Pretending with the Playboy

by Tracey Livesay

  He pushed away from her and shoved his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She stumbled back, an icy pit forming in her stomach. This couldn’t be happening again.

  He must have seen the look on her face, because he frowned. “Lauren, I’m sorry—”

  “Then why did you do it?” Anger burst from her, threatening to incinerate anyone in the vicinity. Which, thankfully, was him. “If you don’t want to kiss me, why do you keep doing it?”

  “You think I don’t want to kiss you? I thought we talked about this at the gala. Even after I explained what happened all those years ago, you still think I don’t want you?”

  “Pushing me away and cursing, kind of a big clue.”

  “I didn’t stop kissing you…” He exhaled heavily, parked his hands on his hips, and stared down at the floor.

  “I don’t need another explanation. I just need you to go.” Before the last fortifying wave of anger subsided, leaving her in a puddle of tears. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

  He looked up and the intensity of his gaze made her tremble.

  “Why wouldn’t I want you?” he asked, in a low, husky voice that had her core throbbing in an erotic call and response.

  Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth went dry.

  “I don’t understand how you can’t believe I would want you,” he said, without waiting for her answer. “You have an incredible heart. Look at what you’re doing for Aunt Dorothy. You thought I’d rejected you, yet you put aside your pain to come to DC and propose this…uncomfortable situation. And you did it because you love her. You’re even willing to give up your fellowship for her. That’s amazing.”

  Her heart began to pound, desire collecting in every section of her body.

  His eyes glimmered like supple, highly-polished leather. “You’re one of the smartest people I know and you make art sexy. I couldn’t care less about color saturation or negative space, but I could listen to you talk about it all day.”

  Her nipples pebbled against her bra, straining for his touch.

  “And look at you. You’re gorgeous. I mean, those eyes, that mouth, this body, it’s insane. You combine that with everything else…with your compassion, intelligence, your dedication and, sweetheart”—he reached out and stroked a thumb across her lower lip—“the question isn’t why would I want you. It’s how could I not?”

  Wow.

  Then there were no more words on his side or thoughts on hers as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pressed her lips to his.

  It wasn’t long before he took control. Long, slow drugging kisses, like he was drinking from her soul. This wasn’t the surprise of the first kiss or the frenzy of the kiss in the pool. This was a seductive kiss. The kiss a man gives a woman. He held her head in his hands and devoured her mouth and she let him. Her entire body tingled and tightened, all because of what he was doing to her lips.

  He slid his hand beneath her T-shirt and with a flick of his wrist her breasts were free. Somewhere in the back corner of her mind, she hazily noted he did that better than she ever did. Her breasts fell heavy into his hands and they both groaned simultaneously. He massaged them, rhythmically squeezing their fullness and tweaking her nipples until her nerve endings went haywire and sparks ripped through her. In that instant she knew she would always be powerless when it came to him. Chicago. New York. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t imagine any other man making her feel so…unrestrained and carefree. She was already so wet, her panties were sticking to her.

  The back of the sofa hit the back of her thighs but she didn’t care enough to break the kiss. His hands grabbed her ass and pressed her to him, his cock branding her through the fabric of their clothing. She reached down and grasped it through his pants, thrilling in its steely hardness, caressing its length from base to tip. He ground against her hand and finally wrenched his lips from hers.

  “Are you sure?”

  “That’s what I should ask you.”

  He laughed, the sound sexy as hell.

  “Condoms?” His words asked for a location, his eyes sought permission.

  She answered both. “Ceramic pot on the bookshelf.” Courtesy of Sophie.

  He was back between one breath and the next.

  Outside, thunder rent the air, the deafening grumble like celestial boulders colliding into one another. Inside, the harshness of their breaths was the only sound between them. He watched her beneath lowered lashes, his chest rapidly rising and falling while she peeled the shirt off his broad shoulders. She loved how wide they were, how strong he was. She was strong in everyday life, because she had to be. But his strength made her feel so fragile and feminine. She met his gaze, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to the tanned, smooth skin just above his heart, then flicked her tongue against his nipple. He moaned.

  He unbuttoned her shorts and slid them down her. Her panties followed. He teased the folds between her legs and circled the sensitized nub of her clit. “You’re so wet.”

  She cried out and threw her head back, excited by his words and his touch.

  He lifted and settled her against the back of the sofa. His eyes glittered as they stared into hers. “This isn’t the only time. Do you understand? I’m not even in you and I know we’ll be doing this again.”

  He reached a hand between her legs again. Then he gripped her hips and surged into her, his tongue catching her sighs and moans. He braced his arms on the sofa, his triceps bulging as he held his weight. She wrapped her legs around his hips, dug her heels into his tight ass, and urged him on.

  She wished she could take this lightly. Knew that many people did. But the intimacy amazed her. They were connected in the closest way possible. He was inside of her. How could anyone do this and not believe it meant something?

  He leaned forward, biting the space between her neck and shoulder, his tongue following with the soothing antidote. She clenched around him.

  “You like that?”

