The Marriage Debt

by Waltz, Vanessa

  I dragged her to the heat lamp and handed her my handkerchief. Naomi grabbed it and blotted her cheeks. I led her to a bench and pulled her onto my lap. She pushed at my chest but gave up when I kissed her head. "I’m sorry."

  "It’s too late." Naomi wiped her face. "It’s done."

  "I should've told you sooner. He's not a subject I'm wild about broaching for many reasons. My sister doesn't even know he exists."

  "What?"

  "He’s our half-brother from our mother’s first marriage. Can you see where this is going?"

  Please say yes and drop it.

  Naomi blinked. "Not really, no."

  "My mom left Ethan and his father to start a new family. Us." I watched her swallow her shock. "My mother was pregnant with me while married to another man. It was a big spectacle. Very embarrassing for both families. After a while, everyone wanted it buried. I was never told Ethan was my brother. We figured it out after attending the same school. There were too many similarities."

  "How could you not know?"

  "Mom never mentioned him to the family. We didn't see him at Christmas or birthdays. I met him when I was ten, and we had no idea we were related. It's a long story, but suffice to say, we fucking hated each other. And here we are now."

  "Oh my God. I thought he was you." Her eyes shined with horror. "When I saw first Ethan, I thought—he reminds me of Graham."

  A sad smile curved my lips. "Then why did you leave me?"

  "Why do you keep saying that? I didn’t leave you!" She wiped away a bitter tear. "You gave me that card, and it said—

  "—I know what it fucking said. I repeated it to myself thousands of times over the years." Damn her for reminding me what a fool I was. "'Dear, Naomi. I have to leave. I can’t explain, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t leave. Love, Graham.'"

  Devastation wracked her face. "That’s—that’s what you wrote? That’s not what I got."

  I pulled away from my grief. "What?"

  "My note said something completely different."

  My insides froze. "What did it say?"

  "'Naomi, this weekend was fun. I took the plane home. I wish you the best, Graham.'" She recited the message in a hollow voice.

  "I didn’t write that."

  "Who did?"

  My heart cleaved in two, and my insides crumbled. I’d hated her for leaving me, but the truth was worse. We were meant to be together, and he’d ripped us apart.

  I’d never recover those years.

  Ever.

  I looked at her, but I didn't have to explain. Slowly, it dawned on me. She never got my letter. She received another one—a message that made her think I’d abandoned her. Ethan didn't just take her—he fucking stole her.

  I was going to kill him.

  He ruined her life and mine. Our lives together. Days that were supposed to become years. He made me dump her, which made her hate me. Then he preyed on her, knowing she’d be vulnerable. Fucking her wasn’t enough. He wanted to consume her, twist her, deform her into something soulless like him. Then he claimed it was love.

  No, this was too much. I couldn’t take this—wouldn’t take this. He was a parasite—a fucking plague—a menace that needed to be put down.

  I was going to kill him.

  "Graham!"

  She sounded terrified. She must’ve seen the bloodlust on my face. If my security guards were near, I would’ve reached for a gun. Ethan would’ve been dead on the floor.

  No doubt in my mind.

  Finally, I became aware of Naomi. She wrapped her arms around me, and her lips pressed into my neck. She kissed me again, harder.

  I dragged myself out of the fog of rage.

  "Graham, I want you."

  Naomi

  Graham never meant to leave me.

  It changed everything. I didn’t release his hand the whole way home. Somehow, I kept it together until we entered his apartment. The moment we crossed the threshold, I lost all composure and launched into his arms.

  He gathered me into a fierce hug.

  "All this time," I said into his chest. "I thought you were made of stone."

  "I believed you were a liar."

  I balled my fists in his shirt, squeezing my lids against the tears. "It’s like I finally have you back."

  Graham’s fingers dug into my hair. "I fucking hate him."

  "Forget him."

  His eyes flashed. Asking that demanded the impossible.

  "Please. I want you inside me, Graham." I kissed his throat and felt him sigh. "Take me. I need you."

