Wife for Hire

by Christine Bell

  shrug, he nodded. “Yep. Guess I can’t blame you there, doll.”

  Lindy didn’t blame her either.

  …

  “Are you sure this is going to help? I gotta tell you, it seems like a terrible idea,” Lindy said, eying the outdoor hot tub dubiously.

  “Don’t knock it until you try it. It’s only bad for as long as it takes to get from here to there and slip into the water. Less than a minute, unless you’re being a poke about it.”

  She took a deep breath, swung open the patio door and scuttled across the porch. A second later, she’d stripped off the fluffy white robe. He took in the white bikini and his brain short-circuited. Two triangles of fabric cupped her breasts, whose tips had firmed to tight little points in the below-freezing temperature. Before he could explore further, she turned and stuck a foot in the tub. He winced, catching sight of her back. As deliciously distracting as her curvy ass was, the giant bruise mottling the outside of her hip and around one side of her lower back took center stage.

  He closed the patio door behind him and crossed the porch to stand beside her. “That looks so painful, Lindy. Christ, I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

  She chuckled self-consciously, and craned her neck over her shoulder to get a look. “I saw it in the mirror earlier. Believe me, it looks way worse than it feels. It’s ugly, but it only hurts if I bump it or press on it. Standing out here in the freezing cold is more excruciating. Last one in is a rotten egg!”

  With that, she went around to the other side of the tub, kicked off her slippers, and stepped in. “Yes,” she groaned, her eyes drifting closed, her face lighting with pleasure. She took the steps one at a time, making a new, decadent noise with each, until she was submerged to her shoulders. Her breath came in frosty puffs, and she sent him a wide grin. “This is amazing. It’s freezing cold out, but the air feels invigorating because the rest of me is encased in all this delicious heat.”

  He looked away, willing himself to remember why they were there. The hot water would do wonders for her stiff muscles. Any sensual moans or remarks about being encased in delicious heat were entirely coincidental and meant nothing. He sent his cock a mental “Down boy!” He’d been cranked up to eleven since she’d taken her sweet time fondling him in the great room earlier during the Find Your Spouse game. He wondered what it said about him that, even if they hadn’t announced who was touching him, he would’ve known instantly. He’d sensed her before she ever laid a hand on him, their chemistry all but tangible.

  “I told you you’d enjoy it. It’s on really hot, so we can’t stay in too long. Fifteen minutes or so. Longer and we’ll start to feel woozy.”

  “I don’t see myself leaving this spot voluntarily, sorry. Hey, before you get in, can you turn the porch light off? I want to see the stars in the dark.”

  He did as she asked and returned to the hot tub. For a long moment, he just watched her. The tiny lights embedded around the tub were still lit, and they bathed her in a silvery light. She sat on one of the seats with her head tipped all the way back so she could stargaze. What struck him most was how damned happy she looked. He loved that about her. She looked for pleasure in everything. He’d wondered at first if it was the novelty of her surroundings, but realized very quickly that wasn’t the case. The simplest things, from a fine, flaky pastry to the smell of a great cup of coffee or an especially bright sunset would transfix her. The best part was that she let it. There was no feigned disinterest or attempts to restrain her reactions. If something was funny, she laughed. Hard. In his current circles, people tended to school their reactions, and enthusiasm was often deemed unsophisticated. Those people had it all wrong.

  “You getting in or what?” She’d shifted her gaze from the stars to him. “You’re going to catch pneumonia out there.”

  He slipped off his shoes and robe and climbed down into the frothy water, gasping at the contrast of heat seeping into his chilled flesh, warming him through. Moving to the opposite side of the tub, he sat facing Lindy.

  “When the real estate market comes back, I’m getting myself one of these bad boys,” she proclaimed, patting the side of the tub with an open hand.

  “Good investment,” he said with a nod.

  Her face grew serious. She moved from the stool to the center of the tub, and slipped deeper under the water, until only her head was sticking out. “So you ready for tomorrow?” she whispered, glancing around furtively.

