Spanked by an Angel [Notorious Nephilim 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Carolyn Rosewood

  He took a seat on one of the large cushions and patted the one next to it. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you wanted to leave.”

  She regarded him from her standing position, arms crossed. “I wish I hadn’t said anything about that.”

  “Abigail, I assure you my intentions are strictly as an owner. It’s unusual for our guests to leave after one day, and I simply want to know what happened to make you feel that way.”

  And if it didn’t have something to do with Zach, he’d eat one of these cushions.

  She finally crossed the room and lowered herself onto a cushion, legs crossed. She picked up a smaller pillow, then placed it in her lap and folded her hands on top of it. “I’m not sure where to start, Emmett.”

  “The beginning is always a good place.”

  She brushed a lock of hair from her face as the corners of her mouth turned up. “All right. The beginning. You’ve read my background. You know I’m from money, and you’ve probably already guessed I married Malcolm because it’s what my parents wanted.”

  “Did you love him?”

  She stared at a spot beyond his left shoulder. “Love. That’s an interesting word. We’re supposed to love our parents, and I guess we do, even if we fear them at the same time. We’re expected to love the person we choose to marry, but we’re not expected to fall head-over-heels crazy about the wrong kind of men, whatever that means.”

  “It’s a complicated emotion.”

  “I respected Malcolm for who and what he was. He’s the nephew of Stewart Walters, a partner in the law firm. I took back my maiden name after my divorce.”

  “Was Malcolm also in the firm?”

  “We started dating while he was earning his MBA at Mendoza in Indiana, but we knew each other as kids, of course.”

  “Indiana? But you went to school in Minnesota.”

  “It was a long-distance relationship.”

  “Didn’t you date anyone else in high school or college?”

  She looked into his eyes with a touch of regret. “The wrong kind of men.”

  “Ah, I see.” He nodded.

  “We were married as soon as he graduated. He had a guaranteed job with the firm, of course. It was a lavish fairy-tale wedding with over five hundred guests, most of whom I didn’t know. Friends and associates of our parents.”

  “Sounds like a dream come true. What happened?”

  “Turns out he was a genius with the books, at least as far as it benefitted his bank accounts in the Cayman Islands.”

  Emmett whistled softly. “He stole money from the firm where his uncle and father-in-law were partners?”

  “Oh, it gets worse. He also took off for parts unknown with one of the legal secretaries named Didi. Turns out they’d been having an affair long before he married me. Malcolm always told me sex solved all of life’s problems. It took me a while to realize he meant sex with Didi, not me.”

  “Abigail, I’m so sorry.” Guilt washed over him as he recalled reading her questionnaire and making snap judgments about her background and personality. He’d thought her just another trust fund baby slumming it in Daddy’s company. She was anything but.

  “The night I found out about Didi, he had the audacity to come back to the house and beg my forgiveness. I threw china at him, and he ended up in the ER with…lacerations. But before my father and the other partners could file charges for embezzlement and have him arrested, he signed himself out AMA—against medical advice—and left. The police went to Didi’s apartment with a search warrant, but she was already gone, too. They had the whole thing planned, Emmett.”

  “How did you get your divorce?”

  “My father called in some favors with a judge.”

  “Do you think Malcolm and Didi are in the Caymans?”

  “Probably. But even if they are, we can’t touch them there.”

  “Abigail, I don’t know what to say.” He wanted to hold her, comfort her, but the aura coming from her was stone cold. It was best to let her set the pace right now.

  “There’s nothing anyone can say. He was a lying, cheating bastard, and no one saw it. Or maybe they did and chose to ignore it. I don’t know.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Just shy of three years.”

  “It’s not your fault, you know. You lived with him, and you didn’t see it.”

  “We barely spoke. The marriage was a sham. He only married me to earn my father’s trust. I see that now.”

  “That must have been difficult for you to realize.”

  She played with a loose thread on the cushion. “My parents barely speak except to discuss the next dinner party or social event they have to attend. They even sleep in separate rooms. I assumed all marriages were like that.”

  “I’ve never been married, but not all of them are like that, Abigail. Some people really do find their soul mates and spend their lives in bliss.”

  Her gaze snapped to his face. “Is that so?”

  “It must have been terrible for you to face everyone at work. The stares, the whispers, the conjecture.”

  Abigail tilted her head and stared into his eyes, as if trying to detect something hidden in his words or his voice. “That’s exactly what it was like, Emmett. If not for the fact I had no other job to go to, I would have quit. But my degree is pretty useless, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask my parents for more financial help, so I stayed.”

  “And now you’re here because a coworker told you it would be two weeks of uninhibited fun and no-strings-attached sex.”

  He moved a bit closer, repositioning his body as he did so, hoping she wouldn’t notice the deliberate gesture.

  “That’s pretty much how she put it,” she whispered.

  “But Abigail Emily Cosslin has never let herself go in such a way.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not in my nature, no.”

  “And it’s safer to leave before you actually have some wild and crazy fun.”