  He bowed his head and claimed my lips. A primal fever seized him as we crashed into the wall. My heart rocketed with every bruising kiss. He grabbed my thighs and slid to my ass, yanking me close. Straps from my gown slipped off my shoulders. He tore them off. When the dress didn't fall, he jerked me off my feet.

  I exhaled a strong gust of air as I collided with his body. My hands linked around his neck. I buried my fingers into his hair and breathed in the scent of him. A memory of him tossing me onto a king-sized bed flashed as if it were a premonition, but when Graham lowered me to the mattress, he looked nothing like he did before. Ferocity curled his lip instead of playfulness. My loving, sweet Graham was gone. I had to embrace who he was now, and stop wishing for the past.

  He was different. Darker.

  I kissed his hard mouth over and over, but he didn’t yield. He softened enough to return a biting kiss. I flicked my tongue over his and moaned. He devoured me. Pain stung where he bit my lip. He ripped my gossamer gown, not bothering with the zipper. Cold air hit my back and breasts. He balled the fabric and tossed it aside.

  Graham climbed over me. His lips stamped my neck as I unfastened his shirt buttons. Heat bloomed where his mouth and hands touched. He kissed down my belly, hands pushing under my panties to cup my ass. He pinched and kneaded me before dragging my underwear off.

  He seized my thighs and spread me, face dipping between them. Wet heat stroked the ache screaming to be filled. I gasped and bucked. He palmed my abdomen, forcing me down. He kissed my clit and rubbed hard with his tongue. I grasped wildly at the sheets, unable to reach him. His licked me, dipping inside. My knuckles turned white.

  "Graham!"

  I lost all sense of dignity and thrust my hips into his greedy mouth. He broke away with a chuckle and bit my inner thigh. I flinched from the sting, moaning when his lips soothed the pain.

  Graham moved upright, hands on my knees. Savage delight danced in his gaze as he continued unfastening his shirt. I sat up to help but tore off the buttons instead. The fabric slipped to his arms. I threw myself around him.

  We leaned forward. He caught himself before we fell. His smile burned against my mouth. I buried my hand in his thick, golden waves and lifted myself. Graham pushed his slacks down. Our thighs touched. He pulled out his erection. It flattened against my leg as he rubbed his stubbled cheek over mine.

  Then he dragged me across the bed, looping my legs around him. His cock slipped down my wetness. He sank into me with a rough push. My walls screamed agony as he shoved through barriers not used to his size. Graham stayed above, smirking, his expression reflecting none of the warmth in my heart.

  I wanted him closer. "Please."

  Graham obliged, sinking to his elbows. Our bodies sealed as he took me with a desperate fervor. He thrust and yanked me to him. He grabbed my breasts, playing with them as he fucked me. His hard, broad strokes stole my breath. He pushed through my walls with a brutal force. I’d forgotten how big he was, and everything was tight from months of not being touched. He pulled and rammed. I clenched my teeth and didn’t make a sound. Then he lowered himself, his back a rolling wave as he wrapped his arms around me. He squeezed. Pain disappeared into a fog of pleasure.

  I moaned in his mouth and met his thrusts with rolls of my hips. I raked his spine as my body surrendered to him. Our bodies joined in a frantic pace, as though trying to shove two broken halves together. We changed position when Graham p
ulled out. He flipped me like a doll, taking my hand and forcing it on the headboard. His legs pushed mine apart as he entered me from behind. A deep groan tore from his throat. One hand wrapped my breast as he pounded me, the force shuddering through my arm to smack the wall. I groaned from the sensation of being filled.

  His fingers slid up and fisted my hair. He pulled gently but fucked me hard. While my head was turned, he claimed my lips. It was a desperate kiss. I felt him swell, and then a delicious warmth spread inside me. His arm swept around me to finger my clit, pushing down as he bit my shoulder.

  I came as Graham pulsed his hips, desire flooding with unbearable exhaustion. I collapsed onto my stomach, and he slid to the side. He breathed heavily, smiling when I nestled into his chest. I melted into him and wiped a streak of sweat from his brow. His eyes fluttered closed. I kissed him softly.

  This time, there was no resentment. Gratitude filled my eyes, but Graham never saw. I linked my fingers with his and listened to his comforting heartbeat. This was a catharsis—the real one—not the hate fuck we had when I first arrived.

