by Orla Bailey
“That only makes it worse.”
“How do you arrive at that assumption?”
I’m not going to tell him Amanda suspects how I feel about him. She sees me as her rival. One to be eliminated at any cost. “She’s in love with you.”
He can’t hide his shock. He thought he’d kept their secret well hidden but he recovers well. “She’s a friend.”
A friend he was kissing and holding at the ball. Why isn’t there a photograph of that in the newspapers? Because Amanda engineered this whole travesty, that’s why. Why can’t he see that?
“Well your friend wants to make sure we hate each other. What surer way than to concoct a plan that traps us together.”
It’s as if a thundercloud has swept his features. “Don’t fret your pretty little head about being trapped with me.” He sounds bitter and resentful. “As soon as the newspapers forget all about us, you can forget all about us too. Quick as you like.” He turns abruptly to face the wall.
I burst into tears and run from the room. Amanda’s so sly. How better to destroy her competition than hand me exactly what she knows I want on a platter? But make it a complete sham. What better way to kill any fledgling feelings Jack might harbour for me than by knowing I’ve ensnared him?
There’s nothing I want more in this world than to be with Jack but not like this. How can I even pretend to go along with such a farce for the press? It will kill me inside knowing he’s faking it; knowing soon enough he’ll abandon me all over again to marry her. I fly up the stairs, slam my bedroom door and lock it against the world.
“Open the door, Tabitha.” He’s right outside trying the handle. I didn’t even hear his footsteps behind me but he’s still following me; still hounding me. He rattles the door violently in its frame.
Face down on the bed, I bawl my eyes out. “Go away.”
“Open this door or I’ll kick it down.” Already his loathing of me is beginning to surface.
“It’s your door. Do what you like with it.” He does what he likes with me. I’m hurt and petulant.
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it.”
I hear him take a step backwards and hold my breath, waiting for the crash. There’s a muffled curse and the sound of one of the framed family pictures on the console table opposite my door as it crashes to the floor.
“Wait,” I yell. I don’t care if the chateau is legally his. It will always be Harry’s in my mind and I’ll leave it in good order. I creep over and listen for a second only to hear him breathing, fast and hard, on the other side.
“I’m waiting, Tabitha. Are you opening this door or am I coming through it?” His face sounds right up against the wood and like his patience has worn thin.
I turn the key, stepping back fast. He surges through before I have a chance to change my mind then stands with his hand on the door handle glaring at me. I wipe my eyes.
“You’re running again.”
I stare back. This sexy man has just announced his engagement to me and I’m devastated. It’s a mockery of every dream I ever held. My tears only seem to annoy him somehow. He stalks past me grabbing my wrist on his way and yanks me to sit on the bed beside him.
I try to pull my hand back but he’s not in the mood for concessions. For a moment we tug away childishly before I give up the fight. I can’t win so what’s the point? As soon as I stop struggling Jack releases his hold. He’s made his point. He knows he can make me do anything he wants to, one way or another. He just wants to make sure I know it too.
Grasping my chin he turns my face to meet his. “I never imagined the thought of being linked to me personally would be quite so hateful to you.” His voice is quiet but he seems upset with me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I sniff. Jack reaches past me to catch up a tissue, handing it over so I can blow my nose. Let him think what he likes. I’m definitely not telling him any such mock relationship will devour me from the inside out. It’s like looking in a shattered mirror. “Let me go.”
He misunderstands me. “Too late for that. The media already believes we’re betrothed. I told them and I won’t let you make me out to be a liar. I’ll release you from the engagement just as soon as I deem it safe to do so and ideally find a reason that doesn’t destroy my credibility or yours.”
“I’m talking about my face. Let me go, you’re hurting me.” If I’m going down, I’m doing it with dignity. I try not to think too deeply about what he’s just said. He can’t wait to get shot of me and I just want to die.
