Chapter Eleven

Elliot

My wife’s eyes are soft with sleepiness and the narcotizing effect of exceptional food by the time I pull into the garage. Her chest rises and falls gently under the silken fabric of her dress, and I note the butterfly wings over the tips of her breasts.

It’s a modest outfit, showing only a moderate amount of skin. But the strategic locations of butterflies draw the eye to her generous assets, which have been driving me crazy all evening long. Right now, I want to say the hell with her period, draw a nipple into my mouth and lick it hard. I want to hear that quick intake of breath and a soft moan and feel her fingers digging into my hair. I want her to arch her body into mine and beg me to take her, then scream out her orgasm and tell me in that pleasure-broken voice that she’s mine.

Good things come to those who wait, I tell myself. Bullshit, of course, but better than admitting I have no self-control when it comes to her. The plan is to wait until we’re on our honeymoon in two days…and then fuck until neither of us can walk.

Belle sighs. “Thank you. I had a great time. They’re good people.”

“Yes, they are.” I exit the car and open the door for her. “Let’s go.”

“Mmm.” She climbs out, taking my hand. Her fingers are so slim and delicate as they entwine with mine. “Do you suppose it’s really okay for me to go to the charity event? I said yes to Amandine, then realized I never asked Elizabeth.”

“Of course it’s fine. You’re family. Besides, Elizabeth will love the extra moolah. She never turns it down.”

“I see.”

I feel compelled to explain myself. “I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t planning to go.”

She tilts her head back to look at me. Even in heels, she’s at least a foot shorter than I am. “Why not?”

“Honestly? Those things are boring as hell. I usually just give money and skip the event, but maybe it’ll be good for us to get out. Our first public appearance as a couple. More chances to meet people and mingle.”

As we get closer to the elevator, a member of the concierge staff walks over. He’s in a crisp suit, black hair slicked back from his narrow, olive-complexioned face.

“Mr. Reed?” he says.

“Yes?”

“This came for you today.” He hands me a white envelope. The paper’s thick enough to hide whatever’s inside from curious eyes. There is no address or logo on the outside.

Odd. “Hand delivered?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you remember who it was?”

“Ah…not really, sir. Just some man in a suit.”

“I see. Thank you.” I shove it into my back pocket. The content is stiff, like photos or plastic sheets.

“What’s that?” Belle asks.

“Probably some business stuff,” I say even though I know that isn’t true. My business partners and associates would’ve used standard delivery service or private courier. And they certainly would’ve left a note on the outside of the envelope so I’d immediately know what it’s about and how urgent it is.

We walk into the penthouse together. Nonny’s probably in her room, sleeping. She’s surprisingly easy to look after, despite the fact that she’s a teenager. I’ve lucked out; it would probably kill me to have to look after an adolescent who was doing the same things I did.

I kiss my wife’s mouth gently. She smells so damn good, like warm honey. What wouldn’t I give to be able to lick her from head to toe? “Go ahead and sleep if you want. I should probably take care of this.” I pat the envelope.

“Okay. Don’t take too long. It’s already late.” Her smile brightens her eyes, warms them. I hang on to her hand as long as possible, then stand at the bottom of the steps until she’s gone from view. Then I finally go to my office to take a look at what’s in the mystery delivery.

Settling at my desk, I pick up a five-inch katana from a black metal pen holder. It was a gift from Lucas when he went to Kyoto a few years ago, back before he turned into a hermit. I pull out the letter opener from the sheath and run it along the edge. As I suspected, photos spill out. I pick the first one up.

It’s taken through a glass… Starbucks. I see Belle on the other side, sitting in a booth, a man seated across from her. He looks familiar, but it’s hard to see his face with the glare on the glass. I pick up the second one. Same basic shot, but with less glare. Now I can make out the other guy. Dennis Dunn. That intern at OWM.

So he outright lied about not knowing my wife. Belle later told me he was someone she’d rather not talk about—an ex with an ugly past. So why were they meeting for coffee? The time stamp on the photo indicates it was just this Monday.

If Annabelle Underhill stalked me at a café, I would’ve told her to go fuck herself and left. I wouldn’t give a shit about making a scene or making her look bad. That’s not my fucking problem.

But my wife doesn’t look like she wants to leave in the pictures.

I stare at the two photos, every cell in my body alert. Just what the hell is the deal between the two of them? Gavin said the intern’s background was iffy and implied that he’d gotten inside help to get hired.