  “God, yes.” She rotated her hips as proof of her approval.

  He drove into her, each thrust welcomed as her body embraced his length, each withdrawal mourned like a lover’s reluctant departure. Over and over they moved, a whirlwind of ecstatic frenzy, until her breathing hitched.

  “Carter, I—”

  Tension coiled in her belly and lower. The coil snapped and waves of pleasure rocketed through her. She went with it, riding the train of pure bliss until it ended, leaving her spent and sated. Moments later, his fingers clutching her hips, he bellowed his own release.

  As the dome of carnality disintegrated around them, she noticed the rain falling steadily against the roof, a soothing lullaby punctuated by thunder more harmonious. Carter slid out of her and moved toward the kitchen. She sagged back onto her arms, relaxed, drifting off…

  Her eyes flew open when she felt herself being lifted. He held her in his arms, walked around the sofa, and sank down, settling her in his lap.

  It had been better than she’d ever imagined and she was glad she’d done it. But even with all of his sweet words he’d never said anything about commitment or forever. She had to remember this was temporary, a little bit of fun. As long as she remembered that, she’d remain in control. Looking for anything else from Carter would only leave her hurting.

  Chapter Twelve

  It wasn’t polite to stare, but did it matter if the object of her gaze didn’t know?

  Carter shifted in the bed and Lauren’s pale lemon sheets tangled around his hips. The morning sun caressed his tanned skin and glimmered in his dark, tousled hair. She remembered mussing those strands, the muscles in his back flexing beneath her fingers, his strong hands splaying her inner thighs wide as his tongue danced at her core.

  Unable to help herself, she pressed soft kisses across his chest and up the side of his neck, then nibbled on his ear. The scruff of his morning stubble scratched her cheek.

  “Hmmm”—the sound a deep
rumble in his chest that vibrated under her palm—“that’s a nice way to wake up.”

  “Think of how many mornings you missed by pushing me away all those years ago,” she teased, amazed that she was able to do so.

  “I knew what I was doing. Giving you time to mature, like a fine wine.”

  “You need new material.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not my best early in the morning.”

  “Then what’s your excuse? Because it’s almost eleven o’clock.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “No.”

  He threw an arm over his eyes. “You wore me out, woman.”

  “You were never a morning person.”

  “And you always were. I remember the year you first came to live here.”

  “You do?”

  “I was at Stanford and Aunt Dorothy called to tell me about it.”

  “I think Allison counted the silver every day to make sure I didn’t steal it.” She grinned. “Two years earlier, Dorothy had given my mother a sixty-six piece set of Royal Danish for Christmas. I could’ve said something, but I liked watching her extend the effort.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Why hadn’t we met before? Your mother worked for Aunt Dorothy for years.”

  “There was no reason for me to come here. My mom worked regular hours mostly and on special occasions, like balls or galas, I stayed home with my dad.”

  He lifted his head and braced his folded arm behind it. “How did your parents die?”

  Acid rose in her throat and her eyes filled with water. The same feelings of grief, anger, and helplessness that overwhelmed her as a girl threatened to engulf her again. She rolled off of him and curled onto her side, bringing her knees up into her body. Carter spooned her from behind and she took tremendous comfort from his presence. “A car accident. The big snowstorm, New Years ’99. They lost control of the car.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He tucked his chin in the space between her neck and her shoulder and held her. They stayed that way for several minutes, she getting her emotions back under control, he offering sweet, silent support.

  “I’m going to grab a shower,” she said, pushing away from him, wanting to wash away the painful memories of the past.

  When she came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, he’d fallen back to sleep.

  “Get up.” She laughed, pulling the sheet and enjoying the teasing reveal of a flat abdomen, narrow hips, that incredible ass, and his hardening, growing—

  “Pervert,” he mumbled, pulling the sheet back up around his torso.

  She wrinkled her nose in disappointment.

  “Spoilsport,” she said, throwing her wet towel so that it landed on his head.

  “Hey!”

  She walked up to the main house where she grabbed a cup of coffee in the kitchen with Maria before climbing the stairs to Dorothy’s room.

  “I’m not surprised you’re unable to keep your word. Breeding will tell,” Allison said.

  Lauren’s heart high jumped into her throat. She whirled around to face the other woman, whose furtive approach to Dorothy’s door had been muffled by the Persian hallway runner. Allison was painted, sculpted, and clad in an emerald green sheath, her societal armor intact.

  “Didn’t you mention going to the spa for a few weeks?” Lauren asked, splaying her hand against her chest. “When will we have the pleasure of your departure?”

  “I can’t leave now, especially after last night,” Allison said.

  “What happened last night?”

  “What happened?” Allison shook her head. “When you two do it, you do it big.”

  The feeling of Carter sliding into her, the fullness, the delicious abrasion, shot through her body. Lauren smiled.

  “You think this is funny? Carter staging a coup and announcing your engagement at the board meeting? So much for keeping it in the family.” Sarcasm twined through Allison’s words like overgrown ivy. “Is a press conference next?”

