“Don’t.”
“Are you sure we should be eating and drinking on a designer couch? This thing must retail around at least ten thousand dollars.” I’d seen similar sofas before while out shopping for our living room set.
“We can do whatever we want here because this is my private jet.”
“Your private jet?”
“Yeah.”
I stared at him. If he had a private jet all of this time, why the hell did he always fly on a commercial plane when he traveled in and out of town?
Maybe he didn’t. Maybe some moments called for privacy and others didn’t. That hadn’t occurred to me. For the past eight years of our relationship I’d been so determined to never touch his riches and dig into his business that I’d somehow overlooked my husband owning a jet like a billionaire romance novel hero.
A million questions buzzed through my mind.
I ignored them all, dropped my head on Ian’s shoulder, and enjoyed my horror movie.
When Ian went all out, he went all out. He didn’t rent a mere hotel room; he rented a suite worthy of foreign dignitaries, kings, and queens. I stepped over the threshold into paradise and gaped at the majesty surrounding me.
“Ian, this place is gorgeous.” And one night must have cost as much as a month of my little nursing home salary.
I’d never stayed at a hotel where someone carried my luggage to the room for me.
While he poured cognac from a decanter on an antique table, I took an adventure through two floors of penthouse overlooking Manhattan.
“Ian, there’s a wine cellar!”
I counted five bedrooms and three baths while wondering how much square footage the place was holding. With each room I entered and the longer I explored, the more bewildered I became. It was so much. Almost too much, an entirely glamorous purchase all to celebrate the day this wonderful man had decided to save me from my own ruin.
In the main room where Ian had settled while I checked out our surroundings, expansive floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a view of Central Park from the twenty-fourth floor, and I fell in love with the view, holding one hand to my heart. Ian stepped up behind me and slid his arm around my waist.
“How do you like it?”
“I’ve never seen anything like this… only read about it.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured against my ear, still stroking my stomach “Because it’s yours now.”
“Huh?”
“I bought this penthouse for you. Just need you to sign on the dotted lines.”
He had to be joking. Had to be joking. But in the event that he wasn’t kidding with me, I started to hyperventilate a little until he turned me around in his arms.
“I need you to understand something, Leigh.” He took my face between both of his hands and stroked my cheek. “I love you.”
“I know that. I love you too, silly.” And now tears were running down my face. Thank God I hadn’t worn makeup after all, and had spent a better use of the time in flight. “But this is a lot. Ian, it’s a… it’s a penthouse in Manhattan. This has to have cost millions.”
Wait. He had millions to spend?
That realization came crashing into me all at once.
“Nineteen, but who’s counting.”
“Nineteen million!” He winced a little from my shriek and nodded. “You can’t spend this on me. You have to… oh my God, you have to take it back, or sell it, or whatever you should do.”
“Can’t. It’s the first time in my life I’ve made a truly frivolous and irresponsible purchase, and I did it for a reason. Money, Leigh… it’s just a thing. I’ll always have it. That’s never going to change. I busted my ass, I made smart investments, and I risked my life until I had enough money to found a private security firm used by rich people across the world. I don’t talk about this with you because I know how sensitive you are about my wealth.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “You’re really rich.”
“Really rich,” he confirmed. “And I love you so much that I want to share everything I have with you. Not just because your breasts are stupendous”—they were not, he was such a liar—“your ass is amazing”—it was just okay—“and your legs are fantastic.” Okay, I’d give him that one. Years of volleyball playing and then a few years of physical therapy for my injured knee since our marriage had made them runway-level perfect. I could probably leg model if I wanted to, like Tina Turner. “I don’t care if you make twenty-five dollars an hour or twenty-five dollars a month. Be a stay-at-home mom, make your own business—I don’t care. The money I spent today means nothing compared to how I feel for you. I donate this much to charity every year, sometimes more. It’s a pittance.”
Nineteen million dollars on a Manhattan penthouse at the top of a five-star hotel was a pittance. I turned my head enough to kiss his palm. “Ian, it’s just so much.”
“It is. And it’s worth it. I didn’t work over forty-five years of my life to sit on a pile of money I can’t spend, baby. Like I said, I earned every penny I have, and if you help me use it, all the better. If I can step away from some of my obligations, I’m going to need you to meet me in the middle.”
Dammit. He had a point. “Ian, it’s just so hard… half the people in town think I married you for the cash. I’m just a gold digger to them.”
“They’re going to think it whether you spend my money or not.”
I really hated when he was right. “I know, but…”
His thumb skimmed my lower lip. I kissed it out of habit. “You’re trying to think of excuses because you know I’m right.”
“I am.” I glanced at the room again. “How long have you been planning this?”
“Since Christmas last year. Honest. That’s about when I realized I was really beginning to work too much. This place used to belong to Senator Orville, but he needed to downsize.”
“You bought a multimillion dollar penthouse from a senator?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Got it at a steal since he owes me a few favors. He’d listed it for thirty-five, but I reminded him about that time Nadir took a bullet for him.”
I told myself I wouldn’t hyperventilate in front of him on our anniversary in the living room of our nineteen-million-dollar second home.
