“We should start packing today so we can leave for your dad’s first thing tomorrow morning,” she murmured between sips of orange juice a while later.
Eric grimaced inwardly. Before parting ways from Spencer, the old man had extracted a promise from Sasha that they spend the holidays with him. He had to hand it to his father. Spencer knew he would say no, so he had asked Sasha, who was still pretty much clueless about the depth and hidden complications of the Cohen family dynamics. He didn’t like it one bit how Spencer took advantage of his wife’s good heart.
“What choice do we have,” he couldn’t help but say gloomily.
She nudged him under the table with her foot. “But Aida and Clinton will be there. I haven’t seen them in a while.”
The only reason for going to Ivy Peak was meeting them and his nephews.
Noticing he didn’t look too enthusiastic, she squirmed in her seat. “Eric, if it’s too difficult for you, it’s okay. We don’t have to go.”
He saw her hesitate before timidly reaching across the table for his hand. She looked at their joined hands, her pale, rough hair falling over her eyes. Sasha was most confident with a cello and was a sensual force unleashed in their bed. But outside of it, she still took great care with showing her feelings. It hurt him a little, but she said she loved him. Knowing that would always make everything alright.
“No.” He kissed her hand quickly, tasting the crumbs of toast and blueberry preserve there. “We should go. Father would love to see you. And Aida has been asking about you.”
Aida seemed to have taken Sasha under her wing. Before Sasha returned to school, the two women would talk in the kitchen, Aida beaming in appreciation as Sasha fumbled at offering to take over some of her duties so she could concentrate on her bigger responsibilities.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He smiled at her and kissed each of her fingers. “Ivy Peak is beautiful at this time of the year. As messed up as Spencer is, he knows how to go all out on the decorations.”
He would go only for his wife. The things I do for love, he thought, stilling for a moment before Sasha pulled her hand back and resumed eating. He was a fucking sap or a desperate, fucking sap.
Then her blue eyes met his, and he thought only a fool would say no.
A cell phone began to ring. His. Eric hunted for his phone under the pillows, where it had slipped last night during their early tussle. “Zachary,” he said, nodding at Sasha. “What’s - ”
“Hey, fucker,” Zachary said quietly.
“What’s going on?”
“Hospital. Gladys. Gladys.” Eric heard him sigh long and loudly before cursing. “Baby. I mean. It’s coming. God damn it!”
Ann Marie was born at five twenty-five in the afternoon, weighing six pounds and nine ounces. She was completely bald except for faint feathers of pale hair at the lower back of her head. She had big, dark gray eyes. Sasha took photos of Zachary, still wearing his surgical greens, cradling his daughter in his arms. He made silly faces through his tears. Eric simply watched the baby squirm and yawn.
Zachary then offered the baby to Sasha. She flushed and gave Eric a worried look before positioning her arms to take her. Zachary transferred his daughter, making cooing sounds as he did. Eric, now holding the camera, peered through the lens.
The baby felt like a soft sack of meat and the most fragile of bones. She was soft, softer than anything Sasha had held. Pretty gray eyes stared back up at her before closing as a tiny pink mouth opened. “I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” she muttered, looking up at Zachary and Eric. Her big eyes betrayed her panic.
“Come on, you’re doing it right. You’re a fucking natural,” Zachary assured her, rubbing the top of his big nose on his daughter’s forehead. “I think she likes you.”
“She’s so small and just . . . fragile,” she whispered, cradling her close to her chest and turning to Eric, who was aiming the camera phone at them. “Hurry with the picture.”
“Why are we whispering?” Eric asked in a loud whisper.
“I don’t want to wake her,” Sasha answered. Ann Marie suddenly whimpered, and she froze. “What the fuck did I do? Fuck. I said ‘fuck!’”
“You’re funny,” Zachary said, rolling his eyes at her, then Eric. “It’s a baby, not a nuclear bomb.”
“What if her first word is fuck?” Sasha whispered. “Shit, I said it again. Oh . . . drat.”
