by Maisey Yates
“How much was your bid?” he repeated.
She gave him a figure that made his brows raise. They reached the back table and she dashed off a check and handed it to the woman manning the station.
“Would you like it delivered, Señora Vega?”
Hannah nodded. “I would, thank you.” She bent and scribbled his address on a piece of paper. “To this address, please.”
Eduardo took his own checkbook out and wrote a check for double what Hannah had bid on the painting. “I would like to add a contribution,” he said, setting it on the table.
She lifted a brow but didn’t say anything until they walked away. “Big man,” she said.
“It’s for a good cause, Hannah.”
“Yes, but you mainly did it to show me up.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want people thinking you had to be the one to bid and pay.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. I’m your husband, I’m supposed to take care of you.”
She raised a brow and pursed her lips. “Oh, really. Well, all right then. I’m just glad you donated.”
“Are you ready to go?”
She nodded. “If you are.”
“I was ready to leave before we got here.”
She laughed and took hold of his arm, giving little finger waves to everyone they passed by. “Don’t look like such a storm cloud.”
He forced a smile. “Better?” he asked.
“Much better,” she said through her teeth.
They took a car back to his penthouse and she didn’t make a mention of her favor the whole ride there. She was uncharacteristically quiet. Hannah was not known for her quiet.
When they got inside she leaned against the door, staring off into space, chewing her bottom lip.
“You must be tired,” he said.
“A bit.”
“Me, too. I’m going to head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, Hannah.” After tonight, with her in that dress, with all of the touching and teasing that had happened at the charity event, it took every ounce of his strength to keep from going and kissing her.
“Wait,” she said, just as he turned his back.
“What is it?” He turned to her, his heart pounding heavily.
“You still owe me a favor.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HANNAH felt like she was going to shake apart. At least, the shaking seemed to be happening from the inside out. There was small consolation in the fact that when she pushed off from the door and took a step toward him, her limbs didn’t tremble.
“You’re not getting out of it so easily,” she said.
“Granting you your favor?”
She nodded, still not quite sure how she was going to execute the next part of her plan. Not quite sure when it had become her plan. She was hazy on the whole thing. But sometime between putting the huge figure down on her auction sheet and getting in the car with Eduardo, his heat so close to her she felt like she was burning up, she’d decided that her favor was going to involve getting him back into her arms. Back into her bed.
To what end? Oh, that she wasn’t sure about.
About the only thing she was sure about was how much she wanted him. And she was ready to act on it.
“First things first, how much did you have to drink tonight?” she asked.
He lifted his chin, one dark brow lifted. “Why?”
“I’m stone-cold sober, a side effect of pregnancy, and I refuse to take advantage of a drunk man.”
“I’m as sober as you are.”
She nodded. “Excellent.” She sounded so calm. Her voice was odd to her own ears because it simply didn’t match the jittery, fearful excitement that was rolling through her body. She looked around the penthouse, trying to plan her next move, trying to figure out what to ask him to do.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. She wasn’t planning it. She was just going with what she wanted.
The idea of Eduardo as her personal playground was fairly enticing. The idea of getting just what she wanted from him. No-holds-barred access. She was on board with that.
She walked toward him, her heart pounding hard. “Take off your tie.”
He raised his hand to the red knot at the base of his throat and paused. “Is that the favor? Because I was going to do this up in my room anyway.”
“No. My favor comes in stages.”
“Is that allowed?”
She smiled, a flush of warmth suffusing her. “Maybe not. But I’m up for a little rule breaking. How about you?”
He didn’t move and for a moment, she was afraid he would say that he wasn’t in the mood to break any rules. That they needed to keep things bland and passive and safe between them.
Then he started working the knot on the tie, the bit of red silk sliding down the front of his black jacket and pooling on the floor. He stood, waiting. For another command.
“Jacket,” she said.
He obeyed.
“Now your shirt.”
She watched, her heart in her throat as he undid the buttons at his cuffs, then worked the buttons at the front of the shirt, consigning it to the floor, as well. She was happy for the chance to look at him with the light on, to really take in the sight of his body. The sculpted, well-defined muscles, his broad masculine frame.
Just looking at him made her breasts ache, her nipples tighten. She’d never wanted like this. Never before him, never in the years during their separation. She knew she never would again.
He put his hands on his belt and her eyes fell to the very clear outline of his erection. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Not yet.”
He removed his hands. His eyes glittering in challenge. He was enjoying the game, she could tell. But she was also willing to bet he was waiting for the right moment to reverse it.
The thought sparked a flicker of heat low in her belly.
“Go sit on the couch.”
He turned and walked toward the couch and she followed, her eyes on his backside.
“Checking me out?” he asked, sitting on the smooth leather couch, draping his arms across the back of it.
“Absolutely. And now I’m trying to decide what to do with you next.”
