Lush

by Beth Yarnall

  He began to move in sharp, deep thrusts. She threw her head back and gasped. He knew she was close, but not as close as he was, so he slipped a hand between them and rubbed her clit. She went off, digging her nails into his shoulders. He followed her, burying himself inside her.

  Dropping his forehead onto her shoulder, he struggled to regain his breath and keep them from sliding down the wall to the floor. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist, sifting a hand through his hair as she liked to do.

  “And that, darlin’, is a long slow comfortable screw up against the wall.”

  “Mmm, it’s also option number fifteen. Very sly of you to put a condom in your pocket.”

  “Very sly of you to not wear any panties. When did you take them off?”

  “Right after dinner. When did you get the condom?”

  “When I went to get Poppy.”

  “How smart we are.”

  “I don’t know about smart, darlin’. More like horny. Ever since your dirty talk about being wet, I’ve been semihard all night. Through cocktails, dinner, and dessert all I could think about was this.” He kissed the curve of her neck. “And lifting your skirt up. Have I told you how much I love that you hardly ever wear pants?”

  “I can wear skirts around you.”

  Jesus. When she said shit like that, it stabbed him right in the chest.

  “Maybe I’ll take to going without panties too,” she added.

  “In that case you’re going to find your skirt up around your waist a lot.”

  Her laugh was the most magical thing he’d ever heard. She was laughing more often these days than she had when they’d first gotten married.

  He reluctantly pulled out of her. She unwound her legs, and he eased her down until her feet hit the floor. She looked thoroughly ravaged and so damn sexy he wished he had another condom so he could put her back up against the wall and go for round two.

  “I’ll be right back, darlin’. Why don’t you go on upstairs and put that dress back on.”

  “But we’re going to bed.”

  “But not to sleep. That dress had me tied up in knots all evening. I’m not done with it yet.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Relax your shoulders,” the instructor at the shooting range told Lucy.

  Lucy had finished her gun-safety class and was much more comfortable with a firearm in her hand than she’d been when she’d begun the class. The sound of it firing didn’t make her flinch as much as it had when she’d first started coming to the range. She’d even managed to land most of her shots on the target. She glanced down the range at Cal, who was too busy concentrating on his target to notice her watching him. He’d shot guns since he was a kid, so he was a lot more at ease than she was.

  “Good,” the instructor said. “Now widen your stance a little. That’s good. Go ahead.”

  Lucy sighted down the barrel, focusing on the target. This time she imagined it was Kevin trying to take Poppy from her. She fired. Then again, until the gun clicked empty.

  She pulled her headphones off.

  “That was good. More aggressive. I’m afraid to ask whose face you saw on the target,” the instructor said as he recalled the target from the back of the range.

  “My ex.”

  “I have one of those.” He grinned at her. “Her face sometimes appears on my targets too.” He pulled the target down and handed it to her. “Nice job. You’re improving, but I’d still like to see you get in some more practice.”

  Most of her shots had hit the paper, and a few had torn holes through the target body. She was getting better.

  “Next time we should do a simulation. Shooting at the black shape of a person isn’t the same as shooting an actual person. The simulation gives a more real-life kind of scenario where you have to choose who to shoot and who not to shoot.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “See you next time, Mrs. Sellers.”

  “Thanks, Jake.”

  Lucy packed up her gun as she’d been taught and put it in its case. She’d clean it when she got home. Cal was still shooting, so she went into the attached store to wait for him. She was admiring a pearl-handled gun in the display case when a man came up next to her and wrapped his hand around her forearm.

  “I want my daughter,” a voice growled in her ear.

  Kevin.

  He squeezed so hard on her arm that her knees buckled. She tried to twist away, but he countered her move so that she ended up hurting herself more.

  “If I have to kill you to get her, I will.”

  “That’s the only way you’ll get her.”

  She swung her gun case and caught him in the side of the head. He stumbled, releasing his grip on her. She tried to swing it again, but he blocked it then grabbed her arm before she could bring it around a second time.

  He hauled her up and got right in her face. “You fucking cunt. You’ll pay for that.”

  He shook her, then released her so suddenly she had to grab the display case with both hands to keep from going down. Her gun case clattered to the floor. When she turned, Kevin was gone.

  “Are you all right?” A woman helped her stand. “I can’t believe he came at you like that. Somebody call the police.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure, ma’am?” one of the store employees asked.

  “I saw the whole thing,” the woman told the clerk.

  Another employee, this one a young man, came over. “He drove off, but I got part of the license plate.”

  “The cops are on their way,” another man said.

  “I’m okay, really,” Lucy tried to reassure them.

  “Come and sit down, miss.” The older employee took her by the elbow and directed her to a chair at the end of the counter. “You’re looking kind of pale.”

  A little group formed around them.

  “What’s going on?” She heard Cal before she saw him.

  “This lady was attacked right here in the store,” a man told Cal.

  Cal elbowed his way into the group.

  “Nothing—” Lucy started.

