Storm Redemption

by Magda Alexander

I stride across the room and yank the cover off a chaise lounge from the art deco era. With its fan-shaped back, the sofa calls to mind one of those old Hollywood movies where glamorous starlets draped in pearls and little else reclined on a similar piece. But I don’t need a starlet. The only woman I desire, the only woman I’ve ever loved is standing right here. Lying to me.

  Her lips shape into an ‘o’ of wonder and delight. “It’s beautiful.”

  “So are you.” I stride to her, curl my hand around the nape of her neck. Our gazes clash.

  “Gabriel?”

  Why, I’ve surprised her. I must have hidden my anger well. “What did Sullivan do to you?”

  She licks her lips, a delaying tactic I recognize. “Br-brian did nothing.”

  “You’re lying.” Breathing hard, I lower my head, lick the vein in her throat, taste her the way I’ve wanted to all morning.

  She moans when I mold my hand around her breast. “Ga-gabriel, we can’t. You agreed. No s-sex.”

  Leaning back, I nail her with a glance. “And you agreed to honesty and yet here you are, lying to me.” I lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, lay her down on the couch.

  When I grind against her pussy, a gasp escapes her and her breathing goes ragged. Her mind might want to stick to the plan, but her body? It burns for everything I can give her.

  I lick her earlobe, nibble on it. “Now what will it be, Elizabeth? Truth or sex?”

  For a second she stares at me and then she clenches her hands around my jacket’s lapels. “Sex.” She pulls me into her and gives as much as she gets, biting my lip, seeking entrance into my mouth, hard sucking my tongue.

  Not giving quarter, I lick the seam of her mouth, suckle the bottom lip.

  When a small sigh escapes her, I go in for the kill, invading the hot sweetness of her mouth, tangling her tongue with mine. I savor the sweet taste of syrup and her own inimitable taste. As I grow harder, my hand goes to the edge of her skirt, hitch it up, rip off her panties. I don’t need to touch her mons to know she’s soaking wet. As she always is for me.

  Her legs wrap around my hips, and she jerks up against me. I clamp my free arm around her back, curl my hand around her ass and urge her against me so she understands the strength of my need.

  “Do it, Storm. Fuck me. Hard.”

  “What did Brian do to you?”

  She blinks a couple of times. “N-nothing. He didn’t do anything to me.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Freeing her, I come to my feet.

  She lies on the couch, naked below the waist, her gorgeous pussy in display. Confusion, lust reign in her eyes before she finally understands. Her gaze narrows. “I hate you so much right now.”

  Her scent, her obvious need almost weaken my resolve. But there’s more at stake here than a quick fuck. She must tell me the truth. “Hate me all you want, Elizabeth, but you’re lying to me. And as long as you do, you’ll pay the consequences.”

  “Fuck you, Storm.”

  “Not tonight, love.” I straighten my tie before I stride away and, without saying another word, walk out the door.

  Chapter 11

  ______________

  Elizabeth

  HAVING SURVIVED THE GAUNTLET OF THE RECEIVING LINE at Edward’s homecoming party, I’m enjoying a glass of champagne in a corner of the drawing room. If anybody should ask, which no one will, I don’t have to feed Andrew until morning. And darn it, I’ve earned the damn drink.

  For the past two weeks, I’ve worked hard to make Edward’s welcome celebration a glittering affair. I hand wrote the invitations on cream stationery adorned with the family crest, had them delivered by messenger to our guests, worked with Jorge to create a truly superb menu and with Bentley to make sure everything is perfect. And it is.

  While Gabriel and Edward stand by the door, Brianna and Royce work the room, all of them spouting the same party line. Edward lost his memory and regained it only recently. Once he realized his identity, he flew back to England to be welcomed into the bosom of his family with open arms. Doubt anybody seriously believes that poppycock, but they won’t question it. Not openly at least.

  “You look smashing, darling,” Brianna. Stunning as always in a blue signature sheath, the shade of which exactly matches her eyes.

  “Thank you, Bri.” The one shoulder emerald silk crepe gown I’m wearing somehow manages to minimize my curves and enhance my shape at the same time. A sartorial wonder designed by a couturier who knows how to dress a curvy woman. After Bri introduced us and I realized her genius, I ordered a complete wardrobe from her—business as well as formal wear.

