This morning I threw away the notepad, its white surface damning my mind into a catatonic state, unable to create a single word of clarity. Besides, my needs are simple, no need for a physical list.
Move in. I want to live in the main house, to feel like a member of the marriage rather than a sequestered leper.
Sleep in his bed. I want his arms around me at night, his breath on the back of my neck, the hard line of his muscles within easy reach.
Sex. I will not fuck in front of others. Period.
A job. I’d like to fill my days with something other than waiting, the long drone of expectation too hard on my psyche.
That is it. Four demands. I’ll ask him on the plane, once we are settled in and away from everyone. I want to have his answer, to have a plan in place, before I step off the plane.
CHAPTER 50
I watch his profile, wishing I was across from him instead of next to him, so I could study his face without being so blatantly obvious.
“It’s been a good trip.” He stretches his legs out, one reaching into the aisle, and leans back, turning to look at me.
I nod, a spot of silence beginning, the perfect opening for me to speak. “I’ve been thinking … about our marriage. And whether or not I will stay.”
“And?”
“You asked me to make a list of things I would need. There are only a few.”
He nods, staying silent.
“I want to live in the main house and sleep in your bed. Out in the guesthouse, by myself, I feel more like an employee of yours, someone you fuck and then disregard. It’s not a situation I want to continue.”
“And the sleeping? Couldn’t you move inside without spending every night with me?”
I hesitate. Part of my demand was a negotiation tactic. Ask for more than I need, in hopes that he will settle where I want. I didn’t have to have the nights. But I wanted them, had treasured every second of the last two nights. Plus, if I planned to fight for this man, I would need those evenings as part of the seduction of his heart. “Maybe not every night, but at least two a week.”
“Before I commit to that, what else is there?”
A small grin pulls at my mouth. “Sex. You’ll have to keep your controlling habits behind closed doors.”
He laughs, pulling my hand to his mouth and nipping it slightly. “But I love taking your body before an audience. Love to see them watch you fuck.” His words turn dangerous as he speaks, the light behind his voice turning to sizzling heat, his mouth on my hand a brand that marks me as his.
“Why?” I stammer. My eyes close slightly as he flicks a delicious rhythm on the meat of my palm with his tongue.
“It’s how you look when you fuck, when you are unrestrained sexually.” He drops my hand, the break in connection sudden, my mind racing to recover without showing anything on my face. He turns in his seat, fully facing me, his eyes latched on to mine. “That first night, when we came into the club … I was only supposed to talk to you then—supposed to pitch you on a life of glamour and whisk you away. But it was how you looked under the lights. How you danced for me, the sexuality breathed out of you like it was part of your soul. I wasn’t supposed to use you that night, to have you …” He pauses, his voice roughening. “… suck my cock, but I couldn’t help it.”
His erotic words send a spike of arousal through me; the dark and confident look in his eyes makes me want to unzip his pants right here.
“I didn’t know what to do after that, so I left, thought I’d come back the second night and have more control.” His mouth curves. “Turns out my self-control, around you, is terrible.”
“I want you to be the only one who watches … at least for a while. Until I find my own footing in our relationship.” I lick my lips, focusing on my words. “It’s important to me.”
He reaches out, cupping my face in his hand and rubbing a thumb over my moist lips. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable. And I can keep our sex behind closed doors; you don’t have to ever do anything more than that. I just wanted to explain why I had enjoyed fucking you like that. Part of it was the control, my desire to keep you emotionally distant. But the other half of it, my personal arousal …” His voice drops to a growl, the desire in it tangible, and he pushes gently on my mouth, his eyes closing as I open my mouth and gently bite on the meaty pad of his thumb. “I want to make you happy, Candy. I’m sorry I made you do those things.”
I say nothing, the emotion in his eyes enough for me. He's sorry, and an apology was more than I ever expected. I gently release his thumb from my mouth, smiling at him.
“Was that it? Just those three things?”
I nod, figuring that I can bring up the job at a later day, the bulk of my needs covered in those three requests. He looks down, running a hand over his mouth and then studies my eyes, his dark blue depths searching me.
“If you stay … if you continue to act as my wife … I’ll make those concessions. But we need to have more public exposure, and some high profile interviews and photo shoots at the house. I need to draw Cecile out, need to push our relationship into her face.”
A smile breaks out, my excitement too great to contain, the mention of Cecile a small price to pay for such forward progress. His own mouth twitches in response, and he reaches out, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him, planting a soft kiss on my head.
“It’ll be tough,” I mumble into his chest. “But I’ll pretend to like you. At least when the cameras are rolling.”
He pulls back, using his other hand to tilt up my chin, his blue eyes smiling down at me. “What a good wife you are. Thank you, Mrs. Dumont.”
I don’t respond, my witty comeback lost as his mouth closes on mine, a soft kiss that deepens, my body relaxing and sinking into his embrace, my heart nose-diving after it.
His lips … they are incredible.
CHAPTER 51
I feel like I have started a new journey in my life. Yes, it is strange and twisted—the two of us living together as husband and wife. He does it in a desperate attempt to win back the woman he loves. For me, it’s an equally desperate attempt to corral the man who is stealing my heart. Even if he doesn’t fall in love, being with him, feeling his hands on my body, his eyes on my soul, his laugh on my lips … that will be enough. I am not that different from the woman who stood on stage two short months ago. I wanted an escape, and I got one: complete with money, a renewed relationship with my father, and a devastatingly gorgeous man—a man who has turned out to be charming, funny, and a sexual beast in the bedroom. Even if he can never fully be mine, this life is more than I ever expected.