by Terri Austin
As her orgasm cut through her, Brynn closed her eyes, letting the sensations roll over her. Her muscles tightened and her pussy contracted as she came. She fisted Iain’s hair, holding him in place.
He didn’t stop. While he continued to use the tip of his tongue, Iain wiggled another finger inside of her, until a second jolt of pleasure scored through her. Brynn bowed her back. As she clutched at the duvet, she grasped handfuls of velvety flower petals. The smell of them flooded her senses. Iain’s tongue and fingers continued to move on her, in her. She convulsed one last time before her body stopped twitching.
When she finally came down, Iain’s hands stopped moving, and he removed his mouth from her tender clit. Brynn’s eyelids fluttered open.
“How was that, Mrs. Chapman?”
She grinned down at him. “Can’t. Talk.” She let her head flop back on the bed.
“You don’t have to talk.” He removed his fingers and crawled to his knees, pulling her legs with him. He reached for another condom, then draped her calves over his shoulders before slowly, carefully gliding inside of her.
* * *
Brynn lay sprawled across the bed, while Iain lay next to her, sleeping. Brynn needed hydration. Quietly, she climbed off the bed and walked into the dressing room. She donned one of Iain’s many dress shirts—one with red stripes and a white collar. As she slipped the buttons through the holes, she tiptoed back through the bedroom and paused to watch him.
Iain’s face was softer than she’d ever seen it. The lines across his forehead were barely visible. He’d captured her heart, taught her about sex, and gave her the courage to be bold. Brynn adored him so much, it almost scared her a little bit, this depth of feeling.
Reluctantly, she stepped away from the bed and walked through the apartment. In the entryway, she picked up her purse, where she’d dropped it by the front door. From inside, she retrieved Iain’s dice and turned them over in her hand. The white pips had worn off and the edges were blunted. He’d kept hold of them all these years, to remind him of the friend he’d lost. Brynn was beginning to understand Iain’s level of loyalty. He was steadfast, her husband.
Brynn laid the dice on the entry table and picked up the pile of clothes strewn there, including the tattered remains of her panties. She remembered the look on Iain’s face after they’d had raw, hot sex. Shame. Brynn never wanted him to be ashamed for relinquishing control, not with her. There was a story there, but he may never reveal it. There were parts of Iain he still kept hidden. While she didn’t like it, she understood.
Brynn walked through the living room. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the windows across the street and caused her to shield her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen. This apartment wasn’t any more inviting in the daytime. It dawned on Brynn that Iain might not want to live in her house. Her midcentury, Vegas dream home. And she didn’t want to live here. It left her cold just thinking about it. There were a lot of details they hadn’t thought through. What about kids? Brynn wanted at least a couple. Did Iain even like kids? One of many things she didn’t really know about him.
Brynn grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and glanced down at the ring he’d placed on her finger that morning. Iain made her happy. Period. What could be more important than that? They’d figure out the rest in time.
* * *
Iain awoke to find Brynn sitting next to him. With her knees pulled up to her chin and wearing his shirt that was far too large for her, she looked pretty and vulnerable. But then she smiled and held up a bottle of water. “Thought you might need this.”
Sitting up, he took it, and as he drank, he studied her. He was still upset over what had happened earlier. Losing control like that—it was totally out of character for him. Brynn claimed she liked it. Iain didn’t. Hated it, in fact. He’d promised himself last night that it wouldn’t happen again, yet he’d taken his bride without the slightest thought for her pleasure. He’d been an animal.
Brynn reached out, caressed his face with the back of her hand. “We should talk about it.”
“No.”
“Yes. Iain, I love you. I love all of you. If you’d been hurting me, I’d have asked you to stop. And you would have.”
He gazed into her eyes. They were full of compassion. “I’d rather cut off me own right arm than harm you. God’s truth.”
“I know.” Her fingers drifted to his hair, and he leaned into her touch.
