“Yes, Ms. Fairmont.” The man turned, giving me a wide smile while nodding respectfully at Lee.
“We’d like some privacy. Can you find Ann and have her clear the house of staff?”
“Certainly.” The man scurried away, Lee watching him in amazement.
“Does everyone do everything you tell them to do?”
I stepped back against the column and pulled him back before me. “Kiss me.”
His eyes hooded, he obeyed, returning the crush of his body to mine, his kiss hard and possessive, his hands blatantly groping me over the thin cotton of my sundress. “I guess that’s a yes,” he muttered.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Now, fuck me eight ways to Sunday.”
“Yes, Ms. Fairmont,” he drawled, yanking down my panties with one firm hand. “With pleasure.”
Chapter 48
I know you don’t understand. I know you hate me. But you will soon find out Brant’s secret. I can’t keep it hidden. It won’t stay quiet, is screaming silently until the plug is pulled and its howl will fill the air. And once you find out, you will understand. You would have done the same thing.
I’d spent almost two years on Lee. Breaking into his life. Removing all obstacles. Making him fall in love with me, forcing that love to squeeze from his pores and envelop his heart.
I had succeeded. I had him fully in my hands. The only issue was, I didn’t know what to do with him at that point.
You could only control, manipulate, a man so much before your leash of control broke. Especially a man like Lee. A man who grabbed at everything he could and wanted more. I could feel the twinge of my leash. The crackle of weakening threads as he pulled hard against my ties. Hard in the direction of Brant. His hatred for him grew the more Lee felt for me.
Jillian was right. I was playing a dangerous game. And risking everything for my own selfish goal.
Chapter 49
2 MONTHS AGO
The oceanfront guesthouse became our fuck den, far enough from the main house to be our own oasis. Sometimes Lee visited twice a week, sometimes twice a month, his appearance as sporadic as the sun. Lee’s stress at getting through the guards subsided the fifth or sixth time he pulled through our gates without a moment’s hesitation on their part, a friendly nod the only indicator of his presence.
“Your guards suck.”
“What do you mean?” I craned my neck back, my head in his lap, meeting his perturbed gaze.
“I could be killing you in here.”
I laughed. “Then I’d have been dead months ago.” I flipped the channel. Found ESPN and stopped. I’d watched more sports in the last year than I had my entire life. Brant read and invented in his free time, while Lee watched mindless games that had no impact on anyone’s life.
“I’m serious. What’s the point of having guards if they just smile and wave at anyone who pulls in?”
“I told you, they know who you are.”
“Which is what? Your fuck buddy?” The bitter tone in his voice gave me pause. I muted the TV and turned, rolling onto my side and looking up into his face.
“I’m not intimate friends with them, Lee. I told them to always let you in. Isn’t that good enough?”
“Why aren’t they loyal to Brant? He’s the one who pays their salary. Pays everyone’s bills in this place. And where the fuck is he?” This was angry Lee. Moody, gets pissed off at anything and everything Lee. My least favorite version of him, a side effect of a passionate man. Brant never got mad. “I’ve been over here ten times, and he’s never been home. Does he even live here?”
“You know he does.” I dropped my head back, stared at the ceiling and wondered how I got myself in these situations. How many more impossible questions Lee would have for me today. “Remember? That was a fight in itself.” I’ve fought with this man ten times more than I’ve ever fought with Brant.
“Rich fuck.” He shoved me off his lap as he stood, my body falling from the couch, a hand catching me as I flipped up my head and glared at Lee. He paced to the window, hands on his hips, the pose accentuating every cut of his bare upper half. “I swear Lana, you better hope I don’t ever run into him… you send me down here like some fucking pool boy while he fucks you up there in that mansion—”
“You hate the main house. That’s why we come down here.”
“Has he fucked you down here?” He turned abruptly, the light dimming in the house as the sun moved lower. Stared at me with eyes full of hatred and hurt.
“Please stop saying fuck,” I whispered.
“Has he fucked your sweet little cunt in this house?” He stepped closer, emphasizing every word, his voice a snarl as it finished, his hands dragging me to my feet and lifting hard on my waist, his grip so hard it hurt, the lift carrying me to the granite island counter, where he deposited me, his hands pushing open my legs, his body taking its place between them.