by Noelle Adams
“That’s probably right,” she said, still smiling at him because he was nice and she was in a good mood. “You’ll have to ask Luke for more details. He didn’t give me all the information on the necklace because he knew I’d snoop until I found out how much it cost.”
Mason laughed appreciatively and reached out for the pendant. Before he actually touched it, he glanced up at her for permission. “May I?”
“Of course.” Molly didn’t care if he touched the necklace. She knew it was an unusual piece, and Mason obviously loved such things.
Both of her hands were full with the wine glasses so Mason gently lifted the necklace from where it rested against her skin and inspected it, turning it over to look at the back and stroking the ruby with his thumb. His knuckles accidentally brushed the top of her breasts exposed by her low neckline—which admittedly felt a little weird—but he obviously was interested in the necklace and not her body. He felt safe, so she didn’t pull back the way she would have with another man.
Mason still had the pendant in his hand when Luke appeared without warning. His face was as composed as usual but his eyes were ice cold. “Excuse me, Eckard,” he said, so curtly he was barely civil. Then he hooked his arm around Molly’s waist and moved away, pulling Molly with him whether she wanted to go or not.
Molly gasped in surprise and indignation as Luke dragged her away from Mason. She glanced back and called out a friendly apology and farewell to the man, which only made Luke’s arm tighten even more at her waist.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded in a low voice, when they’d gotten to a fairly empty corner of the hall near the two-story diorama of a coral reef. “That was incredibly rude.”
“Was it?” Luke replied in clipped tones. He was obviously angry—in a cold, controlled way—since she could see his jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle in his cheek fluttered. “So you’d suggest I just watch with approval as another man makes a move on my wife?”
Molly practically sputtered with outrage as she processed this bit of absurdity. “Mason wasn’t…I mean, he was just looking at my necklace… He wasn’t coming on to me!”
“Since he was groping your breasts, I will have to disagree with that statement.” There was nothing soft or needy about Luke at the moment, the way he’d seemed earlier that evening. He stood ramrod straight, piercing her with a chilly gaze that made her feel like a naughty child.
“You’re crazy!” she gasped, trying to keep her voice down so they wouldn’t attract attention. “He wasn’t doing anything like that! He’s gay.”
“He is not gay. Eckard is very straight. He knows women assume he’s gay and he uses that to throw them off-guard until he makes his move. He prefers married women.”
Molly stared at him, astounded. “That…that can’t be right.”
“It is right.” Luke took a step closer, until she could feel his breath against her skin and the heat from his body. “Do you think I would lie to you? Would you like a list of all the married women he’s had affairs with over the last fifteen years? I assure you it’s a very long list.”
Feeling off-balanced and a little guilty at this new information—and still indignant at Luke’s cold, terse demeanor—Molly scowled at him. “Well, I didn’t know. No one has ever mentioned it to me. You don’t have to act like I was doing something wrong. It’s not like I was going to fall for him. I thought he was gay!”
Despite her quite appropriate annoyance, a tiny part of her kind of liked that Luke was evidently feeling jealous and possessive about her. Even irrationally so. He’d seemed different tonight in a number of ways. Less unflappable. More vulnerable. Even the kiss had felt genuine.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was wondering if their relationship had changed.
“He’s not gay. And you can’t think I would allow another man to come on to my wife like that, right in front of me and the rest of the city.”
Molly felt a sharp, unexpected stab of pain. She suddenly understood what was happening here. It wasn’t jealousy, possessiveness, or any sort of new feeling that was causing Luke’s behavior after all. Of course, Luke wouldn’t want Mason to come on to her. How humiliating for him to have people start to wonder if Luke’s wife was going to cheat on him.
Or if she already had.
Appearances mattered in their marriage, after all. More than any sort of reality. She really needed to do better about remembering that.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she murmured, all of the fire in her completely dampened by the cold dose of reality. “I’ll avoid him from now on.”
Luke blinked, studying her as if he couldn’t understand her abrupt shift of mood. He started to reply but, just at that moment, an announcer instructed them to take their seats since dinner was about to begin.
Luke started to say something again after the announcement ended, but Molly just silently headed for their table. She tried to act naturally as the meal began but she was really upset. More upset than she should have been.
They made small talk with the other people at their table, and then listened to the various speeches and presentations. As the evening went on, Molly couldn’t stop dwelling on what had just happened.
Luke hadn’t just thought she might fall for Mason’s sneaky seduction tactics. He’d been afraid she would humiliate him in front of the eyes of the city. She knew the boundaries in their relationship had been getting fuzzier for her over the last several weeks, but this incident seemed to cement for her exactly what their marriage was.
She might want a husband who would get a little jealous if he saw another man flirting with her but still trust her not to actually cheat.
But that husband would never be Luke.
