Chayton

by Danielle Bourdon

  She couldn't build her world on if only, however. What she needed to do was end the Anton situation once and for all. The question was how. Anton, judging by his reaction tonight, still had intentions of pursuing her fortune. He didn't believe her marriage was real—and he was correct, although it was legal—and was probably even then devising a way to turn the situation around.

  The most expedient way was to get rid of Chayton Black. Rather than wait on an annulment or a break up, taking Chayton's life would make her a widow, and put her right back on the market again.

  Stiffening in fear at the thought of Anton bringing harm to Chayton, Kate took another, longer sip of wine. She wished it was scotch, or vodka, or tequila. Something stronger to help knock down her uneasiness.

  Unexpectedly, she met Anton's gaze across the room. He had his cell phone to his ear, watching her with a full blown scowl while he conversed with someone on the line.

  Kate's mind raced. Was he making those kind of dreaded plans even now? Was he putting a hit man into place?

  Right then, Kate promised herself that she wouldn't ever allow Anton to hurt Chayton. And hard on the heels of her promise came the answer to everything.

  Suddenly, Kate knew just what to do.

  Chapter Ten

  While Kate sipped her wine, Chayton held his tumbler without taking more than a small sip or two for appearances sake. With an arm settled around her waist, he stood at her side and observed Anton without making it apparent that he did so. The man was a snake, that much was certain. Chayton knew the type well. The type that would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, the type that had no compunction in regard to business or ruthlessness. He was aware that Anton was not diverted by the knowledge of Kate's marriage, but this was only the first hour. The first night. Eventually, Anton would have to realize that this particular honey-hole was impossible to pillage.

  Glancing at Kate, Chayton considered the vague frown on her brow and the thoughtful look in her eyes. He couldn't blame her for being nervous and fidgety in Anton's presence, yet he was still perturbed enough over her slip-of-the-tongue that he didn't go out of his way to reassure her that everything would be all right. On the other hand, her reaction to Anton argued against the idea that Kate was secretly lovers with the man, and again, he had to caution himself about how good actors and actresses could be when they really wanted something. It wouldn't be the first time this ploy had been used.

  Yet his desire for her remained. He wanted to see her look at him like she had in his bedroom in Montana, hear her breathless moans. Twenty times a day he recalled their fake wedding night and what had almost happened. He'd examined her reactions to him from a hundred angles, never finding fault with any of it until the end. A war raged inside, arguing facts and probabilities and odds.

  Maybe her slip-of-the-tongue had really been just that. An unfortunate accident.

  Setting his drink down, leaving Anton's whereabouts to Mattias and Leander, Chayton picked Kate's almost empty wine glass from her fingers and deposited it beside his own. Then he drew her in close and with a slow turn, spun her onto the dance floor. Her surprise registered with a widening of her eyes and a slight part of her lips. Tempted to, he bent his head and claimed her mouth. This was no chaste touch of lips but a taking, a dominating parry of tongues and breath and taste that instantly spiked his lust.

  He liked the give in Kate's body, the way she bowed into him and slipped her arms around his neck. It encouraged a switch of angles in the kiss to get even deeper, to raid the sweet hollows where he lapped up the essence of her like a starving man at a feast. Whispers from nearby dancers told him that at least a few people were staring. He was too caught up to glance at Anton and see if he was one of them. Likely so, Chayton decided, and probably with steam coming out his ears to boot.

  Kate slipped her arms from around his neck and wrapped his middle instead, dragging her palms up and down his spine over the coat. He pulled her closer, hands running along the nip in her waist and the snug fit of the dress over her hips.

  “Let's go,” Chayton rumbled against her mouth. It wasn't exactly a question. To hell with subterfuge and lies and caution. He'd fought himself for the last two and a half days not to touch her or engage her in meaningful conversation.

  Kate took a step back, breaking the kiss, and reached for his hand. She only had eyes for him.

