by Aliyah Burke
“It’s the same. I won’t change it.” His palms burned to draw her close to him. “Are you okay?”
He’d seen the scar last night as he’d kissed every inch of her body. It had filled him with fury, even now—thinking about it did not do a damn thing to calm him down.
“I’m fine.” A grin lifted her lips. “You’d think getting a bullet dug out of me would have entitled me to a bit of a break from Shai, but no, it didn’t. Bitch still makes me go to spin class with her.”
“Spin class?”
“Yes, you know the class you pay good money where some sadist ass sits in front of you and yells while you pedal and sweat?”
His laughter slid free. “But damn, you have one hell of an ass.”
Her smile was full of seduction and pleasure. “Thank you. It’s important, you know, to make sure of that.”
Warning bells rang and he shook his head. Reaching out to cup her chin, he leaned close and kissed her once. “I think it’s about the time you get to spend with your sister, therefore, it’s worth all the pain and sweat.”
“Maybe.” Her eyes sparkled setting off the tone of her response.
“So what happened to him?”
She busied herself with fixing some more crackers and looked up at him through a sheet of her hair. “Who?”
“The man who shot you.”
“Oh, him.”
Andrew was baffled by the way she talked about being shot, almost like it hadn’t mattered she’d nearly had her life snuffed out.
Like she would be in less danger working and prosecuting for the ICC.
He swallowed and forced himself to a calm state. Eating some grapes, he waited for her to respond.
“He was put in jail.”
Andrew watched her expression, hoping to see some flicker of something. Anything, really, that would show she had been bothered by the action. Again, he was disappointed.
“You should have called me.”
She shrugged. He reached between them and gripped her wrist. She tipped her head up and watched him.
“Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was when Wendy told me you’d been shot?” Her eyes narrowed but he kept going. “Of course not. And why is that? Because you couldn’t be bothered to speak to me. Couldn’t be hassled to reach out to let your husband know you’d been shot.”
So much for keeping calm about this.
“I’m surprised your precious Wendy didn’t tell you I was fine. Or hell, perhaps she was waiting to tell you that I’d died so you two could be together, all legal like.”
Andrew matched her glare for glare. His own temper spiked and he was spoiling for a fight.
“How many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing, not a goddamn thing, between myself and Wendy? She’s my personal assistant, that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Maybe I just don’t believe you.”
Stuffing his desire to shake her, he fisted his hands and kept him in his lap. His father may have been an abusive bastard but he would never raise his hand to a woman.
“Regardless of that fact, Tara, I’m still your husband and I deserve to know when something like that happens.”
She reached up with her left hand and tucked some hair behind her ear as she watched him, her gaze sharp and assessing. “So you’re saying, because we’re married, a couple, that large decisions should be shared. Or large events should be shared between us. Is that what I’m hearing you say? Is that your whole reason for being upset that I never reached out when I got shot?”
Trap. Trap. Trap.
Ignoring his subconscious, Andrew nodded. “Exactly.” He was thrilled she was seeing it and understanding it from his point of view because, to be honest, it was getting very frustrating having to repeat himself and struggling to make her understand where he was coming from.
She pursed her lips briefly, nodded, then leaned back against the couch. With the fingers of her right hand, she trailed them along her knee as she went over some thoughts within her mind. Then she lifted her gaze and held his.
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you tell me about your business holdings in this big merger plan that you have going on that Wendy needed you to read over all these papers and send back to her for?”
Andrew opened his mouth, not positive how she’d found out about all this, only to snap it shut when she slashed her hand through the air.
“It was a rhetorical question, Drew. I really don’t care to know your excuse. You’re upset about the other thing for no other reason than because you think you have a right to everything that goes on in my life, but have a right as the man to keep whatever you’re doing to yourself.” She pushed to her feet and glared down at him from her unimpressive height. “I’m done. Don’t come back into my life toting holier-than-thou crap when you’re doing the exact same thing I was. You have no right to be pissed at me any more than I have a right to be pissed at you.”
Andrew lifted his hand once more and she shook her head.
“I’m not finished. We’re both adults and I can take full responsibility for my actions. Maybe you should do the same with yours before you try to come and make it seem like I’m the one who fucked up this marriage. Show yourself out. Good night, Drew. And goodbye.”
Within seconds he was left alone in her living room as the storm outside got worse. Tipping his head forward, Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose and swore in multiple languages. Tara was right. Again. He had handled this entire thing incorrectly and all he’d managed was to push her farther away from him, which was the last thing he’d wanted. He wanted her back. He wanted her in his life. He wanted to keep his wife.
Stretching out his legs, he hooked his hands behind his head and thought about his options at that point in time. His gaze drifted down the hall where she had disappeared and a smile tugged up his lips.
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, baby. Not this time.”
Chapter Seven
She stirred and froze when the strong arm around her midsection tightened, anchoring her back into him. Tara’s mind raced with all the possibilities of what could’ve happened last night that would have this end result of her lying in bed with a man.
