by Tawny Taylor
“That’s not love. You don’t love him. You want him. No, I take that back. You are in love with the idea of loving him. You don’t actually love him, not the real man, the flawed one with all the baggage. He is incapable of loving you back.”
“But he said—“
“He’s playing with your head. That bastard.” This time when she glanced my way, I let her see how hurt I was feeling. Her expression softened instantly. “I’m going to put out some feelers, see if I can get any leads to another job. You need to sever all ties to that man, or you’re never going to get over him. I can’t sit by and watch you pine away for a married man.”
Married man.
My insides clenched.
She’d said that with such conviction. Had she learned something already? “Is he, Jill? Is he married?”
“Oh, I don’t know for sure yet. My guy hasn’t been able to confirm it. But I tend to believe the rumors. Marriage between people from different countries is complicated, especially people with money.”
My insides did a flip-flop then a twist.
It was possible. Shane might be married.
How many times had he tried to warn me, that he was bad for me? All along I’d thought it was because of the domination and submission stuff or his possessiveness. Could there have been another reason why he’d tried to push me away so many times? Had this been the reason why he’d walked out of my condo and hadn’t called me? Did he feel guilty?
As Jill pulled up to my condo, she turned to me and promised, “I’m going to make some calls tonight. As soon as I leave. The sooner you’re out of that place--and out of his reach--the better.”
Chapter 7
The next day my world collapsed. Every planet in every dimension must have been aligned, because I’d never had so many things go wrong all at once. My car needed hundreds of dollars in repairs. Hundreds of dollars I didn’t have (I was going to have to borrow the cash from Jill—which I hated to do). My coffeemaker didn’t work. I had no idea what the problem was with it. And I had to take a cold shower, thanks to the pilot going out on my hot water heater again. The only thing that went right was I managed to get to work on time, thanks to Jill. As promised, she zoomed up in her car twenty minutes before I had to be at work. She dropped me off fifteen minutes later.
Adding insult to injury, when I stepped inside Shane intercepted me no more than a minute after I arrived, cornering me in a hallway. He was big and resolute and sexy. And he was determined to talk to me.
I didn’t fight him.
He escorted me into a small office that appeared to be unused. It was dark. There was a desk, but no papers, no computers, no signs of life. He closed the door.
Then he locked it.
What was he doing?
I looked into his eyes.
Oh no.
My heart started galloping hard and fast.
I needed to do something. Now. Before it was too late. Before I did something stupid or impulsive.
I grabbed for the doorknob but he blocked my exit.
I said, “Shane, I need to report—“
“I have to speak with you.”
I pushed on his big, broad chest. It didn’t budge. “Shane, I’m at work. You’re the boss. I’m the new girl. I’ll get fired. Besides—“
“No one will fire you.” He caught my wrists and gathered them into one fist.
A quiver of heat raced through me. Oh God, I loved it when he acted like this, domineering and in control. But at the same time I was torn, conflicted, and nervous. First, I had been telling myself I was better off without him since he’d walked out of my life that night. And I’d almost convinced myself that was true. And second, this was not the time or place to talk about our personal problems. What if someone found us? What excuse could I give my manager that wouldn’t get me into trouble?
I twisted my wrists, trying to free them from his vice-like grip. It wasn’t working. “That’s not the point, Shane.”
“Then let me say what I need to say,” he snapped, his voice uncharacteristically cold.
It was then that I looked at him, really closely looked.
His hair was a little messier than usual.
And his clothes were a smidge less perfect, his tie knot not quite so neat, his shirt slightly wrinkled.
I stopped trying to pull free. I had to let him speak. Something was wrong. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“Someone is following me.”
“Okay.” Immediately, I remembered Jill’s guy. He’d obviously been spotted. I was going to have to call Jill and let her know.
“You might be in danger,” he added, looking more than a little concerned.
“Well, thank you for your concern. I’ll try to be more careful, but I doubt I’m in any danger. We haven’t gone anywhere together in a while. Besides, rumor has it you’re marrying Alexis,” I told him, intentionally avoiding the topic of the suspected wife in Europe. I didn’t care that he might be married to some woman a thousand miles away. Or rather, I didn’t want to care.
I reached for the door. This conversation was pointless.
His face turned the shade of bleached linen. Then the color of a ripe cherry. He grabbed my wrists, holding me in place. “Where did you hear that?”
“It was in Friday’s paper.” I pulled and my arms slipped free. I folded them across my chest. Now I wasn’t afraid of anything. I was hurt. And a little angry. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t given me the courtesy of a proper breakup. He’d just…disappeared. Bastard. “Regardless, I doubt anyone thinks I’m anything to you anymore, other than an employee. After all, that’s what I am now, right? An employee?”
“No, of course not. You’re more than that.” Stepping between me and the door, he reached for me again, but I thrust my arms forward, shoving his chest hard. He stepped back, his eyes searching mine. “You mean…everything to me. I would die if something happened to you.”
God, I was so effing confused. Not calling or speaking to me, that was how he showed me I meant everything to him? Bullshit. He was full of shit.