“You know, a beach house might have been more suitable,” I joked.
“I bought one of those in Hawaii.”
I waited for him to say he was teasing. He didn’t.
“Ian…”
“Hm?”
“Tell me you’re pulling one over on me.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I am. But if you ever want one, say the word.”
Letting go of my natural proclivity to penny-pinch would be difficult, but for him, I made an effort. “Let me get accustomed to the enormous penthouse before we buy beachfront property.”
His golden eyes lit with delight. “If you must. I’m willing to let you take it in baby steps. You can start by carrying a debit card to our joint account.”
“What if I make completely frivolous purchases and buy hundred-dollar leggings?”
“I like the way your ass looks in leggings. Please do.”
“Be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
Since he wasn’t joking about me running wild with his bank account, I decided a few overpriced leggings from Australia weren’t a bad way to shop once we were home again. “Okay. Now what, though?”
“Now? Now, we go wherever you want. My only mission today is to spoil you rotten.”
We hiked through Central Park, visited the Lindt store for chocolates—some for me to eat during our visit, some to take home to Sophia and my friends who were crazy about chocolate—and made a stop at Tiffany’s to admire breathtaking works of art I could never afford.
An associate saw me eyeballing a key-shaped pendant too long and moved closer, wearing a plastic smile on her face.
Did I dare to even look at the price?
“Good day, madam. Int
erested in anything?”
Ian moved up behind me and slid an arm around my waist before glancing down through the class counter. “That’s nice.”
The end of the platinum and rose gold Tiffany key featured an abstract bird silhouette in pink diamonds. Maybe it was a songbird, I couldn’t tell what, but I liked it and wanted it desperately.
“How much is this one?”
When I asked, the woman slid the hidden price tag into view. I gasped.
Far beyond my price range. I couldn’t justify spending a small fortune on a piece of jewelry I wouldn’t wear every day.
But if I did spend that much on a piece of jewelry, I’d definitely wear it every day.
“She’ll buy it,” Ian said.
When I gave him a dubious look, he removed his wallet, took out a matte, black credit card, and slid it to me. My name was on it.
It had my name on it already. Instead of asking how long he’d been carrying it around for the moment I decided to make an extravagant purchase, I took the card and slid it to the lady. “I want it.”
“Excellent choice, madam.”
We visited the other floors of Tiffany & Co’s flagship store, discovering fine china on an upper level. I bought a ducky bank for Sophia and two elephant banks for Nandi’s twins. Eventually, I topped off the visit with a pair of Elsa Peretti sterling silver champagne glasses for myself.
Ian didn’t utter a word about the price. Since Tiffany’s would deliver my purchases to the penthouse, we took a romantic stroll down the streets and caught Wicked at Broadway.
For years, I’d wanted to watch a Broadway show. I spent most of the night with tears in my eyes, just one breath away from sobbing.
I didn’t deserve Ian, and I did, because I’d fought my way back to the top and even without his help, I would have somehow pulled myself together again. And even if we couldn’t have babies, it meant everything to me that he wanted to remain in my life. I hugged him tight once we were outside on the sidewalk.
“What was that for?”
“For making this day special.”
“I’m not even finished. Where to now?”
“I’m starving. One second. Sasha told me to text her if I needed dinner recommendations.”
I tapped out a message to her. A few seconds later, a photo loaded onto my screen of Sasha with wild bedhead, resting a little bundle of joy on her chest. I grinned.
Sasha: Obao if you’re in the mood for Vietnamese. Please bring me chocolate from the Lindt store.
Me: Already did it, chickie.
Sasha: Get the dessert, too. It’s amazing.
Me: Which one?
Sasha: All of them.
Another brisk walk through the Manhattan evening took us to our destination, a narrow building. We traveled beneath dimmed lights into a crowded room filled with small tables. The people beside us were close enough to touch elbows. Despite that, the place had a romantic sort of charm to it, and a friendly atmosphere. After beef phở, I devoured the most delicious chocolate mousse cake covered with pistachio and apricot crumbs. Ian just grinned at me from across the table.
“Would I be right to assume you want an Uber or Lyft back to the hotel?”
“You’d be so right. Otherwise we aren’t getting there without you carrying me.”
15
Ian
Leigh hadn’t moved in the ten minutes since we returned to our penthouse. I knelt beside the couch and removed her boots, chuckling at the blissful expression on her face and the kittenish way she stretched her body. She wiggled her toes, freed from the stylish boots that weren’t designed for the long walk we took through Central Park. Despite that, she’d grinned the entire time and even made me pose with her beside the Balto statue while another visitor took our photograph with her phone.
Today had been a great day. Some people claimed money couldn’t bring happiness, but it sure had put a smile on my woman’s face. I’d do anything to keep her smiling like that the rest of our days.
It had only taken a little compromise.
“Want me to run you a bath?”
“God, yes. Please.”
I left Leigh on the couch and investigated the bathroom. The one off the master bedroom featured a deep basin large enough for three or four people and whirlpool jets. I wouldn’t admit it to Leigh, but I’d dreamed about a hot and steamy bath in it since the day the senator deeded the place over to me.
