Stealing the Bride

by Lee, Nadia

  The rest of what he says vanishes behind a loud buzzing noise in my head. Holy shit. Court told me I might get a promotion out of the job switch, but hoping and praying for one and actually getting it are very different. Even though I’m sitting, my knees feel unsteady.

  I take a moment to compose myself. Gavin undoubtedly wants me to let him get back to his day’s agenda now that we’re finished. “Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure speaking with you.” He stands and shakes my hand.

  I walk out, feeling like I’m stepping on clouds. Oh my God. I did it! I have a new job!

  Doing my best to walk with dignity, I make it to the elevator. I shift my weight front and back, then side by side. Bright energy bubbles inside me. I feel like I could float away like a feather—a very happy feather.

  When the elevator doors open to the lobby, I step out, then pirouette, unable to help myself. I swear there’s golden light filling me. Can’t people tell?

  After turning in my visitor tag to security, I pull out my phone, start texting Court, then stop. He deserves a more personal touch. I’m calling him. I hit the green button.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey, you!” My voice is extra bubbly.

  “Guess you got the job?”

  “Yes! Am I that obvious?”

  “The smile gave it away.”

  Smile? I pull the phone from my ear, wondering if somehow the camera—

  Then I notice him on the other side of the lobby, and my heart does a cartwheel and triple flips. He’s putting away his phone and waving at me with a bouquet of bright yellow daisies. I dash toward him.

  “I can’t believe you!” There’s so much excitement and pleasure coursing through me that I’m nearly breathless. “What are you doing here? I thought you went home after breakfast.”

  “Well, you know. I figured I’d come by with flowers to congratulate you.”

  I give him a huge smile, loving the bright sparks in his eyes. I take the flowers and inhale their lovely fragrance, then peer at him through my lashes. “What if I hadn’t gotten it?”

  A stunned gasp. “In what bizarro alternate universe?”

  His exaggerated shock makes me giggle like a teenager. But at the same time, I feel powerfully charged. I could probably single-handedly take down a battalion of Klingon warriors, then destroy a fleet of Romulan ships. And I could do it in ten seconds, with one hand tied behind my back and in high heels and in an impractical bikini girl-warrior outfit. Because, as everyone knows, no female warrior outfit comes with protection for your stomach or legs, just a huge push-up bra made of some shiny metal.

  Out of pure impulse and happiness, I kiss him with all the bubbling happiness in my heart, all the pleasure he gives me by just being with me. I can’t think of the time I was this impulsive with affection with my exes. I flick my tongue across his mouth for a taste. Court always has that special blend of flavors—sweet, heady and utterly male.

  Blood grows hot in my veins, swelling and rushing like rivers after a heavy rain. White heat flares in my belly then spreads all over in waves. The sound of his rough breathing hits me more potently than any seductive whisper. I love how basic and honest his reaction is.

  “You drive me crazy,” he rasps, his blazing gaze searing my face. “But we need to go somewhere else unless you want everyone at OWM to see you making out in the lobby before your first da—”

  “Definitely not.” I grasp his hand, linking our fingers tight. “Let’s go.”

  Through the walk to the elevator and the descent to the underground garage, the lust beats strong and hard inside me. I’m already slick between my legs, the air too hot and heavy in my lungs.

  “My car’s over there.”

  “Mine’s closer,” Court says.

  I should take my car because that’s practical, but I can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for the drive between OWM and his penthouse. I let him lead me to his Maserati and drive us to his place like a maniac.

  Once we’re in the garage of the penthouse, I’m so revved up that even the feel of his naked palm against mine is almost too much.

  The engine cuts off. Instead of getting out, we stare at each other for a moment, the air between us crackling. Then, inside the luxurious leathery cocoon, we’re on each other.

  It’s a little awkward to work around the dash, wheel and stick, but they’re no match for the forceful urgency of our need. Court devours my mouth, stoking my lust with every lick and suck. I return the favor, wanting to drive him as mad with desire as me. He’s utterly magnificent and sexy as hell when he starts to lose himself in lust—in me. He cups my breast through my clothes, and I gasp. It feels good to have him touch me, but I need more.