  “Gabriel can’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Can’t he?” Even as she says that, his glance finds me across the room. My nipples harden at the promise I see there. I’m surprised his stare doesn’t sizzle a path across the room. But there’s more than hunger in his gaze, there’s also pain. And I’m the cause of it. Because I refuse to open up about Brian. But if I do, no telling what Gabriel would do. And I’d just as well not have Brian’s blood on my conscience. He might have stolen those papers from the hotel and be a jerk to boot, but he doesn’t deserve to be hurt.

  When an acquaintance pulls Brianna away. I sip the last of the champagne and grab another flute from a passing waiter. It’s going to take a great deal of alcohol to get me through this night.

  Somebody sidles up to me. Edward. When did he drift from Gabriel’s side? And why didn’t I notice? Because I’m so focused on Gabriel I can’t see anyone but him, that’s why. “You outdid yourself, Countess.”

  I wince at the title, mainly because it reminds me of his mother. “Thank you, but please call me Elizabeth.”

  “Not tonight. Tonight you are the Countess of Winterleagh, and that man across the way staring holes into you?” He gestures toward Gabriel. “That’s the Earl, your husband.”

  I know what he’s trying to say, that Gabriel’s title comes with the territory, and it’s something I must accept, get used to, if our marriage is to survive. “I know that.”

  He twirls his champagne flute while staring down at it. “He loves you. Quite desperately in fact.”

  Now that he knows how things stand between Gabriel and me, he’s probably mounting this assault on my sensibilities to set things right between us. “He’s mentioned it a time or two.”

  “But you don’t believe him.”

  I shake my head. “Edward. Now’s not the time. You should talk to your friends. After all, you’re the reason they’re here.”

  “I will. Soon.”

  A servant strolls by with a tray filled with canapes, including my favorite, stuffed mushroom caps. But I’m too nervous to eat, so I don’t indulge.

  “Why are you keeping him at arm’s length?”

  My head jerks up. “Did he gossip about us?”

  “No. He refuses to talk about your marriage. Not from my lack of asking, I might add.”

  I fiddle with the emerald necklace Gabriel gave me for Christmas. “Then how do you know . . . how things stand between us?”

  “I know Gabriel. That look of misery in his eyes can only stem from one thing. You. He deserves happiness, Elizabeth.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “I know he does.” Not wanting him to see the moisture in my eyes, I shift my gaze to the rich Aubusson carpet beneath my feet.

  “He needs love, reassurance, not to be frozen out.”

  Oh, geez. I bite down on my lip to keep from breaking down. Why is he doing this in such a public setting?

  “Anything wrong? You look upset.” Gabriel.

  I jerk up my head. When did he sneak up behind us?

  Having done his job, Edward blends into the sea of guests, but not before I catch a Cheshire cat smile on his lips. He said those things to drive Gabriel to my side, the fiend.

  “No. Everything’s . . . fine.”

  Gabriel raises my hand to his lips, kisses my wrist. “You don’t look fine.”

  In an attempt to calm down
my racing heart, I take a deep breath. But that only makes things worse when I breathe in his expensive cologne and him. Turning my back to our guests, I allow my gaze to roam over him. Turning my back to our guests, I allow my gaze to roam over him. The hunger in his eyes tells me just what he’d like to do to me. From across the room, he can set my body ablaze. Up close? The size, scent and sheer power of him devastate me. How am I supposed to stay away?

  The door to the drawing room clicks open. Another guest must have arrived. His gaze wanders over my shoulder, and his eyes, so full of heat a moment ago, turn into a block of ice. “What is he doing here?”

  “Who?” I ask, like I don’t know. Only one person could provoke such a violent reaction from him. I swivel toward the door to confirm my guess.

  “Sebastian Payne.” He grits out.

  “I invited him.” My stomach churns from the emotion coursing through my system. But I must get it together if I’m to avoid a disaster.

  His gaze shifts back to me. “Without consulting me?”

