He sat for a while in the three-car garage, contemplating what to do and what to say, but he came up empty. He rubbed a hand across his brow to stem the headache that had advanced the closer he got to home. Drama was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight, but the only way to avoid a confrontation with Cassidy was to avoid going in.
“Get in the house, Antonio,” he said to himself.
With a resigned sigh, he went in and trudged upstairs to the master bedroom. The mild scent of gardenias infused the air from containers of potpourri placed around the room.
The first thing he noticed was that Cassidy wasn’t in bed as he’d expected. The king bed sat in the center of the wall, neatly made with a pile of different-sized designer pillows against the tufted headboard, giving no indication a man lived there. He never could understand the purpose of all the pillows with their ruffles and flowers, but it was what she’d wanted. Candles of various sizes and colors ran along the top of the mantel of the fireplace in the sitting room off the bedroom. With a quick look, he saw she wasn’t in there, either.
The second thing he noticed were the sheets and pillowcases neatly folded and stacked at the foot of the bed. Wondering why they were there, he frowned at the sight and shrugged out of his jacket. He was in the process of removing his tie when the bathroom door opened and Cassidy stepped out. Upon seeing her, he paused with his hand on the knot of his tie. They looked at each other in silence for several long seconds, neither one of them offering a greeting.
A few years ago, she’d stopped relaxing her hair and started wearing it natural. Tonight she’d neatly styled it in thick flat twists that wound from the front of her head to her nape. She often experimented by mixing different oils and creams in the bathroom. Depending on what she’d whipped up, her hair might smell like coconut oil, jojoba, or rose water. For now, he could only smell strawberry-scented bath gel.
She wore a white tank top with spaghetti straps that clung to her like a second skin. The cotton fabric was fitted across her narrow torso and brought stark attention to her small, perky breasts and nipples that stood out like headlights. The color was the perfect foil against skin the color of rich molasses. A pair of powder-blue boy short panties with a lace waistband hugged her hips.
His gaze lingered there for a moment, and his groin tightened. It had been weeks since they’d made love because every time he tried, she wasn’t in the mood, or didn’t feel well, or whatever other excuse she could think of on the fly.
He ached to get up inside her so bad. She had some nerve walking around like that, making him want to tear the miniscule clothing off her with his teeth. Making him want to press every inch of his hard body against her willowy frame and to hell with what she wanted.
Cassidy finally spoke. “I didn’t expect you home so early.”
She rested her hands on her hips, spoiling for a fight. She was tiny—a full foot shorter than his six feet two inches—and completely unintimidated by him. Despite the antagonistic stance, her lips, set in an angry moue, looked inviting. She had a full mouth; both her upper and lower lips were plump and soft. Perfect for kissing.
Antonio shifted his gaze to dispel the arousing thoughts that stole into his head and nodded toward the pile on the bed. “What’s this?”
“That’s for you. I was going to make the bed in one of the guest bedrooms because you’re not sleeping in here tonight.”
He finished removing his tie. “Like hell I’m not.”
Chapter Two
Antonio saw the flash of anger in Cassidy’s eyes. “No, you’re not, and I mean it. I refuse to sleep in the same bed with you. Every time I turn around, you have to go do this and do that. You cancel our plans all the time. I’m tired of it. The other night was a milestone for our family, but you couldn’t break away from your important business to come with me to Athens to see my nephew. I drove out of town, at night, by myself because you couldn’t get away.”
Anger surged up inside of him, and he restrained it, but he didn’t muzzle the words he felt she needed to hear. “How many times are we going to have this conversation, Cass? How do you think I’m able to afford this house, this furniture, and all these pretty pillows that I’m not allowed to sleep on? I have to work, and I have to work hard. You were one of the people who encouraged me to start my own public relations firm, remember?”
When he made the decision, he’d also received a lot of support from his family. His father had become a client right away, using his services to bring attention to the charitable work he did in the States and their native Puerto Rico. His oldest brother, Ernesto, also used his services. He played professional baseball, and at the moment, his personal life garnered more attention than he’d like. He was embroiled in a bitter divorce, and it took a lot of work on Antonio’s part to keep details out of the news.
“Yes, I encouraged you because you were miserable where you worked, and I knew you could do it. But I didn’t ask for all of this. This is what you want. You’re the one who grew up rich, with a father who played professional baseball and a mother who was a model and pageant queen. I never grew up with all of this”—she waved at the opulence in the room, indicating the luxurious furnishings, the custom-made furniture, the expensive paintings on the walls—“and I never asked for it.”
“Well you sure as hell didn’t give any indication that you didn’t want it, either.”
Cassidy crossed her arms. “Don’t try to blame me for what’s going on. You’re in the wrong, and you know it. I think you’d rather spend time with your clients than with me.” Although she spoke with anger in her voice, he heard the underlying tremble and saw the hurt in her dark brown eyes.
