by Tessa Layne
I bite back a regretful sigh, my hopes for a wedding tryst going up in smoke as she walks away. I take my seat and Austin slips in next to me, staring avidly at the redhead. I lean over to him. “Isn’t that the hot little number who was with them in March?”
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he growls, shooting me a glare.
I cover a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you want to tap that?” It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s always had a taste for wild. Me? My kryptonite runs more on the cool side - the ones who seem completely in control on the outside, but once you peel back the layers, they’re dirty as fuck. “She knows Jason, right? He’d kill you if he found out.” There’s no love lost between me and my brothers, and Jason. Too much baggage. And while I could see Austin taking a little bit of revenge at Jason by fucking a friend of his, it’s risky. Jason may be different now that he’s “found the love of a good woman,” but his soul is just as black as the rest of ours.
Austin makes a noncommittal noise, and before I can prod him further, the wedding starts. As far as weddings go, it’ss fine. Everyone cries at the appropriate moment, everyone sighs over the brides in their beautiful dresses and the cute redheaded flower girl who must belong to the woman Austin can’t stop staring at. I’m bored as fuck, and still anxiously awaiting the phone call from my bank. The funds should have been deposited by now, and I push down another wave of anxiety. If this deal goes south, it could ruin my reputation in real estate, not to mention cost me a fortune. I tap my fingers on my leg as the brides and their grooms kiss and leave down the center aisle.
Austin is up and out of his seat in a flash, likely after the redhead, while Dad pushes his way through the crowd to Jason, acting the proud papa. An unfamiliar sense of longing comes over me. I wish I could believe he was proud of any of us, that he actually cares about something besides appearances, and his fucking legacy. I shake off the maudlin thought, and instead, crane my neck in search of white-blonde hair and a pale blue slip dress. A cocktail server who looks barely old enough to be legal, offers a tray of pink bubbles. “A glass of the estate’s wine, sir?” she asks too eagerly.
Jason’s now calling his Kansas wine experiment an estate wine? I don’t care if it’s made with our clone of Cabernet Franc, it’s fucking Kansas wine and isn’t worthy. The girl stares at me expectantly. Fuck, she’s waiting for me to taste it. I toss it back and the bubbles roll across my tongue. My mouth explodes with bright fruit, crisp acidity, and finishes with toasty, yeasty notes. I nearly choke, I’m so surprised. “Holy shit, that’s good,” I sputter. “Another?”
She grins at me hopefully, and hands me another flute. I salute her and drift away, letting her down easy. I’m on a mission to find Blondie, but she seems to have vanished into thin air. I circle the makeshift dance floor twice, scan the trees, stop at the bar and order up a neat whiskey- something more fortifying than pink bubbles. I check my phone three more times. Still no word about my deposit. I have half a mind to step away and call my lawyer, but it’s futile with only one bar of service out here. Something is going on. I can feel it, and not in a good way. But I put my financial worries on ice when I see a flash of blue disappearing around the corner of the barn. Maybe? My pulse kicks up a notch as I skirt the party and make a beeline for the barn. I force myself to slow my pace. I’m a prince of wine royalty and a badass real estate developer, I remind myself harshly, not a horny teenager on his first date. I always get what I want, and what I want right now, besides my trust-fund deposit showing up in my bank account, is to get to know a certain lovely blonde.
Chapter Three
I round the corner of the barn and stop short. She’s on the phone. Still, I can’t help but eavesdrop when I see the forlorn expression on her face. I want to go to her, pull her into my arms and protect her from whatever bad news she’s in the process of receiving. Those arresting blue eyes that do crazy things to me are pools of sorrow as she peppers the person on the other end of the phone with questions. “Are you sure? There’s no other option? What about cost?” Her face freezes, and whatever the number quoted, it’s more than she wants to hear. Her eyes lift skyward and she blows out a breath. “Okay. Whatever you think is best.” It’s then that she glances over and catches me staring. I can’t help it. I’m captivated by the quality of her voice - husky without being forced. The kind of voice I want to hear crying out my name as an orgasm rips through her. “May I call you back?” She ends her call with a tilt of her head, and before she can turn her rapid-fire questions on me, I step forward.