At one point, she was so upset that her eyes burned with tears, which was frustrating and infuriating. She had no idea when she’d gotten so weak and emotional. She was horribly afraid that a tear would fall and everyone would see, so she had to lift her chin to keep the tear from streaming down her cheek. Luke was right beside her, stiff and silent, but he would certainly notice if she wiped away a tear.
She couldn’t let him know.
Four years ago, she’d uprooted her whole life because of foolish feelings for Baron, but she’d be damned if she let Luke know that she was starting to get some foolish feelings about him. When she knew—she knew—their marriage had never allowed that.
This was what they’d agreed to, and, even when they’d started to have sex, they’d agreed this wasn’t going to change.
She felt that lingering tear tickling her eyelashes, so she pretended to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear and, in the process, managed to flick the tear away.
As one of the speakers droned on endlessly, she twisted her hands in her lap, trying to work out her feelings in as innocuous a way as possible. She thought the gesture was discreet enough since her hands were under the long white table cloth.
She hadn’t been able to risk glancing over to Luke, so she jerked in surprise when she suddenly felt his hand in her lap, covering both of her hands she’d been twisting together.
She darted a questioning look over at him, but his eyes were focused on the speaker. His warm hand covered both of hers, which had stilled under his grip.
It felt comforting, protective. But maybe he’d thought her hand-twisting had been gauche or distracting, and he’d wanted her to stop.
Her heart raced in confusion and a silly kind of hope as she tried to read his unreadable expression. He’d been angry with her earlier.
When he looked over at her at last, his eyes were no longer hard and cold. His gaze was almost soft. He mouthed, “Sorry.”
She smiled at him, warmth and relief rushing through her chest. He wasn’t usually so curt and chilly and insensitive with her. He wasn’t in the best mood tonight, and it must have rubbed him the wrong way to see her smiling at Mason while the man came on to her. But he hadn’t meant to upset her so much, and he’d felt bad that he had.
Her life really would be so much easier if she could just make herself remember their arrangement. They’d negotiated terms in a way that was supposed to be good for both of them. They had a workable schedule of social events and sex. They were generally considerate of each other—both their needs and their personal space. And the reason it worked was because messy things like emotions and sentiment didn’t get in the way.
She could like Luke. She could care about him. She could enjoy having sex with him. And she could be satisfied with that.
***
They were both quiet as they left the gala and climbed into the back of the car.
Molly was exhausted, but not in a bad way. She felt settled, resigned. She ignored the occasional nervous twisting of her stomach, since there didn’t seem to be any reason for that.
Luke checked his phone and returned a call. She listened as he spoke very curtly to one of his marketing people. At one point, she winced at his tone, sympathizing with the poor soul on the other end of the call.
After a few minute’s discussion, he said, “Fine. Go ahead and do that.” After a pause for the other person to talk, he added, “Of course. Sorry I was so abrupt.”
When he hung up, she asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Just minor setbacks. Nothing major.”
She believed him. It wasn’t this one call that had made him lose his characteristic composure and speak rudely to one of his employees, something he almost never did. It was the end of a very long day for him, and the call had been one thing too many.
The museum wasn’t really far from their apartment, but there seemed to be a lot of traffic and they kept slowing down until they stopped completely. Luke opened the window to the front and leaned forward to ask the driver, “What’s going on?”
“An accident, I think. Must be a big one. As soon as I get past this block, I’ll turn off and take a different route.”
Luke sighed as he closed the privacy window and leaned back against the seat. He stared out at the sidewalk, and Molly’s belly churned with sympathy and more nervous flutters.
He didn’t need to get stuck in traffic, after the day he’d had.
His phone vibrated again, and Molly swallowed hard as he checked the display. For some reason, he glanced over to her, so she murmured, “Let it go to voice mail. You can deal with whatever it is tomorrow.”
She hadn’t really expected him to do as she suggested, but he did. He silenced it, slipped it back in his pocket, and stared out the window again.
“Are you okay?” she asked at last. With every moment, he looked more tired, more battered.
“Yeah. I’m sorry about earlier. I never should have talked to you that way.”
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t want him to have to deal with all that now. It was another thing that could wait until tomorrow.
He turned until his eyes rested on her. “You were upset. I made you cry.”
“I wasn’t really crying. Just upset. But we don’t have to talk about it now.”
“Why were you so upset?”
“I don’t know. I just wish you would trust me to not have an affair with a man like Eckard.”
“I never thought you would.”
She stiffened. “Then why were you so mad? You were acting like you thought I would fall for him.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Molly. I know you’d never break our contract.” He slumped against the seat of the car and spoke in a hoarse voice. “But eventually you’ll fall for someone for real and then you’ll want out. I know that. It’s inevitable, and it will be the best thing for you. But, knowing that, makes me…”
“Makes you what?” she breathed, barely able to speak around the tightness in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was from hope or dread.