  “I am. I signed up this morning. Did you come up with a good reason for my change of heart on the yoga thing yet? Because I’ve got squat. Maybe I could say after your fall I wanted to do something I thought would cheer you up?”

  “I was thinking, what if you said you only like doing things you’re good at? From what I’ve seen, that’s mostly true and if you say it in that cocky way you have, it’ll be totally plausible.” Before he could grill her about his “cocky” ways, she rushed on. “Explain that I was already really good at it when we first met and you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of me. Now, since I’m not in the class, you figured you’d give it a go to see if you could do it, and if you have the knack, you’ll be coming more often.”

  He bristled at the idea of exposing yet another phony character flaw, but shelved his reticence. Her explanation was good enough that most people wouldn’t think twice about it. A lot of men didn’t want to be shown up by their wives, although he wasn’t one of them. Lindy had his number on the other count, though. He didn’t like to do things he wasn’t good at. In fact, he avoided them at all cost. If they couldn’t be avoided? Well, he got good at them. That wasn’t arrogance. That was a fact.

  “Okay, but don’t be surprised if, by the time you’re able to come back to class, I’m in your intermediate session with Nico.” That would throw the smiling bastard for a loop.

  She shook her head. “Nope. You have to be bad at it. My sessions with Nico are going great. I’ve been finessing him for over a week now and I think I’m getting close. He’s about to make some sort of move, I can feel it. I’m not about to let you come in and get all ham-handed with him and wreck it. I know you don’t relish the idea of humiliating yourself, but you’re going to have to get your ego in check here, Owen.”

  Her matter-of-fact tone and facial expression irked him to no end. “It’s not about my ego. At least, not this time,” he said, shoving off the bench to stand in front of her. “This time it’s about you. I know you don’t want to hear this, but the thought of him making a move on you, any kind of move at all, makes me want throttle the son of a bitch.” He took a step closer and she didn’t retreat. “I don’t like that feeling one bit, if I’m being honest. But there it is. Not that it changes anything.”

  He towered over her, the icy air raising goose bumps on his skin. She tipped her head back to look up at him. “Not that it changes anything,” she agreed softly. “I appreciate your honesty. We still need to do what’s right for Cara, though. After you sleep on it, I know you’ll agree, so let’s not argue about it now.”

  “All right.”

  A heavy silence fell, too many unspoken words crowding the space between them. He reached out and brushed his thumb over her lips, the need to touch her skin overpowering every rational thought. Her lashes fluttered for a moment and she sighed. The warmth of her breath bathed his hand, and she pinned him with her gaze. She didn’t look away, instead dipping her face toward him and closing her teeth over the tip of his thumb. The move electrified him, every nerve receptor in his body lighting up. His balls pulled tight against his body, his length thickening to rise between them.

  At that moment, he needed her so badly he could’ve howled with the disappointment of knowing he had to walk away. She was so selfless, so good. She’d asked only one thing of him, and damn it, he was going to come through for her.

  He cleared the thickness from his throat and stepped back. “Make sure you get out in the next five minutes or so. I’ll see you upstairs.”

  Chapter S
ixteen

  Lindy stared after Owen, a thousand conflicting thoughts tripping through her mind. She opened her mouth to call him back, but closed it with a snap. What was there to say? She’d asked him to have the strength for them both, and he’d come through for her. So why did she feel anything but relieved?

  She slunk lower into the pool, dunking herself completely, letting the water swirl over her face and hair. Never, in all her twenty-eight years, had she ever felt so…much. So happy, so sad, so angry, so afraid. The torrent of emotions was making her crazy. It was like—

  A wave of dizziness came over her and she pitched forward, clutching the side of the tub. Holy mother of God, she was in love. With Owen Phipps. How could that be? Her brain frantically tried to disprove the theory that her heart had already accepted without question.

  He didn’t want a relationship.

  He was way out of her league.

