“I just got back,” he said, removing his gold watch.
“Early,” she said. Softly.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I was ready to get home.”
To me.
Her eyes shifted to the corner of the vanity table.
And he’ll do the same for us.
Luc’s eyes followed her line of vision and then widened in surprise. “Jaime, is that—”
“We’re pregnant,” she announced, pressing a hand to her damp, still flat belly.
Luc dropped his head and his hands. His watch hung loosely around his wrist and the breaths he took quickened. “A baby,” he said, looking up with eyes filled with black boy joy.
“A baby,” she repeated, giving in to the joy she denied herself all day.
She suspected she was when she missed her second cycle and just prayed it would be late. It wasn’t. Early that morning she finally had the nerve to use the pregnancy test she purchased.
Luc walked into the bathroom and slid a hand around her waist to pull her naked body against his. “Our baby.”
She closed her eyes with her chin atop his head and wrapped her arms around his neck, quickly praying she had made the right choice.
Chapter 8
Two weeks later
Graham took a sip of his champagne as he looked down about the room of the world-renowned art museum for the closing night of his exhibit—the largest and most prestigious of his career. Nearly all of his work over the years was on display. From his spot on the balcony, he surveyed the faces of the elegantly dressed people who were observing his pieces right before their eyes—perhaps for the first time.
Certainly, different than the days when women considered his body the piece to be goggled, pawned, and paid for. In his immaturity, and still reeling from the trauma of his youth, he thought sexually satisfying women had been his vocation. Now he knew his art was his true calling and his passion. He chuckled into his flute of champagne at the irony.
Over the rim of his glass, he caught sight of a woman paused in the entrance to the room. He lowered the glass, finding the sight striking as she stood with her hair up in a sleek topknot as she was surrounded by the elaborate gold brocade framing the entrance. It was regal and majestic. Deserving to be captured for eternity in oils. The brown of her skin and the white of the deep V-neck sleeveless top she wore with a massive satin skirt in citrine. The large gold medallion she wore was snuggled atop her cleavage and matched her heels.
When she stepped into the room, the movement of her body was familiar.
His heart hammered as he watched her like a hawk as she looked about the room, leaning this way and that. The further she moved into the room the more his suspicions were confirmed. And then his chest felt light and excited all at once.
“Jaime,” he whispered.
What is she doing here? A coincidence? It can’t be.
Steadying himself, he smoothed his hand over his tailored tuxedo jacket and his grip tightened on his glass as he watched her intensely. Absorbed her. Enjoyed her. Her beauty. Her regal grace. The way she moved with just a hint to the passion he knew he could bring out of her.
His Miss Prim and Proper Pearls.
That nervous and unsure person was gone and in her place was a confident woman. The years had aged her well. Jaime Pine was and would always be one hell of a woman. He knew from studying her movement through the room that she finally knew it. Not the façade she had learned to portray but a true discovery and self-awareness.
It was sexy as hell.
And many men—a few women—took notice. One even tried to stop her by lightly touching her wrist. She eased away from his touch with a polite smile as she continued moving through the crowd.
With another sip, he looked on as she began to stop and study his paintings. Tilting her head this way and that. Sometimes she gave a soft smile. Other times the art evoked sadness.
And then he remembered the painting she would soon come to and he felt alarmed. He crossed the carpeted floor to leave his solace. As soon as he reached the bottom of the steps, he stopped a server and placed his still half-filled glass on her tray. With large strides he fought hard not to appear to be rushed and politely ignoring those who tried to gather his attention. Graham neared her just as she came to a stop in front of Not What It Seems.
She gasped a little and pressed her hand to her throat.
At first look, it was just a painting of a beautiful couple in an apartment, but with the use of darker hues and shading in the shadows was a faceless person with a knife ready to pounce. Some people never picked up on it.
He took another step closer to her.
Jaime turned as if she sensed him. “Graham,” she said softly.
The sight of her up close took his breath away. Even when she snuck away from her boring life in Richmond Hills to come to his shows when he was stripping, something about her had drawn his eye and made him feel a thrill even with a hundred more women vying for his attention.
His eyes dipped to her gloss covered mouth and he hungered to kiss her. Clearing his throat, he stepped up beside her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you, Jaime,” he said, as he clasped his hands behind his back.
“I wasn’t expecting to see a reminder of... of that day,” she said, using her hand to smooth her perfectly coiffed topknot as she looked back at the painting.
Graham eyed the painting and was taken back to when a crazy person from his past drugged and trapped him at knifepoint. A surprise visit to his apartment had pulled Jaime right into the melee. “I thought you were going to get hurt that day and it took everything out of me,” he admitted, feeling tightness across his chest at the memory.
Jaime glanced up at him. “You saved me—us,” she stressed. “I thought you were going to kill her.”
“I would have to save you,” he said without a doubt.
They locked eyes.
