Sweet Ultimatum

by Naima Simone

  The aroma of fresh coffee permeated the kitchen. Instead of rising from the table and pouring a cup, Caitlin leaned back in the chair, her head tipped back and eyes closed. So many secrets. So much at stake.

  And she had the sinking feeling it was all going to come crashing down around her.

  Chapter Two

  “Hello, Caitlin.”

  Caitlin Madison’s eyes drifted close as if she could shut out the sound of that familiar voice. She shivered. How could she have forgotten the erotic power it wielded? The dark timbre wrapped her in its sensual embrace and whispered wicked promises she knew he was more than capable of delivering on. Who was she kidding? She choked back a bitter laugh. She’d never forgotten.

  “Come now, sweetheart,” Selig Richardson chided behind her, the soft chuckle and heavy sarcasm making a mockery of the endearment, “you can’t even turn around and give me a proper hello? I’m disappointed.”

  Yeah, right. Steeling herself, she opened her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, allowing the mask she’d adopted over the last six years to drop into place.

  “Selig,” Caitlin turned to him, the black satin of her skirt swishing around her calves, “it’s good to see you again.” See-lic. She savored the unique flavor of his name and rolled it silently on her tongue.

  Around her the low and steady drone of the wedding guests blurred together with the soft, muted notes of Kenny G until even they faded into nothingness and only the frantic beating of her heart remained. She struggled to keep the unaffected charade intact while her dry mouth, damp palms and thundering pulse mocked her efforts.

  God, he was beautiful.

  Her body quickened to painful life, awakening from its long slumber. Molten heat snaked a devastating trail from breasts gone heavy with arousal to pool between her thighs. Evidence of her excitement gathered on the swollen folds of her sex. The blood rushed through her veins and in that moment she felt more alive than she had in years. Six years to be exact. Unfair. Her fingers curled into fists at her side. So damn unfair that her body responded like Pavlov’s dogs at just the sight of him.

  He still had the face of an angel. The gleaming chocolate brown wings of hair framing his face were new. The short curly locks from all those years ago were gone, instead falling in heavy waves to his chin. Still, the dark slash of eyebrows, the exotic golden gaze, sharply hewn cheekbones and carnal mouth were the same. Damn, that mouth. She remembered well the havoc those full, wicked lips wielded with sinful skill. Angelic, his countenance may be, but he exuded the intense sexuality of Lucifer himself.

  “Really,” he drawled. With a sudden shift of his body, Selig leaned closer, his lips hovering over her ear as if to impart a secret. “How pretty you lie, Caitlin,” he whispered, the dark strands of his hair brushing her cheek, the firm fullness of his lips caressing the shell of her ear. “Then you always could do pretty things with those lips.”

  A hot fist of lust punched the breath from her lungs. Her dream slammed into her. Her lips stretched around his erection, sucking it deep. Her tongue stroking the sensitive skin beneath the throbbing hood. Her thighs clenched.

  Her fingers curled into tight fists at her side, the fingernails biting into the tender flesh of her palm. The sharp bite of pain gifted her with enough clarity and focus to maintain the façade of aloof calm she schooled her features into.

  “No reply?” Selig stepped back, amusement quirking a corner of his mouth. The humor did not reach the piercing, hawklike stare burning into her. Not only did Selig share the same eye color as the bird of prey, but like the predator, his sharp gaze missed nothing. It never had. And he would surely glimpse the hunger clawing at her with a ferocity only he had been able to bring to life.

  Caitlin wrenched her eyes away from his, afraid of what they would reveal.

  “I’m not going to bother giving an insult like that a response.” Her voice didn’t tremor, concealing the turbulence of lust and fear whirling inside her like a devastating tornado. She would’ve sent a thankful prayer up to God, but they had been on the outs for a while now.

  “Not an insult, sweetheart. A compliment.” Arousal brightened his gaze. His lashes lowered, taking on a slumberous, sexy expression that set her heart to pounding. The furious pulse vibrated in her clit, the small, sensitive button of flesh swelling against the lace of her thong. Even the slightest movement of her thigh would probably detonate a mini-orgasm and have her on fire for more. Damn. He could almost make her come from a look. One. Look.