“Cass, you know that’s not true,” he said quietly, wanting to reassure her. “Everything I do is for us, our future, and those four kids we both said we want.”
“Right.” They stared each other down. “Where was your meeting tonight?”
“I told you, at the W Hotel.”
“Which athlete did you meet? How did it go?”
Antonio watched her in silence, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Checking up on me?”
“Do I need to?’
“I’ve had enough of you not trusting me.”
“Why should I? You’re a man.”
His perfect wife had one flaw—her unfounded jealousy. When they were dating, he’d thought it was cute, and since he was just as territorial, it hadn’t bothered him. But over time, her unreasonable accusations wore on his nerves and had become downright outlandish. Their arguments always went in the same direction, headed along the course where she explained to him the immorality of men and why they couldn’t be trusted to be faithful.
Unfortunately, her fears weren’t completely unfounded. The men he represented more often than not succumbed to the temptation of the opposite sex. Women sometimes even offered him “favors” in exchange for access to his wealthy clients.
“Don’t start that shit.” She hated when he cursed at her in anger. It had slipped out, but he wouldn’t take it back.
“Don’t swear at me!” Cassidy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting mighty touchy. Maybe you do have something to hide.”
“I’m done, because I’m really not in the mood for this foolishness.” Antonio removed his shoes and walked toward the massive walk-in closet they shared. “I come home and I just want to relax, but instead I get attacked and tossed out of my bedroom—which isn’t going to happen, by the way.” He entered the closet and dropped his shoes in an empty space on the floor. “You didn’t even tell me if Celeste and the baby are okay.”
“That’s because you didn’t ask, but they’re fine, and if you’d gone with me to the hospital, you’d know that.”
He shook his head. She really knew how to push his buttons.
“Don’t try to change the subject, because I’m not done talking to you about what you did.”
“Actually, we are done talking, so drop it.”
“I will not drop it!” Cassidy
screamed.
Antonio walked out of the closet and slammed the door. Taking a deep breath, he reined in his temper and kept his voice low. “I said, drop it.”
Cassidy stared at her husband, her chest heaving up and down in fury. She hated when he became super calm and pitched his voice to a low, soothing tone. In fact, he never raised his voice at her. Even when she was itching for a fight, he refused to oblige her.
Antonio walked toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. A flare of heat passed through her loins as she watched him undress. His movements, quick and smooth, almost graceful, revealed a large expanse of caramel-colored skin. The open shirt lay bare the tight muscles of his chest and the eight-pack abs he’d earned from rigorous regular exercise as part of a family of sports fanatics. A narrow waist tapered to slim hips and long, muscular legs. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.
He had to walk by her to get to the bathroom, and the smell of him filled the air, an earthy, male scent that teased her senses. She breathed him in and closed her eyes as he passed, fighting back the erotic sensations that coursed through her blood. They hadn’t made love in what seemed like forever because she hadn’t allowed him to touch her. It was the longest they’d gone without making love since they were married. Her body cried out for his touch, making it very hard to stay mad at him when all she wanted to do was climb his lean, wiry frame.
The bathroom door swung shut, which meant the conversation was over. At least for him.
Cassidy paced the floor, agitated. Antonio was keeping something from her. He’d always worked hard, and it had never been a problem between them before. She’d supported him all the way, but in the past, he’d found time to spend with her. That was no longer the case. His schedule stayed filled with activities that didn’t include her, and she couldn’t remember the last time they had a date night.
And his behavior in general was . . . different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he wasn’t himself. At times he seemed distracted, drifting off to a place he didn’t allow her to follow. When she tried to find out what was wrong, he responded to her probing questions with noncommittal answers.
She’d grown tired of acting as if everything was okay, smiling to friends and family when she felt as if her marriage was crumbling around her.
Her greatest fear was being one of those wives who’d overstayed her welcome and not knowing that she had. She knew all about that and had experienced the fallout firsthand as a child when her parents’ marriage fell apart.
Blinking back tears, Cassidy gathered up the bedding. If he wouldn’t sleep in another room, then she would. She marched out and went to the linen closet in the hall to exchange the regular pillowcases for the satin ones she preferred to sleep on. The spare bedroom was sparsely furnished because they were still working on the house. This particular room contained only a bed and a bureau.
She shut the door, made the bed, and then climbed in. Bone tired from the busy day and the angry tension she’d been carrying around because of Antonio, her eyes almost immediately drooped shut.
At some point during the night, she dreamed she was weightless and floated above the bed. She shifted and turned in her sleep, and that’s when she realized it wasn’t a dream. Antonio had lifted her in his arms and was moving through the dark house with long strides.
Her eyes fluttered open. “What are you doing?” she mumbled against his bare chest.
“I’m not sleeping in a different room, and neither are you,” he replied in a grim tone. “We do not sleep apart in this house.”