While the tub filled, I stripped down to my boxer briefs. Leigh hadn’t moved yet.
“You asleep?” I called.
“Mm. No.” Her blissful sigh made my heart pound and sent a fresh pulse of arousal to my cock. “I’ll probably sleep like a baby after the bath, though.”
I kept the grin off my face. This woman had no idea what was in store for her if she thought I planned to let her sleep any time soon. Letting her rest a while longer, I prepared the bathroom by lighting candles and pouring champagne.
Once the tub filled, I peeled the sweater and jeans off Leigh and guided her into the shower on her wobbly, aching legs.
“I promise this bath will make moving again worthwhile.”
“It better.”
“Trust me.”
Soon as she halted in the open door and stared at the bathroom, I knew I was right.
Not yet finished, I opened a cabinet near the tub. “There’s more.” The wicker basket there overflowed with bath bombs of all colors, shapes, and sizes.
Leigh gasped. She squeezed into the spot beside me and removed a few from the basket to look at their labels. “You remembered my favorite.”
“Of course. When do I ever forget the things you like?”
Her eyes watered. No tears fell, but they glistened, and she blinked those long lashes a few times before kissing my cheek. “Today has been magical, Ian. Truly magical.”
“I aim to please, baby. I told you today was the best day of my life eight years ago, and I meant it. Every day with you has been a blessing. Every day with you is heaven, even when your mood is a little closer to hell.”
A rosy flush accompanied her bashful laugh. “Stop that.”
“No lie. I wouldn’t trade a day of it.”
Her wonderfully curvy body pressed against mine, the heavenly softness of her against my harder angles and muscles. I slipped a hand down to her ass and squeezed the generous flesh, groaning out loud in pleasure when she wiggled against me.
“Thank you for never giving up on me,” she murmured against my lips.
“Nothing could ever make me give up on you. When I made my vows, I promised to stand by you through sickness and in health. And… whatever’s happening with us counts. I don’t know what it is, but I know nothing will chase me off.”
Leigh chose a bath bomb scented like chocolate and roses. I stepped in first and she followed, but instead of easing down to rest her back against my chest as usual, my wife straddled me.
I knew what she wanted long before she reached between our bodies and rolled her thumb over the head of my dick. This woman had so much power over me, enough sensuality and sheer beauty to turn me rock hard in a touch.
Sometimes, the shifter’s mating bond between us made Leigh and me of one mind. She leaned in for the kiss and I met her halfway. When she sucked my tongue into her mouth, a jolt sparked down my spine and sizzled down my nerves straight to my shaft.
This woman had a magical touch. And she was all mine.
Sliding into Leigh was a little like falling into heaven. The warmth of her engulfed me, and then her tight pussy clamped down and I thought for sure I was gone. There was no way I’d last more than a few strokes.
She didn’t seem to notice my struggle. Her head fell back, and the sweet sheath surrounding my cock clenched again. “God yes.”
My fingers tightened, definitely leaving a mark on that beautiful ass. “Not God today. Just Ian,” I huffed against her throat. She chuckled, the sound sweet and husky.
Love her. Love her so much.
I’d
wanted this moment in the tub to be about her, but I was selfish, and there was no way I could please her the way I wanted to. Not right now. All those weeks of chugging along through the routine of baby-making felt ridiculous in hindsight, because there were few activities I loved more than sex with this woman.
Our naked bodies slid together in the tub, wet and slippery. I squeezed her breasts and rasped my thumbs over the beaded pink tips, fascinated by the rosy flush to her skin, the way her tits bounced each time she rose above me. I squeezed her left breast and licked scented suds from the tip.
I couldn’t believe this woman once wanted a boob job. I’d offered to pay for it if she really wanted one, but damn, I loved them just how they were, two fucking perfect handfuls that turned me gleeful every time I had them supported in my palms.
My hopes of a slow lovemaking died the moment I licked and sucked the other breast. She started riding me faster, harder, sloshing water over the edge of the tub and lapping it over the floor. It didn’t matter. The only concern on my mind became the sensation throbbing below my shaft. I felt it all the way to my toes and knew climax was imminent before it even tightened my balls.
“Leigh,” I choked out, desperate to hold on and cling to the moment. I didn’t want to come first, not until I felt her trembling around me.
“Let it happen,” she murmured against my cheek. Her face was flushed and rosy, dewy with sweat from our sex and the steam in the air. Fine white-blonde hairs clung against her face, her neck, and bare shoulders, but she never stopped moving over me. “Almost there, Ian. Just let it go. We’ll go together.”
My wife truly knew me best. The moment Leigh came, I spasmed beneath her, too, her orgasm taking me along for the ride.
I guess I had enough stamina to outlast her after all.
Leigh
We soaked a while longer after the first round, just one woman and her man submerged to our shoulders in rose-and-cocoa-scented water while sipping delicious champagne. It was the best thing. While I slumped in the glossy white basin, my hubby refreshed the water and dropped another bomb.
A Man of Many Talons Page 13