The Marriage Debt

by Waltz, Vanessa

  "It’s done, darling. Nothing to do about it."

  "Bring me back, you son of a bitch!"

  "No," I said flatly. "I’d send a driver to pick up your things, but I doubt Ethan will allow anyone into the apartment."

  "Let me go."

  Jesus. She was relentless. "No."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "I fucking told you—you’re mine."

  "Ugh. You’re no better than him."

  This goddamned woman. "I saved your ass. That stunt with security cost me ten grand. I would’ve should’ve donated it to charity, or I could’ve spent it on a wedding worth remembering."

  "You are such a dick," she spat.

  She didn’t understand how much I hated him—that cycling through an endless gallery of Ethan’s hands wrapped around Naomi was like a jagged knife sawing through my heart. The little that was left of it, anyway.

  I wasn’t a good man, but Ethan was a great deal worse.

  Why in Christ’s name had she stayed with him so long?

  "When we arrive home, pick one of the empty rooms." Suddenly, I couldn’t bear looking at her. "You can do whatever you want, except leave without an escort."

  "You did this to get at him."

  Naomi had already put the pieces together and condemned me. She pressed her lips tight and pretended it didn’t hurt more than it did.

  "Partly." I shrugged. "Pissing him off is a huge bonus."

  “You had no right, you crazy asshole. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  "Well, I probably got your credit card canceled." I smiled at the image of Ethan calling the bank the moment he saw the photos. "Too bad."

  "Let me go, and I’ll sign away all rights to your money.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Why the hell would you refuse that?”

  This isn’t about the fucking money. I wanted to scream at her. It’s about revenge.

  "You're married to me," I repeated for the millionth time. "That makes you a target, even after divorce. Everyone in the world thinks you bathe in a gold-plated tub."

  "I dated Ethan and never dealt with anything like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s not a Hawthorne.”

  She didn’t ask any more questions after that, and I pretended that I couldn’t see her tears.

  I didn’t lie.

  He wasn’t one of us.

  * * *

  Ethan wouldn’t stop calling.

  I laughed every time his name flashed across the screen, and then I stopped gloating. All it did was make her cry. Her tears tugged at me in a place that was preoccupied with rage. She was attached to that piece of shit.

  It drove me crazy.

  Naomi gasped when we entered my apartment. I wanted to hate her for that, too. If she wanted my shit, she’d better be prepared to pay dearly. I wouldn’t buy her off. She awed at the custom waterfall trickling down the stairs. Her gaze raked the living tree branches that snaked through the walls, through the atrium filled with flora that cost an arm and a leg to maintain.

  "Wow." She touched the flowering vines, smiling.

  Wonder lit her beautiful face. It disturbed me how much I appreciated her smile. I dropped her suitcase. It thudded onto the wooden floors. Naomi startled at the sound. She was so goddamned jumpy.

  "Pick a room and stay there."

  She reached for the handle, but stopped. "No."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I need to know why I’m here." Naomi planted her feet and crossed her thin arms.

  She wouldn’t budge until I caved. A mad glint in her eyes told me she’d get physical, and God knows what state we’d be in after that.

  Hopefully, we’d take our struggle to bed.

  "I’ve been up all night. We can talk later."

  "No," she snapped. "You owe me an explanation. Now."

  My back ached from sitting in that car for hours, and I was in a mood. I expected her to thank me, but maybe the woman I met in Vegas was gone. Perhaps she'd never existed.

  I took her elbow and dragged her into the den. It was a room filled with books—my sanctuary. Naturally, she was banned from entering. I went there to decompress, to seek the knowledge of better men when my wisdom failed. She wouldn’t ruin that for me.

  Naomi’s eyes widened at the wall-to-wall volumes pressed into neat rows, taking in the crimson wingback chairs, the decorated rugs, and coffee tables. I glowered at her delight.

  Fuck. She loved books. Why couldn’t I have remembered that two minutes ago?

  "House rule number one. This is the only room in the house you are expressly forbidden." I released her arm and glared at her through slits. "If I catch you in here, I will lose my shit."

