Wanted

by Diana Fraser

“Open your eyes, Taina.” His voice was hoarser now—gruff, commanding.

  She opened them and felt a stab of pure lust deep inside her at seeing his dark eyes so close to hers and his lips only a breath away.

  “And then what did I do?”

  “You kissed me.”

  He swayed close and then stopped. “Kissed you. My mouth against yours. My tongue finding yours, sliding against you, probing you just as you want to be probed deep inside. Because you did, didn’t you Taina? You always wanted me inside you, filling you, straight away. You didn’t want foreplay, did you? Not until after you’d been satisfied. Only then could I take my time with you.”

  How did she suddenly get so close to him? How come she hadn’t noticed his other hand sliding around her back and bringing her hard against his body, against his erection, pressed against her belly? Because she was so damned turned on that all she could think about was the pulsing and swelling of her sex, the dampness accumulating between her legs.

  “You didn’t want foreplay, did you, Taina?” He demanded an answer while at the same time she shifted her hips against his. She couldn’t stop herself.

  She shook her head.

  “I bet if I put my hand under that beautiful dress, if I stroked up your thigh, I’d find you wet for me. Wouldn’t I?”

  Her heart was beating like a drum, the pulse pounding in her head, drowning out everything except his mesmerizing voice. She shifted her stomach against him, opened her legs slightly and he pushed his hard thigh between them. She pressed her clitoris against his thigh and moved herself slightly, so slightly he surely wouldn’t notice, and shifted her head to one side.

  “Wouldn’t I, Taina?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” she panted, hardly daring to move.

  Then it happened. His mouth found her neck as his hand scooped up her dress and firmly rode up high along her inner thigh. He felt along the lacy edge of her thong before running his finger from back to front where she was soaking for him. With a grunt he gripped the fragile thong and pulled it away. She gasped as the back cut into her skin before the delicate silk gave away under his grip and his palm cupped her sex, his finger moving up and down along her wet folds.

  She moaned as she leaned against him, moving her cheek against the fine material of his jacket. He held her firmly against him, while he stroked and caressed her intimately. She used to dream of him doing this, every night that they’d been apart. She’d awake wet and moaning, having dreamed that he’d made love to her but that was nothing compared to the reality of his touch. The tension grew in her body with each flick and slide of his fingers, nearly entering her but not quite. She pressed against his hand, grinding her clitoris into the heel of his hand, forgetting everything—including why she’d ever left this man whose body was so in tune with hers. She teetered on the edge of release and then, as if sensing how close she was, he thrust his fingers inside her and she came, with a loud shuddering climax.

  She fell against him but he drew away. “You are as delicious as ever, my wife.”

  She lifted her head, awaiting his kiss but it didn’t come. “Daidan, let’s go to the bedroom.”

  He shook his head. “No. I want you here. With the lights of the city all around us.”

  He pushed her dress up and caressed her bare bottom.

  She reached out for him then. “Hold me, Daidan. Hold me like you used to.”

  But he shook his head. “I can’t do that, Taina. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that because nothing’s like it used to be.”

  And in that moment she realized how much not knowing what she’d been doing or who she’d been seeing, was tearing him apart. Behind that hard exterior, he was a man of passion, a jealous man and no doubt unable to rid himself of the notion that she’d given the precious necklace to a lover.

  She gulped back her sadness. “Then do what you can.”

  He shrugged off his jacket. She came to him and unzipped his trousers, sweeping open his shirt, her hands brushing over his strong dark body. All he had on was his open shirt and the tie that still dangled carelessly. He looked at her hard and hurt at the same time as he dragged her dress up to her hips. Then he turned her around, bent her over the settee and came into her from behind.

  He thrust into her, taking her with a devastating rhythm which made her cry out before he was ready. She gripped onto the edge of the settee as he continued to thrust into her, his rhythm quickening and he came inside her, shooting his seed deep into her body with a grunt. He pulled out of her and brought her to a standing position, his hands loosely around her waist. “Is that what you wanted, Taina?” he whispered in a devastating imitation of tenderness.

