by Tessa Bailey
“I refuse to lose you ever again.” In a move I didn’t plan, I go down on my knees, running my hands over her hips and kissing her stomach. “You knelt down this morning and begged me to listen. I’m doing the same now.” I lift her shirt and rim her belly button with my tongue. “You going to have mercy on me and give the answer I didn’t? The answer I was too stupid to give?”
“Yes,” she breathes, pushing her lower body toward my mouth. “I’m listening.”
I trail my tongue along the waistband of her jean skirt. “I’m the grateful one. I always will be. As long as I can call you mine.” Tucking my tongue deep into her belly button, I reach down and unzip my pants, the sound making her moan. “You don’t owe me the chance to live my life for you, but I’m asking you to give it to me. As a gift.”
I glide my hands up the backs of her thighs, ending in a tight knead of her ass. “Will,” she says in a husky voice. “Come up here. Please.”
“You want me, woman?”
“Yes.”
On my way to my full height, I bring her with me, levering her off the ground and fucking into her tight body, capturing her cries with a cupped hand. “You were hurt. You were hurt and I couldn’t touch you,” I growl into her hair. “Fair warning, I’m going to spoil you rotten to make up for that shit, Teresa.”
“I love you,” she whispers, taking me off guard and squeezing my chest until I can’t breathe. “Not because of the spoiling. Just because of you.”
“I love you, too.” I lay kisses all over her face, her lips, her head. “That’s what I should have said this morning. I should have picked you up off the goddamn floor and said it until you got sick of it.”
“Never.”
I rear back with my hips and drive her up the wall, earning a close-mouthed scream. “Let’s test that theory.” I’m slamming into her like a madman and I can’t stop. Her legs are wrapped around my hips like ivy, her eyes blind, fingers clutching my shoulders as I work us through the nightmare day we spent apart. A day that could have ended without us together, like this, and just the possibility makes me jerk her legs higher, thrust harder, waiting in agony for her to come before I shove my cock as deep as I can and release in hot, mind-blowing waves, our mouths moving in a frantic kiss…until we’re left groaning each other’s names as the aftershocks pass.
Several moments later, when our immediate fever has cooled, I smile against her temple and she lifts her head, returning it with a drowsy one of her own. “What?”
“Remember that trip to the vet this morning…?”
EPILOGUE
Teresa
Six months later
I lean back against the polished chrome wall of the elevator, catching my reflection on the other side as I race to the forty-second floor. Red-soled stilettos and a shortie trench coat.
Subtle.
Smiling to myself, I slip off my wedding ring and tuck it into the inside pocket of my coat, reminding myself to keep my naked hand out of sight when walking through reception of Caruso Capital Management. I’m a regular fixture at the office, since that’s where I can usually find the love of my life ruling the planet, but Will’s employees are sharp as tacks. The boss’s wife arriving without her walnut-sized rock wouldn’t go unnoticed, and any negative speculation would piss off my husband.
Me? Not much pisses me off nowadays.
Still looking at my reflection, I turn sideways, laughing to myself at the incongruity of a woman on her way to a seduction…while wearing a backpack. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ve been paired up with another student filmmaker for a project in our Fantasy on Film class. We chose to analyze the movie 9 ½ Weeks and so I’ve been watching a young, hot Mickey Rourke boff Kim Basinger all day. Sue me for not wanting to waste time stopping at home to drop off my books.
I arch an eyebrow at my reflection. Maybe I can even work with the backpack.
I’m supposed to meet Will for dinner in an hour—hence the stilettos and fancy coat—but I can’t wait. He’s been working around the clock this week on a deal, which isn’t unusual and he always makes up for extended absences. But I haven’t known him in the biblical sense for a week, and when that happens…I start to want the fantasy.
Something tells me Will knows that.