  Oh. She was talking about the board meeting.

  “If you know about yesterday’s board meeting, then you know why Carter did what he did.”

  “Has this been your plan all along? Lure him back here then use him to take over the family?”

  “You’re paranoid.”

  “Vigilant,” Allison said. “And patient. Your relationship won’t last. I don’t know how you got him to propose, but Carter isn’t the settling type.”

  Lauren knew that better than anyone. “You don’t need to concern yourself with my relationship with Carter.”

  “I’m not the one who should be concerned. It won’t be long before his eyes start wandering and then his body will follow. Out of Chicago.”

  “He’s not here for me. He’s here for Dorothy.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Once Carter’s gone, Edworth can take his rightful place as the head of this family.”

  This again? Seriously, the woman was like a scratched CD.

  “If Dorothy wanted Edworth to take over the family, she would have appointed him. But she didn’t.”

  “Hey now!”

  Like synchronized swimmers, they swiveled to face the woman in muted green scrubs, standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “This isn’t the set of a soap opera. There’s a sick-sick woman in here.” The lyricism of her Caribbean accent diluted the censure of her words.

  “Sorry, Tricia,” Lauren muttered.

  The nurse clucked her tongue and went back into the room.

  “Remember what I said. Carter won’t always be here. What will you do then?” Allison cautioned before stalking away.

  “Are you okay?” Carter walked down the hallway toward her. He looked incredible in a pair of navy blue slacks and a blue dress shirt, which deepened the brown of his hair and eyes.

  “I’m fine. Just Allison being Allison.”

  He kissed her and she felt their instant connection from this morning blooming to life between them.

  “Have you been in to see Aunt Dorothy?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. We can’t tell her about the merger.”

  “I know. But you’ll be going into the office a lot. You think she won’t notice?”

  “I’ll tell her I’m keeping an eye on things. But that’s it. Agreed?”

  She nodded. He was right. Telling Dorothy about the merger was the worst thing they could do.

  Tricia returned, a tote bag bearing a Haitian flag swinging from her forearm.

  “You can go in now. I’ll wait for my replacement in the kitchen with Maria.” She continued down the hallway, the air carrying her melodious mutterings about “crazy rich people” to their ears.

  Lauren entered the room with Carter at her back, his heat an inescapable distraction.

  Dorothy was propped up on pillows, the duvet tucked snugly across her midsection. “You’re late.”

  “I slept in,” she said, praying no one would comment on the color that saturated her cheeks. “Sitting up again?”

  “I’m feeling energetic. I’m not about to waste it.”

  Each day her voice sounded better, the words sliding out a bit easier than the day before. Lauren took a seat in the antique chair situated next to the bed while Carter bent to greet his aunt. Straightening, he perched on the edge of her bed.

  Dorothy rubbed the fabric of Carter’s pants between her fingers and smiled. “I’m glad you’re both here. What happened at the office?”

  Carter shot Lauren a quick look. “Nothing much,” he told Dorothy. “I took in the papers like you asked.”

  She squeezed his knee. “Uh-huh. What about the board meeting?”

  He stiffened and looked at Lauren. “Did you tell her?”

  “No.”

  Dorothy smiled. “I’ve been at the company for over twenty-five years. Most of the employees are loyal to me.”

  “Donald,” Carter scowled.

  “No, it wasn’t Donald.”

>   He narrowed his eyes at her. “Would you tell me if it was?”

  “No.”

  “Dammit. He shouldn’t be calling and worrying you about the business.”

  “He didn’t.”

  Carter crossed his arms. “Don’t manage me.”

  “Don’t cut me out of the company.”

  “I’m not trying to cut you out of RichCorp. I’m worried about your health.”

  Dorothy’s face softened. “Okay. But you have to promise not to lie to me. Did Bill Morgan call the meeting?”

  Carter hesitated then shook his head.

  “Carter,” Dorothy warned.

  She wouldn’t let this go. Lauren recognized the furrowed brow, the tilt of her chin, the set of her mouth. She felt the same feeling that gripped her the day of Carter’s arrival.

  “Bill wants a merger,” Lauren interrupted.

  Carter closed his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose. When he opened them, he turned to look at her, his jaw tight.

  She met his gaze. “You’re the one who said she’s not a wilting flower.”

  “Did I hallucinate our talk in the hall five minutes ago?” he asked.

  “Bill has been hinting about a merger for years,” Dorothy said. “With my prolonged absence, it’s the perfect time for him to strike.” She stared at Carter. “You can’t allow this to happen.”

  “I won’t,” he said.

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Dorothy studied him then nodded and turned to Lauren. “Let’s talk about the engagement party.”

  A chill swept down Lauren’s spine. “Engagement party?”

  “It’s a Richardson family tradition.”

  She’d mentioned it before but Lauren forgot. “I know, but you don’t expect us to have one, do you?”

  “Of course I do. Especially now.”

  “We can talk about this later,” Carter said. “We have plenty of time.”

  Dorothy shook her head, her eyes widening. “We need to do it soon.”