  Oh she wanted it. She wanted it bad. The empty releases from her own fingers and sexual toys in the deepest darkness of night couldn’t compare to the almost-orgasm Selig gave her with his eyes alone.

  “Selig!” The rumbling tone of McKenzie “Mac” Dunn’s voice snatched Caitlin from her traitorous thoughts. She could have thrown her arms around her best friend’s new husband and wept with gratitude. Before his interruption, she’d come so close to begging Selig to…to what? Make her come? Touch her and push the loneliness back for one night? Pretend he still loved her? Ignorant to his status of lifesaver, Mac pulled Selig into a backslapping hug, a wide grin splitting his handsome face. “Selig, I can’t believe you’re finally here! I was beginning to give up hope you would make it.”

  Selig’s knowing stare lingered on her one final moment before shifting his attention to his best friend. A sigh of relief eased past her lips. Relief and maybe a taste of disappointment. Damn, she needed therapy. It was as if two people inhabited her body from the moment he’d approached her. And the sex addict that would do anything for a hit of him vied for prominence with the cautious, cool-headed woman who remembered why she broke up with him in the first place—and why that reason remained as valid now as it did that Friday evening six years ago.

  Unlike when Selig looked at her, with Mac his eyes reflected the affectionate smile curving his lips. They weren’t brittle chips of yellow diamonds, but warm sunshine. Selig clapped Mac on the shoulder as he arched an eyebrow high. “And miss the death of your bachelorhood and sanity? Not a chance.” His smile widened, lighting his face as he bent over Alise, Mac’s bride and her best friend. He pressed his lips to Alise’s smooth cheek and a ridiculous spear of jealousy pierced her chest. She felt the sharp loss of his smile and casual affection—both of which used to belong to her.

  “Please,” Alise scoffed, the playful light in her dark brown gaze belying the disdain coating her voice. “I hate to break it to you, but that pretty smile won’t work after that comment.”

  “What if I tell you that you are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen and Mac is beyond lucky to have found you.”

  Alise tapped her pursed lips with a French-manicured fingernail. After a moment of narrow-eyed concentration, her expression cleared, a beatific smile brightening her lovely face. “Flattery will get you nothing except forgiveness.”

  Selig chuckled and brushed another kiss to her cheek. “Fortunately it’s true.”

  “Watch it now, Selig,” Mac grumbled. “I wouldn’t want to bench press you after not seeing you in a while, but hit on my wife one more time and there’s going to be consequences and repercussions.”

  Selig laughed, the dark curtain of his hair falling back to reveal high cheekbones and a strong jaw. A bruising fist gripped her heart at the sight, squeezing a painful breath from her lungs. A tiny hiss of pain escaped her. He used to laugh for her. Long past the time when the heat of sex had cooled, they would talk and tease one another late into the night. She’d never experienced that intimacy with anyone else. And Selig, the person who’d shown her that affection and sharing existed alongside desire, hated her. Oh he’d drawled those sexual innuendoes, yet even now as his glance slid to her over Alise’s shoulder, she could easily read the resentment, anger and bitterness.

  She was well acquainted with those emotions since she saw them every day when she met her own dark brown gaze in the mirror.

  “Consider me duly warned.” Selig held up his hands, palms forward, laughing
in surrender. “When are you two leaving on your honeymoon?”

  “Monday morning. How long do you plan to be in town?”

  “Depends.”

  Her heart stuttered at the smooth reply to Mac’s question as well as the heated glance he leveled on her. The whimper she thought she’d trapped in her throat must have escaped. For Alise shifted the tiniest bit closer and behind the fullness of her skirt, reached out and grasped Caitlin’s hand. The voluminous folds of the wedding dress hid the bracing grip she had on her fingers.

  No! She cried out and the echo of the silent scream bounced against the walls of her mind. She’d convinced herself she could make it through this night with him in the same room, in the same town because he would be gone in a day, possibly two. What the hell did “depends” mean? What could possibly keep him here when he hadn’t stepped one foot in the town limits in six years?

