by Violet Paige
Chapter Three
With a couple of turns it was roughly five blocks to the restaurant. I wore my new scarf with the new boots. Vaughn squeezed my hand each time we crossed a street. He rattled on about different shops or sites we passed. I nodded in agreement, but it took too much effort to pretend to be entertained.
I had a hard time concentrating through dinner. I didn’t hear half of what Vaughn said. I kept glancing at the ring. I wasn’t enticed by the duck or the other fancy five courses. I didn’t want to try the foie gras or the marvelous cheeses. I wanted the last hour of my life to be rewritten. I wanted a new script. One that started with Vaughn explaining how in the hell he was ok with pretending we were married.
“Kate?”
“Hmm?” My eyes lifted.
“You haven’t eaten anything.” Vaughn picked up a large glass of wine. He smiled. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Oh.” I had pushed the food around my plate. “I’m still tired. Even after a nap.” My excuses were lame. I knew it. He knew it.
“I do have some news,” he offered.
“More news?” Did I sound as bitchy as I felt?
“We have to find an apartment tomorrow. I thought you could go with me to look. The realtor can meet us after breakfast to show us some flats.”
I was in a fog. Too stunned by the title of fake wife to think of anything else. Now we were going to have a fake apartment to go along with our fake marriage.
“Oh, I get to tag along?”
His eyes were piercing. I knew I was dangerously close to crossing a line.
“The hotel isn’t going to work any longer. We need something more permanent here. Something substantial and settled. I think it will be a good change.”
“Are you in the research stage?” I asked. I wanted to piece together what I could. Maybe I could make sense out of what had happened tonight.
He nodded. “I am. I’m putting things in place. Necessary things.”
“That includes me? You have to arrange me in this scenario?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Kate.”
“Sorry.” I refolded the napkin in my lap.
“What’s wrong?”
“This.” I held up the ring. “I can’t pretend I’m not surprised. Or disappointed. Or excited. I don’t know what to think. Or how to feel about it.” I stopped. “Yes, actually. Yes I do.” I glared at him. “I know exactly how I feel about this ring.”
“We can’t talk about this here,” he warned.
“What? No marital spats in public? Does that go against the rules?”
“Are you drunk?”
“No. I’ve had less than half a glass of wine. I’m not tipsy, I’m pissed. And I want to talk about it. No more secrets, right?” I taunted. “That’s what you keep saying. So let’s talk.”
“Not here,” he hissed. “I’ll pay for dinner. We can talk when we’re alone in the suite. I’ll tell them to cancel dessert and meet you at the front door.”
I pressed my lips together in a line. I wanted to get this off my chest. I had mustered the courage to share my feelings and I wanted them out. He stood abruptly and walked away from the table in search of our server.
The walk was silent.
As soon as the door closed to the room, I spun around. “Can I speak now?”
He walked to the bar to pour glasses of wine. “Go ahead. Tell me.”
I had lost some of my moxie, but I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it inside.
“This…this….ring,” I spat. “What in the hell did you do? You put an engagement ring and a wedding band on my finger.”
“Yes. I did.”
“And you asked me to be your wife. A temporary wife.”
“Yes.” He walked toward me with the wine. I yanked it angrily, sloshing the wine in the glass.
I drank. “Do you have any idea what this moment was supposed to be for me? Do you have any clue what it means to be engaged or married? To imagine what it would be like when you’re in love with someone and they want to spend the rest of their life with you. It’s supposed to be memorable. It’s supposed to be everything, Vaughn.” I finished off the wine. “Not an afterthought. Not a prop. Not a charade or a lie.” I wasn’t going to cry. I refused to let my anger turn into tears. “You stole that from me.”
I twisted the rings, trying to take them off my finger. Vaughn moved to stop me. I looked at him.
“Don’t take them off, Em.”
“Why not? They’re only part of your job. Isn’t that what you said? I only have to wear them when we’re in public. They don’t mean anything to you. I don’t need to wear them in the suite.”