  She refused to cry. She couldn’t help but be turned on by him, still. But it had nothing to do with her need for an emotional connection with him.

  “Is it?” he repeated. She nodded her head and then dragged off the sofa throw and pulled it around her and walked into the bedroom and locked the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Taina awoke at the same time she’d awoken each of the past ten mornings since that fight and did the same thing—lay there alone in the enormous bed and listened. But she listened in vain because there was no sound.

  She propped herself up on the white and coffee-colored pillows and looked blankly out the uncurtained window. She didn’t recognize the sweeping harbor that spread before her, veiled in that curious half-light of pre-dawn. It would be that way for a few more hours yet. She’d forgotten the beauty of light that was not light. And she’d forgotten what it was like to be alone. She’d made sure she’d never been alone in the year she’d been away. And she’d paid the cost.

  She rose, unhooked her ivory silk robe from the chair and, tying it around her, walked over to the floor-to-ceiling triple-glazed windows of the inner city apartment. The awakening lights of Helsinki spread below her like a jeweled veil. It was still mostly dark at that hour even though it was now May and the first signs of summer were appearing—usually a reason for celebration, but not for her, not now.

  She hadn’t seen Daidan since that night when they’d had sex—there was no way she could call it making love—after which he’d disappeared into thin air. He hadn’t come to bed and he must have left the apartment in the small amount of time she’d managed to sleep. He’d been gone by the time she’d reached the office. The official line was that he’d been called suddenly to Amsterdam on business.

  He’d left her no note, no email, nothing to explain his sudden absence. She was sure it was in response to what had happened because his staff appeared equally surprised.

  Did he hate her so much because she’d given away the necklace? Did the fact that she was so ready for him despite the fact he believed she’d had an affair, so turned on by him, disgust him? Whatever the reason it was obvious that he regretted his part of the bargain. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her.

  She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower as she looked at herself in the mirror. At least he could get away, she thought bitterly. She had to live with the self-hate. She turned away from her reflection not wanting to see herself, so perfect, so blond, so beautiful—and so ugly inside. That’s what she did, wasn’t it? Turned love into something negative. It was her curse.

  She opened her robe and looked at her body under the harsh bathroom light. It was good that she’d insisted that the lights be turned down, that he hadn’t seen her. He hadn’t understood but it was better that he didn’t know. Not yet.

  Then she let her hands drift down to her sex and she pressed against it and closed her eyes, imagining Daidan’s hands against her body as they were ten nights before. Her senses were still heightened by the sex and by her own emotional needs which the lovemaking had stirred, despite the intervening days.

  Daidan hadn’t kissed her and he’d not caressed her other than intimately. He’d given her what she’d asked for and nothing more. Did she want more? She opened her eyes.

  She hadn’t looked beyon
d a child, beyond the sex act, when she’d decided to return. She’d thought they could have the kind of family life her parents had had—distant but functional—at least it had been in the beginning. She hadn’t imagined it would be this hard, having him physically but not having him emotionally.

  Did she want more?

  She turned her back on the mirror and stepped into the shower, refusing to acknowledge the truth she saw in her eyes. She’d always refused to want more than she could have. Up till now.

  Two days later Daidan flew into Helsinki airport. Despite the fact he’d only lived there a few years he felt it to be more a home to him than Ma’in, the country of his birth where, as middle son, he was neither the eldest son and heir, nor the charming youngest son. No, he had no wish to do any more than visit his home country. His place was out in the world, creating an identity for himself, on his own merits.

