Thrust Under
Page 5
He’s smart enough to look down at his feet as he mumbles a hasty apology, but I don’t even bother with him.
My attention is reserved for Maggie in that dress. She’s paired it with a look that makes me think she’s close to vomiting all over the concierge clerk who’s pointing at me and smiling.
She drags her shoulders up to her ears, takes a few seconds, and then turns. Her eyes lock with mine as I cross the lobby. “You came,” I say once I get close enough for her to hear me.
A deep scowl yanks at her features when she picks up on the suggestive lilt behind my tone. “And if we’re going to start this evening off with you trying to get into my pants, maybe I should go.”
I grin and shake my head. “You’re not wearing pants, Maggie.” I rest my hand on the base of her spine, and her lips part open in surprise. Her back arches and she closes her eyes to gather her bearings before she glances up at me. She licks her lips and some of the steel behind her green irises fades away.
“Look, I only came because you said you have a business proposition. I was hoping you were going to say you’ve decided to move your hotel elsewhere like Maui or—”
I throw my head back and laugh and her nostrils flare. Shit, she’s sexy when she’s mad. “I’m not going anywhere, beautiful, but I love that you dream big.” Her spine stiffens beneath my touch, but she doesn’t try to pull away as I guide her from the lobby and through the double doors of what will someday be a five-star, eat-in restaurant.
It’s not much to look at. After I bought this place at the auction, I closed the ballroom off because there wasn’t enough money in my budget to launch the restaurant and spa like I’d hoped. I had cleared out all the antiquated furniture and had the walls primed, but that was the extent of my repairs. Not that my guests have ever complained. The room service at the Elite is the best on this side of the island.
Maggie stands at the curved balcony, her feet crossed at the ankles and her hands gripping the railing. She peers down at the single table in the center of the giant room.
“Fancy,” she points out, her voice echoing. She throws a look over her shoulder like she’s just won the upper hand. “Are we eating in here or—”
“Is that sarcasm, beautiful?” I counter, hiking an eyebrow. She spins around to face me and rests her back against the railing. Crosses her feet again, drawing my attention to her strappy, high-heeled black sandals and pale pink toenails. It’s not hard to picture them resting over my shoulders. “Are you too good to eat in here?”
“Are you kidding me?” Lifting her small chin, she curls her lips into a condescending smile. She’s even sexier when she does that. When she shakes her head and her loose, dark brown waves tumble over her breasts. “I figured you’d be too good for it, MVP. I took you for the dinner on a fancy yacht type of guy, you know.”
I laugh. “I’m more of a sailboat kind of guy, but no. I’m definitely not too good to eat in here.” I inch forward, my eyes caressing her. She’s close enough to touch. Breathing distance, and when I inhale, I fucking swear I can taste her subtle perfume. It’s citrusy. Perfect for a woman who shifts from tart to sweet in the blink of an eye. I dip my forehead until it’s a couple of centimeters from hers. She swallows hard.
“Next time, Maggie,” I promise. “Next time I’ll give you that fancy boat dinner.”
“Next time, huh?” Her voice is husky. I move my head up and down, slowly. Confidently. Letting out a throaty chuckle, she pushes away from the banister and sashays past me, her body brushing the front of mine. “You really are full of yourself.”
I’m half-tempted to tell her she could be full of me, too, but I’m left drooling over the twitch of her ass while she walks to the staircase. She knows what she’s doing. Fuck, she knows, and she’s enjoying teasing me.
“I never knew how huge this place was!” she calls behind her as she saunters down the steps. She stops at the bottom, craning her neck to look up at me. “Are you coming, Carter?”
I fucking hope I will and soon.
I’d ordered a meal of sea bass and fingerling potatoes for us, and she’s quiet for the first part of dinner. “I missed food like this,” she finally says, closing her eyes as she savors what she’s chewing. A shiver ripples through her and I imagine what it would be like to get that same reaction out of her after I’ve wrapped her legs around my shoulders for the first time.
Oblivious to the thoughts running through my head, she sighs. “You know, I’d gotten so used to MREs and beef jerky that I forgot what real food tastes like. Even when I got back this time, there wasn’t anything like this. This is amazing, by the way. A thousand times better than an MRE.”
She opens her eyes to find me staring back at her. Making a face, she lifts one shoulder and says, “MREs are—”
“I know what they are,” I interrupt and a pretty flush tinges her cheeks. She dips her head to her plate. “Why did you leave the Army?”
“I completed my contract and it was time to come home. I missed my family. I felt like...” She trails off, working her teeth over the edge of her lip. From my chat with my business manager, I know enough of her story. She joined the military to get away from her cheating ex. While she was away, her dad’s illness had gotten worse, right along with their hotel’s business. I start to tell her that I understand. That I remember what happened to my grandparents’ hotel, and health, after they talked me into going off to college in California to play baseball.
I nod instead. “I see.”
“Sure you do.” She avoids looking at me, playing with a strand of her brown hair. “Why did you leave baseball?”
“I hurt my shoulder.”
