“About three hours.”
His left brow arches in that sexy way of his. “I’m amazed. It would take longer than that just to read our proposal.”
“I was familiar with the general details, so I only had to write the summary. And I’d thought about ways to improve the transaction for our side. So it isn’t that amazing.”
He captures my hand, squeezes it. “No one I know could have done what you did in such a short period of time.”
“But how did you get a hold of the analysis?”
“It was included among the due diligence documents your law firm provided.”
A mistake, for that document was confidential. Something else to investigate. “So what would I do if I came to work for you?”
A grin pops up on his face. “Look at you.”
“What?”
“You have stars in your eyes. If I had known all it would take was a job offer, I could have saved myself hours of shopping for the perfect stone and choosing the right setting.”
He spent hours choosing the ring? “It’s lovely, Gabriel. Thank you.”
“How would you know? You’ve barely glanced at it.”
“I have too.” I look down but, before I can examine the ring, he covers my hand with his.
He quirks a grin. “What’s the shape of the diamond?”
Darn. I can’t recall, but I’m not about to admit it. So I punt. “Which one? It has several.”
“The biggest one.”
“Round?”
“Nope.”
“Oval?”
“Not even close.”
Not being a jewelry shopper, I haven’t a clue as to the different cuts. But I give it the old college try. “Square?”
He lifts his hand. “It’s an emerald cut.” He sounds peeved. And why shouldn’t he be? I hurt his feelings.
Hoping to make amends, I climb on his lap, cuddle into him. “It’s beautiful, Gabriel. Truly.”
He tweaks my chin, drops a kiss on my lips.
“So what would you have me do at Storm Industries?”
“Legal work, obviously. You could be stationed at our New York office or in London.”
“I can’t be employed in London as an attorney. I wouldn’t be licensed to practice there.”
He threads a hand through my curls, pulls back my head, drops a kiss on my throat. “Yes, you could. If you obtained a dual degree.” His voice’s turned gravelly, and I’m going up in flames.
When I scoot off his lap back onto the seat, he narrows his eyes at me. He didn’t like my move. But if I stayed where I was, I wouldn’t get any rational words out of him. “What do you mean?”
“Your school and King’s College in London have a dual degree program. It would qualify you for admission to the bar examinations in both the United Kingdom and the United States.”
“Really?” I didn’t know such a thing existed. “What would it take?”
“You’d do two years at your school and two years at King’s College.”
“You’ve looked into this. Why?”
“Because it’s something I thought you would like.”
I rub a finger across my lower lip as I ponder the possibility. “I’d need to live in London for two years.”
“Yes.”
“But we’ll only be married for one year.” And one month.
“A minimum of one. It can be more.”
A flash of panic surges me. Married longer than a year? No. “Gabriel, I’m not the marrying kind.”
“You’re marrying me.” Nothing like pointing out the obvious.
“We have a deal.” I insist.
“To which I’ve agreed verbally and in the settlement documents. The parties will remain married for a minimum of one year and one month.” He quotes from memory.
“Yeah, I caught that. Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“But there’s nothing in there that says we have to divorce as soon as the year’s up.”
When I take another breath to continue the discussion, he lays a finger across my lips. “I’ll agree to the divorce as soon as the requisite time’s up, if that’s what you wish. But for now, can’t we just enjoy what we have?”
“And what do we have, Gabriel?”
“This.”
Chapter 24
______________
Gabriel
I HAUL HER INTO MY LAP, kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to all night.
“Gabriel, your leg.”
“Let me worry about my bloody leg.”
I want to tug down her zipper, unclasp her bra, but the ride to the Cathedral Arms won’t take long. Best wait to enjoy her until we’re back home.
As soon as we get to our bedroom, I strip her. My own clothes disappear and everything lands on the floor, her dress, my trousers, her bra, my briefs. I pick her up to land us on the bed, but she stops me. “Wait.”
“Liz?” I’m hard as iron.
Getting down on her knees, she takes my cock in her hand, licks it from base to head, pumps the long-veined length. With her other hand she squeezes my balls, plays with them.
God!
I thread my hand through her hair. “Can I be a total pig and say that I love the way you look right now?”
“Worshiping at the altar of Gabriel Storm with his cock in my mouth, his family jewels in my hand.”
“And my child in your belly. Let’s not forget about that.”
“And let’s not forget with a simple twist I can cause you excruciating pain.”
Everything about me freezes. My lip curls in distaste.
She clambers to her feet, kisses my jaw, my lips, anything she can reach. “I’m sorry. How could I have threatened you with pain after everything you’ve gone through? I would never hurt you, Gabriel.”
I thumb her cheek. “I know you were teasing. It’s just for a second . . . everything went black, the way it used to when I was a child, when they . . .”
Her eyes widen as she cups my head in her hands. “Gabriel, they didn’t hurt you . . . that way, did they?”
God, no. At least I was spared that. “No. They were content to shackle me, whip my back and legs. Sometimes so bad I couldn’t walk for days.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her gaze softens. “What can I do?”
My heart melts with tenderness for this caring woman I can’t live without. “That’s easy. Love me.”