  And that’s what he’d done. From an early age he’d lived in colder climates. First in Switzerland where his mother used to take them skiing. There, he’d stayed on, insisting on attending a Swiss international school. Excelling at everything, he’d had his choice of universities and had chosen Harvard. After Harvard he’d gone to Australia, but only long enough to gain experience working in its biggest diamond extraction company. There he forged a life-long friendship with the owner, Amelia, with whom he’d had a brief affair before she’d married, before heading off to Finland to work for Taina’s father.

  His visit to Finland was only meant to have been of short duration to learn more about the industry he’d chosen to work in—diamonds. But then he’d met Taina. And now he couldn’t conceive of living anywhere else. He’d fallen for Taina the first day he’d seen her. Yes, he’d wanted the diamond company, but he’d wanted Taina more. And that was his blessing and his curse.

  He was back in the country. She knew Daidan had been in touch with the office because the tension was palpable. But Taina continued to listen to her assistant running through the phone messages.

  “And…” her assistant continued nervously. “We’ve received word from your husband. He’s asked that you meet him in The Warehouse in an hour.”

  Taina continued to bring the glass of water to her lips. But she didn’t drink, just looked out at sunlight on the beautiful neoclassical buildings of central Helsinki. It had been light since five a.m. It was only another couple of months before the launch. She and the other designers had a lot of work ahead of them but that wasn’t what was concerning her now. Why was Daidan insisting she meet him in The Warehouse? What right did he have to demand her to drop her plans and go to The Warehouse?

  She turned around and carefully placed the glass on the table. Iittala glass. Like everything else in this building—twentieth-century Finnish design, selected by her mother and now a collector’s piece.

  “Thank you.” She glanced across to Daidan’s office. She smiled. “Is everything prepared for this morning’s meeting?”

  “Yes but we thought as you’d be going to The Warehouse—”

  “The meeting will continue as arranged. I’ll hold it in my husband’s office. I want to be sure that all the details of the launch are covered.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “No buts. The meeting will continue as arranged.”

  Daidan would have to learn, she thought as the door closed behind her assistant, that she might have returned, she might have struck a bargain with him, but she wasn’t, and would never be again, a man’s pawn for him to use as he liked.

  Taina sat at the head of a pine table. The white overhead pendant lamps and other modernist details suited her, Daidan thought, even as he walked, unannounced into the room. Everyone, except Taina who was speaking, cast nervous glances toward him.

  But he wasn’t going to yell at her in front of their staff, as much as he might like to. He leaned back against the closed door and crossed his arms, listening as Taina continued without missing a beat.

  “And the Paris branch of the Triple X Agency will look after all the details of our meeting there next week. But they’ll need answers to print branding.” She looked across to one of her team. “Pascal?”

  “Sure. It’s in hand. I’ll contact them this morning.”

  “And Aarne, you’ve made all the arrangements for Paris? All the details covered?”

  “Just need to book your return flights from Paris to Helsinki. I understand you won’t be travelling to Ma’in?

  Taina frowned. “No. No, I won’t.” She turned to another person at the table. “And the main event? The opera in the castle?”

  “Everything’s been arranged. The guests have been invited.”

  She frowned. “Can you let me have the final copy, please.”

  The executive glanced nervously at Daidan. “Certainly.”

  “Let’s just hope the weather improves by then,” Taina commented wryly.

  Daidan hadn’t intended to stay. He’d walked into the meeting room angry that she’d disregarded his instructions. But, as he listened to her working with her staff, the anger dissipated. In the ten days he’d been absent she’d worked hard to get up to speed on a project which had been underway for six months. He’d anticipated that she would be merely a figurehead, only nominally in charge. Someone to front the campaign. He frowned. Looked like she was taking on more than he’d imagined. That wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d thought she’d focus on the design aspect, not the overall plans.

  He pushed himself off the wall. “Taina! A moment please.”

  He cast a frowning look at the others and they melted out of the room.

  She rose from her seat, immaculate in a black roll-neck top and vintage loose trousers that sat on her hips, accentuating her slim frame. She was the picture of a cool wealthy executive. Apart from the set of her mouth and her narrowed eyes. She folded her arms and cocked her head to one side. “A moment? Just the one?”