  “I consulted Edward. It’s his welcome home party, after all. When I mentioned Sebastian as a possible guest, he gave me his approval, said it should prove entertaining.”

  “He would.”

  Across the room Edward raises a glass in Sebastian’s direction and then at us.

  “The blighter.”

  “He is a guest in your home. I trust you will act civilized.”

  His incensed glare lands on me. “Are you actually lecturing me about my behavior?” Arrogant, maddening Gabriel. And jealous. Dangerously so. He could derail all my work of the last two weeks if he doesn’t keep his temper in check.

  I adopt a softer tone in an attempt to calm him down. “You do tend to act a bit medieval around Sebastian.”

  “That’s because I know what that bastard is capable of. Pardon me if I’m not eager for my wife to be seduced by a cad.”

  My chin jerks up at the insult. “It takes my consent, Storm. What makes you think I’d succumb to his charms, great though they may be.” And they are great. As Sebastian Payne walks toward us, he draws every female eye. Tall, dark-haired, a smoldering look in his golden eyes. But he doesn’t do a thing for me.

  Gabriel growls at my prolonged study of his hated rival. With Sebastian heading in our direction, I have to do something to take Gabriel’s mind off things. Otherwise, don’t know what he’d do.

  I step close to him and whisper so only he can hear. “Gabriel. Do I really need to tell you I find you infinitely more attractive?” My hand finds its way to his chest, not as a sexual maneuver but as a way to calm him down.

  “Prove it.”

  “How? You want me to kiss you? Right here, in front of everyone?”

  “I want more than a kiss, and in front of no one. In private.” His heated gaze meanders over my lips, my breasts, my . . .

  My pussy clenches. Somebody near us gasps. Oh, God. They noticed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” He grasps my hand, kisses it while his eyes tell me what he’d like to be doing instead. But I have to be sensible. “We can’t leave our guests.”

  “Bri and my brothers can handle them during cocktails. Come.”

  Without a backward glance, he drags me out of the room. My pulse races out of control. Where is he taking me? And what is he going to do to me once we get there?

  I soon have my answer when he leads me up the stairs to my favorite room—the library.

  As soon as he nips the lock, he pushes me against the wall, ravishes my mouth. His lips hot, demanding, take mine in a soul-stealing kiss. Finally, after I give him what he wants—surrender—he walks away.

  What the hell? He brings me here, proves all he has to do is kiss me and I melt. And then he leaves me wanting? What is he up to?

  He lifts the lid of an old world globe that contains a bar inside, drops a couple of ice cubes into a tumbler and pours himself a scotch.

  After he takes a healthy swallow, he waves his hand about the space. “You tore my heart into little pieces in this room.”

  “Yes.” I’d had no choice, not with the devil’s pact I struck with his mother. I was to break up with Gabriel in exchange for her silence about a family secret which would have devastated Gabriel and ruined his family.

  He prowls forward until he’s standing no more than six inches from me. “So I’d like you to prove just how much you want me.”

  “Gabriel.”

  “Strip.”

  I scowl. “It took me twenty minutes to get this dress just right.”

  “Take it off or I’ll tear it off you.”

  And he would too. “Fine.”

  I show my back to him. “Unzip me.” His lips—hot, needy, insistent—brush against my spine as he unveils my back. The dress drifts down, but before it hits the floor, he rescues it and drapes it over a wingback chair.

  I’m left wearing a green bra, matching panties, and high heels.

  His finger traces the lacy edge of my bra down to the clasp in front. “Take it off. I want to see your breasts.”

  Unsnapping the hook, I slide out of it, and toss it over the dress on the chair. With my arms akimbo, I wait for his next step.

  Circling me, he trails a hand over my shoulder, fingers the emerald necklace, brushes the valley between my breasts. One handed he hauls me against him, my back to his front. His cock’s hard and ready against the small of my back. I’m burning up, just from his touch alone.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” His gravelly voice whispers against my ear.

  “Not lately.” But then we haven’t been together like this for a while.

  “Well, you are, more than any woman I’ve ever known.”

  His fingers sneak down beneath the edge of the panties, brush against my mons.

  “You’re wet.”

  “Yes.” I’m always wet around him.