All I did was confront Drew, have wild crazy sex with him, go to my sister’s then come back here and tell him to leave. I didn’t go out drinking after. So there shouldn’t be a man in my bed.
Not that any of that mattered. Tara knew without a doubt who was lying in this bed with her. The one man she could never forget no matter how hard she tried. The man she’d married. And the one she’d told last night to leave her apartment. Also known as the man who had not listened to her and had climbed into bed with her as if he belonged there.
Opening her eyes just enough to see the digital readout on her clock, Tara allowed them to drift back shut when she saw the time. Three in the morning. Early even for her to be getting up after the night she’d had last night. Besides, what was the harm in indulging herself one last time with what was like to lie in his strong embrace?
After all, he was here, as she was. Obviously, he wasn’t going to go anywhere, because he hadn’t left when she’d told him to leave the first time. She flicked her tongue over her lips and settled down, allowing his heat at her back combined with the blankets over them both to escort her once more into a land of slumber.
She woke an hour later when her Fitbit buzzed its silent alarm. She did not want to get up, especially knowing what awaited her the moment she crawled out from under the blankets. Her sister and that sadistic bitch of a spin class instructor.
Indulging for another two minutes before she forced herself out of bed, Tara rubbed her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to start her coffee. What she wanted was a hot shower to work out her sore muscles, but it was pointless to take a shower before spin class. Lord knew she never left there any less than completely drenched with sweat.
Once her coffee percolated, she returned to her bedroom and turne
d on the lights, all without care for the man who still lay in her bed.
Drew groaned and opened his eyes, pinning her to the spot. “That’s not nice, darling.”
“I have to go to spin class, so you need to get up and leave. I’ll drop you off at your hotel on my way.”
He stretched with a languid motion, drawing all her attention to the rippled pectorals and defined abdomen before her gaze trailed down to the tented sheet. Her mouth dried out and she tried to focus on something other than the happy trail she longed to follow with her tongue.
“With or without clothes, Drew. It’s your choice, I don’t care.”
If he was perturbed by her comments or her surly morning attitude, he never once let it show. Instead he sat up, swung his legs over and rose before she could even prepare herself for the sight of him completely naked and one hundred percent hard. The whimper slid free and she had no time to attempt to contain it.
His cock rose long and thick from the dark thatch of pubic hair. Her gaze riveted to it, watching it move as he approached. The broad head, swollen and angry, had a few pearls of pre-cum, making it glisten. Every urge within her begged her to drop to the floor and take him in her mouth. Tara locked her knees to keep from doing that very thing.
“You know my choice, Tara. With you it’s always been sans clothing. I look at you and I want nothing more than to sink my cock into your hot pussy. Or lift you until you wrap your legs around my head and neck, giving me unfettered access to lick and eat that sweet pussy. I want you tight around my head, hands ripping at my hair as I make you come over and over again.”
It took her two tries to get the words together to force them past her lips. And when she did, they were less than impressive, more like a wheeze or a prayer instead of a strong, assertive statement.
“I’m leaving in ten minutes.”
Tara marched past him, determined not to look at him or his fantastic body a moment longer. She went into her closet and pulled out some spin class gear. When she stepped back out he was gone—however, she heard the bathroom fan running. Taking advantage of the opportunity while she had it, she shoved into her clothes and made sure to be out in the kitchen by the time he joined her.
His eyes still smoldered, just as they always had when he watched her with passion in them. She hated it. Hated that he could still make her revisit all those moments they’d shared during their week together in the brief time before she realized his life wasn’t hers.
“What are you thinking about?”
She continued fixing her coffee how she liked it, keeping her gaze on the mug in front of her. “Just thinking of things and how they used to be. Realizing how much we both changed and how different our lives are.”
He maneuvered over so he was by her shoulder. With a slight tug of her hair, which was up in a ponytail, he held her head back until he leaned down and brushed her lips together in a gentle yet altogether branding kiss.
“Our lives don’t have to be on different paths, Tara. In fact, I’d much prefer they were on the same path, or at least heading to the same destination.”
“You have businesses to run and I have a job to do. My work is here, yours isn’t. I don’t see how we will ever be on the same path or going in the same direction.” She snapped the lid on her travel mug and ignored the spike of pain piercing her heart.
“So that’s it then? We see each other, fuck and go on about our lives as if this time together never happened?”
“I don’t know what more you want from me. I can’t do my job from Switzerland. And I highly doubt you and Wendy are moving over here.”
There’d been a hardness in his eyes when she’d first started. However, by the time she finished her statement, his gaze had changed to soft and, dare she say, caring.
“That sounded like a challenge, Tara Coleman.” He kissed her again then stepped back and walked to the door where he waited for her, coat in hand.