  As if privy to the cry in her head, Selig’s head tilted to the side and he began a slow perusal down her body, taking in the black halter style dress that clung to the curve of breasts she’d always considered too generous and skimmed over her hips. When Alise had selected the figure-hugging dress for her maid of honor, Caitlin had harbored misgivings. Now, with Selig’s golden stare touching every curve revealed by the soft fabric and sexy cut, she secretly delighted in the heat he didn’t bother to hide.

  She inhaled a shaky breath, her breasts lifting with the slight movement. Her nipples beaded under the fabric, his gaze a featherlight stroke over the pebbled tips.

  Selig’s jaw tightened.

  “Mac. Alise. We didn’t have the opportunity to offer our congratulations earlier.” A hard palm pressed against the small of her back. She stiffened under Nicholas Gordon’s hand, recognizing the possessive touch as the familiar, overbearing scent of his cologne enveloped her. Hard fingers curled around her waist and gave a domineering squeeze before releasing her to offer Mac his hand.

  Revulsion crawled over her skin at the slight contact. Worse than the disgust, though, was the fear that spread its icy fingers through her veins, freezing her from the inside out. With herculean effort, Caitlin tapped down the panic that threatened to send her running. Somehow, she maintained her aloof composure, but it didn’t banish her heart from her throat or the nauseating film of fear coating her tongue.

  “Nicholas. Rachel.” Mac greeted the law firm associate and his wife, accepting Nicholas’ outstretched hand. He clasped it briefly and let it go. “Thank you for coming.”

  “We wouldn’t have missed it.” As Nicholas’ black gaze swung to Selig, the pounding in Caitlin’s throat increased until she couldn’t breathe. She squelched the impulse to throw herself between the two men, protecting Selig from the malice so clear in Nicholas’ eyes. “Selig Richardson. It’s been a long time. How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’d like you to meet my wife, Rachel,” Nicholas continued, not put off by Selig’s abrupt reply. “She arrived in town not long after you…left.”

  A heavy, tension-filled silence descended over the small group. With the exception of Rachel, each one knew the circumstances of Selig leaving town—or at least they thought they did. Only Caitlin and Nicholas were privy to the truth behind his departure.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Rachel,” Selig greeted, nodding at the quiet woman.

  “Thank you. Selig, is it? That’s an unusual name.”

  Gracing her with one of his charming smiles that warmed the gold of his eyes, Selig shrugged one broad shoulder. “My mother was a lover of romance novels. The hero in one of her favorites was named Selig. Of course, he was a Viking and I’m—not.” He glanced down his tall body, his hands spread out, inviting Rachel in on the joke with a teasing grin.

  Caitlin could sympathize with Rachel’s dazed expression. Selig was a beautiful man. The honey eyes, sensual mouth and dark wings of hair framing his features incited wicked thoughts and even more wicked desires. Coupled with his magnetism, any woman would be blindsided.

  “Oh I don’t know about that, Selig,” Nicholas drawled, his eyes flickering down at Caitlin. “Vikings had the reputation of taking what wasn’t theirs.”

  The blood drained from Caitlin’s face and she swore the life-giving fluid flowed south, leaving her frigid and shaking. As if from a great distance Alise’s grip tightened on her fingers. She heard Mac’s low curse rumble across the expanse of space that seemed to yawn between her and the others. Twisting her wrist, she freed herself from her best friend’s hold and stumbled back a step.

  Never show weakness. Never…

  Righting herself, she faced all of them—and none of them. The cool, emotionless façade that had served her well over the years dropped into place. Her eyes focused on a distant point between Selig and Mac’s shoulders as she clasped her trembling fingers in front of her. “If you’ll excuse me, please.”

  Not waiting for a reply, she whirled around and wound her way through the throng of guests, not stopping until she reached the dimly lit hallway and the relative safety of the shadows.

  Barely noticing which door she pushed through, Caitlin rushed into the empty quiet of Mac and Alise’s library. The silence wrapped around her, offering blessed comfort and solace.

