“That goes both ways,” he said.
I laughed. If only he knew the truth. He was the closest I ever got to having sex. We ate in silence for a few minutes, and it occurred to me that I wasn’t behaving very well, considering all that he’d done for my family.
“I’m sorry. I’m acting ungrateful, and I’m actually very grateful. Thank you, Mo.”
He reached over and took my hand. “As I said, this is all a bit awkward. But I’m happy to do it. Your father helped me out quite a bit through the years.”
I doubted my father’s help involved money or the type of sacrifice Mo was making, like getting fake married, but I admired Mo’s dedication to my father.
“What do you think Stark will do?” I asked, working to move the subject away from our fake marriage.
“He can go fuck himself—” Mo stopped and looked at me with wide eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t use that language.”
I laughed. “Oh, thank God, you’re a real human that curses.”
He laughed, too. “I have an image to consider.”
“Squeaky clean choir boy?”
He shrugged.
“Underneath you’re a bad boy, though. I knew it.”
His eyes flashed with something, but I wasn’t sure what. He looked down at his plate. “Something like that.”
I studied him for a minute, wondering if, during this fake marriage, I’d be able to have more access to the real Mo. It occurred to me that since returning to Salvation, the Mo I saw was always reserved and controlled. He was playing the part of the mayor and a respected community member. But who was he deep down? Did he have dreams? Did he have demons? In the dark of night, alone with his own thoughts, were they dirty? I really wanted to find out what made Mo tick. To get to know the man underneath this finely crafted façade.
11
Maurice
Going down on my friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter notwithstanding, I’d always considered myself a good person. Even now, involved in a fake marriage with said young woman, I was trying to be sensitive to the awkwardness of the situation, but somehow, I was fucking it up. I wasn’t surprised that she was hurt by my actions four years ago. Running off the way I did had to have the sting of rejection. But the more I tried to explain my side, the more it seemed to hurt her.
What was really unsettling was the desire to prove to her that she was wrong about my not being into her. She was beguiling. She was full of life. She was open, not afraid to share what she was thinking. I appreciated a woman who was honest with herself and me. Sure, it was annoying sometimes, as I found out daily working with Sinclair and Trina, who had no problem telling me what they thought. It was easier, in the long run, to know that than to try and guess what went on in women’s minds. It was refreshing to not have to try to read the signs.
I’d known Shelley was unhappy in our marriage for some time, but I didn’t know the specific problem, as she wouldn’t tell me. The only place she was open about her needs was in bed. Other than that, I was left to try and read her mind. The fact that she walked out suggested I’d been a poor mind reader. Or maybe I just gave up trying. The truth was when she left, it had been a bit of a relief.
Sitting with Brooke, having this delicious dinner, I was enjoying myself. I found myself loosening up. She was right in that she wasn’t a child anymore. That didn’t mean I’d act on the urge to kiss her again, but I didn’t need to act a certain way for her benefit.
“To answer your question, I think Stark will be annoyed, but I also doubt that he’ll take the hint and leave. For some reason, he has a hard-on for Salvation.”
Her eyes flashed with amusement at my use of the word hard-on.
“So, you think he’ll just find someone else’s land?” she asked.
I nodded. “Or a local business.”
“Will he retaliate against you or my dad?”
“Maybe. He crashed Sinclair’s wedding…the second one.”
“Second one?” she asked, arching her brow in intrigue.
“They got fake married, too.” I shook my head. Was there something in the water in Salvation that led to us going crazy and getting fake married?”
“They look so happy.”
“They are. They might have initially married in a ploy to stop Stark—”
“Like us.”
“Right. But they loved each other. Even then.” I remembered feeling the sting of rejection from Sinclair. I’d been biding my time until I wasn’t mayor to ask her out, and she’d known it. Today, I knew she’d done the right thing. I admired her, and we worked well together, but I doubt she and I would have had a future, even if Wyatt hadn’t returned.
“I think that’s romantic.” She had a wistful look on her face.
“Have you been in love, Brooke?” I asked, curious about her love life even as a part of me told me that it was a dangerous discussion.
She looked at me. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
Her gaze held mine for a minute, and I wondered if she’d been referring to me. But then she looked down. “He didn’t return the sentiment.”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be. You’re young. You’ll find someone who’ll value and love you like you deserve.”
She shrugged.
“In the meantime, love can be a bitch. This, I know.”
“Shelley didn’t value you or love you.”
I picked up my wine glass, downing the last bit. “She did at one time. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Sometimes, I don’t think we really knew each other.”
“You’re not an easy man to know,” she said.
I looked at her. “So, it’s my fault?”
“Hell no. Shelley was an idiot to leave you. I’m just saying, there’s a part of you that you keep to yourself.”
I nodded, thinking she was probably right. But I believed it was the result of my relationship with Shelley and not something I did before. “What about now? There must be a young man in your life.”
She quirked a brow. “Right now, I’m married to you, and we agreed there wouldn’t be any straying.”
Oh. Right.
“But no. There’s no one,” she said.
“I hope this deal isn’t going to crimp your love life. Salvation is a small town, but there is a small nightlife.”