  I get rid of my jacket and top, then push the bra out of the way. He dips his head to flick his tongue across one of my beaded nipples, sending sharp pleasure spearing through me. He pulls it into his mouth, sucking hard. Electric sparks run along my spine, blissful sensations spreading all over and making me tingle to the tips of my toes. I reach out and touch him through his pants. He’s hard, and I can feel the pulsing through the fabric.

  “Fuck, that feels awesome,” he says.

  I grip him harder.

  “I love it when you do that.”

  And I love it when I make him feel good.

  He lavishes loving attention to my other breast while pushing my skirt up. I hear a small rip as my panties fall away, but I don’t care. They’re replaceable.

  He glides his thumb between my folds, ending on my clit. I cry out, my vision dimming at the hot pleasure.

  “You’re so damn wet.”

  “I’ve been wet since the kiss in the lobby.”

  He gives me a wicked grin, then licks the slickness from his thumb. “Yum.”

  “Not fair for only you to get a taste.” I tug at his pants.

  He obliges, unbuckling, unzipping and pushing them down along with his underwear. His cock’s hard, veins thick and pulsing along the shaft. I wrap my hand around it and feel it beat in my fist like a heart. My heart picks up its tempo—harder and faster.

  My eyes on his, I run my thumb over the slit and spread the slick precum until his entire cockhead is shiny. His breathing grows shallow and quick. I smile, feeling powerful. Because I want to drive him wild, I slip the thumb into my mouth and suck softly, as though I have his cock in my mouth and this is a prelude to a lusty fellatio.

  Court curses under his breath. “You tease. You’re going to pay for that.”

  “Oh yeah?” I raise an eyebrow in a mock dare. The hottest and most delicious anticipation is sizzling over my skin. I’ve never felt anything like it before.

  And I’ve never even done anything like this before—car sex, and in a garage. His penthouse is only an elevator ride away, but it seems like light-years.

  His mouth crashes over mine. He kisses me like he wants to own my soul. I kiss him back, wanting his in return. I vaguely sense him move and maneuver. And soon he enters me, his movements sure and steady.

  Our gazes lock as he glides in and out of me, pleasure building and building and finally cresting like a powerful wave. I get lost in it, then hold him tight, like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

  Because he is.

  The thought crosses my mind as a second orgasm breaks over me. I clutch him as hard as I can as he joins me in sweet oblivion.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Court

  I groan when I can catch my breath again. Then I carefully arrange things so we don’t crush each other in the Maserati.

  Holy fuck. I’ve never done it in a Maserati before. I quit sex in vehicles as soon as Edgar got his own place with extra bedrooms because comfort trumps almost everything. What is it about Skittles that makes me lose my damn mind?

  I turn my head and look at her face, beautifully glowing and flushed with pleasure. Her eyelids are drooping low, and a faint smile curves her swollen lips. The sight wraps around my heart like a hand a
nd squeezes gently. And I know she matters a lot more than I can fathom.

  “My God. That was amazing,” she says with an overly casual grin. It’s like she’s sensed what’s going through my mind and decided it’s too serious for her.

  Fine with me. “It was, even though my back is complaining.”

  She laughs. “My hips feel a little, ah, stretched, too, but we’re young. We’ll recover.”

  Then she starts to sit up and right her clothes, pushing her bra down and arranging it so it cups her breasts just so, her top covering her, the bunched skirt smoothed and stretched over her legs. I arch up, pull my pants up and try to make myself as presentable as possible.

  “It’s a good thing we can bypass the lobby,” she says lightly as we exit the car. She runs her hands over her skirt, as though she can magically iron away the creases. “Can you imagine?”

  I look her over from head to toe. She looks like a naughty goddess, her hair slightly messy, her lips a little bruised and her clothes mildly wrinkled. And I’m glad nobody’s going to see her like this—touchable and sweet…a man’s wet dream. It’s only for me.