No words were exchanged between them as they went down to her car. As usual, he held the door for her, closing it behind her before he got in on the passenger side. He remained silent for the ride back to his hotel. As she idled before the entrance he unhooked his belt and leaned over, dragging a knuckle down the left side of her cheek, bringing her head around to face him.
“I’m not going away, Tara. Please have dinner with me tonight. No fighting, no talk about moving, no talk about Wendy. Just us, you and me.”
Her heart rate tripled before it slowed. Every bit of advice she’d ever given herself told her to run. Run far, run fast, run hard and never ever look back. She opened her mouth to deliver the letdown and said, “Yes.”
What the fuck just happened? I was supposed to say no. How the hell did ‘yes’ slip past my mouth? And why is he looking so damn smug?
“Perfect. I’ll make a reservation with the restaurant for around eight. You have my number, use it if the time doesn’t work, otherwise around seven.” He brushed his lips over hers once more and was gone before she could even catch her breath.
Her entire way to spin class she tried to figure out how that had happened. And failed. Her breathing still hadn’t returned to normal as she met up with Shai and headed inside to the torture room.
“You look like you slept well. Lots of mind-numbing sex before bed?”
Flipping her sister off, she didn’t dignify that with any further answer. Fighting with Shai, or arguing as the case may be, would only result in her being even more out of breath. She didn’t need to lose any more face in spin class.
Shai, bless her heart, let it go. At least verbally. There were plenty of sideways glances and condescending smirks and she struggled to keep up in the class from hell.
After they finished, she and Shai walked out to their cars and Tara searched for a way to broach the fact she couldn’t have dinner with her sister tonight.
“So I have to cancel our dinner plans tonight,” Shai said. “I’m starting a new cooking class and they told me the first one was tonight instead of tomorrow as it had been listed when I signed up. I’m sorry. We could do lunch, or breakfast before work if that would work better or just a rain check and wait until Eva comes back from Florida?”
“A cooking class? What the hell do you need to learn about cooking?”
Her sister shrugged, a happy smile on the face that was far too serious most of the time. “It’s a course in Middle Eastern cooking and I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to increase my knowledge on food from their countries.” She touched Tara’s shoulder, halting her forward motion. “You’re okay with this, right?”
“Absolutely. I think it’s great you’re taking a cooking class. So long as I get to be the test subject when you have to try new dishes at home.”
Shai laughed and drew her in close for a hug. “You have my promise on that.”
Returning the embrace, Tara tugged on one of her sister’s ear flaps. “We’ll have a big get-together when Eva comes back. We have to catch up on everything Grant related.”
“That’s not all. We have to catch her up on you being a baroness.”
“I suppose so. Let me run catch a shower and head off to work. I’ll call you later in the week to see how you’re doing. Love you. Bye.”
She hopped into her Rogue as Shai climbed into her Subaru Outback with a wave. Moments later, each sister headed in different directions to begin their workdays.
* * * *
Andrew counted down the time until he could go pick up Tara for their date. All day, when his phone rang, he immediately got concerned that she’d found some reason to cancel or come up with some way to get out of spending any more time with him. It never came, and as the time neared for him to head to the car to pick her up, more hope had sprung into his chest. Perhaps they had a chance after all.
Before walking out of his hotel room he paused in front of the mirror and took a final look over his attire. Satisfied with what he saw, he shrugged into his full-length leather jacket, tugged on his gloves and exited the room
.
As requested, his car was just outside the front door to the hotel, the driver waiting, and he opened the door right away. With a brief ‘thank you’, Andrew slid in over the seat. The man already knew where to go so he didn’t engage in small talk—he just leaned back and focused on remaining calm instead of feeling as giddy as he had the first time she had accepted his date request.
They bypassed the plows that worked hard to keep the lanes clear as the man traversed through the city streets on his way to Tara’s apartment. Once there, the driver again held the door for him as he slid free and strode to the front door. The doorman let him in with a smile and a nod.
Andrew strode over the spotless tile floor of the lobby to the elevator bay. The man at the concierge desk looked at him but didn’t say a word. Once inside, he pressed the button for Tara’s floor. His strides were no longer as sure as he went down the hall to her door.
With a gloved hand he rapped sharply and waited for her to answer. It took a few moments, but he heard the lock disengage prior to the door swinging open, then he lost his breath.
“Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”
His short-circuiting brain struggled to keep up, but it was a failed mission from the jump. He didn’t understand how she did it. There wasn’t any way one woman should have the ability to rob him so completely and utterly of all the breath in his body. But this woman found a way.
“Thank you.”
Her hair had been gathered up in some sophisticated knot on top of her head that hid some but not all of the pink. He didn’t know much in the way of evening gown information, so he couldn’t tell the style. Definitely couldn’t tell the designer. All he knew was how fucking hot his wife looked in the dress. Pink satin with the V-neckline and near nonexistent straps that were twisted, showing off all of her smooth olive skin. All he wanted to do was push her back inside her apartment and rip it from her body, showing her the full extent of what the dress did to him.