“Oh.” He releases me like he’s been scalded. “Sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t upset yourself, Tabitha. I wouldn’t dream of forcing a marriage between us. Can you imagine that? You and me?” He sneers with derision. “We can go our separate ways as soon as the press and public interest find someone else to inconvenience.”
“That might take some time. Media interest in you is legendary.” I’m not being sarcastic. I should know. I couldn’t escape every facet of Jack’s personal and professional life for the past four years, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. “Women would beggar themselves to say they were engaged to Jack Keogh.”
“Not all women apparently.” He’s bitterly contemplative. No doubt fuming about the inconvenience of this enforced charade. “I’ll try to make it as painless as I possibly can.”
He has no idea of the impossibility of that where I’m concerned. Every day will be like waiting with my neck on the block for the axe to fall. Every day, a little bit more of me will be hacked open. I understand only too well. I’ve been in that place before and remember every excruciating moment of it. The only difference is, this time I will have to bear my misery in his constant presence. Every day a stark reminder of what I will never have and this time there’s nowhere to run and hide.
“What are you thinking?” he asks more gently.
That I’ll endure this with my pride intact if I can. “I wish you’d asked me first.” There’s ironic ambiguity in my answer. It’s a cherished fantasy that Jack would one day love me enough to ask me to marry him.
“I wish I’d had a chance to.” He reaches over, lifts my hand and plays with it in his lap. “At least let’s agree to make this as easy for each other as we can. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t think you want to hurt me either. Let’s agree to be civil. It won’t last forever.”
I can’t stop tears flowing again.
Standing, he releases my hand. His jaw is taut, his shoulders stiff, his lovely mouth a grim ruin. “I have to work.” He stalks out the door without looking back. “Don’t wait up.”
He’s running straight to Amanda. It’s her comfort he seeks, not mine. I’m the cause of all his troubles. The woman’s rotten scheme is working already.
I shower blindly before climbing into bed. After turning off the light I lie there going over everything in my mind. I’m mad at Jack, I’m mad at Amanda. I’m totally mad at myself. For some reason I think about Jack’s accusation about me over-achieving. But it only seemed that way as I was throwing myself into anything and everything, trying to work through the pain of my loss. I can do it again. Although it all bothers me, I begin to formulate a plan.
I refuse to be the push-over Amanda believes me to be. She’ll think she has me exactly where she wants me and that will be her weakness. But I won’t give up. I will do everything in my power to change Jack’s mind about me. And about her.
My love for Jack will find a way through this.
* * *
Morning birdsong filters through the shutters.
Jack didn’t even try to share my bed last night and I’m hurt by the realisation. So much for me being an addiction. He’s weaned himself off already. After telling me what he came here to tell me last night, he thinks I won’t be quite so amenable to a little casual fooling around.
But I’m not going to play dead to please Amanda. Whatever she thinks, I saw Jack first. It’s as simple as that in my br
ain. I promise myself at the very least to try and change his mind. Any spanner I can put in the works for her scheming will be my pleasure because there is no way she should get away with being such a prize bitch. Already I’ve lost the Zee-Com contract to Advance, albeit temporarily. She’s not getting her hooks any deeper into my man without a fight.
Determined? Over-achiever? He has no idea.
I shower thoroughly and put on the sexiest little dress I possess. It’s covered in huge yellow sunflowers and there aren’t too many of them on show; unlike my skin. I blow dry my hair upside down so I look wild and sexy and put on some smoky eye make-up. No lip gloss. I’m going to do everything I can to make Jack think twice about leaving me again.
It’s that last thought that makes me snatch up another item of clothing from the floor.
I know where to find him and I’m not wrong. Full of enthusiasm for my plan I run to Harry’s study, fling open the door and hurl myself inside kicking off my espadrilles in the doorway.
Jack, sitting at Harry’s big antique desk, is already tapping away at his laptop. He’s really sexy in faded denim and a soft, white open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks up in shock when I lean over and snap the lid firmly shut. Only his quick reactions prevent his fingers getting trapped.
