“I do! I shouldn’t, but God help me, I do,” she said on a broken sob, as his finger slipped between the folds to caress the hardened bud of her clit. Still sensitive from her own earlier explorations, her response was immediate and intense. Her entire body tensed, straining towards him.
“So beautiful,” he whispered against her ear. “Wild and abandoned.”
Ophelia gasped his name, her fingers grasping at the sides of the tub, desperate for something to hold onto, as aroused by the harshly whispered words as by his touch.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, of how it felt to be inside you—so soft, so hot and wet for me.”
She felt like she was drowning with need, as if it were pulling her under. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment except the tension coiling inside her and the pleasure that she knew was waiting on the other side. Still, she found the strength to speak. “I’ve thought about it too—even when I knew I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t fight it, Ophelia. Don’t fight me. Let’s just take what we can,” he urged.
“Yes,” she said, her agreement a whispered plea for more.
~~****~~
Vincent grasped her arms and hauled her up out of the tub, her body plastered to his. The press of her breasts against his chest, the slide of his hands over her wet skin stoked the flame burning inside him.
There was no finesse, no gentle seduction. He maneuvered her so that she straddled his hips, his cock cradled between her parted thighs. The heat of her was scorching even through the last layer of cloth between them.
He ground his cock against her even as she fumbled with the fly of his pants. The fabric finally parted beneath her hands, providing instant relief that faded in the wake of a new torment as she closed her hand around his aching cock.
Unable to resist the temptation of her lush lips, he captured them in a searing kiss. Sliding his tongue over the lush curve of her bottom lip, he nipped it gently with his teeth. Her lips parted on a moan, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth. It was a familiar dance, the thrust and parry of their tongues, mimicking the act that would follow.
The knock at the door startled them both.
Ophelia pulled back.
He could see reality intruding. “What?” he barked to the person on the other side of the door.
“I don’t even want to know what is going on in there!” Kaitlyn’s voice might have been muffled by the door, but her message was very clear. “But we have rehearsal in an hour, dinner after that and then a bachelorette party, so Ophelia get your ass out here, and Vincent, you keep your ass in there because that is not something I want to see!”
“Just a moment, Kaitlyn,” Ophelia called softly.
“Ophelia, don’t go,” he sighed.
“I have to. I shouldn’t have let this happen anyway. But it seems that where you’re concerned, I don’t have a lick of sense.”
“That makes two of us,” he muttered. Frustration and need boiled inside him. The anger crept in as he watched her wrap a towel around herself and move towards the door. “Do we continue this later or do we pretend like it never happened?”
“It was naive of me to think we could be in such close quarters and have nothing happen between us. We’ll continue it later, of course. Sometimes, I don’t feel like either of us even has a choice. I have no willpower—no control where you’re concerned.”
He didn’t miss the fact that she sounded less than pleased about it. “Go on. I’ll be out in a little while,” he urged. He was in no condition to face anyone. He was so far gone, even a cold shower wouldn’t have any effect. The irony of having a hot and willing woman sprawled upon his lap only to be cock blocked by his sister masquerading as their wedding planner was not lost on him.
After Ophelia left the room, he finished undressing and stepped into the shower. The stinging spray helped to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it did nothing to alleviate his other aches. Closing one hand around his cock, he thought of her, of how she’d looked lying back in the tub, touching herself. Stroking himself, he allowed other images to course through his mind, some memories of their night together while others were nothing but his own dark fantasies.
His movements became faster, more fevered, until he tensed and then emitted a shattered groan as he came. In the aftermath, still shaking from it and from the realization that he was in far deeper than he’d ever realized with her, he rested his forehead against the tile wall and wondered how the hell he was going to survive a year with her.
More to the point, how would he survive letting her go when that year was up?
~~****~~
Ophelia refused to make eye contact with Kaitlyn as she stepped into the walk in closet and retrieved the dress she’d already selected for the night.
The white jacquard satin was one of the few vintage pieces she actually owned. From the early 60’s, the dress still had a full skirt, but barely skimmed her knees, and the wide V neckline was both flattering and sexy. She knew, of course, that she was really dressing for him.
Once she was dressed, she brushed out her hair and applied a touch of makeup. Feeling marginally more armored, she walked into the bedroom to face Kaitlyn’s knowing look. “I know I was supposed to make him miserable, but I’m weak and I caved. End of story.”
“Based on his tone of voice, I’m sure I interrupted you all at the worst possible moment. I’d say he’s pretty miserable,” Kaitlyn added. “I don’t do ‘I told you so’s’. I hate hearing that shit from anyone else, so I’m not going to dish it out. Let’s get downstairs and get this rehearsal done so we can eat. I’m starved.”
Following Kaitlyn down the stairs, Ophelia couldn’t help but wish she was still with Vincent, finishing what they had started. Everything was too complicated by far.
Stepping out into the garden, Kaitlyn began walking her through the service. “The chairs for the guests will be here. There’ll only be about ten people in attendance. I’ve taken care of getting Ruby a dress and I’ve arranged for a car to pick her up tomorrow afternoon and bring her here for the service. I made the decision that no one is giving you away. Justin is a total putz about this stuff, Thomas is gone of course, and Ruby will be crying so hard she won’t even be able to see the aisle.”