He shook his head and looked away from her.
“Makes you what, Luke?”
“Makes me insecure about you. Sometimes.”
She understood exactly what he meant. It was precisely how she felt about him.
It was why, for the first few minutes, she’d thought that anonymous photo was really Luke.
Because she felt so flustered, she couldn’t think of anything to say. What she ended up saying was foolish. “I didn’t think you were insecure about anything.”
He shot her a look that confirmed how foolish her words were.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
Shaking his head, he reached over and put a hand on hers. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if I hadn’t had such a hard day, but I never should have taken it out on you.”
She knew he was sincere, and she’d rarely seen him so vulnerable. There was no way she could deny the compulsion to wrap her arms around him.
She unhooked her seatbelt—the car was still stuck in the traffic jam, so it hardly mattered—and reached over to give him a hug.
He hugged her back, without even the normal hesitation. He tightened his arms around her almost bruisingly.
She ended up on his lap, leaning against his chest, surrounded by his strong arms. She relaxed against him, feeling safe, warm, and even more fluttery than before.
“I’m sorry about the tearooms,” she murmured. “I’m sorry about Eckard. I’m sorry you’re having such a bad day.”
“None of it is your fault.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry you have to deal with it all.” She wanted to wrap her arms around him the way he was holding her, but the seat behind his back prevented her. She settled for stroking his head, feeling the texture of his hair against her palm. “I wish I could help.”
“You do help, Molly.” She felt a pressure on her head, like he’d pressed a kiss there. “You do help.”
Pleasure washed through her chest at the words, at the way he gripped her so needily. She was so glad she could help him—at least a little. She was so glad she could make him feel a little better.
They stayed in position for a few minutes. She could feel his body start to soften its tension, evidence that he was relaxing. His arms kept holding her tightly, though, so she didn’t try to move back to her seat.
It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but she wouldn’t complain for the world.
After a long while, she heard him release a long sigh. With the exhale, he said her name.
“Hmm,” she responded. She started to stroke his head again.
“Molly.”
She felt another kiss on her hair, then felt him nuzzling her gently. She looked up at him expectantly.
He just looked at her. Didn’t speak.
“I thought you were going to say something,” she said to explain why she’d shifted her position to stare at him.
“Oh.” His lips parted, and she waited. But then he shook his head. “If you’re not in the mood for sex, it might be smart for you to climb off my lap.”
She blinked in surprise. It wasn’t at all what she’d thought he might say. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting, but it hadn’t had anything to do with sex.
As she wriggled in his lap, she realized he was starting to get hard. “Oh.”
“I don’t think you’re in the mood, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
She peered at his face. He looked wry, matter-of-fact, absolutely exhausted. She really wasn’t in the mood to take off her clothes or get fucked in the back of a car, but she felt tender and intimate and desperately wanted to express it. “Not intercourse,” she admitted, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you.”
His brow lowered, as if he hadn’t entirely followed her line of thinking until she kissed him.
He kissed her back, immediately hungry. They kissed for a while until she scooted off his lap and caressed her way down his chest to his groin.
He sucked in a breath as she unfastened his tr
ousers and freed his half-erect shaft.
“You don’t have to—” he began, breaking off the words suddenly when she leaned down and took him in her mouth.
She sucked him until he was fully erect. Then she repositioned herself and wrapped her fingers around the base so she could squeeze with the rhythm of her suction.
His body grew tighter and tighter, the muscles of his belly and thighs tensing as she worked him over. One of his hands tangled in her hair, gently guiding her rhythm. The other fumbled for purchase on the seat.
“Molly, please,” he hissed, as her rhythm intensified. He was warm and full and hard in her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks around him as skillfully as she could.
She wasn’t any sort of expert at this, but he didn’t seem to mind.
She knew he was getting close. His hand fisted in her hair and the other was now gripping the armrest so hard his knuckles were white. He kept rasping, “Molly” and “Baby” and “Please” until his hips bucked up off the seat.
His climax took him hard. She could feel the spasms shudder through his erection for a long time, and his choked cry was uninhibited. She swallowed as much as she could, and she loved the way his body relaxed completely afterwards. Loved the way he leaned back against the seat, looking fully replete, rumpled, and debauched.
She tucked him in and fastened his trousers. Then she straightened up, feeling overly emotional and a little bit proud.
With a groan, he pulled her back onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
She burrowed against him, for some reason close to tears as he held her.
When he’d recovered enough to talk, he kissed her hair and murmured, “Thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Are you okay? Did you want me to—”
“I’m fine.”
She was fine. A little aroused but not enough to want to do anything about it.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
They held each other in silence for a couple of minutes. Then they both jerked in surprise when the car started moving again. Luke didn’t release her so she stayed in his lap as the driver took them home.