by Aliyah Burke
“Christ,” he gasped. His eyes flickered and his balls had already drawn up, ready to release their seed deep inside her. Nothing he recalled could have come close to this.
“This doesn’t change a damn thing,” she growled, flexing her muscles around his cock.
His anger spiked along with his need for her. “You’re my wife,” he rumbled.
“Same as I’ve been this entire time. Still not changing anything.”
He drew back then surged forward. Tara yelled, back arching as she came hard around him.
“Look at me while I fuck you,” he commanded.
Her eyes were hazy as she listened to him, lips parted, allowing her pants to escape.
“You’re my wife, Tara Lynne Monroe Coleman. Mine.”
Her nails scraped again and pushed him over the edge of whatever reason he had. Andrew scooped his hands under her ass and powered into her. Relentless. Unyielding. His strokes shook the walls and she was with him the entire time, taking him, working him and asking for more.
For the second time that night, words weren’t needed. The room filled with the sounds and scent of sex and desperation. Andrew wasn’t a gentle lover. He was rough but his woman gave as good as she got. Over and over he had her creaming on his cock while he continued to thrust hard and deep, using the unforgiving wall to provide additional purchase.
“Drew!” she cried, her velvet walls gripping him in a way they hadn’t before.
He couldn’t hold out any longer and with a rasped sob, he erupted within her, jets of his release as deep as they could go as they shuddered together. Head on the wall, he sucked in large breaths of air, trying to regain control of his breathing. The woman holding on to him as is she never wanted to let him go, did the same thing.
“Tara, I love you,” he muttered in Romansh. The one language he knew she didn’t speak. Or at least she hadn’t when they’d married.
Unwilling to separate from her, but not positive he wouldn’t fall to the floor from the orgasm that had torn through him like a twister, he carried her to the bed and crawled in, still buried deep inside her.
This, this was the woman he remembered. Passion-haze surrounding her, pliant and sexy.
He dipped his head and kissed her once more, the anger gone this time, leaving behind only the tenderness. When she rolled her tongue along his, his cock twitched and thickened once more.
“I’m not even close to being done with you.”
He woke later, sated and with a sore back. He would wear her nail marks with pride. Something was missing and that was the woman in bed with him. He reached out, flicked on the light and sat up. The bathroom door was closed and he didn’t hear the shower running, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Tara?” he called out to her.
Silence met him. Andrew rubbed his eyes and found the clock still on the floor where a particularly rowdy session of sex had knocked it off. Four twenty-seven.
A weight settled on his chest and he rubbed his palm over his heart. She wouldn’t, would she?
Even as he jumped up from the bed, he knew the answer—of course she would. She was Tara. By the time he hit the light for the living area of the suite, he knew she had gone.
Even the buttons of her shirt were no longer on the floor. And I still don’t know where she lives.
He rooted for his phone and called Wendy.
“Morning, boss.”
“Find my wife,” he snapped.
“Me? I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
He ground his jaw and took several deep breaths. “Morning, Wendy. Where is my wife today?”
“It’s nearly four thirty in the morning, I would hope sleeping.” She cleared her throat. “Which coincidentally would have given you time to finish going over the documents and get them back to me.”
Ignoring the reprimand in her tone, he pivoted to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“Wendy,” he warned as he stared at his reflection.
“You do realize I’m across the world from you right now? Not sure where your wife is. I didn’t put a tracker on her. I mean, we could use her phone, but I think that would be crossing the stalkerish line just a bit, even for you.”
“Wendy.” The growl got deeper.
Steam began billowing out of the large shower. A place he’d enjoyed Tara’s body more than once last night and into this morning.
“I’ll see what I can do from Switzerland, bossman, about your wife in America. You know, where you are.” She was gone.
Phone on the counter, he stepped beneath the hot spray and took one of the quickest showers he’d ever managed. Giving Wendy until he dried off and dressed, he picked up his phone once more when it rang with her personalized ringtone.
“Talk to me,” he said as soon as he answered.
“Your wife is a workaholic. She’s got a huge caseload for the rest of the week. So she’ll be in her office or at court. With the occasional need to eat and take a piss, that’s most likely where you will find her.”
“One more thing, Wendy.”
“Really? Just one? I live for the challenge. Also, I want those papers back from you within three hours.”
“Fine.” He stared at the hand that hadn’t worn his wedding ring in far too long. “Two actually. I want her home address and my ring sent over.”
“Thank God you’re not asking me for anything big. I want to tell you, I don’t get paid nearly enough for this. I’ll have the information ready to send you, after you return the papers.” She hung up.
“Manipulated by my own personal assistant.” He went to his computer, opened the Mac and pulled up what he needed to read over. He may have been the boss, but Wendy wasn’t playing. He wouldn’t have a damn thing on Tara, or his ring, if he didn’t send the things back to Wendy as she’d ordered.
He put in an order for room service and sat down to get to work. Tara would be next on the list.
