by K. I. Lynn
An hour later, I sat at one of the desks occupying a space in the opening of the two-story expanse that held the family’s collection of books. It was one of the rare places in the house I found any peace.
“Where is all my stuff?” Ophelia said as she huffed into the library, pulling me from the financial report I’d been studying.
“Did you misplace your bedroom? I understand it’s a large home, but I thought you’d gotten a feel for it in your exploration this morning.”
“Cut the crap, Atticus.”
I blew out a breath and shut my laptop before looking up to her. My heart stuttered at the fury in her eyes. She was glorious when angry, and every nerve woke up in response. I wanted nothing more than to feel her lips on mine, her body writhing beneath me as I fucked her into compliance.
“That is a crude term you really should rip from your vocabulary. If you’re upset with me, simply state it.”
“Fine. Enough with jabs at my intelligence. Where is all of my stuff?”
“Have you checked your bedroom?”
“Do you think I’d be asking you this question if I hadn’t?”
“Then I can assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Her things are in your bedroom, Atticus,” my father said from the doorway. “I had them moved there earlier today.”
I froze as I stared at the man who challenged me to defy him, to prove to him that my relationship with Ophelia was a ruse as he suspected.
“You what?”
I clenched my jaw as I stared down at my father. He was testing me, to see if the relationship was true. It was a business arrangement and didn’t need to be brought into my only sanctuary.
“She is your fiancée and should be sleeping beside you. Get started on some grandchildren. We need more de Loughreys.” I caught the challenging glint in his eye. He saw right through me, but it didn’t matter. The stipulation was marriage, and I’d chosen my bride. I would be damned to let him take that from me.
Ophelia was mine.
As swiftly as he appeared, he was gone.
Ophelia stepped closer, her arms crossed over her chest. “I am not sleeping in the same bed as you,” she hissed.
“Apparently, you are,” I ground out, also unhappy about the arrangement.
I spent lunch with Ophelia on the terrace overlooking the lake. It was one of my favorite spots. Afterward, I took her for a quick stroll down to the dock. Honestly, it felt good to get moving and take a walk. It was a fifty-foot descent down through tiered gardens and stone walkways to reach the docks.
The Chris-Craft was lifted from the water and hidden under a canopy. Someone must have taken it out recently, otherwise it would be in the boat house.
The breeze was warm, and her face lit up when we reached the water’s edge. Perhaps Ophelia would enjoy a ride around the lake.
“Fishies!” she said with a blinding smile as she pointed down at the water.
For a moment I was stunned by her giddiness at something so small, at her childlike wonder and happiness. It was a side to her I hadn’t seen before, and I found it warmed my cold heart.
I followed her gaze, watching small perch and panfish swimming around the supports, popping in and out around the rocks below. She leaned forward for a better look, when her center of gravity shifted, and she began to fall. In a flash, I grabbed her arm and pulled her back against my chest, my heart pounding hard as adrenaline shot through me.
Her eyes were wide in surprise. “Whoa. Got a little dizzy there. Lost my equilibrium.”
“Do you know how to swim?” I asked, still gripping her arm while the other held her tightly to me.
Her face scrunched, and I immediately stepped us back from the edge.
“I can, just not that well.”
My muscles locked down around her as screams of the past filled my ears.
“Atticus?” she called out before her warm hand cupped my face.
“No more swimming by yourself at the Tower, and you will be taking swimming lessons the moment we return.”
She blinked up at me. “I know how to swim, Atticus.”
“But you’re not strong, and I will never let you near the water until you are.”
“You’re dictating again?” she asked.
I narrowed my eyes at her. Didn’t she understand I was trying to protect her?
“For your safety, yes.”
Her eyes flicked back and forth between my own.
“Okay,” she said in agreement, for once not fighting me. The incredulous tone was missing, and her voice was laced with confusion. Which meant she hadn’t gotten to that part of the folio.
With a nod, I took her hand and pulled her away from the water’s edge and back up to the house. I wouldn’t take the chance of her near the water until I was satisfied.
Not with her.
“There you are,” a sickly sweet voice called out a few hours later from the entrance to the library where I’d retreated after lunch.
The vein on my forehead throbbed as Amelia Harris walked toward me, her hips swaying with each step. It was made to entice, but stirred nothing inside me.
“Amelia.” I looked back to my work, ignoring the worm my father had let loose.
In my periphery I caught her movements circling the desk, then the light touch of her fingers across my shoulders.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
She flinched, probably in surprise.
I stood and towered over her. “I don’t give a fuck what my father promised. He can try anything he likes. In the end, it’s my choice, and I rule all. Just to remove any misconceptions, I assure you, you would be far down the list of possible candidates to warm my bed.”
Fury rolled across her features, and she swung her arm back to strike me but I caught her wrist.
“I would not do something so foolish again. You may think you have power, that your name holds weight, but I am not someone you or your father wants to go against. Go home, tell him you failed. If you attempt to retaliate in any manner, know that I will demolish your company without a second thought.”
“You don’t have the power to do that.”
