“Yes, I was with Rosa.” All the simmering emotion she’d been dealing with since lunch had coalesced and grown into an intense, defensive anger. At Lance. Her voice was sharp and loud. “Who the fuck did you think I was—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He was scowling again, probably in response to her tone. “You know perfectly well I don’t have a problem with Rosa. And I’m kind of offended you’d think I was such an asshole that I’d want you to stop being friends with someone because of something as unimportant as money.”
She slammed the water bottle on the counter, resulting in a startlingly loud sound. “You only think money isn’t important because you’ve had it all your life. It’s not unimportant to me.”
“So you’ve told me over and over again for the past nine months. Don’t you think I’ve gotten the point by now?” Lance was standing a little too close to her. Despite his casual clothes, he looked big and powerful and way too sexy with his flashing eyes and his five-o’clock shadow.
His body was tense, which was very unusual for him. She could feel the frustration coming off him, and it was doing something very disturbing to her insides.
But she wasn’t going to let it distract her. “No, I don’t think you’ve gotten the point now. I don’t think you’re ever going to get the point. If you’d gotten the point, you never would have acted like it was an easy thing to cancel my whole life for two weeks so I could go out on a yacht with you.”
His lips parted slightly. He was way too close. She could see a couple of beads of sweat on his forehead, a piece of dark fuzz stuck to the sleeve of his T-shirt. “That’s what you’re mad about?”
“Yes, I’m mad about that! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“If you didn’t want to go, all you had to say was no. But I don’t think it was stupid of me to assume it might be an option. Most people would—”
“Most people you know have been born and raised with money. Of course they don’t think inconveniencing dozens of people might be a problem. They don’t think going without income for two weeks might be a real blow to someone’s financial stability. They don’t have a concept of how risky it might be to put one’s whole business on hold just to lie in the sun on a boat for fourteen days. But the people you know are not most people. Most people can’t treat money and their livelihood so lightly.”
Lance was staring at her, his body frozen with that same uncharacteristic tension. He was breathing heavily—she could hear him in the otherwise quiet room. “I never expected you to risk your business or livelihood. I’m sure there’s some way to handle your appointments so you can take a vacation without—”
“That’s not the point!” she burst out with more force than she intended. But the hoarseness of his voice was really upsetting her for some reason, and she couldn’t let it weaken her. “The point is it never even occurred to you that it might be a problem for me. And the reason for that is that you were freely given things when you were ten years old that some people work their entire lives and still could never afford.”
He took a step forward, when he’d already been too close. Now he was only inches from her. So close she could feel the heat from his body.
“Then tell me, Savannah,” he gritted out. “Tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do about that. Tell me how I’m supposed to redeem myself from the great sin of having rich parents and accepting gifts from them when I was too young to know better. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that now to make me better in your eyes?”
Suddenly hit with a wave of arousal so intense she could barely restrain the impulse to grab him, kiss him, grind herself against him, she reached behind her to hold on to the edge of the granite counter.
It had something to do with how tense he was right now, when he’d been relaxed for all the years she’d known him.
“I don’t give a damn what you do about it,” she snapped back. “Do anything the hell you want. Just don’t act like I’m irrational for resenting injustice when I see it.”
“Except you don’t only resent injustice. You resent me. For nothing more than the fact that I was raised with money. And that’s never going to change. Is it?” His eyes were still angry, but there was something else behind them. Something almost aching.
It made her chest hurt, which was absolutely ridiculous. “You really think the only reason I’ve resented you is that you have money? Were you walking around blind all your life that you couldn’t see how I was treated by you and your friends? We lost every good opportunity to people like you. We were out busting our butts with part-time jobs while you were lounging around on boats and in mansions. And then with one stray word, you could take that job away from us without even intending to. You think my resentment is irrational? Try living for a day when you can’t get a yacht handed to you over lunch. Try living for a day when every word you say and step you take isn’t gilded and protected by absolute privilege, and then you can act all self-righteous about other people dealing with resentment over a lifetime of being treated as less than you.”
“I get it!” he burst out. It was the loudest thing she’d ever heard him say. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “I get it. So tell me what I can do about it. Tell me how to fix it. Tell me.”
All the vehemence seemed to have spilled out of her. She was suddenly incredibly tired, and her voice was rough and soft as she replied, “I don’t know.”
Lance’s features twisted very briefly before he let out a long breath, apparently as suddenly emptied as she was. He reached out with one hand and traced the line of her cheekbone with his knuckles in a startlingly gentle gesture.
She collapsed against him, and he wrapped one arm around her.
They stood like that for a long time. Silent. Holding on. Leaning against each other.
She didn’t want to fight with him. She didn’t want to be angry. She wanted to apologize but couldn’t get any words out.
Finally, the need to fix what was broken between them was too strong, so she pulled back from his embrace and stared up at him.
His eyes were needy. Almost hungry. He wiped some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and for no good reason the gesture reminded Savannah of the way he’d wiped his face after he’d eaten her out last night.
