A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  Chandler fought for breath. “How much energy are you willing to devote to this review, Mr. Grant?”

  His fingers drove inside of her, wringing his name from her lips. He settled over her and drew her body close to his.

  Logan smiled. “I assure you, Ms. Santell, I will give you every inch of my attention.”

  And he did.

  “We should eat.”

  “Hmmm?”

  She lay against him, her long hair fanned out around his stomach and thighs. He was propped up against the headboard. His fingers rippled through the honey colored strands and arranged each wave at a certain angle.

  The sun had sunk low on the horizon and threw shadows against the wall of the bedroom. A cool breeze drifted through the open windows. The cream-colored curtains billowed outward, then smacked gently back against the panes of glass. His iPhone shook angrily as it buzzed insistently on his cherry wood dresser. They both ignored it.

  Chandler sighed. “You know, food. Energy. We haven’t eaten all day and I’m starving.”

  “I knew you’d be a demanding woman.”

  She laughed and stretched luxuriously. “If you want me to keep up with you, I need to be fed. You have more muscle, and therefore more energy than me. It’s not fair.”

  “My aim is to keep you weak and defenseless, chained up in my bedroom for the purpose of pleasuring me.”

  She punched him in the arm. “I have to break you of these terrible medieval ideas. The first chore to help you confront your narrow-mindedness is to cook me dinner.”

  One black brow arched. “Cook?”

  “Yes, you know, to make. Prepare food. Cook.” She twisted around to study him with suspicion. “You do know how to cook, don’t you?”

  “I made hamburgers on the grill once.”

  Chandler closed her eyes and groaned. “Wonderful. No wonder you have so many employees working for you. You can go to a different house each night without anyone becoming suspicious.” She rose from the bed, glanced around the room, and plucked a white shirt draped across a tapestry-covered chair. He watched her with a wolfish grin. She tossed him a threatening glare and buttoned the shirt all the way to the neck. The hem fell almost to her knees. She rolled up the cuffs, pushed back her hair, and walked out of the bedroom.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see what you have in the house to make dinner.”

  Smiling, she found her way into the kitchen. Chandler knew immediately that Logan barely used the room. New copper pots dangled above an old world Spanish custom cabinetry island. Smooth earth-toned marbled counter-tops graced the room. The elegant off-white ceramic tile floor shone with a high gleam, and all the stainless steel appliances looked to be the latest gourmet’s delight.

  Sighing, she opened the sub-zero refrigerator and made a mental list. Hamburger meat and a piece of chicken. One head of iceberg lettuce. Various containers half-filled with concoctions she barely recognized. Bread, cheese, milk, bacon, two eggs and a case of Guinness. She checked the rest of the compartments in horror.

  A pair of strong arms circled her waist from behind. “Find anything interesting?” He splayed his palms wide over her belly.

  “You have no vegetables.”

  “You say that like I’ve committed a crime.”

  She turned to face him with concern. “Logan, from the looks of this refrigerator, I’d say you eat a lot of take-out or strictly red meat.”

  “So?”

  She shook her head and worried her lip between her teeth. His eyes watched the action with interest. “Vegetables are the key to a healthy diet. They supply you with all the nutrition needed on a daily basis. If you want to keep up this hectic pace, your body needs them desperately.”

  “I know what else it needs desperately,” he growled against her ear.

  “I’m serious. Don’t you have someone to cook for you?”

  He shrugged. “Nah. I use a cleaning service for the house, but I don’t like the idea of a stranger in my kitchen. I prefer my solitude.”

  “There are professional chefs who could prepare something healthy for you.”

  “I work late into the night, sweetheart. I’m lucky if I can grab a home-cooked meal once a month.” He studied her face for a few moments. “Are you really worried about me?”

  “Yes. You have to start changing your habits. Tonight.”

  “What are you doing?”

  She picked through the pile of clothes on the carpet. “I’m getting dressed to go to the store. I want to pick up a supply of vegetables so we can cook tonight. Do you have a wok?”

  “Hmmm, somewhere in the cabinets, but I’ve never used it. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What?”

  He watched in amusement as she tumbled back on the bed, one leg stuck in her jeans. “I’ll go to the store, just give me a list. You don’t have your car back, remember?”

  She stopped struggling into the tight material. “I forgot. Are you sure you can handle it?”

  “Just give me a description of what each vegetable looks like and I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Yes, I’m kidding.” He walked to the edge of the bed and eased her one leg out of the jeans. Kneeling down, he slid his palms up over her thighs and parted them gently. Her breath caught in her throat, and incredibly, her body quickened. His lips curved into a sensual smile as he watched her reaction to his touch.

  “Oh no, not again.”

  A low rumble of laughter rose from his chest. He pushed her down on the bed, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the shirt, displaying her naked body to his hungry gaze. He kissed the tops of her thighs, nipping at the tender flesh, working his way inward. “Oh, yes, again. I’ll never tire of loving you.”