Zachary finally took mercy on her and took his daughter back. He offered the baby to Eric next. He hesitated, and Sasha took the phone from him.
Unlike her, Eric’s hold on Ann Marie was sure, and he smiled for the camera. Sasha thought she could be his baby. A strange, heavy ache settled on her breasts. Confused, she hurried through the photos. Eric looked more relieved than he should be as he returned the baby to Zachary. Sasha took another photo.
“What happened to you?” Eric asked her while driving. They were going to Zachary and Gladys’ place to feed Honey. The couple would be returning by tomorrow afternoon. Before Eric and Sasha drove to Ivy Peak, they would be feeding Honey again.
“What are you talking about?”
“When I was holding the baby. You looked . . . I don’t know. I can’t describe it.”
She blushed and fiddled with the seatbelt across her chest. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess . . . I guess I was reminded of the pregnancy scare. I’m . . . I don’t think that can be us.”
“Oh. Well, it’s too soon.” Eric said, signaling as he switched to a faster lane on the road. “You also just got back to school.”
She nodded absently but not exactly in agreement.
She was terrified of being pregnant because she didn’t want Eric to think she had deliberately trapped him in a relationship that was only going to be temporary. She did love him. Without question. But much of Eric and their significance to each other was still very much in the dark.
I love him, and now he knows.
She looked at him as he drove, wondering how much braver she would have to be when her heart was on the table. What of his heart? Because she felt he loved her too. The way he looked at her, how he protected her. The way he turned to her as he confessed about Tallulah. He had to love her to trust her as he had. When he fucks me. She knew how it felt to be used. It was never like that with Eric.
Had she been pregnant, under different circumstances, she would welcome it. She would be scared, she would be worried, and yes, her dream would be derailed again, but what were beautiful symphonies and public adoration to life? A life she created with Eric with all her heart?
“Maybe we should take Honey for a walk too,” Eric said as he made a turn.
“Yes. She’ll like that.”
Innocence.
The ground covered in dried leaves the color of vivid reds and golds, the sun high in the sky, and the sky clear but also crammed with fluffy white clouds called for a brush and canvas. But the sight that held Eric spellbound was Sasha tearing across the red-gold field on her endless legs, red-faced and shrieking as she and Honey ran back and forth.
She looked so carefree and joyous, and amidst the rich colors of the fall, almost beautiful. He watched her pick up a stick from the ground and toss it to the other end of the field, which Honey chased. Sasha threw back her head and laughed before going after the dog.
In their bed, she was all woman, his wife. Sensual. Wet. Sweet gasps. Tight pussy. Hungry, unschooled kisses. I love you, Eric. I love you. I love you. But she was so very young, just at the cusp of her life that promised numerous paths and turns, rather than dreaded forks or worse, a single way. She was no longer the angry, defensive woman who taunted him into trying to shame her for her lack of womanly curves. She was no longer close to being destroyed, as Carl Kane had intended. Somehow, she had been brought back to life, and she was fighting for one more day in the sun with verve and exuberance. Fighting and still living.
Honey now held the stick between her jaws, and Sasha was chasing after her. She
must have slipped or tripped because she was suddenly flying across the ground. Eric shot to his feet as she landed. The world fell silent. Honey, realizing no one was chasing her, turned and dropped the stick as she barked. She ran back to Sasha, who was suddenly laughing. Eric would have gone to her if not for her arm rising in the air, her thumb thrust high. Honey reached her and licked her face. Eric thought Sasha’s giggles sounded that of a little girl’s. She turned on her side as the dog flopped down beside her. She hugged the animal, holding it with more confidence than the baby.
Ann Marie looked more fragile in Sasha’s thick arms yet also more secure. She had held the baby awkwardly but close to her chest, the worry in her face clear. Eric was amazed that something so small was alive and looked to be a fighter. Perhaps if not for recent events, he could bask in the sight of Sasha with the child. His stomach fluttered, imagining her full and ripe with his child, her arms cradling her round stomach rather than the cello.