“I have to go.” Unwilling to let him trap me, I circled around him, heading for the exit. “But don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“How can you be so sure?” He stepped closer, forcing me to move back until my butt was pressed against the desk behind me. “How could you know nothing is going to happen to you? You don’t.” His gaze raked over my face. He was searching. For something. And then he kissed me. Hard. His tongue shoved into my mouth. I was so shocked I froze. I didn’t fight. I didn’t kiss him back. I just stood there, letting him kiss me, and tried to determine whether this was really happening or not.
Long before my brain started functioning my body responded. My heart started thumping in my chest, sending rushes of hot blood blasting through my system. My head started spinning. My skin tingled as little electrical charges buzzed and zapped up and down my body. Within seconds I was on fire, and all I could do was hold on and ride out the storm.
I felt him lift me at the waist and then I was sitting on something hard. The desk. He pushed my legs apart, and I didn’t stop him. I wanted him. I needed him. My tissues were wet and hot and swollen. I ached for his touch.
“Please,” I whispered when he broke the kiss. My head fell back. I couldn’t hold it up.
“Sssshhhh.” He licked and kissed a tickly path down my neck to my collarbone. “Oh God, Bristol. I’ve missed you.”
I shuddered as I felt my clothes being pushed and pulled out of the way. My shirt unbuttoned. My bra unfastened. Big hands weighing my breasts, tormenting my nipples until they were aching little points.
My skirt was pushed up, my panties torn at the crotch, and legs forced apart. His erection teased my tissues for a few agonizing seconds before gliding inside to fill me.
It was ecstasy and agony, both. He was holding me again, taking command of my body just like he had before, and I loved how that felt. But every now and then something would click in
my head and I would question what I was doing. Thankfully, the experience was too intense, the sensations too strong for those thoughts to stick. I was swept away in a tsunami of pleasure as his rod thrust deep inside, hard, fast, again and again.
“Yes, yes,” I chanted as his hips slammed forward. “Harder.”
He answered my pleas, taking me with a ferocity that had my teeth gritted and pulse racing. His teeth sank into the flesh of my shoulder, the pleasure-pain making my body even hotter, tighter. The first waves of a powerful climax pulsed out from my center, and I bit down on his shoulder to stifle it.
He rammed into me several more times then jerked out, dragged me off the desk and forced me to turn around and bend over it.
“You are mine, Bristol. Mine forever. Only mine.” Using moistened fingers, he tested my anus. His fingers slid in, the sensation so glorious, my eyes watered. He pistoned them in and out several times before replacing them with the head of his penis. For the briefest moment, the pain was almost unbearable. I squirmed. I cried. I whimpered. Then, as that pain morphed into ecstasy, I moaned.
He knew exactly what my body needed. Only Shane did. Just as he knew exactly what my heart needed. As he pushed inside my tight hole, he bent over and whispered in my ear, “Marry me, Bristol. Be my wife. I won’t live without you anymore. I can’t.”
My heart felt so light I thought I might take flight and soar to the stars. He loved me. He genuinely loved me. As the wild rush of my climax crashed through my body, I answered his proposal. “Yes, Shane. Yes.”
As I quaked and shuddered, my body racked with pleasure so intense it was almost painful, Shane held me tightly, his erection smoothly gliding in and out of my spasming entrance. I knew when he reached his climax. His movements became jerky, his possession feral. His rod swelled within me as it filled with his cum. He growled, pumped deeply and spilled his seed inside me.
Almost immediately, he withdrew his erection and eased me around. “Bristol,” he murmured as he gathered me into his arms. He held me there, one hand gently stroking my back. He kissed the top of my head. And I closed my eyes and enjoyed every second.
Then reality hit me. Like a brick.
Oh God.
What had I done?
Not only was I late to work, but I had just had sex in someone’s office. But, more importantly, I had just agreed to marry Shane. And I didn’t know if he was already married. And he was a total asshole sometimes. He was jealous. Controlling.
What the hell had I done?
Wriggling, I whispered, “I need to get to work.”
“Nobody is going to fire you.”
“There are worse things than being fired,” I answered as I tipped my head to button my blouse.
He cupped my chin and lifted it. “Once we’re married, you won’t have to worry about things like that.” Brushing my hands aside, he took over the job I had started.
A tiny chill buzzed through my system. Had I just made a huge mistake by saying yes? “What exactly does that mean, Shane?”
“You won’t have to work.”
“Maybe I want to work.”
“Hmmm.”
Already I was regretting my hasty, hormone-induced acceptance of his marriage proposal. When we were having sex, Shane and I worked. We worked perfectly. But once we stepped out of the bedroom (or dungeon), things got more complicated.
If I’d just made the mistake of a lifetime, I needed to un-make it. Now. Before it was too late. But first, I wanted some answers. I wanted to know the truth. About everything. “I need to clear up a few things,” I said as I smoothed my skirt back in place.
“Go ahead.”
“First, I read you’re engaged to Alexis.”
“The Tribune.” At my nod, he explained, “That’s a rumor. I’ve already spoken to the individual who was responsible for starting it. You won’t be reading any more articles like that one again.”
