Beau (Members From Money Season 2, #139)
Chapter 1
He ceased his endless pacing when he glimpsed her sports car, pulling into the driveway. Trying to tamp down the anger, he quelled the urge to haul the double hardwood doors open and confront her. He had been calling her phone for the past thirty minutes and nothing.
“I am sorry.” She breezed into the wide hallway, bringing in the bracing breeze of the crisp November evening with her. “My phone was on vibrate, and I did not realize it. Darling–”
“We are going to be late.” He tried and failed to resist her dazzling smile, which highlighted her exquisite face, and felt the familiar weakness invading his body. It had been that way from the first time he saw her more than a year ago, and it had not lessened.
“Ten minutes,” she promised as she glided over and kissed him on the lips. “Make that eight.” Without waiting for his response, she dashed along the hallway and up the spiral staircase.
Biting off an impatient sigh, Beau went to stand by the window, a frown touching his brow. He had an idea where she had been. She had originally gone to luncheon with Leesa, Kelly, and several of the other wives with the intention of putting the finishing touches on the
Thanksgiving gala they were planning. But he knew that the meeting had been over for hours. No doubt, she had been torturing herself again by going to the park.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark blue dress pants, he narrowed emerald green eyes as he stared sightlessly outdoors, not seeing the brilliance of the russet-colored leaves on the trees waving in the breeze. He was in love.
And it was still baffling to him that one petite woman, weighing a mere hundred and fifteen pounds, just barely topping five feet, had such a hold over him. And that had been the case since he first laid eyes on her at that party.”
His reputation, before then, had been one of a hellraiser who loved and discarded women with alarming frequency. He was the heir to a pharmaceutical fortune and was spoiled in the process. He had been allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted.
Until her. Until Georgiana. Just thinking about her made him weak with need. Their marriage had survived its first year, and he had been lavish with his gifts and whisked her off to Paris, where they had spent two wonderful weeks in the romantic city.
Now they were back, and he knew she was again obsessed with what she considered to be a problem.
“What do you think?” Her musical voice had him turning around slowly. Even though he had lived with her for more than a year, it was still a shock to his system of how beautiful she was.
The orange-colored chiffon, molded to her surprisingly generous breasts, was nipped in at an almost impossibly tiny waist, flaring out and swirling around long, shapely legs. Her caramel complexion was highlighted by the vivid color.
Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was styled in an elegant chignon at the nape of her long, graceful neck. Diamonds glittered at her lobes, throat, and around her left wrist.
“I think I am going to have to keep you chained to my side," he remarked huskily. Her eyes showed no signs of the tears he had witnessed when she came bursting through the doorway. His wife was an expert at masking her sorrow. For now, he was going to let it go, but later, they were definitely going to have a chat.
“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” Her sultry smile came, dark brown eyes wandering over his well-clad magnificent body. His blonde hair gleamed in the overhead light, his handsome face giving her heart the usual ba-bump.
Beau Anderson was breathtakingly masculine and saved from being beautiful by the slight bump on his nose where he had broken it in his youth while playing ice hockey.
They were dubbed the “stunningly beautiful couple” by several magazines and were relentlessly pursued by the press.
“Shall we?” Bridging the distance between them, he rubbed his hands over her bare arms before reaching for her cashmere jacket and helping her to put it on.
He barely touched her, knowing that if he did, they would probably never make it out of the house. He had discovered that where his wife was concerned, he had zero control over his desire.
“We are taking the Lamborghini," he informed her as they made their way toward the multiple-car garage.
“You are driving?” Georgie looked at her husband in surprise as he guided her down the steps of their Tudor house. “What happened to Eric?”
“He asked for the night off. Something to do with his wife.”
“I hope she is okay.” She waited for him to open the door and slid in, the soft velvet seat cushioning her and conforming to her body.
“I am sure she is.” Glancing over to make certain she was buckled in, he touched the start button, and the car purred to life. “How was the luncheon?” He made his way through the electronic gates and down the private road that led to the main roadway that would take them into town.
“We are making progress.” Sitting back, she closed her eyes briefly, trying to fight the nostalgia she felt coming on. She knew her husband had seen the tracks of tears on her cheeks, even though she had tried to hide it.
She had spent a few minutes getting rid of the evidence.
“Georgie?”
“Hmm?”
“This has to stop.” His deep voice had a steely inflection she recognized.
“I don’t know what you mean." She did not look at him, but kept her eyes closed.
“Is this what I have to look forward to every single day?”
She turned her head then and opened her eyes. She ached with love for him. Ever since she met him, he brought out feelings inside her that she never thought existed.
She had fought the attraction, even to the point of leaving the country for a month. But he had found her.
She loved him so much that she could not breathe. It was a year since their nuptials, and it felt as if she had just met him. “You know how I feel," she murmured huskily.
“And you know my stance on the matter.” His square jaw was tight with disapproval. “We are here.”
Georgie wished he would turn the vehicle around and let them go back home, but they had their obligations. She felt weepy and melancholic. Her middle sister had called to tell her that she was pregnant.