The elevator dings for the forty-second floor, sending a stampede of wild horses running through my belly, kicking up dust clouds of anticipation in their wake. His mouth will be on me soon. That simple truth turns my nipples to points, makes me shift in my heels. I tuck both hands into my pockets and prepare to exit, knowing eyes sweeping over me as I step out onto the black marble floors of CCM. But those knowing eyes are friendly, too. Most of Will’s employees were at our wedding last month and don’t hesitate to wave at me now from their modern, glass desks, the receptionist sending me toward the corner office with a smile.
The reminder of our Cipriani wedding, along with the incredible opulence of this place, forces me to perform a mental shake. CCM is a far cry from the casual halls of the Film Institute, but somehow I’m comfortable in both places. They’re both important to me. Even Will’s apartment, which is more like a palace, has become far less intimidating than the first time I stepped inside…and tried to run back out.
Only to be caught and carried back inside.
Now it’s home. It’s the place I do my homework. The place I wrestle with Southpaw, take turns cooking dinner with Will, watch the sun set. It’s the place my husband takes me on all fours at the end of a hard day…and makes sweet, slow love to me when I’m tipsy or want to celebrate a good grade. Yes, it’s huge and it has a concierge and a swimming pool—and we’ll probably find something more suited to us someday. But for now, it’s exactly where I want to be.
At first, I was concerned over not being able to contribute to household expenses. What I had saved for film school was laughable compared to Will’s bank account. How could I just live in this enormous palace overlooking Manhattan, not having earned it? Will could see I was anxious, so he took me to his old neighborhood in New Jersey. He walked me down his block and past the boxing gym and through his high school. I know he was reminding me of who he is on the inside—a beast with a heart of gold and a fighter’s soul—and then he proposed to me right there on the dirty sidewalk.
“I didn’t know which man I was. Until you. Now I know I’m both. But I can only see them both clearly when you’re looking at me. Teresa, never stop looking at me. Christ knows I never want to take my eyes off you.” He’d opened the ring box, but I hadn’t been able to tear my focus from his face. Good thing, too, because the size of the diamond might have knocked me on my butt. “None of it means anything without you. Share everything I’ve got. It’s nothing compared to you sharing yourself with me. Marry me, woman.”
After that day, I stopped complaining every time Will brought me home a gift or surprised me with a trip to Milan. Or Antigua. Or—
Point made. I’m spoiled and it’s hard to care when it makes Will so happy. If I ever start to feel like the financial scales are imbalanced, I console myself with the future. When I’ll be directing groundbreaking films and can afford to spoil Will, too.
If there’s one thing in my life that isn’t exactly easy to deal with, it’s missing my brother. I haven’t seen Nicky since the morning after Silas was arrested, when we dropped him off at JFK. Will offered to let him stay with us for as long as he wanted, but my brother seemed…new, somehow. Less loveable screw-up, more determined young man. He was eager to return to Los Angeles and try living on his own. Which would be great. Really. If I didn’t mourn his absence a little every time I saw an angel on television or a greeting card. Or siblings laughing together on the street. We talk on the phone, but he’s busy with school and a new internship, so the calls are rushed. Or I can’t see his expression to know if he’s embellishing or teasing or—
Okay. Being sad is definitely not the way to arrive to a surprise romp with my overworked husband. Thinking of those hoarse sou
nds Will makes when he comes, I’m back in the mood by the time I arrive at his frosted glass office door. I give a light knock.
“Yeah,” comes his muffled bark.
The employees closest to Will’s office share a laugh with me. Will is never going to be the polished businessmen I now know his competitors to be. And I like that just fine. Love it, in fact.
Schooling my features, I open the office door and step inside.
*
Will
Thank God.
My head and chest echo those words when Teresa walks into my office. I’ve needed her for days—her taste, her smile, her touch—but I’ve been going home to grab a quick run and a shower before coming straight back to work, leaving her asleep in bed most of the time. She’s working so damn hard herself at film school, which is the only reason I don’t wake her up with my tongue, even when I’m dying for a lick. If I do that, though, I’ll never leave. Quickies are never enough with Teresa, I always need more, whether we’re going at it again or shit, talking. Not talking and just watching the city lights through the window. Making out in the pool. Everything I do with her is always the best thing I could be doing.