“We’ve been through a lot together. Haven’t we?” she asked.
He towered over her by nearly a foot as he looked down to see his reflection in the brown depths of hers. Where I belong.
Graham closed his hand into a fist to keep from stroking her face.
Something in her eyes said she too wanted to feel his touch.
“Jaime,” he warned in a low voice.
She nodded in understanding and broke their gaze, returning it to the painting. “Whatever happened to . . .”
He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Still in jail. I made sure of that shit,” he promised her.
The memory of almost losing her touched something deep in him. It was not to be denied.
She fell silent and slid her hands into the hidden pockets of her elaborate skirt.
“Jaime.”
She turned to face him.
His eyes took in her face as his heart thundered. “Regardless of anything. I will always love you, Jaime,” he said, unable to contain the emotions inside him.
He saw it. There in her eyes. Unable to be hidden.
“You know what, Graham?” she asked. “I will always love you too. Nothing can change that.”
His gut clenched.
* * *
Jaime’s breath quickened when Graham’s eyes dropped to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her. Taste her tongue and mouth. She wanted the same.
Forgive me.
The child she carried could be his and by her foolish choice, she had taken the right and privilege to be a father from him. There was a choice. Just the truth. Whether Luc or Graham was the father was up to genetics. And nothing else.
And now here he was in front of her declaring his love and fucking her right on up until she poured out her heart as well, even as she twisted her engagement ring on her finger in her pocket.
The tug of war between her past and her present continued.
And now a baby was in the mix.
She hung her head, needing a break from their connection because the thought of having made a child with this tall, muscled, handsome, and
enigmatic man standing before her was thrilling.
But then there was Luc.
And she was just as happy at having a baby with him as well.
I love them both.
I want them both.
She felt overwhelmed. By her actions. Her pregnancy. His love. Hers.
The truth would destroy everything.
What about Luc?
Now she felt panicked.
Shit.
“I have to go, Graham,” she said, stepping back from him.
He took one stride toward her.
She shook her head and held up her hand before she turned and walked away from him once again. When she reached the door, she felt a hand at her wrist and turned just as Graham wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her down a long and narrow dark hall until he opened a door and swept them inside a dimly lit storage room to close it and press her against it.
He captured her body to his and kissed her like he was starved as he fed her hunger.
If she was honest it was what she came for. Him. It. Their chemistry.
She arched her back as he wildly licked her neck, her chin, and then her mouth. It was selfish and reckless, but so fucking glorious as she shivered everywhere. And when his hand rushed to lift the volumes of her skirt until he pressed his hand against her pussy, she opened her legs for him against a door once again.
“Jaime,” he moaned against her ear as he eased her sheer panties to the side and stroked her clit with his thumb.
She cried out and he swallowed it with his mouth.
“You don’t understand, Jaime,” he moaned against her lips. “I could fuck you forever.”
Caught up in his heat and lost in his words she was able to run and hide from her lies and her deception.
“Shit!” he swore, stepping back from her with deep gulping gasps for air.
She eyed him, dazed by passion, and confused by him withdrawing it.
With a small shake of his head, he raised the finger that had been inside her to suck deeply.
This man. This man. This motherfucking man.
“I’m celibate,” he said as if the words were torn from him. “I want to fuck you. And I know damn well that I could, but I can’t. Not like this. Not when there is no future. Then it’s just sex and I don’t do just sex anymore.”
He stood before her a man battling his convictions and his desires.
And she was a woman looking back at him as her desires battled her obligations to Luc.
When the words to beg him to make her cum started to tumble from her lips, she turned and flung the door open to run away.
This time he let her go.
* * *
Luc bopped his head as he listened to the reggae-influenced rap song of one of his artists who wanted to touch base with his Jamaican roots.
“What do you think, Luc?”
He looked down at the laptop with the open Zoom conference with his artist and his producers. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s missing something,” he said, sitting back against the sofa. “Maybe a girl to do the chorus.”
The front door opened, and he looked back over his shoulder, giving Jaime a wave. “Something. I don’t know. I just know it’s not ready yet,” he continued.
He heard a rustle of material near him a second before Jaime climbed onto his lap.
Her eyes were glazed. “Tell them you’ll call them back,” she whispered to him.
Luc put his hands on her waist and tried to lift her from his lap. “I’m in a meeting.”
“Then they can watch,” she said as she grabbed the hem of her white top to begin to pull it over her head.
“Whoooaaa!” Luc exclaimed before leaning past her to slam the computer closed. “Baby, what’s up with you?”
She kissed him. Deeply. With a guttural moan.
He broke the kiss and leaned his head back against the sofa. “What has you stirred all up?” he asked with a nervous laugh, “How was the art show?”
Jaime pulled the top over her head, exposing her lace-covered breasts to him as she took his hand and pressed it beneath her citrine skirt. He hissed at her wetness and his dick rose to life. “Damn, Jaime,” he said, raising one hand to her back to jerk her forward to suck her nipples through the lace before removing it to fling away.