  She nodded.

  “Then why come in the first place?”

  “Curiosity.”

  “About what?”

  Her perfume mixed with the incense rendered Emmett unable to form a coherent thought. He was usually adept at reading when a woman was ready for physical contact, but he couldn’t get a handle on Abigail. He hadn’t imagined she’d open up this much so soon, but something else still lingered, unspoken and hidden. He wasn’t entirely convinced her denial of having spoken to Zach again last night was the truth.

  “We all have fantasies, Emmett.”

  “Is that what you’re curious about, Abigail? Exploring your fantasies?”

  Chapter Seven

  Abigail stood up and took a deep breath, hoping it would clear her head. Why had she told him so much? What was it about him that made her want to spill all her secrets and start telling him childhood memories?

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Emmett.”

  He was behind her, his strong hands on her shoulders and his breath warm against her neck. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “I believe you. That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then tell me what I can do to help.”

  Zach had said nearly the exact same thing last night. “Why are you afraid of your fantasies, Abigail? Tell me what I can do to help you relax and enjoy me.”

  She had to tell him about Zach. If she didn’t, he’d find out anyway, wouldn’t he? Surely Zach would say something. Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked into his ice-blue eyes.

  “He didn’t insult me, but I did speak to Zach again last night.”

  The twitch in Emmett’s jaw made her continue as fast as she could to get the words out before he had a chance to speak. “I woke up and saw him below my windows, near the stables. I only went outside to confront him about what he’d said to me at dinner. He apologized.”

  Emmett raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. It was like he was a different
person.”

  “Did anything else happen?”

  She lowered her gaze. “We took a sleigh ride.”

  Emmett didn’t say anything for long seconds, and when Abigail raised her gaze again, a wicked grin graced his handsome face. His mouth twitched as though he were trying not to laugh.

  “Tell me I’m wrong, Abigail.”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m stunned, and that doesn’t happen very often.”

  “I’m sorry. I sent you away last night and then ended up in bed with Zach instead.”

  “Oh no, don’t you dare. You don’t owe me an apology. But it couldn’t have been that great if you wanted to leave this morning.”

  “Emmett, stop that.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face, a combination of fake hurt and lust. “I said something to him this morning that…I think it hurt him, and I feel terrible. That’s why I wanted to leave. I just can’t seem to do anything right.”

  Her stomach rumbled, the sound too loud in the quiet room.

  “Tell you what. I’ll order in some lunch, and you can tell me the rest of the story, okay?”

  “You must have better things to do than listen to my sob stories.”

  Emmett pulled her into his arms, stunning her into silence. His rock-hard erection pressed against her lower abdomen, conjuring images of them on the cushions in this room, naked and sweating.

  “Now you listen to me, Abigail Emily Cosslin. I will not have you playing the martyr for the remainder of this day. Do you understand me? You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. You have every right to fuck Zach or me if you want to, without having to apologize for it. And you are not to put yourself down. Are we clear on that?”

  She stared at his full mouth, wondering if he kissed as well as Zach did. Her gaze swept lower to the hint of dark stubble on his chin. As she imagined him rubbing that chin across her nipples, her clit began to ache. Oh shit. She wanted to fuck him, right here in this room, all day long. What the hell was happening to her?

  A second loud rumble from her traitorous stomach broke the spell. He released her, sauntered over to a phone on the wall, and spoke into it. She sat on the cushion and hugged her knees, fighting against the guilt and shame that kept trying to surface.

  Sex with Malcolm had been a reflection of her entire marriage—a constant barrage of verbal insults and admonitions about everything she was doing wrong. Nothing she said or did was ever good enough for him. He only married her because of who her father was. She knew that. If she was being honest, she’d always known it.

  “Food will be here in five minutes. You have that faraway look again.” Emmett sat across from her, his eyes filled with concern.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Okay. Let’s change the subject. Tell me something about you that’s not on the questionnaire. A good memory.”

  Good memories, did she have any? She bit her lip as several scenes from her childhood flashed through her mind, but inevitably they morphed into one of her parents admonishing her for not sitting up straight at the dinner table, or for getting her clothes dirty.

  The music playing in the background reminded her of Zach’s humming this morning. Cello playing seemed a neutral topic. “I’ve recently started playing the cello again.”

  “Really? Did you play as a kid?”

  She nodded. “I started taking lessons in grade school.”

  “You must be very good.”

  “I never practiced. It was something I loved to do, but by the time I was ready to get serious about it, the timing just wasn’t right.”

  Why did everything come back to Malcolm? She didn’t want to think about him anymore. She wanted to know more about Emmett and the others and this resort.

  “Now it’s your turn,” she said. “Tell me something about yourself.”

  “Well, I don’t play a musical instrument. That distinction belongs to Reeve, Niko, and Zach.”

  Abigail closed her eyes for a second. He hadn’t been lying. Zach did play the cello. “Reeve and Niko are also owners?”