  Chayton led her from the floor with stalking strides, going just slow enough for her to keep up without stumbling in the tight fitting dress. He walked her through the open double doors and down the shallow steps, then paused on the walkway to sweep her into his arms. The gown was too confining, in his opinion, for her to walk quickly and easily.

  “It's useless to run.”

  The words drifted from the porch along the path to Chayton's ears. Almost a hiss, he nevertheless picked out Anton's voice amidst the gentle swish of palm fronds and and incessant slap of waves on the shore. Kate's lack of reaction indicated she hadn't heard, and Chayton experienced relief—it might have ruined the night once again.

  Refusing to look back, to give Anton the satisfaction of acknowledgement, Chayton carried Kate back to their beach house, pausing only to unlock the door and let himself in. The kisses she dotted over the skin of his throat kept his ardor in high gear.

  In that particular moment, he didn't care what ploys and games were afoot. He had a need, and he meant to indulge it. Knocking the door closed, he threw the bolt without looking, instead bending his head to snare Kate's mouth for another kiss. A kiss she matched with building urgency. With expert care, he set her feet on the floor.

  Hooking his thumb in the strap of the dress, he eased it over her shoulder, mouth dragging across her cheek to follow the line of her neck to her collarbone. He traced the bone to the edge and suckled a sharper kiss near his fingers and the glittering strap. Repeating on the other side, he listened to her sharp gasps and one little moan. She caught him by surprise when she rocked her hips into his, begging to be closer.

  Rather than ruin the dress by tugging it impatiently down, he wove his hands behind her and got his fingers on the zipper. He worked it down, using his palms afterward to skim the dress over her breasts and along her hips, exposing every sweet inch of her flesh to his gaze and his mouth. Chayton abused his greater height to snag her around the waist when the gown puddled at her feet and lift her far enough off the ground to free her from the pretty garment. Her heels hit the floor with quiet thuds.

  Since he had her trapped against his body, he carried her that way through the beach house to the bedroom, heading straight for the bed which he gently tumbled her back upon.

  He left her with a hot kiss on her mouth before he straightened, staring down at her bare breasts and the silky scrap of black that made up her panties. Just as he flashed the edges of the coat back to peel it down his arms, Kate sat up and put her fingers on the tie around his throat. She loosened it enough to get to the buttons of his shirt beneath.

  Chayton held still with increasing impatience and allowed her to undo every button until she got to the closure of his slacks. She whisked it open with a deft motion and leaned in to drag the edge of her teeth lightly over the skin of his abdomen.

  Sucking in a breath, he wrecked the style of her hair when he cupped her crown, bringing her even closer by an inch or two. When she slipped her fingers into the elastic band of his boxer shorts and tugged them down his hips, he tilted his head back, hand still in her hair, and gave himself up to the pleasure of her mouth.

  . . .

  Kate gave Chayton a lesson in just how skilled she was with her tongue and her mouth, wringing raspy groans from him that sent chills down her spine. She forgot all their troubles and concerns, too caught up in the intense passion that gripped them both. When he gasped and pushed her back into the bed, she knew she'd brought him close to the brink. He stripped the scrap of black off her hips with a skilled slide of fingers and palms, tossing the garment aside with a negligent flick.

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nbsp; Locking eyes, she made fists in the open angles of his shirt and pulled him down to her. He divested himself of shoes and slacks with two smooth motions of his hands and legs, coming down between the spread of her thighs like he belonged there.

  Like he'd been there before.

  Kate found his mouth for another round of kisses and went after the bands in his hair, pulling both free so that the length spilled freely around his back and sides. And then with one single thrust, he was inside her. He wasted no time with tender touches and reciprocating use of his tongue. As close as she'd thought he was moments before to climax, he proved he had impressive staying power well above and beyond it. With expert circling rotations and a pelvis jarring pounding of his hips, he took her higher and higher, until she clawed at his back with her nails and cried his name—his name—to the rooftops. She came undone at the same time he did, mingling desperate kisses and panting moans, riding out the aftershocks together.