“Is everything okay? I couldn’t help but overhear.”
Her eyes go soft and for a moment, she looks like she wants to pour out her heart. Instead, she drops her phone into a gold clutch that matches her strappy stilettos, and gives me a cool smile, her face becoming a mask of serenity. “I’m fine, thank you.”
My chest pulls tight. I shouldn’t be disappointed - to be honest, I’m kind of a dick, and I have too much baggage to bother with things like empathy, or compassion. That shit’s for pussies. And any compassion I was born with was beat out of me at a young age. But something deep inside me sparks to life. Something’s weighing on her, and I can’t let it go. I take two steps closer and offer my hand. “Declan. Brother of the groom.”
She gives me a cautious smile but takes my hand. Electricity races up my arm as if I’ve been shocked. Her hand fuses to mine and her eyes widen to circles. “I didn’t realize Jason had twin brothers.”
“Half-brothers, and we’re triplets.” Her brows knit together, and I rush to clarify. “But two of us are identical twins.”
The corner of her mouth quirks. “Oh?”
“Only if you look closely, my nose is a little crooked.”
She cocks her head, openly amused now, plump lips widening. “Oh. Yes, I can see that. Broken nose?”
I nod, running my thumb along the hollow in her hand. “Jason thumped me when I was eleven.” He did a lot more than thump me, but those are my secrets to keep.
She lets go, then reaches up and traces a finger down the bridge of my nose. It’s not by nature a seductive move, but her touch instantly arouses me. My cock stirs to life. “That must have hurt,” she says in a soft, husky voice.
“Yes,” I answer barely above a whisper. I want her to keep touching me, to run her fingers lightly across my skin and never stop.
“So much hurt in your eyes,” she whispers, fingers spreading out to trace the bones of my eye socket, then down my cheek to my jaw. I freeze, lungs aching with the need to release air. How can she know that? What does she see? Again, my chest has the sensation of being cracked open, like she’s reaching in and grabbing my still pounding heart. My stomach yo-yos. I want to say something, to acknowledge the riot of emotions careening through my body, but I’m fairly certain my brain no longer knows how to form words. I’m reduced to a vibrating mass of energy.
There’s something blatantly erotic about the way she touches me, and the trail of goosebumps her fingers leave behind. She traces a finger along my lower lip, and I react, capturing the tip of her digit between my teeth. Her pupils widen, and her mouth drops open as I bite down, then suck, sliding my tongue against her skin. My nerve endings spring to life, singing with anticipation. The air between us crackles, and I slowly reach for her hand, tugging her fingertip free and interlacing our fingers in one smooth move. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” I warn, voice turning to gravel.
Her mouth tips up at my comment, and a mischievous sparkle flickers in her eyes. “Oh?” My other arm snakes around her, pulling her body flush against mine. Toe to toe, thigh to thigh. Her chin tilts up and her eyes scan my face, coming to rest on my mouth. My hand settles on the small of her back, fingers splayed out across the top of her ass. The silk of her dress ripples like water under my fingers, sliding against her skin with surprising ease. My cock swells with a jolt. I’m certain she’s not wearing underwear. I smooth my hand against the material, but there’s no catch, no telltale ridge of thong
or panty line.
My imagination goes wild.
I visualize plump pussy lips, pink and slick with arousal. Bare or trimmed? Bare, I decide. I would give my left nut to taste her right now, to pleasure her until she lets go with a cry.
Her husky, low voice interrupts my fantasy and offers another one, just as tempting. “Would a kiss be dangerous?”
Would a kiss be dangerous? With a woman like this, who seems to be able to peer into my soul at will? Who stares at me like she wants to devour every inch of me? I’m the pursuer, and she wants to be caught. The realization is as arousing as it is disturbing. One kiss, and she could bring me to my knees. And yet I want it. Oh how I want it. “Very.”