  Me.

  The sudden possessiveness is startling. I’ve never felt anything like it with anyone else. But Skittles… She’s different. Like a special treasure I want to keep in a safe place only I know about.

  “You look freakin’ amazing, and the concierge would’ve been too awe-struck to say hello.” I press a soft kiss on her forehead. “But I’m also glad nobody’s going to see you like this.”

  She presses her lips together, but can’t hide a small smile. We take the elevator to the top floor, our hands linked. I kiss her fingers, one by one. “We need to celebrate your new job properly,” I say.

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot to text everyone.” But instead of reaching for her phone, she presses closer, her head resting on my arm. “It can probably wait until later, though.”

  The elevator stops and opens. We step out together, my arm around her shoulders, and stop abruptly.

  My mother is in the foyer. I blink a few times, wondering if I’m hallucinating. What the hell is she doing here?

  Vaguely I sense Skittles’ eyes boring into me. But I can’t face her. I don’t even know what the hell I’m going to say to Mom, much less Skittles.

  Mom’s standing still, her chin held regally high. She’s gotten thinner. The bodice of her blue dress is slightly loose around the waist and hips. But the bright shine of her golden hair is the same. The weight loss brings out the stark structure of her delicate facial bones.

  “Harcourt,” she says, her voice like an icicle—beautiful, frail and cold.

  “Mom,” I say. “How did you get up here?”

  “The concierge knows who I am. They didn’t want me loitering in the lobby like a nobody.”

  They should’ve asked her to go home. I’m going to have a word with them later. “Mom, this isn’t the best time—”

  “You should introduce me to your girl. This is your girlfriend, isn’t it?” Mom says dulcetly.

  Everything inside me stills for a moment. I don’t want to introduce her to anybody, especially not Skittles. But Skittles is watching me, and I know if I refuse, it’s going to upset her and make me look like an ass. And her feelings trump my own instinctive urges. “This is Pascal. Pascal, my mother, Margot.” I don’t say the last name because her days as a Blackwood are numbered.

  Mom smiles the gracious smile she gives everyone she deems worth the effort. But her eyes…they stay cool and superior. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed that until now. Is it because I’m older, or because I know what she’s really like?

  “Hi,” Pascal says, giving a small, awkward wave. She probably remembers what she read about Mom.

  And the scene hurts because all this could’ve been avoided if Mom were just more decent.

  Condescension flashes in Mom’s eyes, but it vanishes almost instantly. Her smile widens, and she reaches out to take Skittles’ hand in both of hers. “I’m so happy to meet you. You’re the first of Harcourt’s serious girlfriends I’ve met.”

  My skin crawls. Mom’s met my exes in high school, but she’s getting around that by emphasizing “serious” as though she’s letting Skittles in on a secret—that she’s really special. And the thing is, it would’ve worked…if it were Tiffany standing next to me.

  “Oh.” Skittles clears her throat, carefully extricating her hand from Mom’s grasp. “That’s…really nice.”

  “Like I said, this isn’t a good time, Mom. I wish you’d called.” So I could tell you to stay in Tempérane.

  Mom looks at me like I slapped her. “I can’t believe I have to make an appointment to see my own son.”

  Even an appointment wouldn’t get her in to see Tony, but I refrain from pointing that out.

  “And would it be possible to go inside rather than standing in the foyer?” she asks.

  I don’t want Mom inside my place or anywhere near Skittles. But what will she think if I toss Mom on her ass? Probably nothing positive. Damn it. It’s my fault for assuming that Mom would never come out to L.A. to talk to me. Commercial flights have always been beneath her, and she doesn’t have access to the jets Dad keeps anymore, but clearly this is an extreme situation.

  “Yeah. We can do it inside, but I can’t talk for long. I told Tony I’d see him and Ivy later today,” I say pointedly.

  My jab fails because she remains coldly placid. Of course; she doesn’t think she did anything wrong because Tony supposedly owes her for killing our baby sister. Never mind it was an accident, and he was barely twelve at the time.