He closed his eyes. “Yes, that’s true but I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
“Like what? Like you dropped snacks in my lap at the movie theater on your way to your seat? You put a diamond ring on my finger and you’ve acted all night like it was nothing.”
I trembled with fury. With frustration.
“I didn’t know it would hurt you. I didn’t think it would make you angry.”
“I hate them,” I seethed. “I hate these rings. I hate that you did this.”
I slumped on the couch. “What the hell is happening?” I covered my face with my hands. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I think you did.” He sat next to me, taking my hand in his.
“I’m not built like you.” I exhaled. “I’m just not.”
He nudged my chin toward his.
“I can’t lie like it’s nothing,” I protested. “Maybe I was wrong about what I c—”
“Shut up.” His mouth covered mine in a furious kiss. The heat singed my lips. I struggled to breath, but he held me close, locking my body against his.
I squirmed free, heaving for air, but he pulled me into his chest, his lips crashing into mine a second time.
“Don’t you think I want this to be real?” His eyes darted back and forth. “Don’t you think I want you to wear my ring? To be my wife?”
“Wait. What?” I needed to hear it again. Every word he breathed.
“I want the same reality you do.”
“You do?” I whispered.
“Yes. But it sure as hell isn’t going to be like this. It’s not going to be while we’re trying to figure things out. It’s not going to be because I’m in the middle of a job. I wouldn’t do it like this.
“And it’s going to be something you remember. Something you can tell our grandchildren about. I’m sorry if I hurt you tonight.” He brought the ring to his mouth, kissing my fingers. “I thought if I downplayed it, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I don’t want it to be a big deal until I can give you exactly what you want. And I know this isn’t it. I knew the instant I chucked the ring across the room I fucked it up.”
“You did?” His mouth feathered over my knuckles.
“Yeah. I was a dick, wasn’t I?”
I nodded. “That’s a nice way to put it.” I twisted my lips together.
“How do I make it right, Em?”
“Why don’t you tell me more about the job.”
He blinked. I had surprised him. “That’s not a good idea.”
“You said we have to pretend to be married in case I bump into the mark. Wouldn’t it help if I knew who that was?”
He chuckled. “Nice try. All you have to do is be Mrs. Leo Birch when we’re in public. It shouldn’t matter who we are with, the story is the same.”
There was a thought I hadn’t considered. I was finally getting used to being Kate Walker, and she was already moving on to being Kate Walker Birch. I didn’t know how I was supposed to keep everything straight. The lies were continuing to pile up. More compromises I had to make.
I pulled my hand from him, crossing my arms. “Who said I’m the kind of woman who would change her last name? Maybe I want to keep my name. I have a JD as Emily Charles.”
His eyebrows rose. “It’s just for the cover story, babe. You think it matters to me if we share the same last name
? Names are meaningless to me. You know that. You’re picking a fight with me about something that doesn’t matter because you’re still mad.”
I peered at him. “I’m not. Everything is ok.”
“I don’t think it is.” His hands slid to my back. He found the zipper to the little black dress. He began to unzip it, sliding the straps from my shoulders.
“Tonight sucked,” I admitted. It wasn’t the way either of us wanted to spend a night celebrating.
“I’ll fix it,” Vaughn volunteered. His lips touched my shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me, Em.”
“I’m not.” I reveled in how quickly the anger faded and was replaced by something stronger. Something more powerful.
“But you were,” he growled.
I nodded, yielding to his hands as they stripped the fabric from my hips. I rose forward, stepping out of the dress. I was wearing French lingerie. Something lacy and sheer Vaughn had purchased for my travel wardrobe. It was supposed to be the perfect complement to the dress and the boots.
“I was.”
He shifted me until I was seated on the couch. He dropped to his knees in front of me. His fingertips curled under my bottom, sliding me toward him. He blew a warm breath across my panties.
“I can make it up to you,” he pledged. “Make you feel so fucking good.”