  “Oh, God. I’ve never—“

  Raw possession stamped out his features. “Good. Only with me.” He pushed her legs apart and lowered himself between them. The slide of his tongue against her swollen flesh made her cry out. Wet and hot, he stroked her leisurely, tasting, nibbling, taking his time, until her hands fisted the sheets and she almost wept with the dark pleasure.

  “Come for me, baby. Now.”

  And she did, screaming the whole way.

  Chandler hummed the words with Frank Sinatra as she uncorked the bottle of Pinot Grigio she’d discovered in the wine rack. Pouring the golden liquid into two glasses, she sipped from hers as she cut up the chicken into neat squares and waited for Logan to return. After he left, she’d taken a shower, letting the stinging jets of water soothe each muscle and smiling when she thought over their last encounter. The way he’d kissed her. Touched her. Showed her ecstasy she’d never known existed.

  And here she was, in a man’s house, dressed in his robe, cooking him dinner, doing nothing but making mad, passionate love for the entire day, and never feeling more happy or alive than she had in her life.

  She was totally in love with Logan Grant.

  Now he knew it.

  She squeezed a little lemon on each piece of chicken and wondered how he really felt about her confession. He’d wrung the words from her lips countless times, and each time he kissed her fiercely, as if she’d said the words he wished to hear. But he never responded with his own feelings. Never told her what he wanted from the relationship. Never said the words back.

  Because he wasn’t in love with her.

  Using her forearm to push her hair away from her face, she attacked the lone head of lettuce and shredded each piece with total concentration. She didn’t want to think of any negative thoughts this weekend, but it was something she had to face. Logan may never allow himself to fall in love with a woman, choosing instead to give everything to his business. How long could she go on, waiting to see if his feelings would evolve into love? How long could she wait on the sidelines, hoping one day he’d change?

  Then there was the Yoga and Arts Center. The six-month trial period would be up soon, and she’d be faced with a decision. The outcome of their con
tract decided the whole future of her business. If Logan made a practical decision to terminate the arrangement, would she be able to accept it? Could she be involved with a man who never let his emotional entanglements interfere with business? And if he did decide to sign the long-term contract, would she always wonder if it was pity and responsibility toward her that made him accept the offer?

  The door slammed and interrupted her thoughts. Logan entered the kitchen. Rivulets of water streamed down his face and hair, sopping into the brown paper bag he carried under one arm. “It’s raining?” she asked in surprise.

  “Just started on the way back.” He threw his jacket over the chair and studied her. He seemed to enjoy the picture she made wrapped up in his floor length terry robe. “You took a shower.”

  “Yes, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “The only thing I mind is that you didn’t wait for me.” He raked his hair back with his fingers and shook off the excess water. His t-shirt clung to him, damp from the moisture, and outlined his broad chest.

  Chandler stared at him for a few moments, loving the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled, the full sensual line of his mouth, the lean muscled grace when he moved. At that moment she didn’t care about the problems between them. She only knew being with him fulfilled her in a way she’d never experienced before, and she would take each moment he gave her as a precious gift, greedily storing up as many memories as she could.

  Emotion struck her full force. She closed the distance between them and hurled herself into his arms. She sunk all ten fingers into the midnight depth of his hair and urged his mouth down on hers. Her tongue thrust between his lips, savoring his unique taste. They kissed each other hungrily, Logan’s hands gliding down her back, pulling her hips into his as their tongues battled in an intimate game, until, breathless, she pulled away.

  He groaned. “If that’s the way I’m greeted every time I walk in the door, I’ll be sure to do it often.”

  Chandler laughed. “I’m happy.” She interlaced her fingers with his and brought it up between them admiring the size and strength of his hand in hers.

  He smiled down at her and opened her palm to place a tender kiss. “I’m just as happy.” He studied her face as if searching for something. She caught a familiar, wicked gleam in his charcoal eyes that made her suddenly wary.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I was thinking about all the benefits of vegetables.”

  She didn’t trust the lazy smile that curved his lips. “You agree vegetables are the key to a healthy diet?”

  “Not exactly.” He crouched down and tossed her over his shoulder, chuckling at her outraged cry of protest. With determined strides, he started back to the bedroom. “I’m just grateful they can be eaten raw. This way, we won’t have to worry about our meal getting cold. I’ve suddenly decided to work up a better appetite.”

  She tried to keep her tone dignified as he carried her upstairs, but a giggle escaped. “Next time I’ll introduce you to the benefits of fruit.”

  Logan chuckled and kicked the bedroom door closed.

  The living room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated by the last few crackling embers burning in the fireplace. Flashes of lightning exploded outside. The only sound to break the peaceful silence was the steady pounding of the rain as it beat against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder. Chandler’s head rested comfortably against Logan’s chest as they sat wrapped in each other arms on the sofa. Her fingers played with the fringe on the soft blanket cocooning them.

  “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

  Chandler lowered her voice to match his husky tone. “I was thinking about my mother.”

  “What was she like?”

  She smiled, and her face glowed with memories. “Like an angel. She had long, golden hair and a smile that lit up the room. She laughed all the time, and tried to fill each moment with happiness.”

  “Tell me what happened.” His hands stroked her hair.