How could Iain make her understand? He hadn’t talked much about his parents. There wasn’t a hell of a lot to say—none of it pleasant. He couldn’t give her part of it without telling her everything. Iain hated rehashing the past. Brynn thought the past defined them. He’d always claimed otherwise, but maybe she was right.
“My dad was a skive,” he said. Brynn stopped toying with his hair and grabbed his hand. “Never worked a goddamned day in his life. The council flats looked like a prison—gray concrete and shabby as hell. My mother was haggard, looking at least ten years older than she really was. We had ugly, third-hand furniture covered in cigarette burns. Barely enough food to scrape by. The old man spent all of his time and money at the pub.
“Every night, without fail, he’d come home drunk and one of three things would happen: he’d pass out—which is what my mother prayed for—or he’d slap her around over something stupid.” Iain closed his eyes as the memories flooded back. That horrible flat that reeked of fear and smoke. God, how he’d hated that place. Brynn talked about her little rundown house, her mother’s illness, and while it gutted him to hear her story, at least she’d had a family.
“What was the third thing?” Brynn asked, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing tight.
Iain said nothing. He didn’t want to utter the words out loud. Shame coated him, made him feel dirty.
“What did he do, Iain?”
“He’d drag me mum off to the bedroom and have at her. I could hear him, grunting like a fucking pig. Afterward, he’d start snoring and she’d come into the lounge and turn on the telly like nothing had happened.”
Brynn lowered her knees, let go of his hand, and crawled into his lap. “You’re nothing like that. What we did today, it was mutual, Iain. I provoked you, remember?” She placed her hand on his cheek. “I wanted you. It excites me when you let yourself go. But that doesn’t mean you’re like your father.”
He clenched his jaw and remained quiet.
“You’re a decent, honest person.”
That wasn’t true at all. If she knew just how dishonest he was, Brynn never would have married him. He couldn’t bear this. She was singing his praises, thinking he was an honorable man when the opposite was true. He captured her hand and pulled it from his face. “No, I’m not, love. Never confuse me with someone decent. But I promise you one thing, Brynn Chapman—I’ll always be good to you.”
She kissed his chin. “You are good. And one day, you’re going to realize it.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and they sat in silence for a long time. Finally Brynn glanced up at him. “I’m going to have to tell my sisters about us.”
“We don’t have to tell them anything.” He smoothed a hand along her thigh, until his fingers dove under the hem of the shirt. Latching on to her bare hip, he stroked her silky skin. “Plan a family wedding, and we’ll do it all over again. The first wedding will be our secret. Let Allie and Monica fight over the details. We’ll know the truth.”
“I couldn’t lie to them like that.”
Iain’s hand stilled. “Not sharing all the details isn’t the same as lying, is it?”
“Yes it is. I’d be letting them think it was our first time. Lies of omission are still lies.”
Fuck. Iain had never planned on telling Brynn the truth. Even if he had been tempted, after hearing her pronouncement, he’d have changed his mind. And it would always be between them, this secret. He hated carrying it around, along with the guilt. But he had no choice.
“I’ll see if we can have a family dinner or something,” she said. “I�
�ll have to call my dad and tell him, too.”
“What’s he like, your father?”
“Nice. Normal.”
“Are you close?”
“I talk to my dad and his wife, Karen, every couple of weeks. He used to fix refrigerators, but now he gets to fish every day, so he’s happy.”
“If you tell your sisters, they’re going to give you hell, you know.”
“I do know. I’ve had a lifetime of it. But it was worth it. Our wedding was perfect, Iain. You totally outdid yourself.”
“Tacky enough for you, then?”
“Romantic too.”
When she gazed up at him with a wistful smile gracing her lips and a hopeful gleam in her eyes, Iain vowed to become the man she believed him to be. Good. Decent.
But you’ll never be an honest man, mate. You’ve already fucked that up for good.
* * *
On Friday morning, Iain did something unusual—he grinned. On the ride to work. On the way into the office building. At every person he passed.