“All the articles say you could have eventually gone back to work.” The corners of my mouth tighten as the memories assault me. I had gone from a first draft pick to a concussion and busted up shoulder—all thanks to a drunken bar brawl. The press had a field day, calling it the finale of my downward spiral.
“I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to open this place. My own business, you know?”
“Trust me, I get it, I—” Her phone goes off in her bag, and she cringes. I watch her, amused, as she fishes around for it. She glances at the screen for a second, irritation pinching her features. She ignores the call and tosses the phone back where she found it. “Ugh, fuck off Ryan,” she growls.
The ex again. The quicker I can get that dick out of her head, the better. “Good song.” I take a drink of champagne when she gives me a startled look. “Your ringtone. “Ball-Busting Bitch,” right?”
“Funny story, really.” She darts her tongue over her teeth and her shoulders relax. Good, she’s temporarily forgotten the bastard ex. “One of the guys in my platoon sent me the link to the music video after I freaked out at him over some missing hand receipts. I’ve been a Black Falcon fan ever since. Damn near broke my heart when I read Riff had gotten married and my chances with him were shot.”
Since she’s going to marry me, I ignore the last part, focusing on the little glimpse into her past. “You? Freak out?” I drawl. “I don’t believe it. But you’ve got good taste in music.”
“I’m going to ignore the sarcasm and just take the compliment.” She lifts her eyes to the chandelier over our heads then scans her gaze around the room. “So, I never asked—why have dinner in here? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Because it’s my next big goal.” Her brows shoot up, so I tell her about the plan for my restaurant and spa. By the time I finish, she’s anxiously pinching her lip between her thumb and index finger.
“So … what’s the price tag on all that?”
I give her an eight figure number that leaves her choking on her champagne. At least it’s not in my face this time.
“Must be nice to be able to add a ten-million-dollar expansion to your hotel.” She fidgets with the corners of the white cloth napkin. I can tell she wants to add something—My family can barely afford a ten-thousand-dollar addition—but she keeps it to herself.
She lets off a raspy chuckle. “If you can’t get investors, I’m doomed.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe not.”
She laughs again. It’s low and sexy and confirmation that what I’m about to say is a good idea. I could get used to hearing that sound. I could get used to every single thing about her. “Thought you said you weren’t going to fuck off and go to Maui.”
“I’m not going anywhere, but my idea might help us both.”
She rests one elbow on the table, then the other, and raps her fingertips against her chin. “All right, I’m listening.”
“I have money,” I say, and she yawns and rolls her eyes and mutters a “good for you.” Gritting my teeth, I continue, “I have money, but not the kind of cash I need to launch my idea. Investors are hesitant to help me because I have a reputation of being…”
When I take too long searching for the right word, she chimes in, “A party animal? A man-whore with anger issues? A cocky asshole? At least … that’s what it said about you on the Internet.”
I bite the tip of my tongue and force a smile at her. Shit, I wish she hadn’t researched me so thoroughly. “Yeah, something like that. My attorney seems to think I’d get more done if I prove to the investors that I can behave. That I’m not the asshole pitcher people know me as but a business man who’s dedicated to my new life. To my new area.”
“And let me guess, you want me to go on film praising your flawless character after you’ve buried our bookings for the last couple of years.” Before I can say a word, she snorts and shakes her head. She starts to scoot away from the table, but I hook one foot under the leg of her chair to stop her. She fists her hands by her plate and sneers at me. “That’s not going to happen, Gabe. You can eat a bag of dicks if you think I’m going to help you score more money to screw us over. My parents are good people and they’re struggling. You asking me for help when we can’t afford to do a ninety-thousand dollar renovation is a slap in the face.”
“Who said anything about you going on camera praising my character?” Even though that’s a damn good idea. “Like I told you this morning, my idea is mutually beneficial.”
She lowers her ass to her seat. “What exactly is it you want from me?”
“I’m prepared to offer you a deal that will repair your family’s hotel. Enough to rebuild your brand. A hundred thousand dollars just for helping me.”
She chokes on her champagne again. This time, she taps her palm to the center of her chest several times to catch her breath. “I’m sorry,” she wheezes, her face turning red. “I could have sworn you just offered me a hundred grand.”
I toss back my champagne, wishing it were a shot of something strong instead. “I did.”
“And for what exactly? Sleeping with one of your investors?” When I shake my head to her question, she sucks in her bottom lip. “What is it you want me to do, Gabe?” she demands softly.
I study her reaction when I speak the three words. Watch the way her green eyes expand and her mouth goes slack as the muscles in her body tighten.
“Marry me, Maggie.”
7
Maggie
My spine jerks upright, and I blink. Over and over again. It feels like an eternity passes by while I process and reprocess what Gabe just said. I expect him to speak up and tell me that I’m on camera and he’s screwing with me big time. That’s the only explanation for the grenade he just tossed at me. Instead, he just watches me, his hazel eyes burning into mine and his expression unreadable.
“Marry you? Is this some sort of sick joke?” I croak. He shakes his head, and the air stalls in my lungs. “If you think I’m going to—”
“You will do this,” he counters, pinning me with an intense look.