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "No," I barked so forcefully that she flinched. "It’s the only room that’s sacred to me. It’s where I unwind. I can’t have you anywhere near it."

  "Then why did you bring me here?"

  "Be quiet for one second." I watched her sink into a wingback chair and frown. "Look, I need your cooperation. Over the next few weeks, I'm preparing to launch another branch of my startup. I have tech conferences and lunches with the mayor and charity galas to attend. I need my image to be spotless. In exchange, I'll let you go."

  She gave me the finger. "My freedom isn’t yours to grant."

  "Depends on what definition of marriage you follow. I lean toward the traditional one. Regardless, I will promise to procure a hasty divorce once I’m satisfied my conditions are met. I’ll give you your freedom."

  "Give me? Give?" Naomi launched to her feet, fists balled at her sides. "Freedom isn’t given. It’s taken."

  "Among equals, it is. You don’t have any muscle to flex." I grabbed her arm and yanked her up against me. She squirmed, and the movement thrilled my cock. "Are you sure you want to leave me?"

  Naomi stopped moving.

  I stroked her neck in a mockery of a loving caress. Her eyes flared like twin suns, and her pulse rocketed against my touch. Rapid breaths swelled her chest against mine.

  She didn’t pull away. "Yes, I’m certain."

  "Liar." I still tasted her on my lips, and it was driving me insane. "Put aside our drama and take off your clothes."

  Holding her heated my blood, and the space between us was already a furnace. Either she’d take them off, or I’d do it for her. I was going to answer the prayer in her eyes. I ached for her naked skin gliding under my palms.

  Naomi’s cheeks burned with extreme loathing or lust. Either she needed to rip me apart or fuck me wild.

  Fifty-fifty. Odds were good enough.

  "You’re nothing like I remember."

  "And you are a lying hypocrite. We can trade insults all night, but I’d rather do other things to you. Channel your rage into fucking me."

  She wanted to, but I no longer resembled the man she knew. She missed the young, trusting moron I used to be. Old me was a wide-eyed dumbass that got drunk and married a stranger.

  In the bakery, she broke down after my fake proposal story. I thought she was upset about Ethan. She wasn’t. She was crying over what she lost with me. That realization swept through me like wind whistling through stone.

  She regretted giving me up.

  Good.

  I’d make her regret every day with him. She’d sample what could’ve been when I allowed her. She would only feel loved when I fucked her.

  Gently, I held her face. I closed my eyes and forced my muscles to relax. My forehead smoothed. Releasing my anger was easy if I pretended I stood in a Vegas suite, arms wrapping a perfect woman.

  "Screw this constant fighting.” I watched her mouth part in shocked disbelief. “I’ve missed you, and I’m tired of hating you.”

  “Me too.” She leaned into my touch.

  “I’m sorry for everything."

  She dampened my cheek when her face brushed mine. "I’m sorry, too."

  Slowly, our mouths met. The salt from her tears flooded my tongue. We healed e
ach other’s wounds with soft kisses. I pushed into her harder. She balled her fists in my hair. A wave of lust rapidly consumed the balm of forgiveness.

  I crushed her lips with mine. Breathless, relieved sobs combined with her moans. I struggled to contain the frenzy whipping inside her. She was desperate.

  Her hands pulled and yanked. I deepened the kiss. She arched her body into mine. The fire coursing my veins scorched through my flesh.

  I picked up Naomi, the movement as effortless as it was years ago. I took her into the nearest bedroom and set her on the mattress. We didn't separate—not even to breathe.

  Our mouths clashed as I angled my head for another ferocious kiss. She yanked me closer. I ripped off her jacket and pushed the shirt over her tits. Every touch caused her to gasp. She bit her lip when I made her nipples pucker. Her lids closed when I kissed the dark circles.

  I could’ve touched her forever. “Do you know how much I’ve missed this?”

  My thumb hooked her pajama bottoms and pulled them off her smooth thighs and knees. A thong covered what little privacy she had left. I yanked that off, too.