She shook her head. “I’m not the clubbing type. Not anymore, anyway. I’m focused on my career and helping my dad.”
I reached out, taking her hand and doing my damnedest to ignore the spark of electricity that zapped when I touched her. “You’re a good daughter, Brooke. Your father is lucky to have you.”
“He’s lucky to have us both,” she said, turning her hand over to squeeze mine.
We finished dinner, continuing to chat. Now that the ice was broken, the meal was enjoyable, filled with laughter and more wine. She was right. She wasn’t a child. She’d grown into a smart woman, secure in who she was and what she wanted. That didn’t mean she was now available to me. She was still nearly two decades younger than me and Frank’s daughter. There’d never be a time when it would be okay for me to want her.
“I should clean up,” she said.
“Let me help.” I stood, picking up my plate.
“If you have work to do or something, I can do them.” She started running the water and opened the dishwasher.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I joked.
She grinned at me, and I had that urge again to kiss her. She was so damn beautiful. And sweet.
“I’m trying to give you an out from doing the dishes. My dad usually takes it.”
I shrugged. “I can help you.” The truth was, I didn’t want to leave her. Not yet. A warning bell went off in my head at this. Frank entrusted me with his daughter. If he knew I was having carnal thoughts about her, he’d kill me.
We worked together, her rinsing and me loading the dishes in the dishwasher. She wiped down the counter as I dried the few pots that didn’t go into the machine. When I finished, I
went to hang the towel to dry. I had to reach across Brooke to put it on the hook. The move brought me close to her. Close enough to feel her heat. To inhale that sweet, summery scent.
Her breath hitched. I looked down into her big blue eyes. My gaze drifted down to her pink cupid lips, and I had a flash to four years ago and how wonderful they’d tasted. The warning bell turned into a full-out siren, but I ignored it.
Instead, I found myself pulled to her. Like a magnet, my head inched closer to her. My gaze returned to hers, and I wondered what was going through her mind. She held my gaze. She wanted this, but this time she wasn’t taking. If this was going to happen, it was going to be because I initiated it.
Back away, my brain screamed. My body didn’t respond, at least not to move away. My dick did respond. It was full and hard, getting fuller and harder with each passing second. His need slowly pushed away all the reasons why being with her was a bad idea. Instead, he focused on the memory of how soft her lips were and how silky her skin was. How good she tasted four years ago. How he’d never had the chance to fuck her. All common sense wore away until I had no choice but to take what I’d denied myself four years ago.
I dipped my head the final inches, pressing my lips to hers. An explosion of taste and sensation blasted through me just like four years ago. Her lips were soft, sweet, and warm, just like they’d been all those years ago.
She moaned, and her fingers gripped my shirt, her hips pressing against my aching dick. The feel of her rubbing over me, the friction on my dick, was the final straw. A flash fire surged through my veins. I moved her, pushing her against the kitchen table, lifting her and stepping between her thighs. Her arms and legs wrapped around me. She let out a soft mewing sound, and I was lost.
I pushed her dress up, running my hands along the soft skin on her creamy thighs. Her hands were as eager, unbuttoning my shirt and pushing it off my shoulders. I unzipped her dress, yanking it down and unhooking her bra, a desperate need to see her tits clawing at my gut. When they were free, I felt like I was in heaven. They were round with pink tips. Like a starving man, I sucked one deep in my mouth.
She cried out, her hips rocking as I suckled one nipple and then the other. I slid my finger over her panties, finding them soaking wet.
I groaned, hooking my fingers in the waistband, and yanking her panties down as she undid my pants and shoved them down along with my boxer briefs. My dick sprang out, and I had a momentary relief from the constraint, but immediately, he wanted to feel the tightness of her wet pussy.
“I do have blue balls,” I ground out. “For four fucking years.”
“Yes,” she said as I put my dick to her pussy entrance. “Yes, Mo, yes.”
I kissed her hard as I pushed my tip inside her. She was hot, wet, tight. So tight. Too tight, I thought as I hit a barrier.
“Oh, fuck, Brooke.” I stopped and drew in sharp, deep breaths as I worked to pull my raging desire under control. I began to pull back, knowing I was already going to hell for what I’d done to her before. For what I’d already done so far tonight.
But she was a virgin. I’d definitely be a perverted fuck if I took that from her.
12
Brooke
“Oh, Jesus.” He started to pull away from me. I didn’t know what had happened. Did he all of a sudden remember all the reasons he’d been using to avoid me? Or had he figured out I was a virgin?
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I panted as Mo stilled. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled, forcing him to finish the deed. I needed to feel him inside me. My body burned with the need.
He blasted through until he filled me. I gasped, not in pain, but because I finally knew what it was like to have a man inside me. My body adjusted to him, making room, yet holding him tight. I couldn’t ever remember feeling like I was a part of another person. Not just the physical joining, but like we were now one.
He growled. “Jesus, are you a virgin?”