Chapter Six
Tara sat wrapped in a crocheted blanket her mother had made for her when she’d first landed the job she had now. Assistant District Attorney. All the lights in her place were off, and she was using the city lights softened by the still-falling snow for illumination.
To her left sat an untouched mug of coffee. Beside her right thigh was her cell phone, face down on the cushion. She could reach anyone in her family right away if she just picked it up, but she still hesitated.
Why?
I love my family. They help me get through everything I need to get through. Why aren’t I calling them for this?
She didn’t want to speak to anyone right now. Her mind was a whirling funnel of confusion. Anger, hope, frustration, fear and so much more were intermixed in the tornado in her mind.
A list. I need to make a list. Those help me figure everything out.
Great idea. One she wasn’t going to be doing for the moment because she was comfortable and had no desire to get up and move to where she kept any paper or pen. Tipping her head to the armrest, she sighed and closed her eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re here for, Drew. Not sure I truly want to know.”
One thing she did know was how fucking good it felt to get fucked as he had done. She shuddered. God, it was heaven. Sure, she’d been sore all day. Spin class hadn’t been fun in the slightest and Shai had merely watched her, but Tara swore there had been amusement in those brown eyes of hers.
Her doorbell rang and she groaned. Tightening the hold on the blanket, she put her feet into her ankle high, hot pink fuzzy slippers with the rubber sole and pink pom-poms dangling from the top and made her way to the door.
“You have a key, Shai, why didn’t you just let yourself in instead of making me get up and come—”
It wasn’t Shai who stood there.
Andrew leaned against the doorway, arm propped up above her head, drawing the long-sleeved shirt taut against his broad chest. Her mouth went dry and her panties got damp.
“Believe I’ve done th
at already, but trust me, baby, I’m more than ready to help you do so again.”
“What are you doing here? Better question, how did you find out where I lived?”
He dragged his fingers down the side of her face and she wanted to kick herself for the way she leaned into his touch. Before she knew what had happened, they were back inside her place, the door shut and his amazing mouth on hers.
Tara sank into him, wrapping her fingers in his shirt, anchoring him as close as she could to her. When he pulled back, her mind had stopped and all she could think about was him pushing his long, thick cock inside her needy pussy.
With another gentle touch along her face, he then carried her to the sofa and set her down before joining her.
“Hi,” he murmured, brushing some strands of hair from her face.
“Drew, answer my question.”
I have got to keep my wits about me. This man is dangerous to me.
“Wendy told me.”
Well, that did it. That one phrase yanked her from the idyllic cocoon his touch and kiss had encircled her and dropped her head first into frigid arctic waters.
“Of course she did.” Her tone as warm as the North Pole.
He shook his head, eyes narrowing. “Do not start that again.”
She curled up tighter and increased her grip on the blanket around her. “Get out.”
“Fuck that.” He yanked her close to him, in fact, she lay sprawled over him. “There is nothing between her and me.”
“Yet, whenever we’re together, her name comes up. I’m surprised that you didn’t call her name out in bed last night.”
“She wants to meet you, you know.” He sprawled his hand along the small of her back, singeing her even though the blanket was between his skin and hers, as was her pajama top.
“I don’t give a damn what your whore wants. Let me go and get out. In fact, why don’t you just go back to Switzerland or wherever you’re living now.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“So you’re moving to America then?”
He sighed. And fuck him, even that was sexy. Made her want to nuzzle him under the chin and allow that rasp of his facial hair to do more of the abrading it had done between her legs, along her breasts and more.
“Tara.”
She smacked at him and shoved away, scrambling to the other end of the couch. Pissed he had her comfort blanket, she glowered at him across the darkened room. Her glare didn’t do much when he couldn’t see her.
“Turn on a light, Tara, or I’ll find something else to do in the dark.”
Seconds later, a soft glow filled the space they were in. He scowled in her direction, frustration lining his face. For a moment, she wanted to reach out and smooth it away.
“What? There is not any point to this. We shouldn’t even have gotten married in the first place. It wasn’t love, it was nothing more than lust. I’ll have the papers drawn up tomorrow.”
“No. I don’t want to divorce you. I want you to come home.”
She rolled her eyes and looked around her place. Not much of a home like Shai’s was. Truth was, she didn’t want to be here. She had loved Switzerland and loved traveling. There weren’t many objects aside from family pictures up in her apartment.
Exhaling once, sharp, she sat ramrod straight and crossed her legs. “Okay, explain it to me. Why?”
He furrowed his brow. “Why what?”
“Why, after all this time, do you suddenly need me to come home?”
“I said want. We’re married and I was arrogant enough to think you would eventually come back and be there where you didn’t have to do anything except what you wanted.”
She scoffed and shook her head.
“Listen to me, Tara. I know you think I didn’t listen to you. That somehow, once we were in Switzerland, I was different and only cared about myself. That’s not true.”
“Bullshit.” Restless, she wrapped her fingers around the mug, grateful for the residual heat.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Okay, tell me why you feel so strongly about this.”
“It’s not my job to tell you anything.”