  He remained in her and above her, lowering only his head to touch his temple to her collarbone. Kate wrapped him in her arms, enjoying the hot feel of his body over her own. A few shudders jittered through her limbs when he nipped her throat directly above her pulse.

  “At least you got the right name this time,” he rumbled.

  Kate gasped. How could he say that at a time like this?

  He lifted his head, grinning in the way men did in the afterglow of good sex. Languid, lazy, sated.

  Detecting an easing in him over that issue, Kate relaxed and exhaled with relief. That had been such a bone of contention between them.

  “And you didn't awkwardly stop right in the middle,” she teased back. If he could do it, she could.

  He laughed. “Not on your life.”

  “But you did leave a lot of foreplay on the table,” she said, extending the tease. Kate found herself hungry to know all of Chayton. All the facets of his love-making and his personality in these more private, quiet times.

  He arched a brow, looking amused, then gently disengaged himself from her and rolled onto his side. “What do you think the rest of the night is for?”

  “Oh.”

  “Unless, you know, you decide you don't want to--”

  “I never said that! Let's not get hasty.” Kate laughed and rolled onto her side, too, facing him across the bed. Only a few inches separated their bodies.

  “That's what I thought. We just took the edge off.” Shaking with quiet mirth, Chayton draped an arm over her waist and pulled her closer to his body.

  Kate went gladly and helped herself to several kisses against his chest. She knew this was a brief reprieve. They still needed to talk about the other things. About Anton and her situation. For now, however, everything felt right. She wouldn't dredge up that conversation just when they'd found peace.

  Chayton proved he was no slouch in the foreplay department later in the evening; twice more he loved her, showing her heights of ecstasy she'd only dreamed of. He introduced her to the bliss of taking it slow, of restraint and then release, and he also had her hard and fast, leaving his name as a scream on her lips.

  At three-thirty in the morning, after a brief nap, Kate woke to the light patter of rain on the roof. A phosphorous glow fell in the windows, giving her just enough light to see Chayton sprawled on his stomach in the bed, the sheets jumbled low around his wicked hips.

  Resisting the urge to wake him with a kiss, she slipped free of the covers and got to her feet. She could feel him in every part of her body, the ache especially noticeable between her legs. Kate stared down at Chayton, watching him breathe. In the vague illumination, she could make out the hard contour of muscle along his back and shoulders. He was beyond handsome, with his dark skin and long hair that she'd grown oh-so attached to in the last few hours. It made him seem more masculine somehow, a little more savage in contrast to his normally quiet ways.

  Now, more than at any other time since she'd known him, Kate couldn't abide the thought that Anton might take his animosity and greed out on Chayton. She couldn't risk Chayton's life for money.

  And that's all Anton was interested in. Money.

  Departing the bedroom, she padded through the darkness to her own. Finding underclothes first, then a pair of standard jeans and a blue tee shirt, she dressed without a care for the weather. She hadn't planned on rain, so when she exited the house it was barefoot instead of in flats or heels.

  Following the concrete sidewalk as it meandered away from the house, she tried to figure out where to find Anton. He, like all the other guests, had to be in one of the beach houses. But which one? Blinking raindrops from her lashes, Kate followed the path all the way to the clubhouse, which was closed now despite the soft yellow light coming from the windows. The party had probably lasted until one, perhaps two. But this late, all the guests were back at their respective rentals.

  Brushing wet strands of hair from her forehead, Kate continued past the clubhouse, taking the right path at a fork in the sidewalk. The beach houses, tucked into secluded pockets of lush foliage for privacy, spread out on three sides of the clubhouse, were arranged so that each had a view of the ocean and shore frontage.

  Kate suspected that to find Anton, she first had to let his men find her. And that meant being seen. She got no further than four more beach house lengths when sudden pressure at her elbows let her know she had company.

  “You're either brave or stupid, I can't decide which,” the man at her left said. He, along with his companion, 'escorted' her along the path back the way she'd come.