“No.” It wasn’t a lie, technically. Now that he was fully inside my body, I wasn’t a virgin. Not anymore, I wasn’t. I felt full and complete. His dick pulsed inside me. It was so amazing. Any pain I’d felt was now replaced with pleasure and an intense need. If he abandoned me now, I’d scream in frustration. “Please. Don’t stop.”
I tilted my pelvis, feeling him slip deeper inside me. Good God, it felt so good. I rocked, wanting more stimulus. Needing more contact.
He groaned and gripped my hips. “I’m going to hell.” He moved then. Long, slow strokes that felt beyond amazing as his dick lit up my pussy walls. “Jesus, you’re so tight.”
I gripped his hands, needing to hold on as he pushed me up and up, higher and higher until I was afraid that I’d come apart. My body moved with him in sync with his thrusts. I had no clue what to do, but my body seemed to know what I needed. What he needed. Each time he slid in, my pussy walls contracted and pleasure built. My body hummed with need.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped as his fingers dug into my hips.
Pressure built and built. I recognized what it was from when I pleasured myself, but this felt bigger, more intense. I felt like I might come apart when the end finally came.
“Oh God, Mo…more, more, more.”
He released one hip, licked his thumb, and brushed it over my sensitive clit. Like a trigger, he shot me off to the stratosphere. Pleasure detonated, racing through my entire body. I tensed, holding my breath as my pussy clamped down around him like it planned to never let him go. I hoped it didn’t, because being like this with him was pure heaven.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned.
He plunged in and ground his hips against me, his dick deep inside me. Warm liquid filled my body. He was coming. Coming inside me. Emotion swept through me. Oh, how much I’d wanted this. Wanted this with him. The man I’d loved for so long.
He withdrew, then he thrust in again with another groan as his release overtook him. He did it a few more times before releasing my hips and planting his hands on either side of my body as he heaved in deep breaths.
Finally, he looked at me. When I used to dream of this moment, he’d finish and wrap me up in his arms, telling me he loved me. But that’s not what happened in reality. I looked up into his eyes, and I hated what I saw. In them, there was guilt. Regret. Maybe even anger.
I grabbed his arms. “This wasn’t wrong.” Desperation overcame me. I needed him to let go of his crazy ideas that this was wrong. How could it be when it felt so perfect?
He shook his head and jerked away from me. I felt the loss of his body immediately. It was like a cold freeze enveloped me where moments ago I’d felt warmth.
He pulled up his pants and kept his eyes averted from me. “Are you a virgin?”
“No.” Not anymore.
He slanted his irritated gaze on me. “Were you before just now?”
I bit my lip, not wanting to tell him the truth because I knew it would push him further away from me. I sat up, feeling naked and exposed all of a sudden. Why did he always have to make something so beautiful into something wrong? Something sordid.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Brooke.” He turned away again, taking a deep breath. When he turned back, his expression was a bit softer. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. I loved it.” I wanted to tell him that I loved him. That I’d loved him for so long, but I knew he’d pass it off as a teenage crush.
His warm come dripped down my thigh. Intrigued, I looked at it, scooping some up with my fingers to get a closer look. I knew about oral sex, and so I wanted to taste it to see how it would be if he ever let me suck him off.
“Oh, fuck.”
My head jerked up, surprised how often he said the f-word tonight, but also by the terror in his voice.
“I didn’t use a condom. Holy hell. Just what I need. To get my best friend’s daughter pregnant.” Self-loathing and anger laced his voice.
The comment hurt even though it didn’t surprise me. It was his tone. It made
me feel rejected. Unworthy.
“I’m on the pill,” I said without any affect, pulling my dress up over my shoulders. When he didn’t respond, I looked at him.
“You planned this, didn’t you? Just like the holiday with the mistletoe.” This time his tone was accusatory. Like I was some sort of skanky temptress.
I was an opportunist then, for sure. And I realized that four years ago, I was a naïve young woman in how I lured him. But my heart had been in the right place.
“No. Did I want you then and now? Yes. The mistletoe was me trying to win you. But tonight, you kissed me, Mo. You fucked me.”
He flinched.
“I’m on the pill because I’d gone to college and considered the possibility that I’d want to have sex. I stay on it because it’s convenient to know my cycle.” I strode to the sink and grabbed a paper towel to wipe his come from me. I was trying not to cry. He didn’t need to see how badly he hurt me.
“Brooke.” His voice was small.
I looked at him, and I saw the guilt and anguish in his eyes. A part of me felt guilty for putting it there. I knew how he felt. If I was a good person, I’d have stopped him from touching me because I knew he’d regret this. I had to take some of the blame for how I was feeling now. He’d been clear on his belief that we were wrong together. Maybe it was time to accept that. Giving him a taste of what he was missing wasn’t going to change his mind. It didn’t matter four years ago, and clearly it hadn’t changed anything now.
“I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve made that painfully clear.”
He reached out toward me but then retreated. “You’re Frank’s daughter. I shouldn’t have touched you. Please forgive me.”
I didn’t know whether to hug him to comfort him or slap for being such a jerk. I didn’t have a chance to do either as he walked out of the kitchen. A few moments later, I heard a door shut and the shower turn on. He was washing me off of him. Washing away his perceived sin.
Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 48