  He shifted from my side, anger rolling into his eyes, dark clouds shielding sunlight.

  I touched his face. "What’s the matter?"

  "I can’t brush it off like you can. He took it away from us. Our future."

  "We’ll get that time back," I said softly.

  He sat against the headboard. "You don’t understand."

  "You don’t have to give him another second."

  Confused, I propped myself up. I caressed his rough cheek as though I could wipe the devastation from his eyes.

  "This is a good thing. It wasn’t our fault. We don’t have to resent each other anymore."

  "It’s not you I resent." Graham’s voice darkened with the need for blood. "The bastard tore us apart."

  "Graham, stop."

  He pulled away from my touch, swinging his legs over the bed. I despaired as he stared forward, his body erect and proud, yet his spirit broken.

  "It was always you. Even when I was with him, I missed you."

  He turned when my voice broke and thumbed my chin. His lips found mine. I melted like butter on a hot pan.

  He kissed me, as dead-eyed as his brother.

  Then I realized—his kisses were not meant to soothe.

  They were intended to silence me.

  Graham

  Over the next few days, I gathered my resources and struck back. I waged war with millions of dollars. The money coursed through untraceable wires, funneling to Dubai and Bali, where Ethan planned an extension of his hotel chain. It shouldn’t be difficult to suspend certain building permits.

  I also tripled funding to New York’s anti-construction legislation—many of my business partners would shit themselves—and bribed the Federal Trade Commission to raid Blackwood Casino. In one day, I’d done more damage to Ethan than he could with a thousand paparazzi photos, but it was unsatisfying.

  Bloodless.

  It didn't soothe me. Nothing quenched my thirst. I couldn't smile without picturing Ethan's body stuffed into a grave. Twice, I turned on my disposable phone. My fingers flew over the digits, but I didn't call.

  One thing stopped me—my wife.

  Naomi’s shadow rolled across the frosted glass. She knocked—I hated when she did that—and I waved her inside. Before she opened the door, I minimized the screens on my desktop.

  "Morning," she beamed.

  "Hey." I pushed from my desk, fighting the snarl of warmth in my chest. "What’s that?"

  An almond croissant and coffee balanced on a plate that she slid over to me.

  "For you." Her lips touched my head. "I baked it."

  I tore off a piece of the pastry and popped it in my mouth. It melted on my tongue, but the buttery smoothness failed to spark anything inside me. Joy, happiness, and love were walled behind thick layers of concrete and padlocked with reinforced steel.

  I pretended for her sake.

  I felt a roaring undercurrent of anger, passion for Naomi's body, and not much else. She stroked my hair, looking at me from under her lids. A pink camisole covered her shoulders, and her nipples peaked under the silk. To complete the perfect image, she kissed me. Her lips pressed into mine. Soft. Barely there.

  Overnight, Naomi had changed. She went from stranger to partner. She participated instead of existed. She invented reasons to join my company. She broke my pointed silences. Made an effort to engage.

  All I had to give her was my body.

  Our mouths molded together. I pushed her head, deepening the kiss. One kiss became another, gradually spiraling from quick pecks to a make-out session. I pulled her over my lap, her thighs riding my boxer shorts. Her tongue dove into my mouth, and she leaned into me. The office chair glided from the desk.

  "Sorry," she broke away, laughing. "I want you."

  "Never be sorry for that." I bent over and kissed her cleavage, which still had marks from the night before. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

  I dragged her camisole down and buried my face in her tits. She gripped my head and gasped when I tongued her nipple. She pulled my hair. I met her heated gaze. Two red patches burned on her cheeks.

  "I wanted to talk."

  "What about?"

  "I—I thought we might go somewhere," she suggested. "To get to know each other."

  "Fantastic idea. Let’s do it in bed."

  She palmed my chest. "If we’re giving this a real shot, I want to really know you."

  "You’ve lived with me for a week."

  "And in that time we’ve fought more than anything else." Naomi sighed, looking upset. "We owe this to each other. Our last night in Vegas, we promised to give us a chance. We never got to date—we didn’t meet each other’s families."