She put her hands behind her back and gripped the tab of her zipper, lowering it slightly. The strap of her dress slipped, dropped so that the top fell dangerously low, draped over her breast, coming close to revealing the gossamer red bra she had beneath it.
Eduardo’s face tensed, his hands curling into fists. He didn’t move.
She arched and tugged the zipper down farther, letting the dress fall to her waist.
She heard his breath release in a sharp hiss.
“More?” she asked.
“You’re the boss,” he said, teeth gritted.
She smiled and brought the zipper down the rest of the way, letting the dress slide down her hips and pool at her feet. Showing him her thigh-high stockings and matching lace bra and panty set.
She walked over to the couch and sat next to him, his heat warming her, the hunger in his gaze erasing any unease she might feel.
She put her hands on his chest and ran her fingertips over his finely sculpted muscles. And she didn’t want to play games anymore.
“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,” she said, dipping her head and running her tongue over his nipple. He reached up and forked his fingers through her hair, holding her to him.
She pressed a kiss to his stomach, tight and flat, utter perfection. “I’m the luckiest woman alive, no question.”
He laughed hoarsely. “I don’t know about that, but I must be the luckiest man.”
She put her hands on his belt buckle. “I’ve been told my mouth gets me into trouble.”
“I would love to see that for myself,” he said, voice tight.
She smiled and worked at his belt, then the closure of his pants. He helped her pull them off and then he was naked in front of her. She gripped his erection, squeezing, wat
ching his head fall back, reveling in how labored his breathing became.
She leaned in and tasted him, gratified by the harsh sound of pleasure that escaped his lips. She pleasured him that way until he was shaking, until a fine sheen of sweat covered his olive skin.
“Hannah,” he said roughly, “not yet, Hannah. Please.”
She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his stomach. “Not yet?”
“Not like that. I thought I owed you the favor?”
She laughed. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” She straightened and leaned in, kissing him on the lips, deep, passionate, pouring everything into it.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard. He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his dark eyes burning into hers. She felt a response in her chest, a strange tightness that made it hard to breathe. She wanted to cry, and laugh at the same time.
Instead, she kissed him again and he pulled her into his lap, his hands roaming over her curves, mouth and fingers teasing, tormenting, bringing her to the edge and then easing her back, building and retreating, the most perfect torture she could imagine.
She planted her hands on his shoulders, pressing herself tight up against him, his erection teasing her right where she was wet and ready for him.
He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, trailed a line with his tongue down to where the flimsy lace bra met the rounded curve of her breasts.
At the same time, he pushed his finger beneath the lacy edge of her panties and slid the tip of it over her clitoris, the strokes sending white heat through her, ramping up her arousal. She whimpered, tucked her head against his neck, kissing him there.
“I can’t wait anymore,” she said, her voice shaking. Gone was the control, the steadiness. She didn’t have any of it now. She was too filled with her need for him to think, or seem cool. To wait to get the rest of her clothes off, her shoes off.
He tugged her panties to the side and pushed up inside of her. She gasped and arched against him as he filled her. The race to the peak was furious and fast. Eduardo gripped her hips pulling her down onto him as he thrust into her, his movements hard, lacking in finesse, utterly perfect.
She didn’t want his control, because she didn’t have any. She didn’t want evidence of practiced sexual technique. She didn’t want anything but him, out of control and just as dizzy with need for her as she was for him. She moved against him, tension drawing tight as a bowstring inside of her until it snapped, releasing her, letting her fall over the edge into bliss, her pleasure washing over her, leaving her spent, consumed in the aftermath.
He thrust up into her one last time, his fingers biting into her flesh, her name a harsh groan on his lips as he found his release.
He rested his head against hers, his breath harsh and hot, fanning over her cheek. Her arms wrapped around his neck, he lifted his hand, pushing her hair, which had come completely unpinned, from her face. His hands were shaking.
She leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder and he held her. While she held him. She never wanted to move. She just wanted to rest with him. She realized that the lights were on, bright and revealing. That she’d just lost her composure in his arms, utterly and completely, and that she wasn’t embarrassed at all.
She’d been so afraid of a moment like this. Of being without her trappings. Without her makeup, and sleek hair. Without that suit of armor she kept on at all times. Keeping herself under tight control so that she would never, ever become that wild, stupid girl she’d been when she was growing up.
But she suddenly realized that she wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d changed. She wasn’t just stomping her down, or covering her up. But she had been holding down the real Hannah Weston. Choking the life out of her because she was so afraid.
So afraid of what? Of being hurt. Of caring.
Of loving.
And now, here she was, with the one man who knew her secrets, caring. Caring so much she felt as if it was pouring from her like blood. But she didn’t feel as if it was running out, didn’t feel as if it was leaving her weak.
She felt stronger than she had in a long time. Maybe stronger than she ever had. And she wasn’t dressed for a business meeting; she wasn’t giving someone the steely eye. She was mostly naked, curled up against Eduardo, on the edge of tears.