No, he couldn’t do that to her. She loved him. She trusted him. He was not going to violate that trust by knocking her up for real. She was never going to forgive him. And should they have a child? He was still testing the waters with Sasha, wondering about the depth of her feelings despite her heated declarations last night. What would his child think of him for being a coward that turned to the bottle? That he had seen his best friend get raped by her husband and did nothing? That he had fucked his best friend?
The child will hate him too for bringing him into the world when he shouldn’t be. Or her.
He would hate himself too. He had promised to take care of and protect Sasha. He couldn’t get her pregnant now, no. What he needed to do was make her dream happen. She belonged on the stage and deserved nothing less than roses thrown at her feet after every performance. She loved him. She trusted him. He could live with Sasha’s hate but who’s to say she would live with him? That was going to be a cruel world, a world without Sasha at his side.
He went to the lovebirds, still cuddling on the ground. The sun was beginning to set, and the air was crisper and cooler. Honey looked up at him while Sasha smiled. “Hi.”
“Hey. It’s getting dark, kids.” He said, holding out his hand to her.
Honey whined as if understanding him. Sasha laughed and took his hand. He grunted as he pulled her up. Seeing she was covered in leaves and bits of grass, he laughed. She blushed, and they dusted her off.
“I have something to ask of you,” she told him as he patted her butt free of the clinging leaves. He couldn’t stop himself from sneaking in a caress, wishing he was touching naked, pale flesh.
“What is it?” He asked, straightening up to pull the leaves from her hair. “Fuck, Sasha. It’s like you’ve got an entire forest on you.”
“Can Honey stay the night?” She asked, plucking a clinging twig from her sleeve. “She’s been alone all day, and Zachary’s place is on the way. We can drop her off when we leave tomorrow morning?” Because he didn’t answer right away, she added, “She won’t mess up the loft, Eric. I promise. And she’s obedient.”
He affected a long sigh. “I do have one concern.”
“What is it?”
“I’m going to fuck you through the night, and I expect you to be your usual . . . expressive self, pretty. Do you think Honey can handle that?”
She blushed violently and looked around them. “Eric, people might hear!”
“What’s wrong about telling my wife I want to fuck her, and I like it when she’s loud?” Hell, but it was fun teasing her like this.
“I’m not loud!” She hissed.
“Not when it’s my tongue in your pussy, pretty. But when it’s my cock? You can bring the house down.”
She glared at him. “You’re teasing me.”
He laughed. “Yes. But surely you know how . . . enthusiastic you get when I’m fucking you?”
She shook her head and muttered something under her breath. He grabbed her and urged her to look at him. She was annoyed, but there was a softness in her eyes too. He took her by the chin and devoured her mouth.
Ivy Peak was a condemned place as far as Eric was concerned. It brought back too many painful memories he would rather forget. He never wanted Sasha to stay there longer than she should. The occasional dinner was barely tolerable. A weekend was something else.
He was also greedy about his wife. She loved him. At last, she told him she loved him. He couldn’t get enough hearing the words from her, begging her to tell him over and over last night. He had been relentless, wanting the words panted in his ear as his cock pumped inside her. He had refused to turn off the lights, wanting to look in her eyes and see all of her as she bared her heart once again. His only regret was exhausting her to the point that she was snoring softly as he spilled in her pussy. Eric slept with her caged in his arms, his hold possessive, intent on keeping her safe.
She looked very pale the next morning, flushed and her beautiful eyes heavy- lidded from the lack of sleep. It did not stop Eric from nudging her back into bed and spreading her legs. The dried stains of their fucking and his semen were all over her thighs. He wished for paper and paint, but hunger for her taste, their taste, won. Her pussy was still swollen and plump under his hungry kisses, but she moaned and sighed his name. He licked the softer inside of her pussy, tasting himself, her. He suckled on her clit without mercy, not even when she squirmed and gasped it was too much. He licked her clean, for she was his goddess, and he was nothing but a servant who would spend his days worshipping at this altar of her.
