skittles asks, shrugging into her shirt.

  I’m never going to be all right, not when it comes to my mom. “Yeah.” I run my fingers through my hair. The tugs on the scalp seem to help clear my head a bit, but don’t do a thing to relieve the tension creeping into my shoulders and neck. I pull my pants on. “I’m fine. It’s just my brother.”

  “The one who owns the club?” she asks.

  “No, Edgar. The one back home.”

  “Oh.”

  I can feel the questions in her gaze. All the junk that happened in my family… And of course she read all about it. Or heard from that intestinal parasite, Tom.

  Normally I don’t care that much what people think. I didn’t give a fuck when I was at UCLA—and ignored all the whispers that followed me around. But I don’t want Skittles to speculate or believe a bunch of Internet crap written by people out to make money off my family’s misery.

  She’s going to have to know anyway, and it’ll be easier if she knows now rather than later. That way, if she decides she doesn’t want to touch my family with a hundred-mile pole, we wouldn’t have been too emotionally involved for it to hurt.

  Except the idea of never seeing her again makes my spine go cold.

  I take a deep breath. “After our lunch, I got a call from a hospital. My mom was there, apparently with chest pain.”

  “Oh my God.” She places a gentle hand on my arm.

  The touch makes me feel better, rather than like some weird circus freak show.

  “Is she all right?” she asks.

  “Yeah, she’s fine,” I say quickly, not wanting Skittles to waste any sympathy on my mother. “She’s done this before. When texting and calling don’t work, she does this. I fell for it a few times and went to her, only to have her tell me that I have to go to work for my father and fix her marriage.”

  Her jaw slackens. “Working for your father will fix her marriage? What?”

  “Dad really wants me at the company. She thinks that if I do that, he’ll be so grateful that he’ll do whatever I want in return. So then I’m supposed to ask him to make up with her, et cetera et cetera.”

  Her hand slides down my arm and curls around my fingers. “I’m sorry.”

  Her sympathy soothes, but at the same time the lid that I’ve been keeping on my bitterness comes undone. I can’t stop myself from saying things I swore I wouldn’t tell anybody. “It’s always been that way. I’m the son that nobody really wanted.” If my parents could, they’d have traded me for Katherine’s life in a heartbeat. And the fact that I’m angry about that makes me feel like a shitty person for not being noble enough to want to sacrifice myself for my sister.

  Skittles flinches as though slapped. “How can you say that? Of course you’re wanted.”

  That’s sweet of her to say. Maybe in her world-view, parents not wanting and loving their children is unthinkable. “What my mom really wanted was a daughter. She already had two sons when she had me. You know that my sister died, right?” Katherine’s death always gets mentioned in articles about the scandal.

  “Some sort of hunting accident, wasn’t it?” she says, choosing her words with care. Everyone dances delicately around it when they want to talk about that. Unless they’re asshole reporters or something.

  “Yeah.” I don’t elaborate because if she knows enough to bring it up, she’s already read all the details already. They’re in so many damned “articles.” “Until then, Tony, the one who owns the club, was her favorite. But afterward, I became her favorite because Tony’s the one who took our sister to the forest and…” Old sorrow ripples through me, and I can’t finish. Tony never meant for any of it to happen. When it came out, it only brought pain…to him and to everyone in the family.

  “Her darling Harry.” The nickname still grates, leaving a raw wound. “That was me.”

  “Being chosen as her favorite wasn’t your fault.”

  “No. But it was my fault for indulging her. Instead of asking her to let it go or forgive Tony, I pretended like nothing was wrong and tried to cater to her whims. If I hadn’t done that, maybe she would’ve forgiven Tony before…everything. And she wouldn’t have done what she did.” I run my hand through my hair, although I’m not sure if I really believe I have that kind of influence over her. My mother is a very stubborn woman.

  “What people said in the articles about your mom is nonsense, Court. If she’d done something so wrong, she would’ve gone to jail. You shouldn’t let it bother you.”

  I shake my head, feeling the familiar nausea. “Not all of it is nonsense. She knew there was an attempt to murder Ivy—who’s Tony’s wife now, by the way—but she didn’t do anything. She claims she acted within the law, and she had nothing to do with the attempt. And she’s right. It’s not illegal to look the other way. But honestly, she did it to punish him. She did it because she wanted him to suffer. And that, I cannot forgive. And I can’t believe the role I played in it, being her favorite.”