The night my father was arrested, I almost lost the woman I live for, which was horrific enough. But I also found out my mother went behind my back and made Silas her partner, giving him slight—although impactful—control of some of my company funds. It took a lot of cooperation with the SEC and law enforcement to keep those details unpublicized, but eventually it paid off and his name—along with his ill-gotten money—was quietly erased. Silas will be in jail for a long time. My mother is in her own type of prison, however, unsure how to proceed without the hope of a normal relationship. In a way, her signing on Silas as a partner brought Teresa into my life, so I don’t hold it against her. How can I when I’m so fucking happy? Teresa insists on a visit to New Jersey every weekend. And things are starting to change for the better. Last time we went to my mother’s house for Sunday brunch, Teresa taught my mother how to play poker—and pretended to lose. Just another reason I adore my wife like nobody’s business.
Unfortunately, I still haven’t quite made up for my impromptu leave of absence six months ago with my other investors, but I’m damn close. I’m so close to being back on top, and as soon as that happens, I’m going to spend a lot of time on top of my wife.
Fuck. Is this really my wife?
I’m on a conference call with Turkey, a translator chiming in every fifteen seconds to interpret, but I’m having a hard time paying attention now that the blood has drained from my head to behind my zipper. After setting down her backpack, she reaches up to let down her hair and I notice she’s missing her wedding ring. I growl, causing the interpreter to stutter. My head knows Teresa came here to play, but I like having my mark of possession on her. Same way she likes having a gold band engraved with her name on my ring finger. Make no mistake, hers is going right back on as soon as we’re finished.
She unties the trench coat and lets it fall.
There’s a lock mechanism for my office door beneath my desk and I smack it now without looking, engaging the bolt. Because it will be a cold day in hell before anyone sees my wife in nothing but a red lace thong and high heels. My ass flexes without a command, pushing my hard cock up to grind it against the heavy desk drawer. There’s no relief, though. Relief lies only with her—the woman who walked in wearing a backpack—and is standing in front of my desk with a dutiful expression. Waiting.
I’m the one who ordered her, after all.
I flick a glance toward the leather couch and she nods, tossing her hair and giving me a view of her beautiful ass as she clicks toward the furniture. She perches on the middle cushion and crosses her legs, looking nervous. Like a call girl about to learn the ropes. Goddamn.
We don’t act out Teresa’s fantasy every time we’re intimate together. Not even close. But I’ve started to crave it like a motherfucker. Look, I crave anything that makes my wife look at me like I hung the moon. Which is why I’m glad she couldn’t wait for dinner and came here early. I’ve got a surprise in store.
It takes me a few minutes to end the call, but I finally manage it, encouraged by Teresa’s pouting pink nipples. “Pretty sure I just made a less than ideal business agreement so I could get inside your sexy little body sooner,” I say, standing to loosen my tie. “How are you going to make it up to me?”
“Whatever the boss wants,” she murmurs, watching me approach through her eyelashes, her ass shifting on the couch. “My job is to make you happy.”
I stop in front of her and shed my tie, then my jacket. She’s playing it a new way, sending longing looks at my erect dick before glancing away in embarrassment. “They sent me a curious girl, huh?” I reach down and fist myself through my pants. “You want to know what this is going to do to you?”
“Yes,” she breathes, before shaking her head, sending hair falling around her shoulders and tits. “I-I mean, it doesn’t matter. As long as you enjoy it.”
Biting back a groan, I unbuckle my belt and lower my zipper, taking my cock out to stroke it right in front of her pinkening face. “Am I your first appointment, baby?”
Staring at my ready flesh, she nods slowly.
“Then it’s a good thing we have three days together,” I rasp, lowering to my knees in front of her, leaning in to lay a kiss on her stomach. “That should be enough time to teach you what I enjoy. And you’re hiding what I enjoy inside those wet, red panties, hoping for a lick from its first man.”