She became aware again of that pulsing beneath her belly. It was lust—at least some of it was—but it was also a lot more. Need. She ran her eyes up and down Lance’s body and saw he was still tense. Tight. One of his fists was still clenched. When her gaze shifted to the front of his pants, she realized why.
The sweats he wore were old and loose and worn thin. She remembered him wearing them at least a decade ago. While they were probably comfortable, they did absolutely nothing to hide what was going on beneath the fabric.
He was aroused too. She could see the outline of an erection beneath the sweats.
She couldn’t hold her hand back. She reached out feel the fabric of his T-shirt and the firm flesh of his chest beneath it. She was almost shaking as she caressed down.
His breath hitched at her first touch. He held himself still and said nothing.
The air seemed to pulse around them as she stroked lower until she’d reached his flat belly. She stared at her hand on his abdomen. At the expensive rings on her finger.
She was his wife. He was her husband. And she didn’t want to resent him anymore.
She needed this. Needed him.
She lowered her hand even more until her fingertips brushed the shape of his erection beneath the fabric of his pants.
He sucked in a breath and closed the remaining distance between them. “Tell me no,” he murmured hoarsely, tilting his head so he was closer to her ear.
Her whole body clenched hard. She knew what he meant. He was checking in with her, giving her a chance to change her mind before he made his move.
All she knew was that she needed this more than she’d ever needed anything else. Need. She slid a hand up to hold on to his shoulder, curving her
fingers around the broad expanse of it.
He cupped her face with one hand and gazed down at her for a moment, his eyes searching her expression almost urgently. Then he gave a little smile. “You don’t want to say no, do you?”
“No. And don’t get too smug about it, because obviously you don’t either.”
“There’s no way in the world I’m going to say no to this.” He gave her a brief, hard kiss. “To you.”
That was all it took. She let go of the last of her restraint and grabbed hold of him eagerly, pressing their bodies together and stretching for his mouth again.
He’d let go of whatever had been holding him back too. His body was urgent and demanding as he fit himself against her, pressing her back against the kitchen counter.
She clawed at his back and said against his mouth, “We’re still in a fight.” She said it mostly as a safety net—so she could believe she hadn’t changed.
“We’re definitely still in a fight.” He broke the kiss long enough to grab the bottom of her sweater and pull it over her head. He leered openly at her breasts in her bra for a moment.
Her leggings were definitely going to get in the way of sex, so she leaned over to peel them off. Her panties came with them, but that was an extra convenience. She surged toward his body when her clothes were off and got him going with another deep kiss.
In an impressive feat of coordination, he managed to unhook her bra while they kissed. Finally yanking his mouth away, he stared down at her bare breasts for several seconds, breathing fast and harsh. “Oh shit, I don’t deserve this,” he muttered, almost under his breath.
“Definitely not.” Distracted by the look in his eyes, she pulled his head down toward her to kiss him again.
“No bedroom again tonight?” he mumbled after a minute, trailing little nibbles down her neck.
“No time. This’ll do.” She propped herself up on the edge of the counter. “Get your pants off. Come on, come on, come on.” The last words were spoken in low, impatient mutters.
He was chuckling as he shucked his pants and pulled his erection out of his underwear the way he had the day before. Then he stepped forward, pulling her toward him a bit before he hooked one of her thighs over his forearm and used his hand to move himself into position at her entrance.
He held the pose for a moment, staring down at her with something deeper than hunger.
But she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of her enjoyment. “Move it, Carlyle.”
Pushing into her with a low grunt, he choked on a half laugh.
She gasped out an “Eh!” as her body yielded to the penetration.
“Okay?” he asked after he’d finished the stroke. His arms were braced on the countertop, so he was surrounding her completely. His face was ducked against her shoulder.
“Yeah. Good. Good.” She dug her fingers into the back of his shoulders. “I want it.”
“Me too.” He wrapped one of her legs around his waist before he thrust again, causing her entire body to get deliciously jarred from the impact.
He took her with the same raw, primal pushes he’d used the night before, and she responded just as frantically, shamelessly. She was still sore from their previous activities, and he wasn’t taking it easy on her, but she didn’t want him to.
She wanted to feel it.
They fucked against the kitchen counter, their motion gradually intensifying and their vocal responses getting louder.
He really was a noisy lover. He let out a loud grunt every time he pushed into her, and he did nothing to try to stifle or hide it. But she wasn’t exactly quiet herself. As an orgasm tightened inside her, her gasps turned into helpless sobs.
Her whole body was jiggling at the end, shaken by the speed and force of his thrusts.
“Sa-vannah,” he choked out in loud bursts. The fingers of one of his hands were digging into the soft flesh of her thighs so hard it was definitely going to bruise.
“Almost... almost... there. Don’t... stop!” She came on the last word, biting down on his shoulder the way she had the day before. He already had a bruise from her teeth, and she bit down in close to the same place.
He gave an uninhibited bellow as he let go. As his body jerked through the spasms of his release, he started babbling out muffled, incomprehensible words that were probably nonsense.