  Skittles brings my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles gently. “You must’ve been a kid when it happened. Whatever she did, she was an adult and a mother. You were probably just trying to maintain peace in the house.”

  Her aquamarine eyes shimmer with caring. The old, twisted piece of ice in the center of my heart starts to thaw, and my chest aches.

  I lay my forehead on hers and look her deeply into her eyes. “Stay.”

  I see the tiniest flicker of hesitation. This is probably too serious, too fast.

  “And this time, don’t try to leave fifty bucks behind and vanish. This penthouse costs, like, at least a million bucks an hour.”

  As intended, it makes her giggle. Her lips curve into a small smile. “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Pascal

  I stretch luxuriously on the sheet. My muscles feel like warm goo after a good night’s sleep and morning sex. Who knew that orgasms could be such a great way to start a day?

  My body still buzzing, I wrap my arm around Court’s pillow, since he isn’t in bed with me, and bring it closer. Mmm. It smells like him, too. I bury my nose there and sigh.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning.” My greeting is muffled.

  “Come on, Skittles. You gotta eat.”

  “I don’t want to get out of bed,” I say. “I want to relax.” It’s weird to say that because it’s Tuesday, and I never miss work. But hell. I’m not going to feel bad about it. I promised myself I’d mope for one day, and that day’s over now. I have plans—to indulge myself and sleep in a little. Then go get a job. Show Dad that he’s totally wrong about my place in the world.

  “Who said anything about getting out of bed?”

  “Huh?” I tilt my head and see Court standing by his side of the bed with nothing but a pair of black shorts…and a tray and a huge Thermos pot. “Oh. Wow.”

  “I know. I look good.” He winks.

  I laugh. “That you do.” He’s facially stunning—all those chiseled angles and lines. But what I truly admire is his body. The broad shoulders, wide chest and well-muscled back that flow into a tight waist, narrow hips and long, strong legs. Anybody can win a pretty face in the genetic lottery. But you don’t get a body like that without working for it. “And breakfast in bed, huh?”

  He settles next to me. “Fried eggs, Pop-Tarts, and toasted bagels and cream cheese. I figured you’d like at least one of ’em.”

  I study the plates. The idea of Court cooking for me is incredibly sweet. “Sunny-side up only?”

  “That’s the only kind of eggs I can make with confidence. It takes mad skills to not break the yolks.”

  “Rocket science.” I smile, arranging the pillows so I can sit more comfortably. “Thank you.
I’ve never had breakfast in bed.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Touched by his effort and feeling pampered, I reach for an egg and half a slice of toasted bagel and cream cheese.

  “Coffee?” he asks.

  “Yes, please.”

  He serves both of us, and I enjoy the morning brew. God. I could get used to this.

  “So, what are you doing today?” he asks.

  “Making a résumé and sending it out.” Something I never thought I’d have to do until yesterday. Anger and sadness clench around my heart, and I sigh. “There are other jobs.”

  Just because Dad never wanted me at SFG doesn’t mean I have to give up on my career aspirations. I’ll show him! Rapid promotions, a swanky corner office, an assistant of my own and everything else that comes with being at the top! I’m aiming for the stars—to be a managing director in the next fifteen years or sooner. Some of the people I worked for at SFG thought I was good enough to be promoted after only twelve months, so I know I can succeed.

  Court pushes the cream cheese closer to me. “Yup. I’m sure you’re going to get a lot of amazing offers. You might even get hired at a higher level going in.”

  Excitement sparks, and I smile at his faith in my ability. I hadn’t considered the possibility, since I’ve been thinking more along the line of going in as an experienced junior analyst, but why not? I’m good enough to deserve better. “I hope so.” After finishing my egg and bagel, I take the final sip of the coffee. “I need to shower and go home. My personal laptop is at my place.”

  “You don’t have to. You could work on your résumé on my laptop. The weather’s beautiful. You can do it by the pool. I’ll even let you borrow one of my shirts.”

  I should probably turn him down, but it’s so tempting. The sun is shining and it’d be nice to work by a pool—another thing I’ve never done before. I was always too serious when it came to my education and work. And I don’t want to be that old stodgy Pascal anymore. “Well…maybe just today.”