  “This man came out of nowhere,” the woman interrupted. “He grabbed her, but she swung her case and got him right upside the head. And then he shook her and knocked her over.”

  “Then he ran out,” the young store clerk filled in. “I got part of his license plate.” He nodded like he was proud of what he’d done. “And Bud called the police. They’re on their way.”

  Cal knelt next to his wife. “Lucy?”

  “It was Kevin.” She tried to suppress the shudders that went through her. “He threatened to take Poppy.”

  “You hit him?” Cal asked her.

  “Yeah,” Lucy said. “I surprised him. I hit him before he could hit me. ” The realization of that washed through her. She’d struck back. She’d swung her case without thinking and hit him in the head. She’d always been too terrified of him to lash out. The retribution would’ve been too great. But this time, this time she’d surprised him and went after him. She hadn’t let him get away with hurting her.

  “Good for you.” Cal took her hand in his, still kneeling at her side. “I hope that asshole has a bitch of a headache because of you.”

  Cal seemed proud of her, but she couldn’t see past being Kevin’s victim yet again. She hadn’t done much more than scare him off. If only she’d had her gun out…

  Sirens screamed in the distance, coming closer. She’d screwed up things for Cal. The media would get wind of this like they had the incident at their home. So far Cal was getting the bum end of this bargain they’d struck. He was supposed to be cultivating the reputation of a family man. Instead his personal life drew the worst kind of publicity. The gossip hounds had been all over their first run-in with the police. This would only make matters worse.

  She shot up out of her chair. “Let’s go.”

  “Darlin’, we need to document this.”

  “No. Let’s go home. I want to see Po
ppy.”

  “But the police are already here, ma’am,” the store clerk said.

  Cal pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Sam to let him know what happened and to make sure she’s okay.”

  “All right.”

  The police came in and took statements from the witnesses. The security camera had caught the whole thing on tape. By the time they were finished with the police it was nearly dark.

  Lucy stared out the window as Cal drove them home. One of the smaller local newspapers had sent a photographer and reporter to the gun store and had gotten the scoop of the month when they found out that billionaire Cal Sellers and his wife had been involved in what had happened. Their photos were probably already up on the Internet. Just what Cal needed—another scandal.

  “Are you all right, darlin’?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I know you better than that. What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours?”

  She really didn’t want to point out what a bad bargain he’d struck when he’d asked her to marry him, but it was true. If he was smart, he’d divorce her and marry someone without all of her baggage and drama. She’d let him visit Poppy. Cal and his daughter grew closer every day, and the fact was she loved seeing them together. Poppy deserved a daddy, and Cal was the most devoted she’d ever seen. She could never separate them now.

  “If you want to divorce me, I wouldn’t fight you. We could work out a schedule for Poppy. I won’t ask for anything from you. I’d just need a little money to find a place and get settled. I’d pay you back every penny. The sooner the bet—”

  Cal jerked the steering wheel to pull over and slammed on the brakes. He shoved the car into park and turned in his seat to look at her.

  “Our deal was for one year, Lucy. One year. That’s the bargain you struck. I’ve kept up my end of the deal, why aren’t you willing to keep up yours?”

  “That’s the thing. I’m not keeping up my end of the deal. It’s not fair to you that your wife lands you on the five o’clock news. That wasn’t part of our bargain. You wanted a wife so you could present yourself as a stable family man, not a wife who regularly has brushes with her ex that require police presence.” She swiped at the tears that fell, hating herself even more for bringing so much drama to the situation. “I’m an embarrassment to you, not an asset. I struck the bargain with you, thinking I could hold up my end. I’m not. And I’m sorry.”

  “From where I’m sitting you’re more than holding up your end of our bargain.” He took her face in his hands and smoothed his thumbs across her cheeks to dry her tears. “I hate that you blame yourself for what Kevin does. You’re not to blame any more than Poppy is. It cuts me in two sitting here watching you cry over that asshole. He’s not worth it.”

  “As long as Kevin keeps coming around, I’m a liability to you, not an asset.”

  “When I add up all of my assets, I count you and Poppy as the most valuable. Now dry your eyes and let’s go home to our daughter. And I don’t want to hear any more talk about divorce and liabilities.”

  He kissed her forehead, then put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road. He’d said pretty much what she’d expected him to say, but she couldn’t help the feeling that he didn’t quite believe everything he’d told her. She knew he didn’t like all the negative publicity. It had already begun to affect his business. She’d heard about the contract he didn’t get and at least one investor had backed out of another project.

  He said he didn’t regret their marriage. She was sure there were things about it he didn’t regret, but she was sure there were other things he did. Like the fact that she still didn’t share his bedroom even while she welcomed him into her bed. Every night he knocked on her bedroom door and asked to be allowed in. She’d told him he didn’t have to anymore, but he’d just shaken his head and insisted that he did and he would until he knew she trusted him.