“Yes…” My wife peeks through the act, looking confused. “I—three days?”
I tug her thong away from her body, grunting at the slick flesh revealed. “That’s right. I’m good for it.”
“But don’t you need to work?”
“I have some business in Los Angeles.” Not wanting to miss her reaction, I press our foreheads together, noting she’s stopped breathing. “You don’t mind coming along, do you?”
“Will?” she whispers. “You don’t really have business in Los Angeles, do you?” A little sob escapes her mouth, cutting me down the middle. “You’re—are we going to see Nicky?”
“Yes.” Her hands fly to her mouth, covering it. “But I didn’t lie. I do have some business to handle.” I run my hands up her smooth thighs, hooking my thumbs in her panties and dragging them to her knees. “There’s a small matter of a gambling parlor I bought and shut down, just in case my woman ever tried to go back there. Turns out, it came part and parcel with a good-sized building. One being eyed by developers.”
She shakes her head. “You’re going into real estate now?”
I smile. “Never rule it out. But I owe a debt to someone and I’m signing over the building to her as payment.”
Her lips part. “Who?”
“Mara, the patron saint of Lays potato chips.” I toss aside her panties and move in to kiss her mouth once, twice, before laughing at her dumbfounded expression. “The one who stood up for you, before I knew you existed. The first piece of your work you showed me was about her—and I never forgot her. Never forgot that she looked out for you, Teresa.”
“Neither did I.” She lets out a hysterical laugh. “Oh my God, Will. You’re—I can’t believe you’re doing this. When are we going?”
“Tonight. Southpaw is coming, too.” I laugh at her squeal. “I only have the long weekend, but soon, baby, I won’t have to work around the clock as often.”
“Doesn’t matter. Three days. Three days is more than I had this morning.” She breathes a whimper. “I love you so much.”
When she launches herself at me, I let her knock me back onto the floor, but quickly roll her beneath me. I clap a hand over her mouth and thrust my cock deep, pressing my own lips together to capture a guttural groan. And just like that, I’m in paradise, fucking my incredible wife on the floor of my office.
“Now, where were we?” I manage, capturing her wrists above her head and grinding myself into her tightness while she squi
rms. “Was I getting ready to put some work experience on your résumé before I burn it and keep you for myself?”
Her back arches on a shaky exhale. “Screw the fantasy.” Our eyes lock and the love shining back humbles me. Makes me ache and feel weightless at the same damn time. “You’re my fantasy, Will.”
“And you’re mine, baby. One I’m going to keep having over and over again.” I rear back and drive into her hard, the tide of my lust rising when her thighs spread wider, wider for me. “Christ, I love you, Teresa.”
“I love you, too,” she gasps into my kiss. “But…did I ever tell you I climbed the balcony and broke into your motel room the day we met?”
Only this woman could make me laugh when I’m ready to explode. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Her upper lip curls, reminding me of a naughty kitten. “A little pit stop in Dallas on the way home might be fun…just for old time’s sake.”
Imagining her screaming up against the door where I first kissed her, I press our heads together and ride her hard. “Done.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am so grateful to everyone who picked up this book! Thank you! I have never self-published before and it’s definitely an exercise in self-doubt sometimes. Luckily, I had the encouragement of some fantastic people to help me along the way. Thank you to Eagle at Aquila Editing for your mad editing skills and support. Thank you to Bailey’s Babes for letting me tease you endlessly with Will, dirty talker extraordinaire. Thank you to my husband, Patrick, and daughter, Mackenzie, for your love, patience and uncanny ability to know when I need to zone out with a notebook and pen. Thank you to photographer Sara Eirew for the incredible cover. Thank you Trish Wrzosek for helping me with veterinary terminology and clarifying Southpaw’s diagnosis. And last but not least, thank you to Rob Kugler whose real life journey with his dog Bella—documented on Instagram—inspired this book. Inspiration truly does come from everywhere.