  Finally, I had her in my arms. I stroked the length of her body, sliding over her bony hips. She sat up, not unbuttoning as much as tearing my shirt. Eyes closed, she ran her fingers over my collarbone, my pecs, as though touching me soothed her.

  I yanked my shirt off.

  Her eyes greedily took in every inch of muscle I’d kept hard. She grasped my neck. “I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream.”

  “Guess what? Me neither.” I pinned her to the bed, her dark hair fanning on the pillows. “I know a surefire way to figure that out.”

  I crushed her mouth again. Ecstasy flared, we were filled with frenzied hunger. She dug into my scalp as we kissed. It reminded me of our first night in Vegas, when the day finally wound down and she led the way to her hotel room. Hours of suppressed attraction suddenly let loose.

  We’d only had days — this time we had years.

  We owed each other countless orgasms. Losing her was my fault, so I’d give her one first.

  I trailed my tongue along her neck, playing devil's advocate with my hands. One toyed with her nipple. The other slid up her thigh. She was as gorgeous as I remembered, her skin flawless and glowing. I pressed my lips into the star-shaped birthmark under her left breast. My tongue slid across the mark, and I dragged my mouth across her tits. She gasped when I leaned in for the kill.

  “Graham.”

  She dug her nails into my spine as I teased her nipple, tongue flicking against it hard. She arched her back with a pitiful moan that made me think she hadn't had dick in years. Fucking her would've scratched a desperate itch. We had a lot of ground to cover, and I couldn't decide.

  Pussy or mouth?

  I slapped her inner thigh and nipped her breast. “Legs open.”

  She obeyed. My forefinger and middle finger touched her mound. Slowly, I moved them down. I barely did anything, but Naomi clawed my shoulders. I gave her other nipple a nip. She inhaled deeply, swelling into my face. I cupped her heat and toyed with my finger, enjoying her sharp gasps, her flushed lips, pleading me.

  “Graham.”

  When she said my name like that, I knew what she needed. I ached to bury myself inside her. I wanted every inch of her fucked, used, and covered with my cum. She was so wet. Her hand rolled over my bulge.

  My self-control shifted from dangerously thin to nonexistent. I ripped off my slacks and felt her glide up my legs, returning to my cock. Christ, having her squeeze me was paradise. But I didn’t want her hands.

  I wanted her mouth.

  I straddled her head as my finger dipped into her. She sighed. I pushed through her parted lips. Naomi latched on and sucked. Pleasure rolled in a cresting wave, but instead of crashing it grew higher. I sank into her sweetness, pumping my fingers faster. She took me all the way.

  I brought her wetness up and pinched her clit. Naomi made a tortured sound and pulled me closer. I thrust into that cherry-red mouth, cock pulsing with the need to fill her. I fucked her throat, and she held me against her mouth with the same dick-sucking frenzy that wowed me years ago. A groan ripped from my chest.

  She was perfect. Her lips made an electrifying seal that paralyzed my senses. I needed to come. I couldn’t think of anything else.

  Naomi wanted more. She moaned and thrust her hips into my hand. I gripped the back of her neck and anchored deep. Ecstasy shot through my cock. Her tongue made a circle on my underside—she still knew that was a trigger for me—and I came so hard I thought I might pass out.

  I pulled out of her mouth before I emptied my whole load and spilled onto her breasts. Fucking hot. I groped them as I sank into her.

  She screamed into my mouth, thighs clenched around my hand. Her walls twitched. Her face screwed up as the rolling waves crashed over her, too. I jerked inside her until Naomi rolled to her side and smiled.

  Her eyes closed. “That was...just what I needed."

  Exactly.

  It was cathartic. The fire that burned between us wasn’t out, but once wouldn’t be enough to drain years of tension from my body. It stopped me from putting my fist through the wall.

  That was all.

  I wanted to sell that I was the same man. Old Graham would’ve basked in her glow a little longer. She didn’t hate me anymore. Her eyes didn’t shine with misery whenever she looked at me.

  She resembled the girl I fell for.