I pulled on her arm, bringing her face closer to mine. She was putting forth strength, but I could see the fear. That fear drove me, excited my darkness for a possible challenge to tear something apart.
“Try me,” I hissed, then released her.
Her lips curled up, exposing her teeth, and I could see tears filling her eyes. “You’ll pay for that.”
Anger coiled through me, and my gaze narrowed further on her. She dared to test me? Me? “One foot out of line, and I will end Harris Hotels in minutes,” I said with deadly calm.
“You couldn’t,” she sneered. As confident as she was, I could see the fear growing inside her.
To drive my status home, I straightened. “You may have my father convinced, but remember this, Miss Harris—I rule the de Loughreys. Not him. And I have no qualms attacking if you continue to pester me or try to worm your way between Ophelia and me.”
She stared at me for a moment before the look of surprise melted into a sensuous smirk. “You can attack me, just so you know. Any time. I like a dominant man. I make a great sub in the bedroom.”
I stood my ground, glaring with each attempted sexualized step she took. “It seems you fail to understand me.”
“Oh, I understand. But I like breaking rules. Do you want to punish me for it?”
“No. I simply want you out of my face and out of my home. Now leave before you embarrass yourself further or force my threat.”
“You can bend me over. Relieve the tension inside you. She doesn’t release you, I can tell.” She pulled at the edge of her dress, drawing it up, exposing her bare flesh as she turned around and spread her legs. “You can take it out on me. Wherever you want.”
My stomach rolled in disgust. While many men would find this flattering and get hard, it only soured my system. I had no use for easy wo
men who behaved like whores.
“Get out,” I growled.
Movement at the doorway caught my eye and I looked in time to watch Ophelia step in, then turn after glancing at the woman bent before me. The anger rose inside me toward the woman, and I was about to drag her out by her hair when Ophelia appeared before me.
With no warning, she grabbed my face and pulled my lips down to hers. Her lips parted, and I was graced with the most delicious tongue caressing mine. I gripped her waist, pulling her closer, but was left disappointed a moment later when she released me.
Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed as we stared at each other. The link broke as she slowly turned to face Amelia, who had thankfully righted her clothing and was shooting daggers at Ophelia.
“I clearly heard him tell you to get out, so why are you still here?”
Amelia let out a shriek, her foot stomping as her hand raised clearly to strike Ophelia.
With my arm still around her waist, I turned, pulling her away as Amelia’s hand struck my bicep.
The color drained from her face as she realized what she’d just done.
I released Ophelia and stepped forward, towering over Amelia. “You will be gone from this house within five minutes, or that promise I made you will be a reality within the hour.”
Somehow she seemed to pale more, her eyes flitting between mine like a frightened animal before she scurried from the room.
“Are you okay?” Ophelia asked once Amelia was gone. She took my arm in her hands, moving it around in search of an injury.
“I’m fine. There was not enough force in her slap to harm me.”
“Oh,” she said as the heated energy that coiled around us at her kiss dissipated, and she retreated. She glanced down to the desk. “You’re working.”
“I am.”
She reached up and swiped a loose lock behind her ear. “I’m just going to take a walk around the gardens before dinner.”
I stood, frozen, as I watched her walk away. Part of me wanted to go with her, but I didn’t know how to tell her that.
Instead of focusing on that, I turned my attention to the other fire raging inside me. Amelia showed many faces, but she couldn’t hide her fear.
And I was going to make sure she knew to fear me.
Harris Hotels would still stand in the end, but barely, after I eviscerated them from within.
She was about to learn a hard lesson that would hopefully resonate—don’t fuck with me, and, more importantly, don’t fuck with my wife.
As we returned to my room for the evening, Ophelia became fidgety with each step.
“You seem nervous, my dear,” I said, enjoying her discomfort more than I should have.
She started at the term of endearment and glanced up at me. It was only meant to be slightly antagonistic, but I found I liked her response. The prospect of having her soft body curled against mine overshadowed any concern for her feelings.
She swallowed before worrying her bottom lip, and picked at the hem of her shirt.
“It isn’t like we haven’t shared a bed before,” I reminded her, which only served to remind me of what it felt like to have her wrapped around me.
“Yes, well, things were different then.”
They certainly were.
Upon entering, Ophelia stood mere feet within the room. Her eyes scanned the walls and the furniture, taking stock of my childhood bedroom. Unlike Elizabeth’s room, awards lined the bookshelves along with an assortment of books.
Deep navy and dark woods colored the walls. Cream tiles surrounded a long-dormant fireplace, a color that was strewn about in accent via chairs and curtains and rugs.
“And?” I asked as she perused.
“I was expecting it to be colder,” she said, barely above a whisper. I was thinking of a response when she turned to me. “But it’s surprisingly warm, even for its size. There are pieces of you.” A small smile formed on her lips that had me transfixed.
There was something about her presence that both soothed and unnerved me. I liked her being there, which was odd. I didn’t like anyone in my space. However, after my afternoon revelation when I called her my wife, even in my own mind, I found she was changing me, if only for her.