“That, I can do.” She rains kisses down my jaw, my chest, to my erection which she takes into her mouth again.
Primitive though it might be, I want to mark her as mine, imbue her with my scent. And there’s only one way to do this. To love her hard into the night. But she’s pregnant with my child, and I can’t abuse the privilege. I must take it easy on her.
The problem is her mouth is hot and demanding, her hands exquisite in their hold. She does something with them causing me to kick back my head and moan. She knows how I like to be pumped, to be sucked, and she’s so very good at bringing me to fruition. “Wait.” I reach down and lift her to her feet.
“Don’t you like it?” Her question echoes in my brain. She’s said these words before somewhere, someplace. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. It’s the here and now that’s important, not something that happened long ago.
“Yes. But I need to be inside you when I come.”
This time when I lay her across the bed, she doesn’t object. She stares up at me, her green-eyed gaze luminous, a small smile on her face.
Putting my weight on my elbows, I crawl over her, until we’re nose to nose, chest to breasts. I lean down and kiss her brow, the side of her face, her cheeks. Her mouth. My lips roam down her throat, across her collarbone down to her breasts. Fuller now in pregnancy, they’re a sight to behold. And touch. And taste.
I gently pinch the tip of one, suck it into my mouth. She moans as she threads a hand through my hair. “Harder, Gabriel.” I comply and give her what she needs.
She jerks beneath me. With her skin
burning up, the scent of her passion rises enveloping me, enthralling me. Much as I want to taste her, I can’t wait. My need’s too great.
Her belly’s fuller than it used to be, so I switch positions and raise her over me. I run my hands up her belly to her breasts. “Take what you want, love. I’m yours.”
Her pussy glistens with dew as she opens herself to me and drops unto my hard cock. We both moan as she sinks deep, down to my root. “I’m more open now, somehow.”
“What do you mean?”
Straddled around me, my cock in her pussy, she rocks against me, driving me insane. “I could never take you before, The pregnancy’s made a difference.”
My head jerks up at that. “Did I hurt you when I took you?”
“No. Well, not much. It was a hurt-so-good kind of a thing.”
“And now?”
“It’s great.” I hitch my hips and she moans. “Oh, do that again.”
I do, though it’s killing my leg.
I don’t know if she detects something in my expression, or it’s her own desire, but she shifts forward so her hips are not laying across my hips. As she rises and lowers herself on me, my legs no longer bear the brunt of her weight. Clutching her hips, I help her rise and fall while she works on me.
“So good. So damn good.”
“Take it all, darling girl. Take what you want. Take me.”
With an ever frantic cadence, she pumps up and down, her glorious breasts swaying in counterpoint. As her rhythm grows frantic, fiery pleasure shoots through my body. She grabs her breasts and squeezes. And that’s all it takes for me to reach the crisis point. I clutch her hips, jerk up and spill my seed into her. She comes down one last time on my cock and screams.
When she collapses on me, our sweat combines into a delicious cocktail of hot sex and the essential essence of our beings.
“So good. So damn good.” She breathes out between gasps.
Wrapping my arms around her, I drop a kiss on her head, grateful for my life, grateful for her love, grateful for her.
Chapter 25
______________
Elizabeth
CIRCUMSTANCES FORCE GABRIEL to delay his move to New York. Rather than the December 1 date he originally planned, it looks like the change won’t take place until after our wedding and honeymoon. The transfer of duties to his cousin, who will take over as COO of Storm Industries-Europe, is taking longer than expected. And since he doesn’t wish the financial markets to get jittery, the press release won’t be issued until everything is in place.
Which is fine with me.
I have enough to deal with at work, at school, at home. Looking for more of a challenge at Smith Cannon, I’d copied and cross-referenced all documents in a high-level project unto a digital file so our attorneys could retrieve all related document with the stroke of a key. My effort was so successful, I’m now in hot demand at the office with every litigation partner clamoring for my time. But my doctor limited me to no more than thirty hours a week, so I work through my lunch hours to get it all done.
With law school finals looming over me, I spend whatever free time I can wrangle out of my busy day organizing my notes and studying for tests. And some time in the near future, I’ll need to buy a wedding dress, something CeCe’s been hounding me to do for the last week.
I could deal with it all, since I thrive on chaos. But the thing I can’t stand are the photos of me popping up on the internet. The headlines— ‘Gabriel Storm’s Baby Mama’ and ‘Gold Digger’—insinuate I’m marrying him for his money. Hello! Have they seen him? Good lord, any living, breathing woman would give her left arm to marry Gabriel. The worst are the ones that intimate he’s only marrying me to give our child a name. Even though it’s the truth, it still hurts.
In the middle of this insanity, Brianna calls. “Darling. Love the photos and the headlines.”
“Bitch.”
“Aren’t I, though? If it’s any consolation, I’ve been called worse.”
I laugh. God, how I’ve missed her breezy humor. “I was wondering why you hadn’t called.”
“Blame it on Gabe. He wanted time for you to ‘find your footing’ before I stepped in. Like I would do anything to rock this boat. Have I told you how happy I am you’re marrying my brother?”
“Are you?”
“Yes! He gets this look in his eye when he talks about you and the baby. The man’s positively smitten.”