He may have even whistled. Iain Chapman was one lucky tosser.
Although hesitant to leave Brynn’s arms, Iain had been up by four, looking at the financial news. He’d wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her, but they’d had three days of fucking, sucking, and spooning. No one told him marriage could be so bloody wonderful. After he told her about his father, they didn’t speak of it again. She didn’t push him either. Instead, they fell back into their pattern. Iain took control and Brynn followed his lead. Things were on an even keel, and Iain felt…peaceful.
At six thirty, he’d brought her a cup of coffee and kissed her awake. No time for a lazy round of sex—they both needed to get back to work. But she was incredibly tempting, lying there with her hair spread over the pillow, her lips swollen from his kisses.
After Brynn woke, she shadowed him into the bathroom and, sitting cross-legged on the counter, sipped her coffee as she watched him shave. It was distracting.
“What have you got on for today?” he asked.
“Hopefully, Cass has talked to Trevor’s financial people. I’ll get my new computer and all of the software I need.”
She set down her mug and swiveled to look at him, except her eyes were fixated on his earlobe. A sure sign that she was working herself up to say something she thought he wouldn’t want to hear. “Maybe tonight, we can discuss our living arrangements.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that we have two homes. I know you’re comfortable here. But I’m comfortable in my own house. If we work together, we can find a compromise that will satisfy us both.”
He took one last swipe at his cheek, dropped the razor, and picked up a towel. “You’re parsing your words again. You don’t have to do that with me, pet. You hate it here, but your house comes with a crazed Russian and no office. What do you suggest?”
“Maybe we can find a home that suits us both.”
Iain stepped in front of her and, bracing her jaw, kissed her. “Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, if you can stand it, I’d like to stay here during the week, yeah? That way, I can work in the early hours. Weekends, we’ll continue to stay at yours. How’s that for a compromise?”
“It’ll do for now.” She raked her hand down his bare chest. “You know, I think I have just enough time for a quickie.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “How about you?”
He didn’t, not really. He’d made time anyway. How could he have possibly refused his wife’s request?
Now, as Iain walked into his office, he was forty minutes late, but he didn’t give a monkey’s. The quickie had turned into a longer session, and he wasn’t a bit sorry.
He strode into his suite. “Morning, Ames. Everything’s still standing, I see.”
Amelia’s red lipsticked mouth formed an O and then quickly turned into a frown. “What the hell happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I get one lousy text saying you’re taking three days off. You never take time off, and when I called, you didn’t answer. I was about to send out a search party.”
“No need for dramatics. I was a little tied up.” Actually Brynn had been tied up. He’d bound her to one of the decorative columns that separated the living and dining room, and then he’d taken her from behind. It had been a lovely afternoon.
He realized Ames had spoken. “What was that?”
She sighed. “Marc hasn’t come in either. Melanie’s gone. She packed up and left Tuesday night, and I haven’t heard from him since. Neither one of you could bother to pick up your damned phone.”
Iain rubbed his forehead. “Shit.” While he’d been in a sexual marathon with Brynn, Marc had been having a rough time of it. Made him feel guilty as hell. And fuck all, Iain hated that feeling. “I’d better go check on him.”
Amelia stood and grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” Iain said. “Stay here. Hold it down.”
As he left the office, he hadn’t realized he’d taken the dice from his pocket, but now, as he stared into his palm, there they were. He rubbed them together like worry beads and hoped Marc was all right. Anxiety ate at him, forcing him to hasten his steps. If Marc wasn’t answering his phone or showing up for work, he could be in serious trouble.
* * *
Brynn strode into her office and expected the worst. Tuesday morning, she’d texted Cass, saying she was taking three days’ personal time, but offered no other explanation. Of course, Cass had called—several times—but Brynn hadn’t even bothered to answer, letting everything go to voice mail. Now, she had to face the music.
Friday mornings were reserved for sales staff meetings, so she wanted to catch Cassandra before it started but was running a little late. The quickie with Iain had taken longer than she’d anticipated.