  I let myself feel for the first time. Overpowering grief slammed into my body, followed by hot rage, and heart-wrenching relief. I swept her into my chest, and kissed her head. I ached to keep her there forever, but I couldn't.

  I never wanted her near my heart again.

  Slowly, painfully, I pushed her away. Her clutching arms fell as I stood from the bed.

  Naomi sat up. "Where are you going?"

  Guilt twisted in my gut. "Bed."

  "There’s a perfectly good one here."

  I stared at her. She didn’t understand the damage she’d inflicted on me, and I had to leave before I took my anger out on her.

  I opened the door. She caught my wrist before I left.

  “Stay," she whispered. "Just for one night. Let’s pretend everything’s okay.”

  "I can’t."

  Hurt blossomed across Naomi’s face. It resonated like a hammer striking hot iron, but I pulled against the feeling.

  "Then why did you apologize?"

  You are such a bastard, Graham. "Because I wanted to fuck you."

  She smiled through the agony I caused her.

  "You know what I don’t understand? People like you and Ethan grow up with the world at your fingertips, and yet you’re miserable.”

  “Find happiness, and then you can give me advice.”

  “Why are you so cruel?"

  How many had asked me that over the years? Countless lovers, employees, my sister, the goddamn clerk at the deli, and I never had a good answer until now.

  I met her glare with indifference. "Because I have to be."

  Graham

  (Five Years Ago)

  "Just say it," she insisted. "You’re married."

  Though she smiled, I had no doubt Naomi was a woman of principle. She had too much self-respect to tolerate a cheater, no matter who or what I was.

  I wasn’t married. Other reasons demanded I keep my identity a secret.

  "Still no. I'm…very famous."

  She perked at that. "Actor?"

  "Not even close."

  I stiffened as the waiter brought the bill. She lunged for the piece of paper before I reached for my wallet.

  I covered my hand with hers. "Come on. Do we have to do this every time?"

  "Yes." Two pink patches burned her cheeks. "Let me pay for something. You’ve gotten everything since we met."

  "If you want to repay the favor, do it with a blowjob."

  "You’re so funny," she deadpanned. "Stop it. I’ve got this."

 
I glowered at the server as he approached the table, awkwardly reaching for the card. Naomi yanked her hands from mine and slapped his palms. The waiter muttered an apology as he whisked away.

  My jaw clenched. "You should’ve let me get that."

  "No worries." She grinned at my discomfort. "You’re a cheap date."

  If she had any idea who I was, she wouldn’t insist on being fair.

  "Are you that upset?" she asked.

  I could never be angry with her. "Only frustrated."

  "Well, so am I." Disappointment flickered in her eyes. "Why is it so important to keep your identity secret?"

  "If I tell you, you’ll act completely different around me."

  "I won’t."

  "It happens every time."

  "If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume something horrible." She frowned at me. "Serial killer."

  "Okay, fine."

  I had to tell her some semblance of the truth, or she’d walk out on me. I wasn’t ready to give her my last name. Some people knew about my family’s seedy connections. It had never been a problem for any women I’d dated, but something told me my lucky streak would end with Naomi.

  She leaned forward, excited.

  "I’m very, very rich."

  "No shit. Is that your big secret, because I’m seriously underwhelmed." Naomi slumped back into her seat as though she was denied a great treat. "I could tell you were rich the moment I saw you. I don’t care."

  A thrill shot through my chest. "You know who I am?"

  "No, but I recognize the name Versace." Naomi leaned forward and slapped my arm, laughing. "All this suspense for nothing."

  Then I was embarrassed. "This is not how I expected this conversation to go."

  "You seem so…normal. Well, aside from your clothes. Next time you want to mingle with the peasants, ditch the Versace."

  She didn’t care about the money. Where had this woman been all my life?

  "That would’ve been smart." I couldn’t believe a damned dress shirt thwarted me. "My sister always tells me I lack perspective."

  "You have a sister?"

  "Yeah. She's in her twenties, but she'll always be my baby sis."

  "What was it like, growing up rich?"