Ophelia nodded. It was so strange that she hadn’t even allowed herself to think of those things. “That’s fine. I prefer it that way, actually.”
“Look at you! Bucking tradition and everything—I’m stunned.”
“You know, Kaitlyn, I’ve made the choice in my life, repeatedly, to go with the option that seemed the most right if not the most fun. I didn’t do that to piss you off. I did that because my mother always chose the ‘fun’ option, and she’s spent the better part of her adult life and the entirety of my life, locked in a jail cell or biding her time until she could get out of rehab and put another needle in her arm. I get that you don’t like my choices, but I had my reasons for making them.”
Kaitlyn stared at her for a moment, then said quietly, “You and Vincent really are made for one another. I’ve never seen two people more determined to prove they’re not like their parents.”
The remainder of the rehearsal went as planned. It was going to be such a small service that neither of them had chosen to have anyone stand up with them. Kaitlyn would handle the rings during the service.
After the minister left, they went to Brennan’s for dinner, primarily because it was expected, and would undoubtedly be noted in gossip columns the following day.
Throughout dinner, Ophelia couldn’t help but be aware of the hot looks Vincent was throwing at her. Everything felt too tight, her dress, her skin. She just wanted to rip her clothes off and press herself against him. That sure would shed her good girl image, she thought.
It was during the dessert course when Brenna arrived, looking stunning in a black corseted dress that pushed her breasts up to her chin. Her red hair had been styl
ed in loose, sexy updo that made her look as if she’d just tumbled out of bed.
Justin nearly choked on his food.
Glancing over at Vincent, Ophelia saw that his eyes were still on her and not Brenna.
“It’s time for the bachelorette party, mon cheri,” Brenna greeted her. She was being overly theatrical but then Brenna was always dramatic. She loved to perform.
“Oh no,” Ophelia responded. “I have such a bad feeling about this. Can’t we just have a girl’s night in?”
“No!” Kaitlyn and Brenna shouted together.
“For once we agree on something,” Brenna added. “Tonight, Ophelia Broulliard, you discover your wild side.”
“I don’t want to,” she protested.
“Too late.” Kaitlyn laughed. “The arrangements have all been made.”
Ophelia glanced at Vincent. “Please?”
“Don’t look at me. The two of them scare me half to death. You’re on your own— but I do need a moment alone before you head out for the debauchery.”
Kaitlyn rose from her seat. “I’ll get the car, Brenna will come with me, and Justin will go on to do whatever it is that Justin does on a Friday night. If she’s not out in five minutes, I’m coming back and you won’t like it.”
When they were alone, Ophelia tried again. “I really don’t want to do this. I just think it’s going to go very badly.”
“We’ll have Ruby make up some of her famous hangover cure for you,” he offered.
“It’s not the hangover that worries me. It’s everything in between.”
Vincent smiled, but reached into his pocket and removed a small velvet box. “I should have given this to you earlier.”
Ophelia accepted the box from him, surprised at how nervous she was. After everything that had transpired between them, and with the outcome already certain, it shouldn’t have mattered so much. Still, when she opened the box and gazed down at the ring it felt real in a way nothing else had.
The large, square cut diamond was set in platinum and flanked by small baguettes on each side. It was simple, but undeniably beautiful.
“It’s lovely.”
“I wish things were different,” he whispered. “That I were different and this was what you wanted.”
Taking the ring from the box, Ophelia slipped it onto her hand. It fit perfectly. “It is what it is, and we’ll make the best of it while we can.”
“Let’s get you downstairs before Brenna comes after me with a flogger.”
“She doesn’t have one of those—I don’t think,” Ophelia scoffed and braced herself for the events to come.
~~****~~
Vincent sat at the bar of the DuChamps’ Orleans Hotel and sipped an aged bourbon.
Justin sat beside him nursing the single beer that he allowed himself.
As far as bachelor parties went, it was lame. That was just fine with him. He wasn’t much in the mood for celebrating anyway.
“You’re a sour ass groom, man. Liven up,” Justin urged. “If I was marrying a woman like Ophelia—?”
“Watch it. I’d hate to have to kick your ass.” Vincent said, only half joking.
“Like you could... I’m just saying that she’s sweet, she’s funny, she’s a good person, and while I would never dream of poaching on what you have clearly marked as your territory, she’s sexy as hell,” Justin stated emphatically.
“You really don’t get the meaning of ‘watch it’, do you?”
Justin chuckled. “You know, you’re not exactly double o seven. It’s been obvious for a long time that you’ve had it bad for her. Everyone knew it, including Thomas. He didn’t do this because he wanted you to suffer or be miserable. He did this because he was afraid you already were suffering and miserable.”
Vincent knew that. Mad as he still was at Thomas for interfering in his life, he understood that Thomas had, even in death, been trying to do what was best for him. For his own sake, he didn’t mind so much. He was getting more than he’d ever imagined possible, even if it was only for a short time.
