Irresistible

by Shara Azod

  Opening a cabinet, Edward handed her a toothbrush, one of those expensive electric kinds, brand new and still in the package. Who the hell kept electric toothbrushes on hand just in case? It was hard not to feel uncomfortable in the face of such careless wealth.

  “I have unused brushes and combs, but we’ll have to send out for any hair products you may need.”

  Wow, that was both astute and kind of cute. But seriously, send out for hair products? Was that even possible?

  “Later, we will sit down and make a list of the things you need,” Edward continued as if he were discussing nothing more serious than something he saw on television once. He made it sound as if everything he was saying was ordinary, and it implied an extended stay, which would not be happening.

  “Exactly how long were you planning on keeping me here?” It was really hard not to panic. He didn’t have to do a damn thing he didn’t want to.

  As before, he didn’t answer. Instead he walked to the far end of the counter, which held another sink. Dual sinks? Did he bring women home that regularly?

  Without looking in her direction he began brushing his teeth, casting occasional glances in her direction. Not knowing what else to do, she brushed her own, then washed her face with the soft, fluffy washcloth and cleanser he silently placed beside her. After brushing out her hair with a brush he also provided, she did feel a great deal better.

  More focused, able to deal with the task of getting the hell away from a man she couldn’t resist.

  “This way.”

  The whole imperial way he had of speaking was really starting to wear thin.

  Gritting her teeth, she followed, counting backwards in her head to try to calm her fast-rising temper. Too much of her time was spent being a victim of her own bad choices; the last seven years she had worked to break a lot of the habits that led her to where she was now. The fact that she was in this position in the first place was maddening. So what if Edward hadn’t forced her here? She was here, and that was enough to make her anger extend to him.

  However, once they stepped outside the bedroom she’d barely glanced at, her anger was forgotten as if it had never been. Her frustration, her silent reflection all left in the face of the magnitude of the rest of the house. Not even on television had she seen a place like this. Edward walked down a marbled hall as if it were nothing special to walk on floors more expensive that the majority of the homes in the state. Twice she almost stumbled down the wide curved staircase, but each time, Edward was right there. The first time he placed his arm around her shoulder to steady her, the second he just plucked her off her feet as if she weighed nothing at all. He didn’t set her back down until they entered the kitchen, yet another cavernous room full of natural light from ample windows all looking out at manicured lawn for as far as the eyes could see.

  Delilah would’ve sworn a man in his position wouldn’t know the first thing about cooking for himself. This was the kind of house that took an army of staff to keep it in the shape it was in. She was dead wrong. He moved around the kitchen with the same confidence he did everything. Even with her patience stretched thin and her very future unsure, she meekly allowed him to sit her down at what she assumed was a table meant for the staff. She allowed him to place an omelet in front of her and ate it without complaint. There was little else she could do while he refused to talk. The omelet was fluffy, full of her favorites, ham and veggies, and of course, it was delicious. Was there anything this man couldn’t do?

  “You won’t be going back.” Delilah’s head snapped up at the calmly uttered proclamation. He’d waited until she’d eaten every bite and drank the orange juice he’d poured for her. She stared at him silently willing him to clarify, which he did. “Not to the club, not the hovel you called a home… You won’t be going back to any of it.” Shock would have been nice, but it didn’t come. Anger would’ve been welcome, but that didn’t show up either, even if she did take exception to the hovel part.

  Something far more frightening blossomed deep in her breast, something she wanted so badly to beat down as soon as it reared its ugly head. Hope—that bitch of an emotion guaranteed to let her down—took hold and refused to be dislodged. That was something Delilah could not accept, could not have. She refused to recognize it. That way it couldn’t take over and make her stupid.

  “You know, had you asked, I would’ve left David alone. There’s more than one tutor in New Orleans. This is taking things a bit far, don’t you think?” Chapter Five

  Edward wished he could’ve been shocked that Delilah not only knew who he was, but what had brought him to the strip club. The truth was he’d seen the truth in her eyes, known it by the small way she’d tried to bait him in the beginning. He’d also known that whatever David was to her, his nephew wasn’t this woman’s client, not for anything beyond a dance. This woman was far from a whore, and what had happened in the club last night had broken something vital inside her. That was his fault, and he would make amends somehow. But that wasn’t the reason he had autocratically stated she wouldn’t be returning to the life she’d lived before now. That he didn’t really have a valid reason for. He had spoken out of pure instinct.

  Then there was also the little matter of unprotected sex, more than once. The simple declaration by Delilah that she wasn’t currently on any form of birth control shouldn’t have made his cock swell like it had. It shouldn’t have produced the primal need to take this woman and claim her as his own. He was a civilized educator; he was not subject to primal emotions. However, the slightest chance that she might have conceived made his chest swell just thinking about it. As long as she stayed in his home, there would be more than just a chance—it would happen with certainty. Sometime during the night as he’d watched her sleep, the idea had planted firmly into his brain and refused to be dislodged.