She leaned back as her body relaxed in the rush of postorgasmic satisfaction. She was sorer and more exhausted than ever, but she also felt a lot better than she had earlier.
She’d never had sex midfight before, so she wasn’t sure what she should do or say. She wasn’t angry with Lance anymore. She wanted their argument to be over.
But Lance had been angry too, and it wasn’t like sex could fix anything.
It only exacerbated what was already there.
“Oh fuck,” Lance was mumbling as he stepped back and tucked himself back into his underwear. “Fuck, that was...”
She set her feet on the floor, and her knees almost buckled.
He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
It was exactly what she wanted, and she clung to him for a minute, taking comfort in the feel of his heat, his bigness, his fast-beating heart.
“I’m sorry about the yacht thing,” he said hoarsely against her ear. “I should have asked you first. I shouldn’t have assumed... I’m sorry.”
She started to shake as emotion she hadn’t expected rose up inside her.
“You all right?” Lance asked, stroking her hair when she didn’t answer. “It’s fine if you’re still mad.”
“I’m... I’m not mad anymore,” she admitted, turning her head so her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. “And to tell you the truth, I was more mad at myself than I was at you.”
“You were? Why?”
She had to take a few deep breaths before she could shape her confession into words. “Because the truth is I wanted to do it.”
“You wanted to...”
“Do the yacht thing. I wanted to.”
His body tensed up palpably. “You did? Because I can call Russell and ask—”
“No, no. I don’t mean I’m ready to jump in and... It’s that I wanted to go, and then I felt guilty about it for acting like all the people I’ve always resented, so I took it all out on you.”
His hand was still tangled in her hair, but he was just holding it now rather than stroking it. “I don’t think you need to feel guilty about that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure everything out.” She took a deep breath and made herself continue even though it made her more vulnerable than she was comfortable with. “When I was about seven, my mom would work at the grocery store in the afternoons, so my dad would pick me up from school and I’d ride around with him on his last jobs of the day.”
Lance stroked her hair, clearly listening. “Did you help him clean the pools?”
“No. I wanted to, but I had to stay in the truck and read. But mostly I’d sit and look at all the fancy houses. All the huge pools and big cars and expensive toys and everything I was never going to have. I remember one afternoon we went to your house. So my dad could do your pool.”
Lance’s body stiffened slightly. “Shit, did I do something horrible?”
“Not exactly. We parked, and I waited in the truck like normal, and you and a couple of your friends came out of the pool area. Your friends were making fun of my dad. They said really mean things about him, and I was right there in the truck, so I heard them. I can’t even begin to explain to you what that felt like. To see these rich ten-year-old boys mocking my dad—who I thought was the most amazing man in the world.”
“Oh shit,” Lance murmured again. “I didn’t make fun of him?”
Savannah shook her head. “You laughed.” She swallowed hard. “You thought it was funny.”
“I’m so sorry, Savannah. I was such a little ass. And most of my friends were too. And I can’t even remember that h
appening.”
“There’s no reason why you would. You were only ten. I was so upset I couldn’t even do anything. I didn’t get out and defend my dad. I didn’t try to beat you all up like I wanted. I did... nothing. It felt like I’d betrayed my dad by hearing that and not standing up for him, and I was upset about that for weeks afterward. Upset with myself. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad but as a way of explaining. I’ve lived my whole life in the shadow of that little girl, looking out the window at everything she’ll never have, expecting to be attacked and always afraid I won’t be able to stand up for myself and the people I love. That’s why I got so defensive earlier. It felt like wanting to go out on the yacht was a betrayal of that little girl in the truck.”
“I can understand that. You’ve had a lot of years of being hurt by me and people like me. Anyone would be kind of defensive about it.”
“Maybe. But I realize I’ve been taking all that resentment out on you, and I shouldn’t do that. You don’t deserve it.” She finally had the courage to straighten up and look at his face. “I’m sorry.”
He leaned down to kiss her very gently. “I’m sorry too. For being that spoiled ass of a boy. And for not having grown out of it as much as I should.”
Six
TWO WEEKS LATER, SAVANNAH woke up with the pleasant sensation of having slept deep and long.
She stretched her body under the covers, vaguely wondering if it was a weekend. Maybe she’d be allowed to lie around and take it easy all day.
The sound of a soft snort startled her, breaking her out of her sleepy reverie. She turned and frowned to the right side of her, where she discovered Lance sound asleep on his stomach, one of his arms slung over her belly.
He was completely naked. She knew that because he’d pushed the covers down below his waist. She also knew he was naked because she now remembered he’d been that way when he fell asleep after they had sex, and he evidently hadn’t moved since.
They’d been having sex regularly for the past two weeks. Not that they’d ever made a verbal agreement about it. They’d just kept doing it after that evening in the kitchen. Last night Lance had been out late at an anniversary party for two of his friends. She’d been reading in bed when he got back and climbed on top of her, flinging her book across the room.
A Wedded Arrangement (Convenient Marriages, #3) Page 10