She brings her hand, still holding her tiny clutch, to rest behind my shoulder. She’s fucking offering herself to me on a silver platter. My dick is pushing angrily against my boxer briefs, shouting for me to just get on with it, but I hesitate. Desire is running through my veins, my mouth waters at the thought of tasting her, of inhaling the floral scent of her that surrounds us, now that she’s pressed against me, soft and pliant. And expectant. Her tongue slips out to wet her lower lip while her eyes rove hungrily over my face.
Yet I hold still, mind racing as I cover all the potential disastrous outcomes as if I were a chess player. I’m on a precipice, and the second I step out into nothingness, drown in the exquisite sensation of kissing her, I’ll be lost. It makes no sense, but I know I’ll be tying a piece of my soul to her the moment our lips meet. The pull of her is that strong. How I know this, is a mystery, but I do.
“Declan.” She says my name like she relishes the feel of it in her mouth, eyes lighting in appreciation as her mouth widens into a smile. “Kiss me,”
I realize I don’t even know her name, but before I can ask, her mouth is on mine. And holy hell, it’s as sweet and luscious as I imagined. Like cotton candy and strawberries, and warm bodies lying in the late afternoon sun. I feel infinity spooling out in front of me as I take control of the kiss, deepening our connection as she opens her mouth with a sigh, melting against me.
We part, breathless, and she stares up at me wide-eyed. “I never want to forget this,” she says, with a note of regret. “I want to remember this moment forever.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” I murmur, capturing her mouth again in a fierce kiss. I don’t hold back, I plunder her mouth, tongue sliding against hers, tasting every corner, exploring every recess. Every cell in my body is burning with need. My cock is like a hot poker, and I tighten my embrace, grinding into the soft swell of her belly. She makes a noise deep in her throat as she rolls her hips, seeking friction. A silent, erotic dance, where our bodies make the music, and my heart drums with deep bass notes. I delight in the little noises she makes, each sigh, each throaty moan fueling the fire that’s rising within me. My fingers burn where I touch her, my body has come alive in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Her cell-phone vibrates against my shoulder and starts playing Freddy Mercury’s The Show Must Go On. She stiffens with a gasp and pulls away. “OhmygodI’msosorry,” she says in a rush. “I have to go.”
“But-”
“Please forgive me.”
The heartbroken look has returned to her face, and it pulls at me. I step after her, overcome with the urge to offer comfort, but she’s already out of reach, fishing her phone from her purse. “Tell me your name,” I call.
“Emmaline,” she returns over her shoulder as she disappears around the corner of the barn.
Disappointment floods me, and I bend, bracing my hands against my thighs, bringing my breathing back under control. Who was it that called? I’m seized by jealousy at the thought that there’s someone else in her life. It wouldn’t be the first time someone unavailable went looking for kisses at a wedding. But just as quickly, my stomach drops with alarm. What if she’s in trouble? What if she needs help? It was just one kiss, and I’m tied up in knots, emotions rumbling through me like a 7.9 quake.
I give myself a shake. I have more important things to worry about than ruminating over a kiss from a beautiful woman. With a sigh, I retrieve my phone from my inside pocket. Still no confirmation. An icy ball of dread pools in my gut, and as I make my way back to the party, I start brainstorming contingency plans. I’ve sunk nearly all my funds into this luxury development project going up in six locations worldwide. The ROI will be tenfold if I make the last investment deposit by midnight. Miss the deadline, and it’s a paltry 2% return, plus my liquidity tied up for three-years. Minimum.
Chapter Four
One week later
* * *
The mask slips through my fingers and lands on the floor with a quiet thump. My mind races with questions, each tumbling over the other like rocks in a raging river. Why did you run away? Are you in trouble? What the fuck is up with Madame M? Are you Danny’s lover? I jealously fixate on that last question, because if that’s the case, then this entire thing has been an elaborate set-up at my expense, in which case, I’m gonna have to fucking pummel him. In person.