Gabriel’s acting ability seems to be top notch if even his sister believes he’s in love with me. “So you’re in London?”
“Yes. Until mummy dearest is found and brought—well I don’t know where they would take her. My vote would be for Bedlam seeing how she’s mad as a hatter. So how are you handling it all, darling? Hope it’s not too much for you.”
“Well, they’ve added more security guards. The one in my office checks out every stall in the ladies room before I pee.”
“The loss of privacy’s a real bitch. But it could be worse. You could have Jake Cooper guarding you.”
“Umm. I thought you liked him.”
“Are you barmy? The man’s a positive stickler for the rules. He doesn’t dare stick a toe ouf of place.”
“And you’re a free spirit who goes where the wind blows you.”
“Somebody would definitely get blown in a liaison with me.”
I laugh.
“I can’t blame Gabe for wanting to protect you. You’re too important to him. And hopefully, they’ll find mummy and it will be over soon. When are you moving to London?”
Moving? She must mean when am I flying in for the ceremony. But what an odd way to phrase it. “I have classes until December 4 so not ‘til a couple of days before the wedding.” The ceremony will take place on December 7. “After the honeymoon, I’ll return to D.C. for finals. Gabriel wants to spend Christmas in London, though. Guess it’ll be his last one for a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“With him taking up residence in New York City, he might want to spend the next one there. The Big Apple is such a beautiful place at Christmas time.”
“Oh.”
She sounds surprised. Did Gabriel not tell her about his transfer to New York? Oh, gosh. Maybe I let the cat out of the bag. Gabriel is going to kill me. “You didn’t know he was transferring to New York to head Storm Industries North America?”
“No. He hasn’t said anything.”
“He’s waiting until after the wedding to make the official announcement, but I thought you knew. Please don’t let on I told you.”
“I won’t. You can trust me, Elizabeth.”
“Thank you.” Better change the subject quick. “So how do you feel about being my bridesmaid?”
“Thought you’d never ask. So tell me all about your wedding gown. Who designed it? What neckline did you choose? Details, I want details.”
“Ummm, I haven’t bought one yet. CeCe’s been pressuring me, though. So I thought we’d go to the mall this weekend.”
“Darling, you can’t do that. You simply can’t.” Her horrified tone tells me what she thinks of that scheme. “You need a designer, someone with a flair for designing medieval wedding gowns.”
“And where am I supposed to find someone like that?” I’ve never bought anything that wasn’t on sale with a twenty percent off coupon.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. There has to be a couture designer in Washington, D.C., worthy of creating the wedding gown of the future Countess of Winterleagh.”
“Geesh, since you put it like that. Off the rack seems quite not the thing.”
“Exactly, my love. I better ring off if I mean to get a line on one.”
“Thank you, Brianna.”
“Don’t thank me, darling. What else are bridesmaids for? Ta.”
Since CeCe’s the matron of honor, I call her to see if she’s available. She’s got two kid events, but she dragoons her husband into babysitting. “I’m not about to miss out on this. He can
deal with the kids for a change.” Things are still not happy happy joy joy in her world.
Brianna arrives on Thursday with Gabriel. Thank God the bedroom furniture has arrived. With Brianna in one bedroom, Jorge and Marisol in the second, Jake in the third, and Samuel commandeering the fourth for security, there’s no more room at the inn.
On Saturday morning, Jake insists we take two cars to Madame Fleurette’s who Brianna claims is the most exclusive couture designer in town, at least as far as wedding gowns are concerned. Apparently, the shop caters to an exclusive clientele—the daughters of highly ranked government officials and the super rich. How Brianna got an appointment on such short notice is beyond me.
I arrive ahead of Brianna to find CeCe waiting for me. When I step through the door, I’m greeted politely but with reserve by Madame Fleurette. “Ms. Watson? Are you ze bride?”
“Yes.”
She gives me the once over. Today I’m dressed in a loose smock, stretchy pants, and flat shoes. Since I’ll be shedding clothes for the fitting, I didn’t see a reason to dress up.
Madam Fleurette sniffs as if she smells something bad. “This is for a consultation, n'est-ce pas? I’ll need to check our books to see if we can accommodate you.”
“I thought arrangements had all ready been made.”
“Unfortunately, my assistant”—Her gaze cuts to an underling who’s desperately trying to get her attention—“made the appointment without consulting with me.”
“Madame Fleurette.” Her assistant, a thin woman in her thirties, is clutching the appointment book to her chest. “If I may have a word with you.”
But Madame Fleurette ignores her. “When’s the wedding, Ms. Watson?”
“December 7.”
“Over twelve months’ lead time. Well—”
“Not next year. Next month.” I bite out, having had just about enough of her snootiness.
“Next month! I’m afraid that would be c’est impossible.” She’s rattling something in French when Brianna strolls in. Tall, slim, wearing a white wool coat opened to reveal a sleek, aquamarine silk sheath which just screams haute couture.
Madame Fleurette stops in mid sentence. Her jaw drops. She can probably spot a Chanel at fifty paces. In the dark. Wearing a blindfold. Well, maybe not the last.
Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy) Page 14