I turned my attention from her, desperate to shake the hold she had on me. It did not help that my body still burned from her kiss hours earlier.
As I pulled my shirt up and over my head, I reveled in the small intake of breath that slipped from Ophelia’s lips. When I glanced over, she stood next to her suitcase and appeared to be stuck mid zip of her jeans, her eyes glued to me.
We stared at each other for a moment, that sweet heat circulating between us. A woman flashed her pussy at me and practically begged me to fuck her, and it did nothing to me. A simple kiss from Ophelia had my insides raging for more.
“How long has it been since you’ve had sex?” I asked, my voice lower in tone than normal.
She blinked at me, a beautiful pink blossoming across her pale flesh.
I quirked a brow at her as I moved to the zipper of my slacks. She turned around, pulling something from her bag and holding it close to her chest before practically running into the bathroom.
I rid myself of my slacks, socks next, leaving me solely in my boxer briefs. That was how I slept, and I wasn’t going to change that simply because she was going to be lying beside me.
With a few steps, I was outside the bathroom door, leaning against the wall.
“Since your birthday, then?”
The door flew open, and a flash of hunger moved through me at the sight of her scantily clad body. Every muscle tensed as my gaze crept along the swell of her small but perfect breasts and the tight peaks of her nipples. The tank top she wore left little to the imagination, but it was the little lace panties that barely covered her mound that had me nearly reaching out for her.
Her eyes were wide, clothes draped over her arm, and she was blocked by my body from entering the room. For a moment I was trapped, warped by a lust that was overtaking me. A perfectly viable sexual partner stood before me, one I knew to be the perfect fit for my cock, and it took a concerted effort not to push her back in and take her against the shower wall.
“Move,” she said, but it barely came out as a whisper. The pink was still there, enticing me to throw everything away and take her.
“When?” I snarled, barely keeping myself in check with us being so close together and very little covering her body.
She ground her teeth together before her eyes snapped to mine. Anger raged inside, but the rosy color that painted her skin still showed.
“You know when.”
I stepped back, allowing her to pass, resisting the urge to grab her.
This is a bad idea.
In a few short minutes, her closeness was affecting me. Women didn’t share my bed unless I was fucking them. And I’d spent nearly the last year wanting to be buried inside her again.
I entered the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later to find her tucked under the covers, lying on her side and facing away from me. Her ignoring my presence was better for us both.
After sliding in next to her, I shut off the light and closed my eyes, willing sleep to take me.
The cruel bastard sandman refused to take pity on my plight, leaving me to suffer the closeness of her skin. I could feel the heat of her body warming the air beneath the blanket. She was like a furnace, and not what I had in mind when I teased her about warming my bed.
She was so beautiful, feisty, and I was certain she hated me sometimes. Not that she knew me well, and I wondered if it was more that she hated herself for accepting my proposition. If she fought against me to shield herself.
Wasn’t that what I was doing? Using her as a shield?
I’d made no promises, no declarations of feelings, though they were there. I wouldn’t dare tell her. Budding and new, but I couldn’t deny they were there. I wanted more from her, but held back that desire.
Because our rela
tionship was not built on a foundation of emotions, but one of mutual benefit.
In the low light, I couldn’t stop myself from turning toward her and staring. She’d rolled onto her back, arm thrown above her head, face angled my direction. The way her plush lips parted and her eyelashes fluttered when she dreamed, captured me in curiosity. What was she dreaming about?
A strand of hair fell across her forehead and I reached out to brush it aside. My fingertips tingled at the touch, and I couldn’t stop myself from cupping her face and running my thumb across her bottom lip.
That beautiful bottom lip I remembered so well. Lips that haunted me. Pressed against my skin, against my lips, stretched around the girth of my cock—visions that had me swelling and aching with the need to claim.
I wanted her. Badly. My cock ached to slip inside her. To feel the wet warmth of her snug little pussy. Being so close, feeling her warmth, only aroused me further. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been so turned on.
Before I realized it, I was caging her against the bed, and one leg slipped between her thighs. The heat of her pussy had my hips rocking, pressing my hardness against her. I dove down to the crook of her neck and attacked, lavishing her with teeth, lips, and tongue.
“Atticus?” her voice came out hoarse with an edge of confusion and a hint of lust.
A moan left me, and I continued attacking her neck. Running my hands up her sides, my fingers tweaked her nipples and made her draw in a breath as she arched against me.
“You’re going to give in to me, and you’re going to do it right fucking now,” I growled against her ear. All reason had flown, driven away by the consuming desire to feel her wrapped around me.
“What are you talking about?”
I pressed into her, our eyes meeting, and the same hunger shone back at me. “Give it to me, Ophelia. I know you want it as much as I do.”
Her eyes widened, and understanding crossed her features.
Blinding pain surged through me, and I cried out as I fell onto the bed beside her, cupping my cock and balls.
She sat up and backed into the headboard. “What the actual fuck? Are you serious right now? No, Atticus. Hell, fucking no,” she seethed.