  Another way she was letting him down. He was right. She didn’t completely trust him. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would fully trust anyone ever again. And when their year was up, would he decide that it was more trouble than it was worth to keep asking his wife for permission to sleep with her? If the press ever got wind of their unusual arrangement, what would that do to his reputation?

  She grew as frustrated with herself as she knew he had to be. It seemed as though every step forward led to two back. He denied she was damaging his business as he dried her tears, but she didn’t believe him. It was one more way in which they lied to each other. Everything was okay. They were working through her issues. Things were getting better.

  Only they weren’t.

  Yeah, the sex was great, but was it enough? How much longer before he got tired of carrying the burden of their marriage? How much longer before he got tired of begging her to be a real wife to him? And how much longer before he decided he was done with their marriage, done with her?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Cal hung up the phone and cursed a blue streak so broad he was sure his momma heard it all the way across the state. Another investor out. At this rate the project wouldn’t start on time. He was down two investors and barely managing damage control with the others. It seemed they were fine with him when he was the playboy businessman who generated scandalous headlines, but not with a man who’d had a secret baby and then hastily married the child’s mother who was being victimized by her ex.

  The press had dug through Lucy’s past, and soon it would come out that she’d married a man who was already married, who’d beaten her and was still harassing her months after she’d left him and married yet another man—Cal. It was one thing, apparently, to leave a string of mistresses in your wake and another to let a woman with a sordid past drop a baby on your doorstep and coerce you into marrying her. At least that was how the press was spinning it.

  His publicist, Charity, had been wearing holes in the carpet in front of his desk most of the day, strategizing with him on how they were going to contain this mess and maintain his reputation for being a sharp-minded businessman who didn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit. More than once he’d caught her looking at him from under her lashes, no doubt wondering like everyone else how a woman like Lucy had gotten her hooks into him when every socialite in Texas hadn’t been able to snare him.

  The whole thing pissed him off to no end. Lucy was his wife. Poppy was his daughter. He was taking care of his responsibilities and building a life with the woman he loved. And damn it all if he didn’t love her so much he could hardly catch his breath sometimes. She scared the shit out of him at the same time as she made him gladder than any man had a right to be. He looked forward to going home at the end of the day and hated to leave at the beginning.

  He didn’t give two shits what anyone else thought of him, but it killed him what they were saying about Lucy. More importantly, it would kill her to know what they were saying. She was smart enough to have picked up that he was having business problems and considered herself a liability to him. When she’d offered divorce in the car the other day, he’d about lost his shit. The last thing he wanted was a divorce. They’d find a way to work through this.

  That bastard Walker would be caught, and the publicity surrounding them would die down, and everything would go back to normal. Or at least a semblance of normalcy. Lucy moving her things into the master bedroom had become a symbol to him of them having a real marriage. Instead he still visited her every night like a boyfriend, coming across the hall and knocking on her door for a sleepover. Not that he was complaining. Hell no.

  They’d come miles from where they’d started. And while there were still times when she’d panic and make him stop or pull out, there were other times when he glimpsed the old Lucy. His Lucy. In those moments she’d drop her head back and enjoy what they did together. Uninhibited and wild, letting her intense sexuality free, was when she was the real Lucy. He’d come to live for those moments and tried to invent new ways to make them come out.

 
They were building something unexpected and necessary together, and he hated the thought that people on the outside would try to tear it down before they’d gotten a chance to explore it. And he hated that he was going to have to ask Lucy to go in front of a camera to tell her side of the story. His publicist, Charity, had thought she’d be great in an interview with her girl-next-door looks and his baby on her hip. They’d film it at their home to really highlight the family-man image Cal needed to show the public to rebuild his reputation.

  He glanced down at the script on the desk in front of him. Lucy would have to memorize her part to make sure she stayed on message, Charity had said. And to make sure she didn’t ad-lib something they didn’t want broadcasted. When he’d proposed marriage to Lucy, he had no idea he’d be asking her to do more than the occasional dinner party or charity event. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be the key to potentially saving Sellers Investments.

  His reservations about having her do this interview ran as deep as his need for her to do it. She was still so fragile. He worried what the pressure of it would do to her. Charity and the board might not like it, but if Lucy said no to the interview, then she wouldn’t do it. Consequences be damned.

  “What about this one?” Charity held up a matching blue blouse and skirt. The color reminded him of Lucy’s eyes.

  “I like it. And that pink set too.”

  Charity had had his assistant, Felicia, pick up several outfits for Lucy to try on and decide which she was more comfortable in for the interview. He was relieved to see that there was no frilly fifties-style apron or string of pearls to really drive home the wife-and-mother point.

  “What have you got for the ball?” he asked.

  Charity showed him a half-dozen dresses. In the end he told her to send them all to the house for Lucy to select one for the annual Dallas Young Professionals Ball. Cal was set to give the keynote speech this year. As his wife she was expected to attend and be properly dressed. He’d already purchased a sapphire-and-diamond necklace and earring set that matched her engagement ring for her to wear at the event and instructed Charity to choose dresses that would go with them.