  They’d only know each other a few weeks.

  He didn’t want a relationship. At least, not the kind she wanted. She refused to entertain the idea that she could change his mind on that front. He promised he would never lie to her and he hadn’t. She needed to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t going to happen.

  But did that mean they couldn’t be together, here and now? That much, he did want. And when their three weeks were up, she’d go home broken-hearted. Was that so different than what would happen if they didn’t make love?

  She waded over to the steps and climbed up, letting the shock of the frigid air clear her head. Water, instantly cold once exposed to the air, sluiced down her body. She scooped up her robe and pulled it on with trembling hands. A moment later, she scurried up the steps to their room. They’d only brought one set of keys to the hot tub, so Owen had left the door unlocked for her. She slipped in and set her slippers on the floor by the door. The patter of water against glass carried down the short hallway and she took a tentative step in that direction. Owen was in the shower already.

  Did she dare?

  She ran through her options and determined that, if she was going to do this, now was the time. Before she lost her nerve and ended up going home without ever knowing what it would be like to make love with him. That would be a tragedy. She marched the rest of the way to the bathroom and lifted a hand to rap on the door but paused. That wasn’t sexy at all. If you wanted to seduce a man, you didn’t knock and ask if you could come in, you went in and took what you wanted.

  She turned the knob and opened the door with a muttered, “Everything’s fine.”

  Only his silhouette was visible behind the frosted glass of the shower stall. He had both hands braced against one wall and his head under the spray. This time there was no hesitation. She untied the robe and shook it off her shoulders, then kicked it into the corner. Reaching behind her neck, she pulled the strings of her bikini top. Steam rose and swirled around the room as she slipped it off and tossed it onto the vanity.

  Her bikini bottoms would have to wait. If he refused her, she didn’t know if she had the nerve to walk away bottomless. Like that little patch of fabric somehow contained a bit of dignity.

  She took the last few steps toward the shower, trying to control her breathing. With a firm tug, she opened the stall. She stared, agape, at Owen’s magnificent naked form. If there were any lingering doubts, they disintegrated into ash.

  The cooler air she’d allowed into the steamy room must have registered because he stepped away from the showerhead and swiped the water from his eyes. He turned, and his stunned gaze met hers. She blurted the four words he clearly never expected to hear.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  …

  Lindy’s blue eyes were so captivating in their desire, so enchanting in their honesty, that he nearly missed the fact that she was half-naked. The long line of her neck, emphasized by the pixie cut, drew his gaze lower. The gentle curve of her breast, lower still. His throat tightened until he could barely squeeze the words out.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I want to be with you. For however long you’ll have me.”

  The need to touch her was so overwhelming he had to close his eyes to block out the maddening sight of her. “Lindy, as much as I want you—and Lord knows, I do—it’s not a good idea. You said—”

  “I know what I said,” she whispered, the squeak of bare feet on the wet tile floor of the shower compelling him to open his eyes. “But I take it back.” She pulled in a shuddering breath and stepped between his knees, closing the stall door behind her. “I take it back.”

  The nude front of her body pressed to his, and blood pulsed to his groin. He let out a tortured groan. Scrambling for some sense of control before he was too far gone, he said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s too late for that. It was too late almost from the first.” She covered his chest with her palms and smoothed them down over his abdomen, stopping at the juncture where his hips met his thighs. “But I’m a grown woman, and if I’m going to go home with the pain, I want to take some pleasure to remember, too. I won’t ask for more.”

  Every move, every word hacked away at his resolve until he was left in tatters. With a muttered curse, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, mindful of her bruise. “That I can guarantee.”

  Her breath hitched and he took her mouth in a heated kiss, fueled by three weeks of unfulfilled, constant need. She twined her arms around his neck, her body quivering. He let out a growl and half-dragged, half-lifted her into the spray. The hot water sluiced over her, and she gasped against his lips. The sound sent his blood pulsing downward, filling his length to bursting. He broke away, desperate to taste more of her, to lick and suck every inch. He bent to her breast, flicking his tongue out to nudge the stiffened nipple and she bowed her back, straining closer.