“Yes.” My eyes closed. “I think you should.”
He lifted my boots over his shoulders as he hinged forward, pressing a heated kiss through the fabric. I sighed. This was what the night was supposed to be. Wicked closeness. Carnal pleasure we could give each other. Waves of drowning. Avalanches of euphoria.
He hooked the delicate strings at my hips with his fingers, and I lifted up from the couch as he pulled them over my thighs and untangled them from my boots.
“I can take them off.” I reach for the zipper at my knee, but Vaughn pushed me gently back in position.
“No. Those stay on. I have every intention of fucking you with the boots on.” His eyes were dark with the intensity of his mission. I knew he wouldn’t back down—not now.
Oh shit.
Now he had full access to my heat. His fingers pried the sensitive center until I was fully exposed to him. Bare. Quivering. Throbbing. He growled hungrily, tracing the velvety edges of my folds with his tongue. I whimpered as he lashed back and forth, all the way to my clit and down again.
He had me on the brink. He was pulling me to the cliff. Leading me with pulses of electricity. My hips rocked to his rhythm. I was searching for it. Desperate for the wash of release.
It built inside me, layering intense need on top of hunger.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. I was lost to him.
I pushed back into the couch with the tops of my shoulders, propelling my hips upward. He pushed a finger inside me, pumping in and out, daring me to crest before he was done. I panted, reeling in the eroticism of thrusting my sex, while Vaughn lapped and licked. I had shed my insecurities. I had shed the shyness. I wasn’t scared—I knew what felt good to my body and so did Vaughn. He sucked my clit while his fingers fucked me over and over until I was riding higher, desperate for more. Hungry for more sensation. Before I could cry out for what I wanted, the first wave hit me.
It shattered through me. Tore through my veins. Tossed me on the couch like a wrecked sailboat lost at sea. My heels dug into Vaughn’s back as the orgasm exploded through every curve I owned. I couldn’t stop my hands from moving, pinching my breasts through lacy lingerie, tugging his hair.
But it wasn’t over. My body was wrapped in warmth and fired with lust.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” He breathed, rising from the floor.
Vaughn lifted me with a single spin, pressing my knees into the expensive French cushions. I faced the back of the couch. I could see Paris from the windows. The Eiffel Tower raced with sparkling lights.
He quickly undressed. I heard his belt buckle hit the floor and the zipper on his expensive pants lower. I knew his naked body would press against me any second. I’d feel how hard and ready his cock was. We’d touch and singe this couch into the carpet.
“That’s how I feel,” I moaned, leaning my head backward as I took another glance out the window.
“Like what?” Vaughn’s teeth took my ear as he climbed behind me.
“The tower.” I breathed. “It’s like I’m racing with lights when you make me come.”
He chuckled. “You know we could get very dirty with Eiffel Tower jokes right now, but I’d rather be inside you.” He squeezed my ass roughly and I whimpered.
I nodded. “Make me feel it again,” I begged. “I want the lights. I want all of it.” I was breathless and wild.
“I want it too, Em.”
“Your own sparkly orgasm or a tower?” I teased. I was dizzy from the orgasm and ravenous for what was coming next. I couldn’t think or talk straight.
“No, I’ll have that as many times as I want tonight. I want you to be mine. Only mine.”
I shivered, knowing he had every intention of proving his words. I exhaled as he threaded his fingers through mine. I could feel the foreignness of our rings as they slid on top of each other. They were a strange symbol of the mixture of truth and lies that held us together. I looked at the glittery diamond, poking out under his strong hands. Vaughn’s chest slid along my back.
“I want to fuck my wife,” he growled in my ear.
I nodded, my hair falling in my face. I lost sight of the Eiffel Tower. I didn’t care about the lights or the city anymore. He spread my knees wide enough to fit his cock at my entrance. I wiggled back, jutting upward. His palms rounded over my ass, gently urging my legs wider.
