by Tara Wylde
“Hey, Mrs. Monroe.” Jason’s breath stirs the hair at the nape of my neck. His chest presses against my back as he presses a kiss to my bare shoulder and I shiver.
I reach back and rumple his silky hair. “Hey yourself.”
“Happy?”
I look around the interior of the bar where he first caught my eye. Admittedly, as a venue for a wedding reception, it’s a bit unorthodox, but considering it’s the place where Jason first caught my eye, it feels as natural to celebrate our love here as it did to say our vows at the same lifeguard station where I first fell for him.
“Very,” I tell him.
“That’s a pity.”
My head snaps around and I stare at him. Tension stiffens my shoulder. “Why? If there’s something you haven’t told me, something about Abe or—”
Jason chuckles and wraps a strong arm around my waist, pulling me backwards against him. “Nothing like that. I was just thinking that if you weren’t deliriously happy about being here, or if you’re just getting a little bored, I happen to know of a boat that’s ready and waiting to go out to sea. We could climb on board and throw ourselves a private party. What do you think?”
A warm feeling that’s equal parts lust and love winds through me.
In I twist into his arms until I’m facing him. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Rising up on my toes, I plant an impulsive kiss on his lips. It’s meant to be a quick peck, but just as I start to drop back down to the flat of my feet, his hand comes up and cups my cheek, holding me in place as he deepens the kiss.
We’re both breathless by the time we part.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he says with a grin. He lifts his arm, cocking his elbow, and waggles his eyebrows.
I laugh and slide my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“My, my, look at you, all suave and debonair. A modern-day Sinatra.” Despite my teasing tone, I’m charmed. It’s nice knowing there are a few throwbacks in the world who are willing to turn on the charm and be gentleman and treat a woman like a princess when the occasion warrants it. It’s even better knowing that I’m married to just such a guy.
Yep, I’m one lucky lady.
Jason places a butterfly-soft kiss on the top of my head. “Let’s go find Kelsey.”
I slip my hand in his and thread our fingers together before letting him lead me in a winding path through the guest. Jason ignores them, even though most of them are only here because of him, but I nod a silent acknowledgement to each one. They laugh and raise their glasses or mouth words of congratulations. A few make a few semi-lewd comments. Clearly, they know exactly what Jason and I are planning.
And I don’t care if they think we’re going to go have wild monkey sex in the middle of a public fountain. I’m too happy with the way things turned out to be self-conscious.
We find Kelsey sitting on a tall bar stool, watching Daryl play a game of pinball.
“Hey, baby girl.” Jason rumples her hair. “Your mom and I have decided to call it a night. Okay?”
“K.” Kelsey doesn’t take her eyes off the little steel ball that zips from one side of the machine to the other.
“Can I get a kiss?” Jason cajoles.
She brushes a kiss in the general direction of his cheek.
“Thanks,” he mutters, amusement softening his dry tone.
It’s my turn. I wrap my arms around Kelsey’s thin ribcage and pull her to me in a hard hug. “We’ll be gone for four days and while we’re away, you, Adele, and Daryl are going to Disney and Epcot Center, right?”
Daryl shoots me a dark look. He’s not thrilled to be getting dragged to Disneyland, but since Kelsey begged him to go with her and Adele, he relented, but he doesn’t like being reminded of it.
Glaring at me costs him. The steel ball drops into the hole and rattles its way into the bowels of the machine.
Kelsey boos and glares at Daryl.
He sighs and drops a pair of quarters into the slot. The ball reappears and Kelsey leans closer to the machine.
I roll my eyes and plant a kiss on her soft cheek. “We’ll see you in a few days. I love you.”
“Love you too,” she mutters. I roll my eyes a second time and turn away from her, accepting that it’s as good as I’m going to get. God, if she’s this bad now, what’s she going to be like in a few years when she turns into a teenager?
I shove the thought aside. It’s too bleak to even consider right now.
I’d much rather think about my new husband.
Hand in hand, we step out of the bar and onto the beach. I breathe deeply, unable to get enough of the sweet, sea-scented air.
“We should buy a place here,” Jason says.
I slant him a look from beneath my lashes. “What?”
“You love the sunshine and the sea. I also know that as long as Kelsey’s in school, you’re going to want to remain based in Chicago so she doesn’t have to deal with the stress of being the new kid, but there’s no reason we can’t find a little place here. Something right on the ocean, or maybe on one of the keys, and come down here whenever we need a break from Chicago life. What do you think?”
I think I married the most amazing man in the world and that if he proposed we live in a cardboard box, I’ll be happy to go along with it.
I rise, walking on my toes for a few steps while I kiss on his cheek. “Let’s get through the honeymoon before we start talking vacation homes. Okay?”
Jason chuckles and leads me into the marina. “You’re so practical.”
“One of us has to be,” I quip. We turn and move between two rows of boats, each one sleek and expensive looking. Jason leads me to the very end of the dock, where a huge tan houseboat bobs up and down as it waits to be boarded.
It’s easily the biggest houseboat I’ve ever seen in my life. Granted, I haven’t seen many, but still. From here, it only looks a little smaller than one the cruise ships those fancy vacation companies use.