  We go into the living room. I don’t offer her anything. Mom takes one of the armchairs and crosses her legs, while Skittles stands awkwardly, like she’s the persona non grata in this scenario.

  It fucking pisses me off. Mom’s the one who doesn’t belong here. I take Skittles’ hand and squeeze gently. When she squeezes back, the knot in my chest eases. But only a little.

  “Percy contacted me,” Mom says. “I think it’s better if you speak with him and help him to see reason so he can convince your father.”

  The damn divorce. If I ever see him again, I’m going to ream him for not convincing Mom of the futility of trying to stop the inevitable. “Don’t you have a lawyer for that?”

  Her gaze flicks to Skittles. “I’d prefer not to discuss family matters in front of…”

  Skittles’ fingers flinch in my hand, but I tighten my grip. Mom’s not going to make Skittles feel like she doesn’t belong here.

  When Mom realizes Skittles isn’t going anywhere, she sighs. “Yes, I have a lawyer. But your father will be more amenable if he’s dealing with you.”

  “You think he’s going to not divorce you just because I ask?” The whole notion is preposterous. He adored her. I’m just the son who won’t color inside the lines well enough to suit him.

  “You’ll have to work at Blackwood Energy. It won’t be a hardship. It’s a great company.”

  “I don’t want that for myself.” Edgar is already doing it—carrying on the family legacy and providing jobs for all those people. I don’t think I would handle the pressure as well. Daily decisions and meetings sound dreadful and utterly dull. Dad already knows I don’t have the temperament for an office position anyway, even though he tries. If he could, he’d be harassing Tony to do the same, but he knows Tony’s beyond his control. Tony hasn’t even taken the trust fund he’s entitled to.

  If I hadn’t taken my inheritance, would Dad be leaving me alone?

  “Your father loves you. So do I.”

  My jaw tightens. “No. Neither of you love me, but that’s okay. I’m a big boy now, and I don’t need Mommy and Daddy to wipe my nose or bandage a scraped knee.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm, but I doubt Mom understands the reason. She and Dad never wiped my nose or bandaged my scraped knees. That was the job of our housekeeper or nanny. “Now, read my lips. I’m not getting involved in your problem. You’ll just have
to accept the consequences of your actions.”

  “You’re going to let your father divorce me? Shame me in front of everyone?” Her voice cracks, just enough to enhance the pathos of her delivery.

  Wishing I were anywhere but here, I look away, my neck hot. Why does she have to do this in front of Skittles?

  She continues, “Is this how you treat your mother? What does your girlfriend think about it? Women judge their men by how they treat their parents. Surely, you understand that by now. It’s how they figure out how you’re going to treat them long-term.”

  “Enough of this bullshit! You don’t get to drag Skittles into this.”

  I start to take a step forward, but Skittles pulls me back. Her face is set in a hard mask. “Mrs. Blackwood, how Court treats you is irrelevant, because I’m not going to behave the way you did. I already know the background to this story. In fact, it’s rather widely known.”

  Mom inhales sharply, her eyes narrowed and smoldering. “You’re making a mistake.”

  Skittles shrugs. “If you say so.”

  Mom jumps to her feet. “The divorce is going to ruin us!”

  I look away, embarrassed and tired of her refusal to accept reality. “Like I said, that’s all between you and Dad.”

  “You don’t understand!” Her voice is becoming shrill. This isn’t part of her standard routine. She must be desperate.

  “Dad loved you enough to let you nearly destroy the family. It’s you who killed that love with your actions.” I squeeze Skittles’ hand, needing the contact to anchor me before I lose my temper enough to do something I shouldn’t.

  Mom grows pale, then starts shaking. She stares at me coldly, contempt etched in every line of her face. “One day, Harcourt, you’ll experience the same thing I am. Don’t expect any sympathy from me.”

  She’s the last person I’ll turn to for comfort, so she can rest easy.

  She stalks away, her stilettos eating the ground. The door slams behind her.