I sighed. I wanted it so badly. To feel more. To be more for him. To be even closer. I didn’t know I could want anything else. I could blame the diamond on my hand. Being a fake wife. Living a secret life. Carrying out desires I hadn’t explored.
“Em?”
“Yes?” I waited. I didn’t know if he could hear it in my voice. Did he know all the things going through my mind? How badly I wanted what we couldn’t have?
He wedged his cock at my entrance. The anticipation was mind-numbing. I wanted him. He held me, my walls stretching around his thickness.
I whimpered, needing him. Wanting him.
And then in an instant, Vaughn was inside me. Thrusting deep with his cock. I threw my head back with the fullness of him, taking control of our rhythm. I bucked, loving the fire that ran between my legs and my core every time he pumped harder and deeper.
“Oh shit,” I hissed. “I love when you’re inside me.” I bounced wildly.
I wanted out of the lingerie that was pushing my breasts together. I didn’t want anything between us. I wanted to wear nothing but his ring and for a second pretend we were married. That I was Vaughn’s in every way. That our bodies melted together because I was his wife. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a game. I was his wife and this was how he fucked me. Like he loved me. Worshipped me. Would die for me.
He reared back, slamming into me with a possessive thrust.
“I fucking love you,” he groaned.
“I love you.” I panted. “God, I do.”
His hand clutched at my breasts, pulling the restrictive lace away until my buds were exposed. My nipples were erect and hard, free to rub against the silk cushions. “Keep that up,” he demanded as I kicked back with my ass and launched my chest forward. The sensations canvassed my body. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
His hand snaked its way down my ribs and stomach, nestling between my legs. He opened me up like my folds were petals until he found what he was looking for. My clit throbbed when he began to strum it. His strong fingers stroked me possessively, creating a wildness in me that felt feral and untamed.
I didn’t think I could take it. My breathing was erratic.
My belly flipped when Vaughn stepped off the couch, circling my waist with his hands. Suddenly I was in the air and then my feet were on the floor in front of the
window.
“Hold on,” he directed, planting my palms on the window sill. “Thought you might like this view when you come.”
“Oh shit,” I whispered, wiggling backward to offer him my entrance. I ached without him filling me.
He slammed his cock deep within my walls, gripping my hips with certainty. My eyes lifted to the Eiffel Tower, knowing my climax was seconds away. His fingers, slick with my juices, circled my clit, coaxing the orgasm to rise quickly. I clamped around his hard shaft with everything I had left.
I shook violently as the orgasm crashed into me with ferocious strength, clawing and claiming me. Vaughn pumped in and out, his pace quickening with his breath. He roared as his release hit, seizing him as he sank into me.
Our bodies finally stilled. Vaughn kissed my shoulder and guided me back to the couch. We collapsed in exhaustion. I twisted, untangling our limbs so I could nuzzle against his warm chest.
He touched my ring finger to his lips.
“One day, baby. It will be different.”
I nodded. “One day.”
“Until then, will you be my wife this way? For Paris?”
I smiled. “For Paris.” I threw my leg over his.
He exhaled. “Sorry I fucked that up. There was a better way to give you the ring. I was in work mode. I wasn’t thinking it through.”
“It’s ok. Really. You are forgiven.” I looked at the ring pressed against the hard angles of his chest. “It’s really gorgeous. And huge.”
He laughed. “Two carats. I wanted it to be noticeable. So there’s no doubt you belong to me. You are taken.”
I bit my bottom lip. Why in the hell did I like how that sounded so much? It was as if he put me under some kind of hypnotic spell every time he uttered the tiniest suggestion of marriage.
He slapped my bottom playfully. “And do I get the sense you want more of this? You want to be taken just a little bit more?” He squeezed and I blushed.
It was one thing to be in the moment and want the heat of the next erotic touch. It was different to be face to face, sharing the same air and tell him I wanted to try something I’d never tried before. Something I thought was forbidden and taboo. I’d never wanted it—until now.