He just wasn’t a good bet with relationships, and he knew it. He came from a long line of shoddy track records and it seemed inevitable to him that he would hurt her. That’s all the DuChamps men seemed to be good for when it came to relationships. “When’s your meeting with Stanley?” Vincent wanted badly to change the subject.
“I’ve gotten a reprieve. Kaitlyn goes first. Hers is next week and mine is two weeks after that.” Justin rose to his feet, taking another sip of his beer. There was more than half of it left, knowing Justin he’d decided before he even sat down just how much of the liquid he would allow himself to imbibe. “I’m gone, man. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow. Cut yourself some slack, would you? This could be the best thing that ever happened to either of you, if you give it half a chance.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, oh wise one,” Vincent replied, and watched his brother walk out.
His brother had his own demons, but for the moment, Justin seemed to have them well in hand.
Turning back to his bourbon, Vincent sipped the sweet, smooth liquid, the taste of it a reminder of the man they’d just buried. He’d nearly finished the glass when he felt someone settle into the chair beside him.
“Hello, handsome. How about buying me a drink?”
Vincent stared at the upturned and lovely face of Melina Tate and felt absolutely nothing. Still, he didn’t have it in him to be completely rude to her. Signaling to the bartender, he asked, “What are you having?”
“A Sloe Screw…To start with.”
Vincent didn’t say anything, but he saw the bartender roll her eyes as she walked away. He fought back the urge to smile. “Why are you out by yourself tonight, Melina?”
“Well, I had a date, but he was a total bore, so I ditched him and came here for a drink instead. What are you doing here all by yourself? No gorgeous women fighting to keep you company tonight?”
Seeing it as an opportunity, Vincent came out with the truth. “I’m enjoying my last night as a single man.” He watched her face fall, saw the disappointment blooming in her eyes. She hadn’t known, he realized. Somehow, Claude had slipped and not told her about the wedding. “I’m sorry. I thought you would’ve heard by now. Ophelia and I are getting married tomorrow.”
“Ophelia Broulliard? Thomas’ caretaker? Vincent, you’re mad!” she exclaimed. “There’s no way a woman of her background could be any help to you in business. You need a woman who understands what it means—to network and to woo prospective clients.”
Which was exactly what she was trying to do to him, he thought. Rather than saying something offensive, he replied, “I’m marrying Ophelia because of who she is, not because of what she can do for me...And as for her ability to schmooze with prospective clients, she has an innate charm that serves her very well.”
“I see.” She accepted the drink from the bartender. She downed it quickly. “Well, I hope you’ll be very happy together—and if you decide that you’d like to experience the innate charms of another woman? Give me a call.”
He didn’t respond, just watched her walk out feeling vaguely uncomfortable. He didn’t know what her angle was, but he doubted that it had anything to do with her desire for him. There was something else going on and somehow or other, he knew it came back to Claude.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sun poured in through the windows. Lying face down in the bed, wearing not a stitch of clothing, Ophelia groaned. The sound seemed to echo and amplify in the room to the point she thought her ears would bleed.
Everything hurt. Her whole body hurt. She reeked of booze and something else she couldn’t identify. Slowly, to avoid breaking in half, she rolled onto her back. Her stomach kept rolling, doing somersaults, it seemed.
Closing her eyes in an attempt to reduce the spinning of the room around her, she prayed not to throw up. She had an awful feeling that was a prayer that would not be answered.
“Good morning.”
<
br /> “Oh, my God! Not so loud,” she whispered.
Vincent’s answering chuckle was muffled. “I think you had a very good time last night.”
“You’ll have to ask someone else. I don’t know. This can’t be good. I’m dying, aren’t I?”
Vincent laughed again, louder this time, but tried to muffle the sound when he saw her wince. Taking her hand, he placed two ibuprofen in it and handed her a glass of some unknown liquid.
“What is that?”
“That would be Ruby’s hangover cure. She sent some over this morning. I think she expected me to be the one needing it, not you...Though she’d be proud—very proud.”
“Of the fact that I got so drunk I remember nothing and that I’m a split second away from tossing my cookies all over my future husband?”
“No.” Vincent made a great pretense of shifting out of her range. “That you, Ophelia Broulliard, did something you weren’t supposed to. She would say that it’s about damned time...Take the damn pills.”
Ophelia struggled to sit up, tucking the sheet beneath her arms to hold it in place. Modesty was pointless, but as she was feeling less than her best, she needed the armor. Cautiously, she sniffed at the oddly colored contents of the glass, then quickly pulled back. “That’s disgusting.”
“But effective.”
“What’s in it?” she demanded.
“Eye of newt, tongue of bat, maybe a little graveyard dust.”
Ophelia’s stomach wobbled alarmingly. “Oh, no. Don’t say things like that!”
“If you hold your nose, it isn’t so bad,” he offered.
Ophelia popped the ibuprofen that he handed her in her mouth and then held her breath as she quickly downed the contents of the glass. It burned like fire and tasted like she’d possibly licked the street after a Mardi Gras parade. “Sweet lord.”
“Precisely. Now, I was told by Kaitlyn to get you up and into the shower or she would see me dead.”
Been Loving You Too Long (DuChamps Dynasty) Page 9