Something made me trust him on that one, maybe because of the conversation I’d overheard. I suspected Alexis was the “individual” to whom he referred. “I also heard you were responsible somehow for your first wife’s death.” I tucked my shirt into my skirt and tried to smooth out the wrinkles.
His lips pressed together, and I wondered if he would tell me the truth if it wasn’t what he thought I wanted to hear. I waited, a big lump collecting in my throat. Please, please, don’t let him say he killed her.
“I was responsible. But not intentionally. I didn’t kill her. I ignored the warning signs. I didn’t take them seriously. My wife was struggling with depression. She committed suicide. She hung herself. I’ve always blamed myself. I still do, to a certain degree. She had told me she was going to do it, and I ignored her, thinking she was trying to manipulate me.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable to witness. It was no wonder he’d been so afraid to be in a relationship again. To hold someone’s life in your hands…he didn’t know if he could trust himself. “I’m so sorry.”
“My first wife had a disease. I know that now. But it still doesn’t take away the fact that I might have been able to stop her if I’d taken her threat seriously.”
“A lot of people make that mistake. You can’t keep punishing yourself for the rest of your life for that one mistake. An honest mistake.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. Perhaps he never would be able to forgive himself or trust himself. “Is that it? Have I answered your questions?” he asked as he fastened another button.
I wished that was it. “There’s one more. God, I hate doing this—“
“No. Ask me. Ask me anything.”
“I heard you’re still legally married to another woman. Is that true?”
His jaw clenched. “Who told you that?”
Did it matter who told me? I didn’t want to risk anyone being fired. “I…overheard a conversation. I…don’t remember who. But it doesn’t matter. Are you married? Or not?”
His jaw clenched harder. His lips thinned too.
Oh God. It was true. My insides twisted into a one big knot.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, mussing it. “That’s not exactly a yes or no question. It’s a little more complicated than yes or no, black or white.”
Moe complicated? How? The way I saw it, a person was either married or not. Kind of like pregnant or not. There was no in-between or kind-of.
I inched back, tried to put some more space between us. If my brain was going to function, I needed air, distance. Gently, I pushed his hands away, to finish buttoning my blouse myself. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Okay. I’ll try to explain. I married a woman I met while I was traveling. The woman I married is a legal resident of San Marino. I am not. I’m a US resident. There was some conflicting information about which country’s laws we were being held to because I did not acquire residency of San Marino after marrying.” He took my hands in his and eased them down to my sides. For some crazy reason, I let him. He went back to buttoning my shirt. “But my attorneys have looked into it. They told me in the US the marriage is not legal. In San Marino it is.”
What did this mean? I was so confused. How could he be married in one place but not another? “I don’t understand. Please, put it in plain English.”
“Technically I am still married if I return to San Marino. But I have no plans of returning there.”
“What about divorcing?” I suggested as I tried to piece all this confusing information together. “Couldn’t you file for a divorce?”
“As the legal resident, the woman I married there must be the one to file. She won’t.” Having finished the last button, he tugged on the bottom of my shirt, pulling it out of my skirt again and smoothing it out. “There you are. As good as new. Except the panties. I’ll buy you more.” Placing his hands on my shoulders, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. “I love you, Bristol. I love you so much it hurts. I tried to stay away. My life is so fucked up. I knew yo
u’d be better off. But I couldn’t.”
I didn’t respond. I wanted to say I loved him too. But something was clogging my throat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it because I didn’t call or come over? I did that because I knew if I saw you again, I wouldn’t have the courage or strength to walk away.”
I glanced at my watch. Ohmygod, I was over a half hour late. “I have to go.” I lunged for the door.
“Don’t worry about the time.” He caught my shoulders and turned me around to face him. “No one is going to say a word to you about being late. If we need to talk, then we’re going to talk. This is too important to put off. This is more important than business.”
It was. I didn’t disagree with that statement, but I couldn’t shove aside the worry that my coworkers were going to be furious once they found out the boss was covering for me. “We can talk later.”
“No. Now.”
“Shane, I’m an employee of this company—“
“For now.”
I didn’t like that. This was the second time he’d mentioned my employment being temporary. “Are you planning on having me fired?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” His hands skimmed down my arms, stopping just above the elbows. “You’re getting too defensive, Bristol. I love you. I want you to be happy. If that means working a job here, then you can continue to work. But I thought you might like to take a break. We could go away for a month or two, travel. Where would you like to go? Tell me. We can go anywhere...well, except San Marino, of course.”
“I don’t know. For now, I’d like to go to work.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call your manager and tell her you were in a meeting with me. She won’t hold it against you.”
That didn’t ease my worries. Not at all.
Chapter 8
I saw him the minute I pulled up to my condo. In my car. My repaired car. It was amazing how quickly almost six hundred dollars worth of repairs could be finished. At that kind of hourly rate, I was thinking I needed to consider a career change.
Speaking of change, my visitor was my brother, Branden. And he didn’t look like he had the last time I’d seen him. He looked clean. He looked healthy. He was wearing decent clothes.