“Do you need me to move?” she asked, inhaling deeply, the scent of him filling her, making her chest feel like it was expanding.
“No,” he said, tightening his hold on her.
“Mmm … good.” She kissed his neck again. “I suppose things have the potential to get complicated now. But, on the plus side, the sex between us is very good.”
He laughed, shaking beneath her, the low rumble sending a little thrill of pleasure through her. “You could say that.”
“That will work, though. This will work.”
“Hannah, you think too much. And at the moment, I can’t think at all.”
“Okay, I’ll stop thinking.” She shifted to the side and he put his hand on her stomach. She looked down at where his palm was, spread over her pale skin.
They looked up, eyes clashing, her heart squeezed.
“When I look at your face I keep expecting to see the girl I first met five years ago,” he said. “In fact, I was counting on it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought that by bringing you back … I thought if I had you back in my house, in my office, in my life, I might remember what made me blackmail you into marrying me in the first place. The height of my entitlement. An act that so epitomized who I used to be. I thought if I could understand it, feel it again …”
“You were trying to go back,” she said.
“Yes. But it didn’t work, Hannah. Because I don’t see you the same way now. Everything then … everything I was … it was about how it could benefit me. How people could be used to make my life more comfortable. More entertaining. I looked at you and saw a chance to play a game. Now I look and I see you. The real you.”
Hannah blinked, trying to stop her eyes from stinging. “I think you’re the only one who ever has.”
He lifted his hand and looked down at her stomach, a faint frown visible on his face. He traced one faded, white line with the tip of his finger.
“Stretch marks,” she said, for once not feeling cagey or weird about the past. “I got them pretty bad with … with him.”
“Signs of your strength,” he said, his voice rough.
“Or my weakness.”
“Never that, Hannah. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Everyone makes mistakes, but it takes someone truly great to go on and succeed in spite of them.”
“I always think I succeeded because of them,” she said, voicing a thought she’d never spoken out loud before. “Because getting pregnant the first time forced me to look at myself. To realize I was no better than my parents, who I despised so much. That I was just as irresponsible. That I would repeat the cycle unless I did something to break out of it.”
“You did.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.” More than that though, she felt like she’d only just really broken out. Yes, she’d gone and gotten an education. And yes, she’d gone and made money. But until this very moment, she doubted that she’d ever really cared for anyone. She doubted she’d ever loved.
She looked up at Eduardo again. She did now. She loved him.
“I …” She found she couldn’t speak.
“I think it’s time we took this to bed,” he said. “And you can lose the shoes.” He reached down and disposed of her spiky black heels. “The rest I’ll be happy to take care of for you.”
He lifted her up and she held on to him tight, unable to take her eyes off him, unable to stop turning over the immense, tender feeling that was spreading from her chest through the rest of her body.
She loved Eduardo. Love was different than she’d imagined.
It was better.
Two weeks passed and every night, Ed
uardo had Hannah in his bed. Every day, he tried to go to work and concentrate on what he was supposed to do. Sometimes he was more successful than others. He wasn’t sure how much of it to blame on his new, unimproved brain and how much to blame on Hannah herself.
She was soft as silk, pale and perfect. The image of her, the thought of how her skin felt beneath his fingertips, seemed to invade his mind constantly. The taste of her, the overwhelming sensation of right when he slid inside of her wet heat.
Even now, as they waited at the exclusive doctor’s office, his thoughts were on what was beneath the yellow silk dress she was wearing. Well, his thoughts were bouncing back and forth between that, and the health of their baby.
She was getting things confirmed today and it was enough to have him on edge. The pregnancy had been unintentional, but as they walked into the plush office he felt everything in him seize up and the realization of how important the baby had become to him hit him fully.
The nurse left them in the room and Hannah slipped out of her clothes, tugging a white linen hospital gown on over her body before lying back on the bed.
“Feeling good?” he asked, moving to stand by her head.
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes wide. She looked nervous. The sight made his heart wrench up tight. He wasn’t used to Hannah being nervous. Lately she’d been … softer. Not in an emotional wreck kind of way, but in a way that made her seem more real. More human. A way that made him want to protect her, shield her from the world. A way that made him want to hold her close and never let her go.
The doctor came in a few moments later and explained the Doppler machine to him before lifting Hannah’s hospital gown and squirting a bit of clear gel onto her flat stomach.
“I see this isn’t your first pregnancy, Hannah,” Dr. Cordoba said.
Hannah shook her head. “No.”
“Everything healthy with the last one?”
“Yes,” Hannah said, her voice strong. Eduardo wanted to hug her. Kiss her. Tell her how brave she was.
“Good. Very good to know.” The woman put the Doppler on Hannah’s stomach, moved it lower. It made a kind of strange, white noise sound, changing slightly as she adjusted position.