  He walked up to her and sat on the edge of the table. “That’s what I said.”

  “It may have escaped your notice but I was in a meeting. You wanted me to work. I’m working. And yet you decide to interrupt my meeting, to flex your muscles by showing everyone that you’re the boss, not me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am the boss. However, it wasn’t my intention to show everyone that because they know.”

  She grunted in frustration.

  He shrugged carelessly and walked away, needing to get away from her before he bridged the distance between them and hooked her head and kissed her. But that way led to madness. As had happened last time they were alone together. It had taken him days to recover. Ridiculous! He wouldn’t let it happen again. “So why didn’t you come to The Warehouse?”

  She sat as if suddenly tired and pushed her hands through her hair, which immediately flopped back into place—the fringe of blond hair falling into perfect shape, framing her oval face, sweeping brows and large eyes. Desire snapped in his gut. He walked over to the window, willing the now bright light to neutralize his need for this woman—a need that he was scared would destroy him and everything he’d worked for.

  “Because I had a meeting scheduled. You wanted me to work. I’m working. Okay?”

  “You should have left it to the team. They’re quite capable.”

  “I know that. But I’m doing what you asked me to do.”

  “I asked you to come to The Warehouse.” He turned back to face her then. “To your mother’s jewelry business. We need to discuss what we’re going to show, examine the mock-ups, and figure out which pieces we’ll make replicas of to take with us for the launches in the US and Europe. There’s a lot to do.” He shook his head. “You know, I don’t understand you at all. You’re a designer and yet you refuse to visit your mother’s prestigious premises.”

  “I don’t refuse. I just prefer not to be summoned.”

  “And I only summon you when you don’t appear as needed.” He narrowed his gaze. “It’s almost as if you’re scared of something.”

  She turned
away quickly. “Why would I be scared of a building?”

  “No idea. You tell me. Scared of old ghosts?”

  She shook her head and rose, jutting out her jaw in a gesture he recognized. He’d stirred her stubborn streak. “You know? I don’t think I’m scared of anything anymore. Let’s go, shall we?” She strode out of his office to her desk where she grabbed her oversized bag from which beautiful designer contents spilled, and shrugged a loose wool jacket over her shoulders.

  He narrowed his eyes as that flicker of need for her flared into life again as he followed her out into the open-plan office and waited for her by the elevator.

  He’d extended his business to ten days hoping the time apart would help him get his feelings under control. But he’d badly underestimated them. He doubted ten months would be long enough. She walked past him on a wave of expensive perfume. Make that ten years…

  Daidan spent the entire drive to The Warehouse on his phone, while Taina stared out the window watching central Helsinki pass by. They’d soon driven over the canal that separated the island of Katajanokka from the rest of the city and passed by Uspenski Cathedral, with its extravagant gold spires and red brick, on their way to the docks. Not far away was the quay where they kept their boat for trips to their island home, but they turned away from that and headed instead to one of the coolest and most expensive addresses in Helsinki—the old warehouses with an unsurpassed view of the harbor and its archipelago of small islands. The warehouse had been in Taina’s family for generations but it had been her mother who’d supervised its conversion into a sought-after design studio.

  They parked in front of the centuries old, beautiful brick building and Taina looked up at its soaring architecture, complete with extravagantly sized windows through which light streamed. It was beautiful, but Daidan had been right. She was scared of old ghosts. And not just her mother’s.

  Daidan stepped to one side and held the door open for her. He’d always been old-fashioned in his manners. It had been one of the things that she’d loved about him. But now it meant she had to enter the building first. She gritted her teeth and stepped in over the worn threshold. The smell of the place got her first. She almost thought she’d faint as the devastating combination of polished wood and lilies of the valley—the kielo—swamped her. Seems the staff of designers still maintained her mother’s tradition of having lilies everywhere.