“I’m trying to work.” The way he says it is quite unconvincing. His mind is already processing this strange invasion.
“It’s Sunday.” I grin at his look of stunned surprise as I whip round the desk towards him.
“I usually work on Sundays too.”
I realise in that moment no-one has ever put themselves between Jack and Zee-Com business before. Or perhaps it’s him messaging Amanda I’m cutting off mid-stream which is even more satisfying as far as I’m concerned. It can be done.
“You’re engaged to me now. Things are about to change.”
His cool expression converts to one of astonishment as I push him back in his chair and lithely straddle his muscular thighs. Last night’s gusset-less panties, courtesy of Jack’s rough-neck adventures, are back on and I may be blushing but I’m a girl who commits. I lock my arms round his neck and press my lips hard against his. He responds immediately as I hoped he would. If he’d pushed me away, I don’t know what I would have done but I’m operating on womanly instinct here, pure and simple. He presses against the small of my back pushing me tighter into him until I settle over what I know is a rapidly stiffening erection. He’s always so ready for me. His breathing turns harsher and more staccato as he loves all things wild.
“Let me help you out there.” Reaching between our bodies I unbutton his jeans, rising up on tiptoes to clear my way. I free him from the restrictions of his clothing and he obligingly emerges erect and hard in my hand. Chest heaving in excitement, he tears at my zip and yanks the dress down over my shoulders without reserve or restraint, just wanting to get at my body.
“This is a good way to start a Sunday,” he admits, kissing me long and slow.
With my breasts freed, he dips his head and raises one up to meet his mouth. He suckles hard on my turgid nipple until I whimper and my hips move over his. It doesn’t make him stop but drives him to further atrocities. We both anticipate this being fast, hard and cathartic.
I fist his flesh and stroke in a measured manner up to the tip where I twist my wrist and slide back down again. His mouth opens in a grimace of pleasurable torment at each slow sweep. My restraint is to be admired considering what he’s doing to my body at the same time. When my thumb sweeps the tip again I gather the bead of moisture there, raising it to my tongue and sucking it off slowly and sexily.
His features express aroused fascination as he studies me. I know he’s confused about the sudden change in me since last night but clearly he isn’t going to question what I’m about at this moment. He’s a clever and practical man and I smile in a triumph of delight at this current power I hold over him.
He removes the arrogance from my lips with his hungry, consuming kiss. But I raise myself up again and run his searing flesh through my silken heat, using his body like a toy to excite mine. Move and counter-move.
“Christ, kitten. You’re killing me.” I’m sure he must wonder why his submissive little fool has suddenly become so demonstrative and dangerous.
“We’re engaged now,” I remind him. “Doesn’t that mean that all possessions become shared ones?” Let him wonder about that. “Or will you want a pre-nup?”
“Can’t talk,” he mumbles against me. “Mouth full.”
I laugh and quicken my stroke. He needs me to complete him. If I walk away, I know already he’d drag me back to finish what I’d started but I wonder just how far he will let me torment him first. His fingers skip up and down my thighs as I lift and fall and he squeezes my buttocks hard with outstretched hands.
Suddenly he wrests control from me, lifting me so easily with strong hands placed at my hips, and placing me into the spot he finds desirable for his taking. I freeze for a second as he dares me with his expression to try and stop him. Today I will not but he gives me such delicious ideas I smile again.
His frown is fleeting, looking at me like he doesn’t quite know who this strange woman is after all. Yet he’ll take her proffered gifts. He pulls me down over him until I slowly subside bending my knees, pausing periodically in my descent to let him know I aim to keep some control. It is as big a deception as our engagement because I know it only happens because he allows it.
His gorgeous face displays such a divine mixture of pain and ecstasy that I reckon it must mirror my own. With his hands kneading my breasts, I set the rhythm: rising, lowering and undulating my hips back and forth when he is deepest inside me. He moans in delight at my delicious exploration. The shift of his muscular weight echoes along the inner walls of my body, probing the deep, dark cavern of my womanhood.