During the last three days, Brynn and Iain had done nothing but eat, sleep, and oh yeah, fuck like rabbits. Lots of scorching hot, raunchy sex. It was the best time of Brynn’s life.
She felt buoyed by it. By love. By being around Iain and his no-nonsense ways, which were rubbing off on her. When Brynn had awoken that morning, she had known she’d have to tackle the Cassandra situation head-on. Hopefully Cass would use the life preserver Trevor had provided, but if not, Brynn was going to need to look at all of her options—including making good on her threat to quit. At that terrifying thought, her steps faltered right before she opened the office door.
When Paige spotted Brynn, she hopped out of her seat and grabbed Brynn’s arm, dragging her into the alcove. “Where the hell have you been? Cass has been going insane—more so than usual. Strangers took over her office on Tuesday and she’s been spazzing ever since.”
“Good. Not good that she’s freaking out, but good that somebody’s taking control of this place. If she follows their advice, the business might just make it.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Paige’s blue eyes filled with worry.
“Then we may have to leave Cass and find better jobs.”
“What the hell is going on with you, Brynn Campbell? You’re all…decisive.”
Brynn held up her left hand. “It’s Brynn Chapman, and I think I might have grown a spine.”
Paige snatched Brynn’s hand and inspected the ring. “Oh my God. You got married? To the Blue Moon dude?”
“Iain. He’s…awesome.”
“You thought he was a jerk. You didn’t even want to work with him.”
“He’s reformed. Sort of. And he makes me smile.”
Paige’s eyes traveled over Brynn. “You’ve got it bad, girl, and while I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me about how much trouble the business is in, I’m happy for you.” She pulled Brynn into a hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, and again, I’m really sorry for not telling you sooner. Now, I’d better go see how Cass is doing.” Brynn stepped away from the alcove and headed for Cassandra’s office. But the woman herself emerged from her offi
ce. Her pale hair resembled fuzzy dandelion seeds. Purple, puffy half-moons circling her eyes contrasted with her pale skin.
“Brynn, grab Paige and get in here. Right now.” Then she sailed into the conference room and slammed the door.
The entire sales team eyed Brynn with varying degrees of curiosity.
Paige crept up behind her. “This is bad. What do you think she wants?”
“Let’s go find out.” Brynn wove through the desks. Easing open the door, she slipped inside with Paige on her heels.
Cass paced back and forth in front of the windows. With one hand on her hip and the other clutching her head, she mumbled to herself.
“Cass,” Brynn said, “are you all right?”
She stopped talking and drew to a halt. “No! Of course I’m not all right,” she snapped. “There are people pawing through my files, snooping into my finances. It’s all very invasive. And where were you, Brynn? If you didn’t show up today, I was going to call the FBI. It’s your fault they’re here in the first place.”
Brynn exchanged a glance with Paige. Cass was in full meltdown mode. “I texted and said I was taking a few days off. Besides, I didn’t have a computer, so I couldn’t do my job anyway.”
Paige raised her hand. “Um, on that note, the IT guy called. The computer is shot. He wasn’t able to get it up and running. He said unless you hire the manufacturer to retrieve the bits off the hard drive, it’s gone. That’s a really expensive procedure, by the way, and it may not work.”
Just as Brynn had feared. Months’ worth of work—vanished. “Since the old software won’t be compatible with a new PC, I’ll have to redo everything, dating back weeks. There’s no possible way I can do that alone.”
Cassandra shoved her hands into her curls and fell into a chair. “I know that, Brynn, but what do you want me to do about it? My life is shit, girls. The financial guy says I need to take a seventy-five percent pay cut, consolidate all the business loans, possibly declare personal bankruptcy, and fire half the sales team. I can’t live like this.”
Brynn approached her slowly. “Cass. What else can you do? I hate that you have to get rid of half the sales team, but if you don’t, we’re all out in the cold.”