She was in heat and it led him straight to the fire with her.
With a twist of her hips, he felt her clit strike the base of the middle finger he had deeply planted inside her. “Damn, Jaime,” he said again, looking at her in wonder as she lifted one of her breasts high enough to bend her head and lick the brown tip.
“Make me cum,” she begged. “Please.”
He ached as he fumbled through sliding his gray sweatpants and boxers down to free his hard and long dick. She wrapped her fingers around it and swiftly stroked the tip as he grabbed her panties and tore them with one hard pull.
Fuck it.
She rose on her knees and quickly eased her core down onto his hardness. They both cried out. “Damn, Jaime,” he gasped.
She rode him with fervor. Fast and hard. Each hard thrust of her hips sent her sliding her back and forth on his inches as sweat beaded across her body.
“Damn, Jaime. Damn!” he swore, looking up at her in wonder as he licked his lips.
She pulled him forward and buried his face against her breasts, nearly smothering him as she kept at it until her heart pounded like drums against his ear.
He had never seen her like this before. Never.
And when she cried out, rough and harsh, with her climax as her walls spasmed around his dick and her wetness coated him, he watched her ecstasy and felt her body shudder from deep within her.
It was a sight to see. She arched her back and thrust her breasts forward as she raised her arms around her head, her face glowing from her climax.
“Damn, Jaime,” Luc gasped before flinging his head back and thrusting his hips upwards as he fell headfirst into euphoria. “Damn!”
She continued to ride him until his dick was spent and limp. “I needed that,” she gasped in between breaths before she rose.
He looked down at his dick lying on his side and then up at her standing there, breasts free with her medallion still hanging in her cleavage, wearing nothing but her dramatic skirt and gold heels, with her lips gloss smeared across her mouth and strands of her hair freed from her topknot.
Wild and beautiful.
I love her.
She walked out of the living space and came back with a warm and soapy washcloth to kneel before him and cleanse their juices from him. “You can get back to your meeting while I take a shower,” she said, rising to her feet when she was done.
His eyes dropped to her bared belly. “Does being pregnant make you so horny?” he asked.
She looked shocked, before smiling at him. “Probably,” she said, picking up her torn panties, bra, and top before leaving the living space again.
He stood and pulled his sweatpants up over his flaccid dick. “How was the art show?” he asked, following behind her into their bedroom.
She was stepping out of her skirt, leaving it in a brightly colored puddle on the polished wood floors, removing her necklace as she moved across the room to her walk-in closet. “It was nice. I left early,” she said over her bare shoulder.
Luc frowned a bit. “What’s wrong?”
Jaime turned as she removed the gold ball stud earrings she wore. “Huh?”
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head before turning to place the earrings in her large jewelry case atop the center of the dressing island. “Just gonna grab a shower and go to bed,” she said.
He frowned a little bit. Something was off. Even during sex, something was different. Damn good. But different.
“I’m going to warm up the rest of the salmon you made,” he said as she moved over toward him to reach the adjoining bathroom. “You want some?”
“No, I’m good,” she said.
&
nbsp; He reached for her wrist. She stopped and looked up at him. “What was that about out there?” he said, motioning his head back toward the hall leading to the living room.
She looked confused. “Sex?” she asked.
“It was . . . intense,” he said.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I never saw you like that, Jaime, that’s all,” he explained when she continued to stare at him.
“Me coming home to fuck you is a problem?” she asked. “I won’t do it again.”
Their eyes met and held.
“I didn’t say that,” he rebuked.
They laughed.
“Luc,” she said, her joviality fading. “Why do you love me?”
See. I knew it.
“Do you doubt that I do?” he asked, hating the unease he felt.
Jaime looked down and then up at him with a glossiness in her eyes that could only be tears welling up. “Never,” she stressed, as she forced a smile. “I know you love me but why do you love me?”
Where is this coming from?
“Don’t you know you deserved to be loved?” he asked her.
Again, she looked down. She shrugged her shoulders.
“Jaime, what is this about?” he asked, his deep voice even darker with concern.
“For my one question you asked a bunch more,” she said, sounding tired. “Just forget about it, Luc, I’m going to wash.”
She eased her hand from his grasp and walked away. He watched her retreat. “Jaime,” he called over to her.
When she turned, he imagined her flat belly soon swelling with his child and he felt devotion for her. “I pictured the kind of woman I wanted at my side. A smart one. A strong one. A loyal one. Someone to have my children and be devoted enough to our family to hang around. Someone passionate. Someone fun. I knew what kind of woman I wanted in my life. I just didn’t know what she would look like until I met you, Jaime Pine.”
Her mouth opened a bit and her eyes softened.
“You are everything, Jaime. Every fucking thing,” he swore to her.
Her Pleasure Page 11