“Is this it?” I squeak.
“This is it,” Jason confirms. “Look.” He places his hands on the tops of my shoulders and gently rotates me a few degrees to the right so I’m looking directly at the boat’s bow. The marina’s floodlight makes it easy to read the bright red block lettering painted there. Ella and Kelsey.
“You named it after us?” It’s a small thing, really, but still it warms my heart and has me falling even more deeply in love with this beautiful, sentimental man.
He dips his head and nuzzles my neck. “Of course. Do you like it?”
“The name?” I shift my head to the side, giving him better access. He rewards me by gently nipping my earlobe. The bite radiates through my body, the vibrations going straight to my pussy. I squeeze my thighs together and lean against Jason. “What’s not to like?”
“You little brat.” Jason swats my bottom, making me squeal. “I’m talking about the boat.”
“The exterior is nice, but I won’t know how much I like it until I’ve seen the inside.”
“Like I was just saying, practical.”
Jason keeps his arm wound tightly around my waist as he helps me onto the boat he’s named after my daughter and myself. “What do you want to see first?” he asks as soon as we’re standing on the deck.
“Hmm, so many choices.” I pretend to mull them over, drawing out the moment, letting the sweet anticipation build between us. “I suppose the best place to start is the master bedroom.”
Jason throws his head back and lets loose a full belly laugh. The sound spooks a pelican that was roosting on a pylon near the boat. It takes flight, shooting us a resentful glare before disappearing into the night sky.
I expect Jason to guide me to the master bedroom, as per my suggestion, but he leads me directly past it, heading deeper into the enormous houseboat, until he guides me into the galley.
There’s just enough moonlight streaming through the portholes to make out the standard appliances. I cast a side eye up at Jason. Amusement glitters
in his eyes.
“If you think I’m spending my wedding night cooking for you,” I warn, “you’d better think again. I have plans for tonight and they don’t involve anything to do with a stove or microwave.”
Between untangling my legal situation, fielding media calls, and trying to put a wedding together in two weeks, Jason and I have barely had a moment to ourselves, and the few moments we managed to find only lasted long enough to steal a few kisses and strokes, small teases that have made me so desperate for him that on more than one occasion, I seriously considered throwing decorum and modesty to the wind and jumping him in the middle of a crowd.
I’ve resisted the impulse and managed to wait until tonight, but I don’t intend to wait a single moment longer. Tonight, I’m going to enjoy my brand-new husband.
Jason chuckles and kisses the tip of my nose. “I don’t expect you to cook anything for me.” He hugs me close, letting me feel how stiff his cock already is, banishing any doubts I have about whether he wants me as much as I want him.
I sigh and rotate my hips, grinding myself against his length, when he suddenly releases me and steps back.
“Just one moment,” he murmurs. “Don’t move.”
Something clicks and a flame bursts to life in Jason’s hand, the flickering light casting intense shadows across his face. He moves around the room touching the lighter to first one candle and then another until the entire galley is bathed in golden light. The faint smell of jasmine, one of my favorite scents, wafts from the candles as I get my first good look at the small room.
“Oh, Jason,” I breathe out on a long sigh.
He turns a wicked grin on me. “Twice we’ve started to have mind-blowing kitchen sex, and twice we’ve been interrupted. I figure the third time’s the charm.”
He touches the lighter to another candle. “Daryl has already been told that if he so much as even thinks about interrupting us tonight, I drag his ass to the zoo and feed him to the tigers.”
“It’s amazing,” I say. The word doesn’t describe how magical the scene is or how touched I am by how much thought and effort he obviously put into tonight.
The candles make up only one aspect of the scene he carefully set. He’s also covered the entire room with red and white rose petals that gleam softly in the golden candlelight.
He tosses the lighter to the side and returns to me. His hands cup my hips as he takes my mouth in a soft kiss that shakes me all the way to my toes.
“No,” he whispers as we part for air. “You’re the amazing one.”
I twist my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair while lifting my mouth for another toe-curling kiss. “Instead of arguing about which one of us the most amazing,” I say against his lips, “how about we just agree that together, we’re pretty damn spectacular?”
“I can agree with that.” Jason’s grip on my hips tighten and he lifts me up and sets me down on the edge of the counter, just like he did our first morning together in his house. “So how ‘bout we start being spectacular together?”
“Sounds good,” I gasp as his head drops to my cleavage and he places a nipping love bite on the side of my breast where it swells above my sundress.
His hands shift, first sliding down my legs, and then making a smooth, sensual return trip, pushing my skirt as they go until it’s bunched around my waist.
As he slips one hand between my legs, pushing aside my damp panties and sliding one finger into me, I reach for him. Clawing at his shirt, I tug and pull and buttons fly from the material and scatter all over the small galley.
His thumb brushes my clit, sending a wave of liquid heat through me while he nuzzles the thin straps, pushing them down my shoulders, freeing my breast. With a pleased groan, he takes a nipple between his teeth and sucks hard.
Heat pools through me, settling at my core. I squirm against his finger. It feels good, but it’s not enough. Not right now. I know exactly what I want and I want it right now.