“I will? Sorry, but I’m not in the business of taking orders anymore, Carter.” Not when it involves holy matrimony with someone I barely even know. I haven’t thought of marriage since I was dating Ryan, and I’m wise enough now to acknowledge that marrying so young would have been a mistake since my ex couldn’t keep his dick in his pants to save his life.
Gabe pours himself another glass of champagne and sets the half-empty bottle far enough from me that I can’t give him a repeat of our first night together. He must know I’m considering it, because a corner of his mouth tugs up before he scoots it even closer to his side of the table. “I’ve done my research, about you and your family. The Hawaiian Bungalow is in some deep financial shit. Without the money I’m offering you, it will definitely go under. And when it does, where will that leave your parents?”
His words are like daggers straight to the center of my heart. What he’s saying is one-hundred percent true, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Specifically coming from a man who seems to be using that information to coax me into doing what he wants.
Fisting my hands until my nails bite into my palms, I cross my arms over my chest. “Is this all because I won’t sleep with you?”
His lips part, but then he pauses, darting his tongue out. He traces it over his bottom lip while he considers what I’ve asked. He pushes up the sleeves of his white dress shirt then steeples his fingers together on the table. “I’d be lying if I denied the hard-on you gave me that night didn’t help cultivate this idea.”
“You’re an absolute dirt—”
“But,” he interrupts, a feral gleam in his greenish-brown eyes, “wanting to fuck you isn’t the only reason I’m proposing marriage to you.”
“Then why are you?”
“You really don’t listen to a goddamn thing you’re told, do you?” He places his palms on the table and leans in close. Close enough that, unlike me, there are no beads of perspiration on his upper lip. No uneven gasps escaping him. He’s cool, calm, and utterly collected and it pisses me off. “It’s simple really. Having you on my arm as my wife puts out the public persona that I’m a changed man. Settled. More trustworthy to invest in. Marrying you can make my dream of turning this into the premier hotel to stay in on this side of the island.”
“So you’re asking me, someone who you barely know, to marry you as a part of a business deal. You’re insane and I’m not going to be part of such a stupid, awful scheme. It’s wrong.”
“People marry for shitty reasons all the time, and it never lasts.” He pauses, smirks, and then lifts his shoulders nonchalantly. “So what’s wrong with proposing an arrangement that has benefits for us, both financially and sexually? When the deal has run its course, we go our separate ways—mutually satisfied and better off financially.”
I consider what he’s saying, and it’s tempting. It sounds too good to be true—too easy. But nothing in life is simple, and I know this arrangement wouldn’t be as effortless as it sounds. For starters, while I walk away with a hundred grand to do repairs on the Bungalow, the O’ahu Elite will get a multi-million-dollar facelift that will more than likely ruin us even more.
I tip back the rest of my champagne and plunk my glass down so hard it shakes the table. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Gabe’s mouth drops open in genuine surprise. Which makes him seem even crazier because he must have honestly believed I’d go right along with this sham. “What? Are you seriously turning me down?”
“Yep, and I’m also leaving. Feel free to be shocked about that, too.” Angrily, I slide my chair back and stand before I tense my shoulders. “Believe it or not, I’m not for sale. Good luck finding a woman desperate enough to marry you.”
In the back of my mind, I know he can do just that in two-point-five seconds, but I still spin around to rush out. Before I make it to the door, his voice carries across the room.
“I won’t accept no as your final answer.”
I swing my body around to find him approaching me in a slow preda
tor-type manner, with his eyes trained on me like I’m his prey. “You have three days to change your mind.”
“I won’t.” But my voice trembles the closer he gets to me. My knees are loose, my head’s a mess, and by the time I speak again, I’m whispering. “You can find some other woman to do this for you.”
“Not when I really want you to say yes to this deal. There’s no other woman on this island who makes my cock hard like you do. No other woman who digs beneath my skin the way that you do.” He stops a few feet from me and skims his gaze over my face as a warm heat travels across my cheeks. “You’re the only woman on this island I want to watch do that—blush all over when I’m speaking to you. Kissing you. Fucking you. Think about how much fun it will be, mixing business and pleasure, when I’m buried deep inside your pussy. Making you come again and again.”
I swallow hard and do my best to pretend what he’s saying isn’t getting to me and making my panties wet. I tell myself that, after two years of no sex, any gorgeous man with a filthy mouth would be able to draw that type of reaction from me. And I know I’m deceiving myself.
“The answer will always be no,” I murmur. “It’s a no today and it will be a no three days from now. It doesn’t matter...”
How great the financial freedom would be.
Good it would feel between us.
How stupidly sexy you are.
In one long stride, he closes the distance between us. Extending his hand, he brushes his fingertips from my temple to the corner of my mouth. A ripple of desire rushes down my spine.
“See what I mean?” At my silence, a knowing smile plays along the edges of his lips. “Consider my offer, Maggie. I would like nothing more to have you in my bed—and, of course, wearing my ring. Don’t you ever think about how perfect we’d be together?”
I have. Less than a minute ago, in fact. Which is why I have got to get the hell out of here before I do something reckless. I begin to shove my hands against his chest, to force him away from me, but he catches my fingers in his. Links them, one-by-one, until sparks shoot through every skin cell in my body.