  I couldn't see that going well. My sister wasn't talking to me, and Mom and Dad were a nightmare.

  "Things aren’t good between us lately. Is that what you want? Awkward dinners with my parents?"

  "I want to fall in love with my husband."

  Five years ago, I would’ve had the time of my life dating Naomi. I would’ve taken her to my favorite haunts. We would’ve painted the city red. We might’ve fallen in love.

  Now?

  Love was a pipe dream, but I owed her the fantasy.

  I cupped her cheeks and smiled even though a hollow drum beat in my chest.

  "Ask me anything."

  "What are your parents’ names?"

  "Arthur and Karen. They live upstairs. My sister, Blair, has an apartment below this one, but she lives with her boyfriend, Liam, in the Upper West Side."

  Naomi’s eyes brightened. "And I haven’t met them yet? Maybe we should get everyone together—"

  "No." The smile ticking across my jaw vanished. "She won’t come, anyway."

  Naomi wilted.

  I pulled her close, taking advantage of her silence. I didn't want more introspection. My mouth pressed into her bare shoulder and zigzagged over her tanned skin. She hesitated, and then slipped off my legs. She flashed me a heart-pounding smile. "I thought we might go out for the day. Celebrate."

  “I have a lot of work to do.”

  I woke up to a charming gossip column headed with a picture of my wife swooning in my brother’s arms, reports that hundreds of my rideshare bikes had been dismantled, and a riot outside BlueBike headquarters claiming I was putting cab drivers out of business.

  Is that all you’ve got, Ethan?

  “It’s our anniversary. March fifteenth.”

  Shit.

  I met her pleading gaze and knew I couldn’t say no. “’Course. I’ll think of something.”

  "I have a plan. A scavenger hunt, so to speak.” Naomi linked her arms around my neck, her mouth hovering close. “We’ll do everything a normal couple does in their first year."

  Naomi swept closer, juniper invading the air. "Starting with a first kiss.”

  And she pressed her lips to mine.

  * * *

  Co
uples skated in leisurely circles as I laced my boots. Naomi watched them with a giddy apprehension and squeezed my hand. I wished I shared her excitement.

  "Don't pout," she scolded. "It's unbecoming on a Hawthorne."

  "Remind me why we’re doing this again?"

  She pulled down the white scarf, her cheeks pink with cold. "Because it’s a rite of passage."

  "We could’ve stayed home and banged in the shower. That’s a rite of passage, too."

  She slugged my arm. I pinched her side, making her yelp. Naomi laughed and grasped my hands before I retaliated further.

  "Truce."

  I kissed her cheek. "How about this? I’ll hold back until after the ice-skating."

  She glowed. If I felt anything at all, it was an appreciation for how her ass looked in leggings. She tottered on her white ice skates and descended onto the ice. She made it look effortless.

  It shouldn’t be that hard.

  Naomi waved me toward her. "Come on! Don’t they teach ice skating in boarding school?”

  “More like elocution and etiquette.”

  I stepped onto translucent blue frost. She snorted at my overabundance of caution, which made me let go of the rink. I moved forward—

  And fell.

  My ass hit the rock-solid ground. "Fuck!"

  Pain shot up my tailbone, and Naomi laughed harder than I’d seen all week. I sat and watched, enjoying her amusement even if it didn’t warm my heart. I attempted to stand, slipped, and grabbed the wall for support. She skated to my side, chuckling.

  “Did you bring me here to laugh at me?”

  “Maybe.” She pressed into my side and took my arm. “We could use a bit of levity. Come.”

  I resisted her. “Hell no. I’ll fall.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  I grinned at the image of my dainty wife trying to catch me. “You’re more likely to break my descent.”

  “Trust me,” she said.

  “Trust is earned.”

  I gave her my hand anyway. She pushed off slowly, tugging me toward the center of the ice. I glided suddenly, colliding with her. She twisted and grabbed my waist so that we moved as one unit. People zipped by. I let go of her. Naomi circled me and propelled me from behind. The momentum made me slip. This time, I caught myself on my knee.