Sighing impatiently, I pick up the envelope to shove the pictures back in, but a piece of paper falls out.

Neatly typed block letters in all caps state: FOLLOW THE MONEY.

Not a bad piece of advice, but I’m not sure whose money I’m supposed to be following or what I’m supposed to be looking at. As far as I know, my wife has no assets—her shitty car with rusting quarter-panels doesn’t count—and her bank account balance is pathetically small. Like pocket change.

Should I dig into the intern’s background as well? Gavin probably can’t tell me anything since his investigation is being done through his company, with its strict set of rules about privacy. And he isn’t necessarily looking for a link between Dennis and my wife.

I, on the other hand, am looking for exactly that. There’s no reason for Gavin to get involved. As a matter of fact, it would be better if I did it on my own without telling anyone.

But…

Why not just ask Belle? She might tell me outright. It could be that she saw no reason to mention her meeting with her old flame.

I dump the memo, photos and envelope into the top drawer of my desk and go upstairs. My wife’s just coming out of the shower, her face freshly scrubbed. A thick towel is on her head like a turban, and a thin white robe wraps around her petite frame.

She looks even younger without any makeup. Her glowing skin is flushed from the hot water, and there’s a softness to her that’s utterly touchable. My hands itch to trace the smooth curves of her body, set it to writhing underneath my bigger, heavier one.

I need to know everything about her, bare all her secrets and discover all the things from her past. The most primitive and raw part of me desires to have her soul unveiled.

But only to me.

I want to be the only man who has ever seen her stripped to the core.

What were you doing with that intern?

* * *

Annabelle

“Is something wrong?” I ask, stopping in the middle of dipping a couple of fingers into a jar of moisturizing cream.

“Nothing.” Elliot smiles, but he’s taut with a tension that wasn’t there before he walked into his office.

I spread the whitish stuff on my face and watch his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Unsure about his mood and the awkward silence stretching between us, I blurt out, “I saw someone from Lincoln City today.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Traci Burton. She was my best friend since elementary school.”

“Oh. Was she at the spa?”

“No. She’s actually working for Gavin. She was at the mansion today.”

“Yeah?” Elliot leans against the doorframe. “Was she in the same crowd as that other guy? What was his name again?”

My mouth dries. Is this my chance to discuss Dennis? After all, Elliot is bringing him up. “Dennis? We used to hang out together, so yeah, she knows him too.” I tap my skin a few times. “You don’t like Dennis, do you?”

“No,” he answers slowly. “Not really a fan.”

Was Dennis right then? Did Elliot talk to Gavin to create problems for my ex? I didn’t really think it was possible at first, but now I’ve seen how close they are. Gavin would take Elliot’s suggestion seriously. “Why not?”

“Do you want me to be a fan?”

The abrupt question gives me a pause. “No,” I answer honestly. “But I’m curious why you don’t like him.” I reach for the jar cap.

“He’s a liar.”

My hand jerks and the cap drops, rolling on the tiled floor. It stops at the tip of Elliot’s left foot, and he bends down to pick it up. I stare at Elliot. Does he somehow know everything about Dennis—how his father and mine were tangled in a bloody, fatal mess and more?

He approaches until we’re only hairsbreadth away from each other. “Here.”

I wrap my hand around the piece of pale pink plastic. “Thank you.” My voice is barely audible. I clear my throat. “Why do you say he’s a liar?”

“He lied about knowing you.”

Turning away, I concentrate on screwing the cap on the jar. “But he could’ve been too stunned to gather himself. Like I said, we don’t have a good past.”

“Why are you making excuses for him?” Elliot rests his big palm against the edge of the vanity. “I thought you weren’t crazy about him yourself.”

“I’m not…but that doesn’t mean I want to hurt him. Whatever happened between us shouldn’t still affect him. It was two years ago, anyway.”

“What did happen?”

“Nothing that interesting.”

“Belle.” Cold authority puts steel behind that one word, and I can’t ignore the command in the tone no matter how much I wish I could.

I tug at the towel around my hair. “It’s really stupid and boring. Do you want to hear it right now?”

“You know I do.”

Damn, damn, damn. I don’t want to talk about it. The nasty stuff I was able to talk about after the mess of a dinner was due to my heightened emotional state. This is different.