“I want this off.” My fingers open the buttons of his shirt and spread the edges wide, examining his pectoral muscles and the crisp hairs scattered around them. The subtle smell of Clive Christian engulfs me. I pinch his nipples between my fingers until he jerks uncontrollably inside me.
“I want to come,” he snarls.
My assertive behaviour is having an unexpected effect on Jack’s habitual self-control. It gives me hope that I can win any game I want if I move the pieces correctly on the board. I rise fully allowing him to slip from my body. It is as difficult for me as it is for him. My legs are trembling. His eyes fly to mine in query.
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Soon.” I sweeten the bitter pill by taking his lower lip between my teeth and scoring him until he hisses in erotic agony. My tongue delves inside his mouth to travel slowly and discover deliberately. He remains tolerant of my journey, no doubt fascinated by what is happening between us.
His hands press my body into his. I feel him rub against my naked breasts as he grinds his hard planes against my full roundness. The difference is what compels us. When I pull my tongue back into my mouth again, licking at my lips suggestively as I enjoy the taste of him, he loses patience.
“Tabitha, I want to come.”
I know he could make it happen as he wishes but I also know he enjoys this game of mine too much to stop me. In his own way he’s asking for my permission. I feel a sense of triumph even though I haven’t achieved anything at all. Yet.
“Hush, tiger,” I tell him. “Soon.”
His eyes widen, his pupils dilate excitedly at my nerve.
I run my fingers through his dark hair and cradle his skull between my hands. It is the intensity of his eyes searching mine that destroys me. I vow to myself he will be mine for real. I seal my secret promise with a short, hard kiss then yank his head backwards and take his throat like a rabid bitch on heat.
“What are you up to?” He’s breathless; his words staccato.
“Shhh.” I am not fooled he will forget this teasing of mine though. He remembers everything.
“When I come, I’ll let you come with me,” I promise.
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Jack laughs tightly. He palms my breasts and kneads them firmly to hurry me along. His nails curve repeatedly over my taut nipples. They’re tender and sensitive to his skilful touch and he makes me squirm and moan. I can no longer ignore the insistent throbbing of my arousal so I guide his body into mine once more. I have no idea why he holds out so long when he could do something about it if he wanted. I like to think he’s granting me something special here.
Intense heat spears me as he lifts his hips from his chair to deepen the penetration. It forces all the breath from my lungs. As he repeats his action I’m already gone. I grind my pelvis against him as I glide into the abyss of light.
Each move against the other blends my soprano cries with his deep bass grunts of satisfaction creating a harmonious sound. He thrusts violently against me while I hang on tight. My legs quiver with exhaustion as orgasm crests. He swells, pumping his essence deep into the well of me but my body clutches at his manhood greedily and robs him of his power.
I listen to his final groan of surrender and grab and pull and keep him close to me. I’m wrapped so tightly round him I think he must feel strangled but I’m so reckless and abandoned with lust I lean back to ride him mercilessly to the dry end of the trail.
With ragged breath, his energy is intense yet dissipating in the same moment. My molten essence holds together only by the strength of his arms around me. We stay locked for the longest time.
When I first try to move off he prevents me. I’m staying right where I am until he decides otherwise and I fully get the message. The game is in play.
“What was that all about?” He murmurs it against my ear with a mixture of suspicion, surprise and enjoyment. His breathing descends but his elevated heart rate lags behind it. “Just asking. Not complaining.”
I’ve won something important and I know it. “I wanted to seal our engagement.” I know I have a look of devilment on my face.
“Isn’t that usually done with a ring?” He frowns, unsure of me, yet arches his brow in expectation of a reply.
“Do I have one?” I try to sound coquettish. I must establish the nuances of this game and play it well if I want to win by the final throw of the dice.