  “Yes. Reeve Neville is a percussionist. In fact, if you stick around, you’ll be able to hear him play tomorrow night. We’re having an eighties party, and he’s part of the band.”

  “Sounds like fun. Will Niko and Zach also be performing?”

  “Niko will. He plays bass guitar. But Zach is strictly classical music. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you he’s also a cello player. Or did the subject not come up?”

  Emmett grinned like the Cheshire cat, while Abigail’s stomach gave a lurch. She had to find Zach and apologize.

  “He did tell me, but I didn’t believe him. I accused him of saying that as part of…part of the act.”

  “The act?”

  “Of seducing the guests.”

  “Ouch. Although, it’s only fair considering how he treated you last night at dinner.”

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t say that. You should have seen the look on his face. I feel terrible about what I said.”

  “I’m sure he knows you didn’t mean to be cruel.”

  Abigail was about to say she didn’t agree when the door opened, and the smell of pasta and garlic sent thoughts of Zach away for the moment.

  “Hope you like Italian food,” said Emmett, directing her to a small wooden table in one corner.

  He poured the wine while Abigail tasted the pasta.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t know about the party. We have them all the time. That information should have been e-mailed to you when your reservation was confirmed.”

  “It probably was, and I just didn’t read that part.” Abigail didn’t want to tell him she’d had second thoughts about coming and had nearly e-mailed back to cancel as soon as the confirmation arrived. They ate in silence for several minutes, and Abigail’s plate was nearly empty before Emmett spoke again.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask if you liked it.”

  “I don’t usually eat that fast, but the food here is heaven.” The fact she’d eaten only a piece of toast for breakfast contributed to her ravenous appetite.

  Emmett’s grin and the sudden look in his eyes were both bittersweet and amused. “People always say that about delicious food. That it’s heaven.”

  “What should they say instead?” She took a sip of wine, studying his face. He and Zach were both gorgeous men, but Emmett’s face had more of a boyish quality to it, as though he’d never quite grown up.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just find it humorous that people compare an eternal plane to a well-prepared dish, that’s all.”

  “An eternal plane? You sound like a priest or something.”

  Emmett placed his hand over his heart as his eyes widened in mock horror. “Abigail, bite your tongue. I assure you I’m as far from priest material as a man can possibly be.”

  “Good thing, considering the looks the guests give you.” She drained her glass and watched him fill it again, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  “You almost sound jealous, Abigail Emily Cosslin.”

  “Not jealous. Just curious.”

  “About what, exactly?”

  She glanced around the room, spotted a door that said Restrooms, and rose from the chair. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

  Once inside the sanctity of the ladies’ room, she took care of business, then unwrapped a toothbrush and brushed her teeth. They thought of everything here. She wouldn’t be surprised to find a bedroom tucked away somewhere in these hallways, complete with his-and-hers PJs.

  When she returned, their plates had been cleared away, and Emmett reclined on a cushion with a fresh bottle of wine. His gaze held hers as she walked slowly toward him and took the glass from his hand. The wine went straight to her head. His scent combined with the musky aroma of the candles and incense until everything melted away as it had yesterday outside the dining room. The only things she saw clearly were Emmett’s eyes.

  “Now tell me what it is about me that’s
piqued your curiosity.” His voice was low and sexy, sending shock waves of desire straight to her soaking wet pussy.

  “What you’re like in bed.” The second the words were out of her mouth, she was seized with a compulsion to clamp her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not? Is it a lie?”

  She shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from his.

  “There’s one way to find out, Abigail.”

  Chapter Eight

  Emmett took the glass from her hand and placed it on the floor. He inched his pillow forward until their knees touched, then cradled her face in his hands.

  “I would very much like to make love to you, Abigail Emily Cosslin. Please say yes this time.”

  “Yes.”

  His lips moved over hers as though he were in no hurry. She moaned, opening her lips to let his tongue inside. The kiss went on forever, deepening her desire for him. Her entire body trembled, and his hands on her face burned. If he didn’t touch her body soon, she’d explode from need.

  Moving her hands down his back, she fingered each rippling muscle through the fabric of his sweater, imagining him naked. Yet still he didn’t move his hands from her face. His tongue continued a slow, sweet assault inside her mouth. She’d never been kissed so perfectly and with so much passion.

  She didn’t know how she ended up on her back with him on top of her, but it hardly mattered anymore. His hands finally moved from her face to her hair, caressing gently, as she wrapped her legs around his thighs and pushed against the bulge in his jeans.

  When her hands found his ass, he released her mouth and planted soft kisses along her neck until she was panting. “Emmett, please.”

  He didn’t say anything, or ask what she wanted as Zach had done. Abigail realized she wasn’t going to hurry him along, and that only made her want him even more. He sat back on his heels and ran his hands down her breasts, over her abdomen, and back up again several times. His gaze stayed locked on her face.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  Before she could respond, he pulled off her sweater in one fluid motion. She’d worn a bra that hooked in front and was glad she’d done so. As he unfastened it, he grinned.