  Most people, especially his family, considered him cold, lacking in basic human emotions. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t have the same feelings as everyone else; he just didn’t always know how to express how he was feeling, and therefore he didn’t show anything at all. Sentiments felt awkward on his tongue and made his limbs stiff moving, as if they were not his own. Hugs and other forms of physical affection made him uncomfortable at the best of times. It was so much easier to bottle up things like pain, remorse, and empathy and keep a stiff upper lip.

  None of that held true with a stripper who called herself Cinnamon. God, that moniker grated as much as her profession. Looking at the woman across from him now, he couldn’t place Delilah in that life. Without makeup and the cheap costume, she looked fresh, like some kind of ancient pagan Spring maiden. Without the paint and glitter, she seemed years younger than her twenty-nine years. Even though his robe completely swallowed her figure, she was far sexier this morning with bits of glowing sienna skin showing here and there than she’d been in a string and pasties.

  He needed her. He wanted her. He was keeping her.

  Oh, he was well aware men didn’t go about seizing the woman they wanted in this modern world, yet that was exactly what he was planning on doing in a roundabout way. Nothing as tawdry as a hidden mistress on the side or some kind of neo-sex slave or without her consent—Edward was determined to marry Delilah. He could tell himself it would be to save her from the life in which she currently lived, but he wasn’t into bullshitting himself. In a weird way, it was Delilah who would be saving him, should she accept him. In less than twenty-four hours she had moved him to touch, to feel, to revel in contact of the most intimate nature that went far beyond just sex.

  In this woman’s presence, he didn’t feel as if he must keep it all together. There was no such thing as being in firm control; a shift of limbs or a sideways look could make him lose it completely. Already he was hard again just sitting here watching her playing with the crumb on her plate with her fork.

  “David was tutoring you? That’s why he was coming to see you so often?” For crying out loud, he was jealous of his own nephew. It was a feeling so
completely alien to him he was shocked.

  “Doesn’t matter now, does it? I won’t be seeing him again.” There was sadness in her voice; that too grated. Still, there wasn’t that wistfulness in her eyes as if she’d lost a lover. There was disappointment, yes, but not the kind that would’ve made him want to throttle David.

  He tried changing subjects just to chase her sadness away. “If you have conceived—”

  “If

  I have conceived? All by myself?” Delilah sliced through his carefully neutral tone with acid. Was it twisted that he was getting even harder faced with the fire of her anger? “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I wouldn’t dare to presume I have permission to bear your bastard.”

  Well, now she had that exactly right, though for none of the reasons she assumed. The degree to which Delilah pregnant with his child appealed to him was as shocking as his immediate, uncontrollable attraction to her. In his mind, her former profession, and it was former, was simply the avenue in which she was brought into his life. When he looked at her, he saw a rare, priceless gem that had thankfully been overlooked until now. All he wanted to do was provide the setting to showcase her soul-deep beauty.

  “I am aware you won’t be bearing my bastard, Delilah.” Funny, he had never had problems before now keeping his voice devoid of emotion. “You will be my wife.” The silence in the cavernous kitchen stretched for several moments, tension so thick in the air Edward felt that he may have said too much way too soon. For a man who had spent his entire life surrounded by the lack of sound, he found it unsettling at the moment. How was it that Delilah had managed to change something inside him so quickly, without wanting or meaning to? He felt himself expanding, seeking, reaching out for contact. It was a curious sensation, a thing he couldn’t research, dissect or put under a metaphorical microscope. He was a historical anthropologist with a specialty in the evolution of human societies. Not just how they lived, but cultural and social norms, taboos, wants, needs. Human relationships may have baffled him, but they had always fascinated him—just never touched him.

  Coming from a family that was born to wealth, Edward never really knew his parents. They were mere figureheads he saw whenever his nanny or tutors presented him as a child. As an adult they’d been polite strangers, more like allies forged together by DNA and surname than a true family. His sisters and their children were responsibilities. The only people he’d truly felt any sort of kinship toward were his now-deceased brother and his brother’s son, David. Unlike Edward, his brother had been an emotionally high-strung person. For some reason, David Prichard, Sr. was unable to deal with his life of privilege without purpose. While the world believed David, Sr. died of cancer, the ugly truth was he’d killed himself, leaving a babbling note about the nothingness of it all. Edward had cleaned up the mess, paid off the right people and made sure no one ever knew, especially not the dead man’s wife and son.

  David, Sr.’s death had saddened Edward, as had his life. Before now, his nephew was the only living human being to inspire his affection, even if he didn’t know how to show it, and therefore didn’t. That was partially what had driven him to the strip club in the first place. Strictly from an academic point of view, he understood how an alluring temptress could lead to the downfall of a naïve young man. Being that his nephew was much more the Marcus Antonius type than a Caesar, he’d been concerned he might’ve met his Cleopatra. Seeing as how young David was in no way experienced enough to deal with that kind of woman, Edward had given in to his sister-in-law’s pleas and had investigated the matter before deciding to take care of it himself.