  Kate resisted the urge to fight them off. This is what she'd ultimately wanted. This would get her what she needed in the end.

  “You don't have to manhandle me. I want to talk to Anton, so just point me in the right direction.” Calm and collected, Kate allowed the henchmen—probably the same ones she'd been running from last week—to lead her up to a beach house door.

  “We'll make sure you're inside before we leave off,” the man said with a grunt.

  Kate wrested her elbows free of their grip, mentally preparing herself for what she wanted to say to Anton.

  The door opened. Anton stood there in a silk robe of navy blue, a cigar between his fingers. He stepped back and gestured her inside, mouth tilted into a smirk.

  Kate wanted to slap the expression off his face.

  Stepping inside, dripping all over the expensive tile entryway, she cast a quick look around. The residences were constructed pretty much the same, with elegant living areas, modern kitchens and two large bedrooms. Some models had three, she thought.

  “Well, well,” Anton said, shutting the door after a terse bit of conversation in Italian to the bodyguards. “I must say, I didn't quite expect to see you on my doorstep after the dramatic exit you made with your –husband.”

  “So you saw that.” Kate didn't move beyond the living area, and she didn't sit down. Her clothes were too wet, even then dripping onto the hardwood floor.

  “Everyone saw it. Sit down, sit down—or would you rather I get you something of mine to put on instead of those deplorable wet clothes?” He gestured with the hand holding the cigar.

  Kate would have rather eaten a shoe than worn anything of Anton's. “I'm not staying, so I'm fine as I am.”

  Anton arched a brow, as if humoring her. “You won't mind if I sit, I'm sure.” He stepped past, brushing too close to her arm.

  Kate turned away from the contact, still facing him. “I'm here to make you a deal. One you can't refuse.”

  Anton, laughing a coarse, grating laugh, sank into the cushions of a couch. His robe opened along the front, exposing a healthy length of masculine leg. “Does it begin with you annulling this ridiculous farce of a marriage? Really, Katherine, I'm surprised you went to these lengths. If it's actually authentic.”

  “Kate,” she corrected. “No, it begins with me calling my accountant and having a million dollars transferred to your bank account. Once I return home safely, I'll have another million deposited.”

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bsp; Anton paused bringing the cigar to his mouth. Surprise flickered across his features. “Well, you're pulling out all the stops. It's a grand gesture, one I'm sure some other man might take. But as you know, I'm not other men, and two million barely scratches the surface of what I need.”

  Two million dollars was a lot of money. Yet it was a drop in the bucket to what Kate knew her mother had stashed away after years of saving and investing. Yet how much was too much? Kate hated buckling to the pressure as it was, and only concern for Chayton's safety—and her own—made the offer to pay Anton off palatable.

  “Two million is as high as I'll go. You should be thankful, Anton. Not many people would do such a thing after what you've done to me. Take it or leave it.” Kate fretted making that kind of stand. Anton loved a challenge above all else, and he might view it as exactly that rather than a simple ultimatum.

  “Or what? Katherine,” he said, in a voice that suggested he knew using her full name would drive her crazy, “I don't think you've thought the whole thing through. You've brought yourself to me after giving my men the run around in Singapore, and after this pretend marriage. In doubt of the authenticity, I'm having someone find out if it's legal, and even if it is, you've in effect 'given' yourself to me, so you won't be leaving any time soon.”

  “Hardly. The only person I've given myself to is my husband. I can save you the time and energy and tell you my marriage is as legal as any other. You won't get a dime from me unless I willingly give it to you. That's why you should take my offer, and seek some other heiress who actually wants you. Because I don't, and I will not ever give myself to you.” Kate made her declaration and turned toward the door. She was unnerved beneath her caustic exterior, afraid that somehow, Anton would wrest the upper hand away from her. She'd offered him an exorbitant amount of money, which amounted to nothing more than blackmail on his part.

  “Katherine.”

  She paused before the door, one hand on the knob, to look back. It was the way he'd said her name.