  “She died when I was nine. She had cancer. When she was confined to bedrest, we’d make a tent in her room and pretend it was a fort. We’d eat together and play games.” Chandler paused, thinking back. “I know my father loved her, but he never had time for her. There was always the business to run, and the bigger the company grew, the more time he needed to spend there. It finally got a point where he was never home, and the fights would start late at night, angry whispers I heard through the walls.” She sighed. “I think my father feels guilty about her death even to this day. After she died, it only made things worse. I couldn’t seem to reach him. He practically lived at the office, and then he started to send me there after school.” She laughed shortly. “While everyone else practiced for cheerleading tryouts, I became best friends with the secretaries outside his office.”

  “So one day you decided to leave?”

  She heard the question in his voice. She knew she should share the details of her past with him but the humiliation of the event still hurt; the anger that her own father could use her as a commodity to further his business dealings still felt raw. She hesitated for a moment, torn between not wanting to have any secrets between them and wanting to keep it buried for a while longer. She didn’t want to spoil their time together by sharing hurtful memories. Vowing to tell him the whole story at a later time, she repeated, “Yes, so one day I decided to leave.”

  The driving rhythm of the rain filled the silence. “Do you ever see your father?” he asked.

  “Not really. We speak occasionally on the phone, but it always ends up in an argument. He thinks I should be married by now.”

  His hand stilled on her thigh. “And you disagree with him?”

  “Let’s just say I disagree with the type of man he wants me to marry. Marriage is another business arrangement to my father, and I refuse to be involved in one of his deals.”

  He remained silent for a while, as if lost in his thoughts. “What made you decide to open the Yoga and Arts Center?”

  Her legs wrapped around his as she snuggled closer to his body. “I studied yoga and meditation for two years and became certified as an instructor. I worked a couple of different jobs to support myself before I decided to buy my own building and set up my business. Harry had a friend at the bank who helped me with a loan. But then I got to a point where even though my clients were expanding, my bills seemed to be tripling. I struggled more and more to meet those monthly payments. Something had to break. I couldn’t get another loan to keep me afloat, so I needed to come up with an idea.”

  “It was an excellent idea.” He trailed one finger up the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “Except for that crazy escape clause you threw in.”

  “The escape clause made you sign the contract,” she retorted, letting one hand explore below his waist. His breath hissed through his teeth. “Logan, what are we going to do?”

  “I’m coming up with a few ideas.”

  “No, about our working relationship. About the contract.” Her eyebrows lowered in a slight frown. “There could be complications.”

  With one swift movement he lifted her up and on top of his body, positioning her so her knees straddled his hips. Her hair fell down her back. The flames flickered, and she caught the shadows of their figures against the wall.

  “I’m going to take care of everything.” His hands cupped her heavy breasts and tweaked her nipples. Fierce pleasure reflected on his face. “We’ll work it out. The only complication we need to worry about right now is how I’m going to slake this hunger I have for you day and night.”

  Logan watched the woman straddling his thighs. A sensual smile curved her mouth. As if rising to his challenge, she tossed her hair with a shake and laughed. It was a low husky growl, a sexy sound that made his gut clench. At that moment, she reminded him of an ancient pagan goddess; a free spirit who let her body guide her in her pleasures, whose eyes mirrored the wildness in her soul. No longer shy or unsure, now confident in her sex
uality, she blew away the last of those dark corners in his soul and flooded in pure light.

  She had completely wrecked him, and Logan knew he’d never be the same again.

  She leaned over, and her hands ran teasingly down his chest. “Let’s do something about that complication, shall we?”

  She lowered her mouth, her tongue tracing the outline of his lips, slipping between them in a slow, sensual rhythm that made his breath catch in his throat and a low moan rumble from his chest. His hips were held captive by her legs as she moved her mouth down his body. She nibbled on his neck, her teeth scraping the muscles in his shoulders, and she playfully bit and licked at his nipples that tightened in response to her touch. Her hands explored the carved flatness of his stomach and roamed lower, tickling the hairs on his inner thighs. She moved inward, cupping his shaft that throbbed and grew even harder beneath her fingers. Logan fought for control when she squeezed him lightly, stroking him, whispering hot words of what she wanted to do to him, with him.

  The living room windows shook beneath the driving onslaught of wind, rain and thunder. Trees bent and danced in the storm, casting dark shadows on the wall.

  She continued the teasing, sensual torment, moving her mouth down his body, her breath warm and moist against his skin as he waited in anguish, torn between ordering her to stop and begging her to continue.

  “I want to do everything you’ve done to me,” she whispered. “I want to drive you to the ends of pleasure and pull you back again, until the only thing you can think about is how deeply you can get inside of me, over and over again.”

  Her mouth touched his aching, swollen flesh with tentative strokes that made him want to roar with agony and pleasure. Slowly, she grew bolder, tasting him with delicate licks, until she opened her lips and took him completely into her mouth. In moments, she drove him to the edge of his control. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side, and a steady stream of both curses and prayers escaped his lips. Still, she took more. And he gave her everything.