  Her pelvis fluttered against his, as if her body was seeking relief and knew where to find it. The move made him wild, the need to plow into her tight heat growing out of control.

  Space. He needed a little space to get back some semblance of control. He had a promise to keep. He pulled back and Lindy whimpered, wriggling to get close again. He held her off, sliding a wet hand between them, down her smooth stomach, pausing at the bikini bottoms plastered to her. He grasped the soaked material in his hand, every instinct goading him to tear them off. Some tiny, rational part of him remembered her bruised hip at the last second, and he managed to rein it in. Gently, he hooked his thumbs under the straps. He shifted the fabric slowly over her hips, down her thighs and lower. It wasn’t his intention to stay down there, not yet. He’d take it slow, caress her back, kiss her neck. They had all night. But as he bared her sweet pussy, his best intentions came undone. He could no more back away without a taste than he could cut off his own hand.

  He took to his knees, body quaking. He pushed open her silky thighs and the sight of her swollen with need nearly brought him low. Laying her hands on his shoulders, she attempted to draw him up and back into her arms, but he resisted.

  “I need to put my mouth on you.” His voice was guttural, so raw, he sounded like a stranger. Lindy didn’t seem to mind as she gazed down at him, eyes hazy with lust.

  “Yes,” she moaned and hands that had been drawing him away now dragged him closer.

  He parted her slick sex, breathless. Her fingers became talons, digging into his skin. “Jesus, Owen. Please.”

  She didn’t need to ask again because a second later, he was on her. He tongued the tight bud he’d revealed, licking and sucking. She bucked against his mouth, and he wrapped an arm around her thighs to steady her as he devoured the tender flesh.

  He worked her, and her movements became frantic. Soon she was clutching at his hair, chanting his name. Yes. He slid a finger over her slit and thrust deep, while sucking hard. She froze for a moment and then broke apart in his arms.

  “Owen, I—oh God!”

  She held him deep with the sensual clench and release of her body on his finger, and his o
wn sex throbbed. He wanted—no, needed—to feel that again, but next time he would be buried to the hilt inside of her. Tremors wracked her and he held on tight until the storm passed. Her breathing was harsh when he finally stood to face her.

  “Beautiful,” he muttered. “Just beautiful.” He turned the shower off and opened the door, reaching for a towel. He rubbed it over her hair, then dried her thoroughly, despite her feeble protests.

  “I want to touch you now,” she said, still gasping.

  “And you will, as soon as we dry off and get into the bedroom. We have all night, love.”

  He dropped a kiss on the tawny tip of each breasts before taking a cursory swipe of his own hair and body. Tossing the towel on the floor, he wasted no time in scooping her into his arms.

  She squealed on a laugh. “I can walk!”

  “Right. And I can carry you. Now that we’ve discussed our abilities, perhaps you’ll allow me to seduce you properly without further argument, eh?”

  She stared at his mouth and her eyes went soft. “If that wasn’t a proper seduction, I’m afraid to see what is.” She sought his lips out for a kiss. Such a small thing, yet combined with the softness of her breasts against his chest, it threatened to send him over the edge. He crossed the floor and laid her on the bed. He straightened and sucked in a breath at the picture she made. Her cheeks flushed and she drew her knees up, attempting to shield herself from his view.

  “Don’t hide from me now,” he whispered.

  She bit into that lush bottom lip and raised her chin. She held his gaze and let her legs fall open. His blood thrummed and the last thread of control tethering him to this side of sane snapped. On a groan, he bent to her, clamping the edge of his teeth over her nipple even as he ran a finger down her creamy slit. She ran her hands over his chest, struggling to reach lower.

  “Owen,” she breathed. He rubbed the bud he’d discovered in tight circles. She cried out, undulating against him. Releasing her, he reared back.