I step forward and she backs up until her back comes to rest on the limestone wall. My hands come up to cage her in. “Are you with Danny?” I say roughly.
Her eyes widen. “What? You mean?” Her face screws up, landing somewhere between a grimace and a laugh. She shakes her head. “No.”
Relief courses through me, but I’m not about to stop until I have answers. “What’s going on here then? And who the fuck is Madame M?”
Defiance flashes in her eyes. “That is none of your business.”
It’s hot as fuck that she doesn’t buckle under my temper, and my cock jerks against my zipper. “You’re trespassing,” I remind her. “You can tell me, or you can tell the cops.”
Her eyes narrow. “How do I know you’re not playing me?”
I pull out my phone. “Shall I call 9-1-1?”
She lifts a hand in surrender, then places it on my lapel, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. “I’ll answer your questions, just don’t- don’t call the police. Please?”
I eye her steadily as I return my phone to the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “How do you know Danny?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have all night.” She chews on her bottom lip, eyes darting around the cellar. “Don’t even think about running,” I caution.
To my surprise, she flashes me an amused grin. “I have no intention of running. I just wanted to make sure we’re alone.”
I look over my shoulder to the door, then head for it, grabbing a chair along the way. There’s a deadbolt on the door, but I don’t have the key - something I’ll remedy first thing tomorrow. I jam the chair under the handle, and cross back to my sexy delinquent. “Better?”
She nods.
“Well? How do you know Danny?”
“I met Danny several years ago. He… ahh… sent some work my way.”
“Did you sleep with him?” I don’t know why this matters so much to me, but it does. And I tense, waiting for her answer.
“No.” She shakes her head, and the hot angry knot pressing against my chest unspools. She pins me with a dark look, as if she knows what I’m thinking. “And he never asked me to, either. He’s never been anything less than a gentleman.”
I drop my head back and let out a laugh. “That’s a first for Danny. You must be really special, then.” Our gazes tangle when I straighten, and heat zings between us.
She stands a little taller, giving off an air of pride and that supreme self-confidence which captivated me upstairs. It’s sexy as fuck. “I am,” she says loftily.
“What kind of work did you do for Danny?”
“Suits.”
“You make suits?”
“And wedding dresses. Custom designs.”
“And lingerie,” I add wryly, thinking of the scantily clad models upstairs. Did she make all those?
“Madame M designs the lingerie.”
“And you’re Madame M.”
/> “No one knows who Madame M is,” she corrects with a tremor in her voice.
I cage her in again. “Liar.” Her eyes widen, and for a second, I forget myself, and I lose myself in the intensity of her gaze. I forget about this clusterfuck of a week, about having my trust fund locked up, about being kicked out of the family estate, and worst of all, about the fact that for the next handful of months, I’m going to have to answer to my asshole brother if I want to see my inheritance. In her eyes I see acceptance, curiosity… desire. And my body responds in kind. “Don’t lie to me Emmaline. I don’t take kindly to keeping secrets.” Except the ones I have buried deep in my psyche.
“No one can know,” she murmurs above a whisper, eyes pleading.
I melt a little. I never should have kissed her, tasted her sweetness and the heat beneath, because now I’m vulnerable. Now, I want to do things for her, please her. I don’t want to say no to her or disappoint her. I want to kiss her and coddle her and make her come, over and over again. I want to be her goddamned hero, which is pathetic, because I’m a dick with a bank account - at least I was until a week ago - and enough baggage to sink a ship. “Why?” I don’t see the need for secrecy.
She chews on her lower lip and her eyes drill into me, as if she’s weighing her options. “I said it’s a long story.”
My frustration returns, eating at my insides like a dog gnawing a bone. “And I said I have all night. What’s it gonna be?”
Her eyes turn calculating. “A secret for a secret.”
I push off the wall and jam my fists in my pockets. “I don’t play these games, princess.”