  In slow, measured beats of her heart, the panic ebbed. But the old companions of bitterness and resentment lingered. Six years ago, she’d been forced to give up the man she loved. She’d stared him straight in the eye and lied, pushing him out of her life forever. Caitlin had sentenced herself to a life of loneliness and a gaping emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing year. Or so she’d thought until moments ago. Now, by some cruel twist of fate, Selig had reappeared and it could be the death of them. Literally.

  * * * * *

  Selig watched Caitlin walk away.

  The smooth caramel expanse of skin bared by the backless dress taunted him like a red flag enrages a bull. He knew that skin up close and personal. His lips had traced each vertebra. His tongue had tasted the perspiration that had rolled down her back as he’d plunged his cock deep into the sweetest pussy he’d ever known. Thanks to the dreams that tormented him these past six years, he’d never forgotten the wet, tight clasp of her sex. Fuck the dreams. He wanted reality now. He would have reality now. Molars locked into a hard grind, he clenched his fingers into fists at his side and fought back the urge to charge after her.

  Not yet. Oh he would find her. She couldn’t escape him that easily. Not yet. He returned his attention to Nicholas Gordon. Nicholas. He wanted to snarl the name, smash something. He’d hated only one person in his life. And that person was Nicholas.

  “You have it all wrong, Nick.” Selig arched an eyebrow, allowing the contempt for this man to color his voice. If he thought one comment would slap him down, Nicholas had seriously underestimated him. He’d arrived ready to fight. Spoiling for it. Selig crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. Or rather bared his teeth. “I’ve never taken anything—or anyone—that didn’t want taking.”

  “Enough,” Mac barked, his eyes flashing. Selig flicked a glance at Mac, who glared at him, his brows forming a deep vee. With an imperceptible motion, his friend nodded in Rachel Gordon’s direction. Selig slanted a look at Nicholas’ wife and bit back a curse at the mortification etched into her lovely features. As if she knew exactly what—or who—he and Nicholas referred to.

  Shit, he grimaced, burrowing his fingers through his hair. He needed a damn drink.

  “Mac, Alise, I apologize.” Turning to Rachel, he dipped his head in a gesture of regret. “Rachel, please forgive my rudeness. This isn’t an example of my best first impression.”

  She lifted trembling fingers to rest at her throat, her dark eyes wide and so sad. “It’s fine, Selig. Your apology isn’t necessary.”

  “Unfortunately, it is,” Selig murmured, shame slamming into him for his behavior. Mac and Alise didn’t deserve this. It was their wedding reception for godsakes. Following Caitlin’s example, he dipped his head, excusing himself from the
group. With a sharp turn on his heel, he strode across the room toward the wet bar. After ordering and receiving a beer, he crossed the room to the French doors thrown open wide to the clear night June sky.

  He downed a healthy swallow as he crossed the threshold to the terrace beyond. The sounds of revelry faded to a muffled hum, giving way to the hush of the Bigleaf Maple trees surrounding Mac and Alise’s home. During the day, birds and squirrels would play among the branches, but tonight the stately trees provided a deep, peaceful quiet.

  New Eden, Washington. A Thomas Kinkade painting come to life with its steepled church, town square, lighted lampposts and colonial style homes. Stars twinkled brightly against the dark blanket of the clear Washington sky, their brilliance momentarily awing him. Breathtaking in its loveliness, his hometown beckoned the weary to come rest their heads in her familiar, welcoming arms.

  Damn, he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.

  At one time, the town he’d grown up in had been that haven. He’d returned to New Eden after completing law school at Boston University and worked a couple of years with a firm in the city. Still, he’d been ready to hang his shingle in his hometown and maybe find that woman to marry and start a family with. Well, he snorted, he’d wanted to practice law immediately. The wife and family part he’d been willing to wait on a few years.

  Then he’d bumped into Caitlin Madison. He smiled, humor flickering through his dark mood. He’d almost knocked her down outside the law firm her father partnered at and where he’d been a new associate.

  The rest, he lifted the beer bottle to his lips, the alcohol as bitter as the thoughts in his head, was history.