At the same time, if I don’t…Elliot will probably take action. And Dennis’s threat to talk to Nonny was genuine enough. Frankly, I don’t know what he’s planning to say to her, but just seeing him will bring back painful memories. It is imperative that I keep her untouched by the ugliness as much as possible.

“Well… He always made it clear he was interested in me,” I say, careful not to give out too many details. They’re embarrassingly bad, full of teenage angst and drama. “I wasn’t sure, so I put him off. Then the incident happened.”

Elliot’s jaw clenches. He knows the horrible details of my drunken foolishness.

“When he asked me out again, after that…I said yes.”

“What was different?” His eyes are narrowed. “I’d think you wouldn’t want to date anyone after that.”

I towel dry my hair. “Does it really matter, Elliot? It’s all in the past.”

He doesn’t answer, but his stance doesn’t soften either. His chin tilts up stubbornly, and the hard glint in his eyes says he isn’t going to just let me be.

Dragging in a shaky breath, I say, “Dennis was rough with me when he asked that time. No hesitation. No embarrassed blushing. He just grabbed me and basically demanded that I date him. If he’d done that a week earlier, I would’ve told him to go to hell and rot, but… I couldn’t. Maybe I wanted someone to look at me like I was some kind of trash and treat me with that bite of viciousness.” Humiliation scorches me until I can’t stand still. Wrapping my arms around myself, I start pacing. “I was young and stupid back then. I thought if I had a boy treat me badly, maybe I would find some kind of redemption for what happened when I was too drunk.”

Except I didn’t.

“Did he ever hit you?” Elliot asks me in a voice so awful it makes the hair at the back of my neck stand.

I shake my head. “No. Never.”

“Look at me, Belle.” He grips my shoulders, and I flinch. His face pales, but he doesn’t let go. “Did he hit you?”

“No. I swear.”

Elliot apparently sees something in my eyes. “But he wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He pushed to see how far he could go.” I lick my parched lips. Despite the steam lingering in the bathroom, I feel a chill settle in my bones. “Then I lost the baby, and my mom sent me to Europe for a month. She thought it would be good for me. Traci and I went together, then when we came back… Dennis was rough—and verbally abusive, much more so than before. I snapped and slapped the hell out of him. I don’t know what made me do it, though. I think I was angry at myself…and at him…and had a better perspective on things after being away. I told him if he ever treated me that way again, I’d make him pay.”

“And he didn’t retaliate?”

“No. He ranted and raved, but he didn’t hit me back. He knew how things were. My father was the king of Lincoln City at that point. Everyone loved him for the oodles of money he was making them. So I was the queen bee thanks to my dad, and Dennis was important only because I was dating him. He played baseball, and he didn’t have the pull the football players did. The school’s quarterback wanted me as his girlfriend, and I was shallow enough to date him a few times just to spite Dennis.” I shake my head. “It was ridiculous really. If it hadn’t been for who my dad was, none of them would’ve given me a second look.”

“But you didn’t break up with him immediately.”

“No. We kept seeing each other until I went to college. He actually got a little better, and was never that abusive again.” Just spiteful and petty from time to time, but it was probably due to him being young and immature rather than him being an asshole. I stopped letting him act out because of Traci. She egged me on to fight back and not let him get away with anything. I don’t mention that, though—I don’t want Elliot to think even worse of Dennis. My ex is trying to build a new life, and it would be unfair for me to sabotage it over the way our lives tangled at one point.

“Did you love him?” Elliot asks, his voice low but no less intense for it.

“No. I don’t…know that I can love someone. Not the way you’re thinking, Elliot.”

My eyes close of their own accord. It’s a miracle that I can feel the kind of sexual pleasure I do with Elliot, but loving someone is…unwise. It would only bring me pain, and I don’t think I can subject myself to it. The people I love the most have betrayed me in the worst ways possible.

“Elliot, listen. I don’t want you to blame Dennis for any of this. He was young and stupid back then, just like me. Just imagine how you were when you were fifteen.” I don’t want him to go after Dennis out of some misplaced sense of revenge or…whatever. Elliot can be oddly old-fashioned.

He cradles my face in his hands. The warmth from his bare skin feels so good, I shiver. “One thing I never did was harass a girl into going out with me.”

“I believe you.” I smile, but I need to distract him from the dangerous minefield of my past. So I take an extra-deep breath and note that his eyes glance down. Then I lean toward him until our lips are almost touching. “Did I mention my period’s over?”

“You wicked woman. No, you didn’t.” He nips my mouth.