“Fucking Christ, Tara. I want to work this out but I can’t figure out how to fix this if you won’t talk to me.” He shoved a large hand through his hair.
Drew was large all over, even more so when compared to her.
“I told you this, Drew. You changed when we disembarked in Switzerland. You were different.”
“I wasn’t. My feelings toward you hadn’t changed either.”
“Again, I’m calling bullshit. You didn’t laugh, you barely smiled and you only showed me any affection behind closed doors. You took great pleasure in ordering me around and informing me what I could or would be doing once I moved there. You made all these goddamn decisions without talking to me first. You never once asked me if I wanted to live there.”
He opened his mouth then closed it, and she could see the wheels turning in his head. She didn’t speak, waited for him to figure this out.
“Okay, I’ll give you that I was a bit more serious. But I was just getting my work off the ground and had to focus on that.”
“If that’s where you needed to focus, perhaps you shouldn’t have gotten married to someone who may have competed for any attention.”
“Don’t start that, Tara.”
“You just admitted you had other places to focus, I’m not starting anything.” She hopped to her feet and went to the kitchen. This was going to require having something to chew on or she was going to lose her shit.
Andrew stared at her ass in the pink flannel pants as she stomped to the kitchen. A smile tugged up his lips even as he rose to follow her. It was hard to take her seriously when she looked like a tiny pink pixie. And yet, he knew better than most she was serious.
“Maybe that wasn’t the right way to put it.”
“Hope you’re better with your deals and your verbiage than you are here with me.”
He leaned in the kitchen’s doorway and watched her fix a cracker and cheese plate. Compared to Shai’s kitchen, this one had less personality. It was all shiny and spotless, but he knew she didn’t do a lot of cooking there.
He went to her fridge and pulled out some fruit then washed it in the sink. Searching through some drawers, he found a knife and cut up a portion of it.
“I listened to you in Thailand, Tara. More than you will ever know.”
“Prove it.” She popped a piece of white cheddar in her mouth.
Placing the last of the red grapes in a bowl, he nodded. “Very well.” Andrew moved around the island and got behind her, nuzzling her along the shell of her ear. “You talked about your dream.”
“I’m living it.”
“No, Tara, you’re not. You want to be a lawyer for the ICC.”
She stilled beneath him and he pressed closer, loving the feel of her against him.
“You want to have an office in the Hauge and prosecute some of their cases. Being an ADA isn’t anything to scoff at by any means, but that’s not what you ultimately want.”
“I mentioned that one night after we’d been drinking.”
“I listened. I do listen to you, Tara. I know you think that when we got home, I changed. I suppose in a way I did, but I didn’t mean to hurt you by it. And when you left, I was arrogant in my assumption you would come back. I was thinking that you would be swayed by what I had and could offer you.”
“I never wanted money from you. I didn’t know you were a baron until after you married me.”
“I know.” He moved her hair to the side, grateful it was loose around her shoulders—he loved the thick, silken waves. Pressing a line of kisses to the graceful curve of her neck, he smiled as she moaned and angled her head to give him better access.
“I don’t want any woman other than you, Tara. I don’t know how to get you to realize this. I want you at my side. I want my ring back on your finger, and I want you to use your proper last name.”
“Why does it matter what name I use?”
“Because I want the world to know that of all the millions of choices you had to pick as a man, you picked me.”
She shook her head and reached for another piece of cheese. “That’s not even logical.”
“Why not?” He captured her wrist and brought her hand with the cheese to his mouth, allowing his lips to loiter over her fingers as he took the food from her. Swallowing, he fed her one. “I’m proud of my wife.”
“I don’t know anymore, Drew. Words are just words.”
“True.” The statement had the potential to gut him—however, he held on to some hope because she didn’t state a flat-out no. It was an opening, a chance. He had no intention of letting this one slip by. “So give me a chance to prove it.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
“Give me some time to be here and be your husband. Let me meet your family, well, the rest of them.” She didn’t relax—in fact, she grew tenser. “Or, we could go somewhere and relearn one another.”
Tara ducked under his arm and headed back to the couch, the plate of food in one hand. He followed with the fruit. Despite her setting her dish in the middle of the coffee table so it could be reached from both sides, he didn’t sit across from her, instead reclaiming a seat beside her on the couch.
She angled herself so her back was to the arm, crossed her legs, and watched him. Her black eyes sharp and assessing. He held still. He understood she had to process what he was offering. Her life would be different once it came out that she was not only married, but had been for five years. He got that, but didn’t care. He wanted the world to know.
“May I ask you something?” He fixed himself a buttery cracker with a cube of cheddar. He chewed it while she worked her lower lip.
“Go ahead.”
“We— What happened when you got shot and why didn’t you contact me when that happened?”
“It was a disgruntled defendant.” She shrugged. “Happens. And I didn’t see the point in reaching out to you. Honestly, I didn’t know if I could get in touch with you, wasn’t sure if your number was the same.”
The words she didn’t say…that she didn’t even thought about reaching out or contacting him—that burned more than anything he’d ever care to admit.