  He teases my clit once and retreats, the bastard. “Now tell me, Elizabeth.” My ass curls against him. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  More than my next breath. But “We don’t have time for that, Gabriel.” I can’t believe our absence’s gone unnoticed. A titillating tidbit for our guests who would know exactly what we’re doing. “But there is time for something else.”

  “Such as?” As I turn to face him, he pulls me into him, rubs his hard cock against me, kisses me.

  I glance up through my eyelashes, a flirty move he loves. Dipping my hand in his drink, I fish out an ice cube, pop it into my mouth. “I’m going to rock your world, Gabriel Storm. You’re going to come in my mouth, so hard you’ll see stars.”

  I get down on my knees, slowly unzip him. Eagle-eyed, he watches my every maneuver. When I take him into my mouth, he hisses out a breath. Clamping my hands on his ass, I run my tongue along that vein of his. He’s got a world class cock, my husband—big, hard, and, oh, so eager for me.

  Somehow the alcohol has made me more reckless than usual, taking me back to my college days when I did not have an ounce of inhibition in my body. The alcohol must have diluted my gag reflex because I swallow him whole.

  He jerks. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary.”

  Wrapping my hand against the base of his rod, I pump him while squeezing his balls with the other. His head rolls back. He’s panting now. He’s loving everything I’m doing to him.

  “I’m going to come.”

  I stop what I’m doing to glance up at him. “So come.” And return to pleasuring him. His balls tighten and I have only a half second’s warning before he spurts his seed into my mouth. He tastes hot, salty, potent. He goes on and on and on while I swallow every drop of him.

  When he’s finished, I rise, kiss him, give a taste of himself back to him. “Satisfied, my husband?”

  Gone are the tension lines around his eyes. Instead a soft contentment lies in their depths. “For the moment. We’ll need to finish tonight.” He flicks my cheek. “Now, let’s get you dressed so we can rejoin our guests.”

  We arrive
back in the drawing room to find Brianna fuming. “Where were you?” She asks as soon as we step into the room. “Bentley’s held off announcing dinner for the last fifteen minutes.”

  “Busy,” Gabriel says, with not the least bit of remorse.

  No sooner is the word out of my mouth than the butler enters and announces, “Dinner is served, m’lord.”

  “Thank you, Bentley,” I say. We’ve come to an understanding, he and I. He knows I won’t interfere with the running of the townhouse mansion, and he’s ecstatic about that.

  Gabriel smiles and nod graciously as he leads our guests into the dining room. Maybe my ministrations managed to soothe the savage beast after all.

  Seating around the dinner table has a required order, as set out in etiquette books. As the hostess, I sit at one end, Gabriel at the other. On his right, the highest ranked peeress sits, a marchioness, invited because of her rank and her social standing among the aristocracy. She will disseminate word about Edward’s return to her cronies. Unfortunately, the highest ranking male is Sebastian Payne. By protocol, he must be seated next to me. But having thought ahead, I seated Brianna on his right. Out of everyone present, she’s the one most able to keep him entertained.

  As soon as everyone’s settled, Gabriel stands and toasts his brother’s homecoming, giving thanks he regained his memory and returned to the bosom of his family. I have no idea if the guests believe the lie, but they nod and raise their glasses and wish Edward well. That’s the best we can hope for, I guess. After Gabriel’s toast, Royce rises and offers his own welcome as well.

  Everything sparkles in the space, from the dinnerware, to the glassware, to the chandelier that reigns above us.

  After the toasts are finished, Sebastian leans into me and sotto voce he asks, “Where did you and Winterleagh disappear to?” His brow quirks up. The devil. He knows exactly what we were doing.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “You don’t have to. Your rosy cheeks speak for you, and so does your husband’s satisfied look.” He nods in Gabriel’s direction, who’s seated at the other end of the table, next to a marchioness and the daughter of a duke.

  His siblings are spread around the table making small talk with the diners seated next to them. After the appetizers are served, I breathe easy. Maybe the dinner will go off without a hitch, after all. But after the entree is served, someone asks me about Andrew. I gush about him for a minute or two. Someone asks if I will retire to Winterleagh for the summer, or if we will be traveling instead?