  “Condom,” he muttered. “In my shaving kit.” He moved to go, but she reached for his thigh, pulling him toward the bed.

  “I want to…”

  She trailed off, wetting her lips, staring at his erection. “Can I?”

  His knees locked, and she rolled to her side. Damn, she was sexy as hell as she shimmied lower on the bed. Coming closer. Intent. He stared straight ahead. At the wall, the wallpaper, anything rather than see her take him in, cover him with those plump lips, surely—

  Her wet velvet lips wrapped tightly around him. Dragging him in. Suction so sublime… “Fuck,” he ground out. The fiery cavern of her mouth bathed his hard and aching flesh. Over and over she worked him. Endless torture. “I can’t. You have to stop.”

  She hummed low in her throat, opening more. Taking him deeper. Breath sawed in and out of his lungs and his heart slammed against his ribs. He tried to gain some control. The desire to come became a clawing, rabid need and his whole body stiffened with the strain of holding back. He dove his fingers into her hair and held her tight before pulling her away. She released him with a whimper.

  “Why did you stop me? You taste so good.” Her eyes stayed locked on his groin and he fought the urge to let her finish. He looked down at her shapely body, a red-hot reminder of why he wanted to wait.

  “I want to be inside you and watch your face when we come together.”

  …

  Was it a dream? She watched him walk away, his muscular back a deep V leading to a trim waist, his glorious ass, tight and firm, thick thighs that she’d tested with her fingers. It had to be a dream. But her whole body buzzed, as if she’d been lit up from the inside by some unseen electrical charge.

  That was Owen.

  He stepped back into the room, his intense stare sending a gush of wetness between her thighs. She rolled to the center of the bed, making room for him to climb in. Then he was on her. Teeth at her neck, fingers stroking her to mindlessness. Whispered words caressing her ears, professing his need. He parted her thighs, and the anticipation nearly did her in, her muscles quivering for the release only he could supply. He probed her swollen heat with the broad head of his shaft, pressing in, only to retreat too soon. Far too soon.

  “Please. Deeper,” she begged, tossing her head on the pillow, clutching at his hips, desperate for him to fill her.

  “Don’t test me, Lindy. Your hip,” he said, his voice a pained groan.

  “I don’t even feel it. I need you so bad.”

  He pulled back to look deep into her eyes and drove his hips relentlessly forward, his thickness stretching her inch by exquisite inch. The intensity of it stole her breath, and she fought to keep her eyes open so she could watch his face. His jaw worked soundlessly as he moved, thrusting long and hard. She met him with an arch of her hips, grinding her pelvis against him.

  “Shit. I can’t—”

  He stilled, letting out a guttural cry. The chords of his neck went taut, and he exploded. The feel of him jerking and twitching inside her sent her flying, waves of pleasure rocking her from head to toe. His name was a litany torn from her lips over and over.

  She lay beneath him, gasping for breath, fighting to keep the fear at bay. It was time to live in the moment, and at this moment she was with the man she loved. It would be fleeting and she wasn’t going to waste a second of it.

  She pushed him off her and he rolled onto his back with a muffled groan. “That’s it?” he said with a breathless laugh. “You’re done with me now so shove off, then?”

  She climbed on top of him and traced lazy circles on his stomach with her breasts. “Not even close,” she whispered and then dove at his mouth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I got it.”

  Lindy’s cheeks burned. She looked up from the magazine she’d been pretending to read to see Owen standing over her, a triumphant smile lighting his handsome face. She’d been so lost in erotic memories of the night before she hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “Got what?”

  “The fingerprint.”

  Of course. She’d been so caught up in her naughty daydream about him, she hadn’t remembered today was the day. He hadn’t had an opportunity to steal the water bottle during his first yoga class, so he’d endured another before deciding to try Liza’s me-time meditation class instead. Less chance of a pulled groin or a torn Achilles, he’d said. She hadn’t minded. The delay had given them three