I grapple with the front of his pants, fumbling as I unfasten his belt buckle. I use a combination of hands and feet to help slide the pants down his legs.
“Jason,” I gasp as his mouth finds my other nipple. “I can’t wait.”
Hearing the desperation in my voice, he rips off my panties, tossing them behind him and moving between my legs. With one last long stroke of his finger, which has me biting my lip as my back bows, he moves his hand, replacing it with his cock.
I scream in delight as he rams himself flush with my hips in one long, smooth stroke.
The feel of him inside of me, in the exact place I’ve been fantasizing about having him for the past few weeks, catapults me over the edge.
Jason starts moving, rotating his hips and stroking in and out of me, as wave after wave of hot ecstasy rolls through me. The force of each thrust pushes me backwards on the counter, and I wrap my legs around his hips, my heels digging into the soft globes of his ass, spurring him on.
His cries mingle with my own until his body stiffens and he empties himself into me.
Spent, his knees buckle and he slowly collapses to the floor, dragging me down with him.
“Oh boy,” I say when I finally regain my strength.
“Yeah,” Jason agrees. He props himself up on one elbow and looks down at me. A self-satisfied smile creases his face. He reaches out with his free hand, smoothing damp hair away from my face. “I don’t know about you, but if this is any indication of how the rest of our lives will be, I think I’m going to really enjoy married life.”
Howling with laughter, I reach up and jerk his head down, covering his mouth with mine in a driving kiss. “I’m not so sure,” I tease. “I think I’m going to need a few more examples before I reach a conclusion.”
Jason’s grin matches mine as he shrugs out of the shirt that’s still hanging from his shoulders. “I’m game if you are.”
Part II
Keeping Her
On the run?
Check.
Sleeping with the enemy?
Check.
Yeah, things got a little messed up.
Everybody deserves a second chance.
And this is mine.
$150,000 to dig up dirt on some billionaire CEO?
Easy money.
Until I walk into the boardroom and see Chance’s gorgeous face.
But there’s no smile on that chiselled jawline.
Not for me.
Not for the girl who broke his heart.
Now I’m not just the girl who left him.
I’m the woman trying to take his company, too.
He’ll do anything to save it.
Even me…
Chapter Thirty-Three
1. SARA
I wake up to the sound of an air horn blaring in my ear, and the taste of used cat litter in my mouth.
I vaguely remember being at the Toad & Turtle with Grace. Shots. Cosmos. Dancing with some guy with a man-bun. His hand roaming around under my shirt.
My clumsy, hung-over attempt to grab the iPhone from my bedside table sends it crashing to the floor, where it lands on the hardwood with a sickening clack. The initial stab of panic subsides when I remember the screen was already cracked to shit anyway.
The thing lies teasingly close to my fingertips as I reach for it from the bed. Fuck. My throbbing head is telling me I really don’t want to lift it from the pillow unless this is a life-or-death emergency that can’t be ignored. Why the hell did I make an air horn my ringtone?
Oh yeah: because every call I get could be a life or death emergency that can’t be ignored.
My fingers finally close around the mobile and carry it up to the ear that’s not muffled by my pillow. Somehow my thumb finds the answer button.
“Sara Bishop,” I mutter. “This better be good.”
“No, Ms. Bishop,” says the man on the other end of the line. “You better be good, or you won’t be getting a six-figure paycheck for a month’s work. Is that clear?”
Suddenly my eyes are wide open. Did he just say six figures? For a month’s work?
I lurch forward in my bed, prompting a wave of protest from both my head and my stomach, and cover the phone with my hand as I clear last night’s bottle of Stolichnaya from my throat.
“I’m very sorry,” I say in my most professional tone. Thank God he can’t actually see me right now. “I thought you were one of my employees. They have strict instructions not to disturb me while I’m on a case.”
In reality, I don’t have any employees. The only “associate” in Bishop & Associates is my sister, Grace, and she was just as blitzed as I was last night.
“Well, you’re going to drop that case,” says the voice, “because my driver will be meeting you in the lobby of your building in about thirty minutes. Got it?”
I glance at my watch – it’s 7:00 a.m. Who the fuck does this guy think he is, phoning me up in the middle of the night and giving me orders?
“Pardon me,” I say with a touch of coldness. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
“My name is Quentin Pearce, and if you don’t tell me who I am in the next ten seconds, I’m hanging up and moving on to the next name in the phone directory.”
A jolt of adrenaline runs through me, and with it comes a throb in my poor head. Anyone who doesn’t know the name Quentin Pearce must be completely unplugged from the business world: he’s the financial rock star who came out of nowhere and built Wall Street’s largest private equity firm out of the ashes of the 2008 market meltdown.
Suddenly, the six-figure offer becomes all too real – Pearce probably spends more than that on shoes in a year. And he’s not known for his patience.
“You’re the head of Empire Group,” I say quickly. “Obviously, I can be available immediately for such a high-profile client.”
“Right answer,” he says. “I’ll see you at 7:30.”
He hangs up before I can say anything. Perfect – I’ve got thirty minutes to shake this hangover, get showered and dressed, and run the three blocks from my apartment to the building where my office is located.