He smelled so good—fresh and clean from his shower. She looped an arm around his neck as he carried her back to their room as if she weighed next to nothing.
When he placed her in the bed, she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him and rolled over, offering him her back. “Don’t touch me.”
He didn’t respond, offering his back, too. Then he shifted, pounded the pillow, and shifted again. He kept that up for almost a minute before he finally settled down.
When he hadn’t moved in a while, she thought about sneaking out. This time she’d lock the door in the other bedroom. She lifted her head.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Dammit. He wasn’t asleep yet.
Cassidy dropped her head back to the pillow and pouted. With a sigh, she determined to settle in for the night.
A long time afterward, she was still wide awake, but his even breathing suggested he’d fallen asleep.
Of course, she couldn’t sleep, because the scent of him still clung to her skin. She was horny, and it was all his fault. Withholding sex was supposed to be a punishment for him, but she had managed to torture herself in the process.
She rolled onto her back and froze when she let out an involuntary moan. Biting her lip, she glanced sideways to see if he’d react to the sound or the movement.
No stirring and no acknowledgement came from his side of the bed. She curled her fingers into her palm and rolled back onto her side.
Damn him, she thought. She couldn’t help thinking of all that tempting, half-naked, masculine perfection lying there.
She reached up and touched one of her aching breasts, so sensitive, a tingle rippled across her skin. She closed her eyes and let out a low groan, twisting restlessly in the bed.
Cupping her breast, she squeezed the soft flesh and flicked the taut nipple with her thumb, causing heat to flare across the lower region of her body. She bit her lip and let out an exasperated breath. Even though she could easily turn over and get what she wanted because Antonio never refused her, she decided to take care of herself. Besides, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
She closed her eyes and imagined him touching her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before when he wasn’t around. She’d just pretend he wasn’t here. She had to be careful, though, because she risked waking him up.
Cassidy slid one hand down her belly to between her legs and squeezed her breast tight with the other hand, amplifying the pulsing ache in her body.
She’d just started to get going good when movement on the other side of the bed made her hold her breath and freeze like a burglar caught in the act of a robbery, her hand still between her legs.
Antonio’s quiet voice came from across the bed. “What are you doing over there?”
Chapter Three
The only light came from the radiant numbers on the face of the digital clock on the nightstand on Cassidy’s side of the bed, but Antonio could see her well enough.
He knew what she’d been up to. When he removed Cassidy from the guest bedroom, the feel of her soft body against his and the scent of her rose water–scented hair had colluded to keep him awake with an erection of steel. He’d finally managed to relax, though sleep evaded him.
Before getting married, his parents had given him lots of advice, acquired after thirty-plus years of marriage. They had certain rules they lived by and encouraged him to employ in his own marriage. Rule number one had been to never go to bed angry with each other. No way he could live up to that one with Cassidy as his wife, so he’d long ago crossed it off his list. The second he could certainly control: when under the same roof, always sleep in the same bed.
Despite her foul attitude, he’d been determined they would spend the night together. While Cassidy moved around, he’d lain quietly, conjuring as many nonsexual thoughts as he could to get the blood in his groin to disperse and nourish other body parts. Then he heard the soft mewling noises behind him. The sounds derailed his attempt to stifle his lust and made him even harder because he’d known right away what she was up to.
He propped up on an elbow. The tangled bedcovers rested low on her waist. He lowered his gaze, and even though she lay on her side, he could see her hand was inside her underwear. He swore softly.
“What are you doing, Cass?” he whispered.
She took a deep breath, but continued to ignore him.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
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She didn’t move. She could be so stubborn.
“Give it to me.” Thinking about what she’d been doing without him made his voice hoarse. The least she could’ve done was let him watch.
Not waiting for her to follow through, he cuffed her wrist and easily pulled out her hand. In the ambient light of the room, he could see the moisture on her two middle fingers—the digits she’d been using to get herself off.
“I’m right here, and you’re doing this? Hmm . . . ?”
He brought them to his nose and inhaled the musky feminine perfume of arousal. The need to taste overwhelmed him, and he plunged her fingers into his mouth and sucked, taking his time as he used his tongue and lips to pull off every drop. She moaned softly the entire time, her eyes heavy lidded as she watched him relish the act of licking her fingers clean.
“You’re next,” he said when he finished.
He covered her body with his and kissed her parted lips—soft as pillows and sweet as honey. He consumed them, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and feeding with an eagerness and hunger that had been restrained for almost two weeks. He sought her concession, which she willingly offered, all thoughts of resistance long dissipated.
They sucked on each other’s mouths, and their tongues dueled, slipping and sliding over each other as the kiss deepened and hunger sharpened. He moved his hands down to her buttocks and squeezed as he pressed his hard body into hers, grinding his length dead center where she ached. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and he groaned as he imagined how warm and wet she already was.
For Better or Worse Page 2