They dropped off Honey back in her house, keeping her happy with a full bowl of food and another of fresh water. Half her face was deep in the bowl before Sasha could kiss her goodbye. Released from this duty, she slumped back in the passenger seat and fell asleep. She only woke up once, when Eric put a paper cup of warm coffee under her nose and offered her a sandwich. She took a sip, a small bite of the food then fell back asleep.
She woke up when they were half a mile from Ivy Peak. She squinted at the sun and winced. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Eric told her cheerfully.
“Good morning,” she murmured, stretching as much as she could in the limited space. She was all rumpled and adorable.
“Hungry?” Eric asked.
“No. I just want to sleep.”
“Sorry about that.”
He glanced at her and saw her blush heavily.
“You never have to be sorry about that,” she said to her lap. “I’m not. I - I like it. It’s . . . it’s really nice to be with you.”
Oh god, she shouldn’t really be saying those things when he was driving and they were approaching what was the closest to literal hell on his earth. Had she been wearing a skirt, he would pull over and sink in the heaven of her sweet pussy and drown in the blue oceans of her eyes. But she was in jeans, and she still looked sleepy and a little cross.
Sasha had only been to Ivy Peak once. If Eric had his way, she would never set foot here again. She was goodness personified, and Ivy Peak was a cesspool beneath its grandeur. The tall, iron gates parting open to let them through reminded Eric of sharp spikes. The tree-lined, curving driveway was not the artful display of professional gardening but artifice meant to lure and trap.
Then there was his father standing at the end of the drive, the fountain of a carved animal behind him, seemingly benevolent in his three-piece suit and placid expression but the lord of despair.
And behind him and that atrocious fountain was the mansion. Two wings. Each room a showcase of the rarest and finest art and unmatched Cohen wealth. The very places where he and Tallulah had shared one kiss after the next to forget the loss of his mother. Then Tallulah’s room where he fucked her the entire summer, believing that the absence of pain as his cock sank repeatedly in her pussy meant heaven.
Eric started to slow down, his expression grave. Sasha must have been looking at him because as soon as he braked the car, her hand closed around him. She looked worried.
“I’m here, Eric. I love you.”<
br />
She really was sweet, believing that those three words were the magic that would undo hell.
It was Spencer who opened her door. “Sasha, you’re finally here. Eric.” When speaking to him, his father’s voice was clipped.
Spencer took Sasha’s hand and helped her from the SUV. As his father welcomed her warmly with a hug, Eric let himself out of the car. He reached them just as Sasha was moving away from Spencer’s arms. Noticing how she was moving gingerly, Spencer remarked, “You should have stopped for a few minutes, so your wife could stretch her legs, Eric.”
Eric snorted under his breath. If not for Sasha turning a deep, vivid red in seconds, he would have told his father that he had stretched his wife’s legs plenty last night, and her pussy too. But no. He wouldn’t embarrass Sasha like that.
“It’s alright, Spencer. It’s not Eric’s fault,” she said quickly. “Err . . . we didn’t get much sleep because Zachary’s wife gave birth, and we stayed at the hospital with them.”
“Oh.” Spencer looked confused for a moment, and Eric sighed. Of course, he wouldn’t know his son’s friends. “Right. Well. Congratulations to them. What did they have?”
“A girl. Teeny and beautiful.”
Servants appeared out of nowhere to get their bags from the car. Eric put his arm around Sasha’s waist. Spencer stared at them and then offered Eric his hand.
Sasha’s confusion at their handshake meant there would be questions later.
“All it took was a wife for you to return home, Eric,” Spencer said as Eric put his arm back around Sasha’s waist.
“We’ll see about that. Where’s Clinton?”
“They won’t be arriving until tonight. Your old room is ready. We still have a few hours before lunch so you can rest, if you like.” Spencer replied. “I hope you don’t mind that I make myself scarce for a while longer, Sasha,” he told her. “It may be the holidays already, but there’s still work to be done. I’ll see you later.”
The Arrangement Page 12