I sense the change in him—he’s harder, a flush in his cheeks and arousal darkening his eyes. We’ve gone days without, and for a man as sexual as Elliot, that’s a long time. I grip his shoulders and rise to my toes. He dips his head, and our mouths fuse in a lushly carnal kiss.

I let him lead me, take me to that sweet place only he can. He can’t change my past, but he seems determined to be in charge of my present. The control matters to him, especially after hearing my unpleasant stories, and so I give it to him, trusting him to take care of me…for the time being, anyway.

My robe glides down, pooling at my feet, as he deepens the kiss. His tongue plunges into my mouth, then strokes me, coaxing and teasing. He buries a hand into my damp hair, the other hand squeezing my butt. Wet heat pools between my legs, and my breasts become heavy with need.

He carries me to bedroom and places me in the center of the mattress. The cool sheet feels shockingly good against my fevered skin. He is still fully dressed, and he looks down at me from the foot of the bed. His eyes are so dilated, they’re almost black.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, it hurts to look at you.”

I smile. “You won’t feel that way once you get used to me.”

“I don’t think I ever will. You are one of a kind.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck and inhales. “The more I have you, the more I crave you.”

He licks my neck, spreading my legs with his thighs and settling down. His heavy cock presses against my wet core, and he cradles a breast with one hot hand.

“I love the way your tits feel, so plump and soft.” He flicks the nipple with his tongue.

I inhale roughly as needle-sharp pleasure pierces me.

“And the way you respond, the way you get horny as I suck on them.”

That’s the only warning I get before he pulls the tip of my breast into his mouth and sucks, using his lips, teeth and tongue to drive me mad. I arch my back, pressing against him, and he takes the other breast into his hand, rolling the painfully pointed nipple between his fingers. White-hot pleasure spreads through me like raging fire, and I widen my legs shamelessly, tilting my pelvis and begging for more.

He drags his teeth along my breast, then nips the tip sharply before letting go. The slight pain mingles with ecstasy until I feel like I’m melting between my legs.

“Elliot, please…”

“Not yet. This beauty needs loving too.” He strokes my other nipple with the flat of his tongue. He wraps my hair around his fist and takes my other breast.

I writhe, my hands twisting in the sheet. He is relentless, using his mouth to control me. Pleasure pours through me, and I’m close. His hand brands my inner thigh as he pushes my legs farther apart. He runs his fingers along my slit and hums with satisfaction. The vibration nearly undoes me.

He pulls back and licks his glistening digits. “Mmmm. Hot and sweet, just the way I like it.”

I should be embarrassed—maybe even slightly scandalized—but it’s impossible to feel shame when my lover is taking such unmasked pleasure in my body.

He pulls a foil packet out of the drawer on the nightstand, then his mouth crashes down on mine. He devours me—every breath, every taste, every nibble reminding me that I’m his. I’m utterly lost in sensation, my body primed for him. My fingers dig into his hair and pull him closer so I can devour him too, even as I cling to his body and silently beg him to take me. The silken fabric of his shirt teases my hard nipples, and my inner muscles clench in hot shivers of pleasure.

“Fuck, I can’t wait,” he groans as his thick cock drives into me to the hilt.

My entire body goes taut at the invasion. “Yes,” I hiss, my fingers digging into his tight ass. “Yes, yes, yes!”

His forearms rest on each side of my head. He lowers his mouth for a kiss as he plunges in and out of me in that fast, controlled rhythm guaranteed to incinerate my mind, stroke by stroke. I clutch him, my arms wrapped around his waist and my greedy kiss urging him to keep going. His pelvis angles just the way I like, the head of his penis bumping the hyper-sensitive spot inside me again and again.

An orgasm slams into me. His mouth muffles my scream. But he continues, his tempo slightly faster now. In what seems like only a moment my primed body is convulsing a second time as another hot wave of bliss burns through me.

And still he doesn’t stop. He feels enormous inside me, against my swollen and sensitive tissues. I scream for the third time. The pleasure is so intense, my vision blurs.

Elliot curses under his breath. His body goes tight, the cord in his neck standing out. He lets out an animal cry before letting go.

He rolls over, breathing hard. The visual is striking; he hasn’t even bothered to take off his pants, just pulled them down enough to be able to get at me. I feel so exposed and vulnerable in my nude state, but when he turns his head and looks at me with that utterly sated tenderness in his eyes, I can almost believe we’re a genuine couple.