  Delilah was no Cleopatra, though she easily could’ve been. She was much more an inexplicable mixture of Lilith and Eve before the temptation. Without understanding her full draw, she seemed to embrace her womanhood unlike so many other women her age. She was the type of woman who got under a man’s skin, dug deep into his psyche.

  Unlike so many of the other dancers he’d witnessed at the club, she was neither blatant nor overblown.

  Whether she knew it or not, she had chosen him. Pure instinct as old as the history of man had brought them together. Marriage may seem a bit extreme to the average Joe, but Edward knew something priceless when he saw it. He didn’t want to possess her as so many would. Hell, to be honest, he couldn’t put what he wanted into words.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” At least she didn’t sound as harsh as he’d expected.

  Confused, certainly, but it was laced with anger.

  “Quite the contrary.” The emotions that crossed her face were riveting. He’d thrown her for a loop, good.

  God, she really was wondrous. Not what people would call traditionally beautiful, her attraction was more ethereal and yet earthly as the same time. She had that thing that other women scoffed at, never understanding why men tripped all over themselves just to look. Those almond-shaped eyes watched him warily, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She had no idea how good she looked at the moment, and he was hanging on by a quickly thinning thread.

  “I will stop seeing your nephew; I told you that already.” She spoke evenly, with great care, as if he couldn’t understand her words. Did she even realize her voice had gotten a little huskier? Probably not. His dick was already hard, but now it started to jump, straining against his jeans. “There is no need for some elaborate game on your part. I swear to you I have no designs on him or his money.”

  “I know.” He gave her no more than that. It wouldn’t have mattered because she wouldn’t have believed him. She’d work through his possible motives on her own.

  “We can wait and see about the pregnancy thing. It isn’t the right time of the month anyway. No need to jump the gun.”

  “We could, but I’d rather not.” Sitting there as if he had all the calm and patience of some kind of Abrahamic/Job hybrid was excruciating. The fact she was nude underneath his robe was all too present in his mind. She should be swathed in him, not terry cloth. Fuck, he had it bad.

  “Your family would never accept it. Your peers would sneer behind your back.” Yet he saw the moment the idea caught fire and hooked into her brain. “It isn’t just that you’re talking about an interracial marriage, something people of your class rarely do; we are in the deep South. And exactly how long do you think you can hide the fact I’m a stripper at a club that’s nothing more than a whorehouse?” Delilah shook her head as if she was trying to convince herself. “Men like you come in the club all the time. Men of wealth and privilege, not exactly Prichard quality but close enough. I will be recognized, and whispers will turn into a full roar. Then where will you and your precious name be? Please, you can hardly be serious.” Well that was certainly eloquent. Had she been running for office of any sort, Edward would’ve not only voted for her, he would’ve probably funded her campaign.

  Everything she said was undeniably true; there was a very real possibility he could lose his “position” in society. That was, if he gave a damn about that kind of thing. As far as he was concerned, social status was all an elaborate illusion to make those insecure creatures who, by accident of birth or luck, had managed to gain a fortune feel as if they were entitled to the life they lived. Those soulless, vapid creatures who moved in the world into which he was born tended to look down on anyone not of their sphere.

  The argument about his coworkers could have been valid, only he had tenure.

  That and he funded a great deal of his own research, and offered scholarships to over three dozen students in his department. His family had built dormitories, funded libraries, and built quite a bit of the university itself. Short of committing some major felony, he was in no danger of losing his position as the Assistant Dean of the School of Anthropology no matter whom he married. The majority of his colleagues secretly despised him anyway. Edward was among the top anthropologists in the world; he was widely published, and his books were required reading in several countries. His coworkers could go hang if they didn’t like whom he married.
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br />   Her final point, his family, was more valid then the rest. He and David were the only males left. Females tended to be far more vicious than males, in his opinion.

  Knowing his sisters and their gaggle of females, they would be appalled. The more distant the relation, the more horrified they’d be. Only there wouldn’t be a damn thing they could do other than complain and lie around with cool cloths over their eyes.

  Edward happened to be the sole manager of the family trust. All financial decisions came through him, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. They would suck it up and get over it after he pointed out a few pertinent facts.

  “All very intriguing arguments.” He was a firm believer in giving credit where credit was due. She had done one hell of a job pointing out all the ways he couldn’t possibly be serious. Edward rose, unable to stand being apart from her for another moment. “In most cases they would probably be true. “

  “But not with you?” She didn’t move as he stood over her, but she did start to breathe a little faster. The pulse at the base of her neck sped up. “Why would you be any different than any other man?”