“We never thought it would happen.” Sandra said enthusiastically, never realizing that every word was like a dagger in her heart. “Not after Christian," she added, mentioning her five-year-old son.
She loved her sisters, and being the baby of the family meant that they thought the world of her. And she loved them too. All three of them were parents, and she was happy for them. It just hurt like hell to know that she was not carrying her husband’s child.
Beau was breathtaking. Her sisters were constantly dazzled by him. Women flocked around him like bees to a honeycomb. She knew he was committed to her and had changed from the randy playboy he had been before. But deep in her heart, there was always this nagging doubt that he would revert to his former ways.
Shaking herself from her painful reverie, she forced a smile when the valet opened the door for her.
“Thanks.”
Taking her hand, Beau glanced around the crowded parking lot of the hotel his family owned. It was a celebration gala.
The pharmaceutical company, which was just part of their vast holdings, had acquired a subsidiary R eyes slit with desire. He had danced with her several times during the night and watched as several men flocked to her attention. He knew he had nothing to worry about, but he did not like other men touching her. Not even his married friends.
She often accused him of being that way because of his philandering ways of the past and he knew she was right. He had never slept with a married woman, that was where he had drawn the line, but he had been with women who simply left their men to be with him.
He was in fear of that happening to him. He knew that his wife was completely committed to him, but still…
“I think I do.” Climbing up, she settled on top of him, just shy of covering his long, lean body completely. She examined the handsome face and felt the familiar heat racing through her body.
When he first approached her at the party, she had known who he was and heard of his reputation of course. So, when he came over to her, she had coolly told him to get lost.
But he had not taken no for an answer and had asked her for a dance. In order to avoid a scene, she had grudgingly succumbed to the pressure. The one dance had led to them going outside for a walk in the gardens.
Their first kiss by the pale-yellow rose bushes had left them both shaken to the core. She had fled, leaving the party right after without telling her friends.
Now, reflecting on that night, she sank on top of him and arched her back in delight.
“What made you smile just now?” His breathing was labored, his skin heated.
“I was thinking about the first time we met.” Her fingers combed through the dark blonde pelt on his muscular chest. “How obnoxious you were.”
His hands roamed over her back, before settling on her hips.
“You were standoffish and extremely rude," he growled.
“That’s because I had heard about you.” One hand lifted to trace his sensuous bottom lip.
He nipped the pad of her finger, sending shivers through her body.
“And you were determined to avoid me at all costs.”
“I knew you were a player and did not have time for a man like you.”
His eyes darkened as he too recalled searching frantically for her. He had found out her name from her friends and recognized it. She was a popular online influencer on various social media platforms. That was how he had found her. He had gone home that night for the first time alone and unable to sleep.
The kiss had branded him, making it impossible for him to sleep or forget the woman with lips that were the sweetest and most potent he had ever tasted. He wanted more. Wanted it so much that over the next few days after their meeting, he moved heaven and earth to find her.
“You refused to see me.”
“Yes," she moved slowly, rhythmically, her hands splayed over his chest. “I felt something that night and knew that seeing you again would spell trouble for me.”
“I did not take no for an answer. Refused to, actually.” His fingers flexed against her hips as he rolled upwards in harmony with her thrusts. “You told me off.” His breathing was becoming labored, deep shallow breaths that moved through his chest.
“You told me that I was the last man on earth you would ever want to get involved with. You called me shallow and entitled and not man enough for you.
You hurt me like no one had ever done before.” His fingers dug into her flesh as if he wanted to punish her. “I told myself to hell with you. I could get any woman I wanted.”
“And you left.” She was breathless, her breasts quivering, the nipples aching for his lips.
“I told myself that I was happy you were gone.”
“But I could not stay away. I couldn’t sleep, eating had become a chore.” His hands drifted to cup her breasts, his thumbs fanning the aching nipples. “I wanted you. Wanting you was like a fever that was spinning out of control.”
“I dreamed of that kiss every single night. Beau!” She gasped, her back arching.
“Please.”
“Tell me," he ordered thickly.
“I need you to– Oh!” She shuddered when he lifted his head to her breasts. “Now, darling.”
“Like this?” He brushed his lips over the sensitive flesh and felt her tremors.
“More.”
“Perhaps I will just do this.” His tongue touched the tortured flesh. Her hands flew to his head, fingers clutching the thickness of his hair. His mouth opened over the flesh, and he suckled gently. Georgie felt it all the way to the core of her.
Her back arched, the pleasure coursing through her body like liquid flames. It had been like this from the very first time they made love, and it had not diminished in strength or intensity. He made her feel giddy and weightless.
When his hand drifted downwards to scrape her quivering belly, she sighed out his name. Her body jerked as he grazed the protruding flesh, thumb caressing languidly.
The climax was immediate and powerful. Her head dropped forward as she clutched him to her. Tremors took over and she felt as if she was on the edge of a cliff, ready to take the descent, ready and willing to embrace the fate awaiting her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she clutched his head against her breasts and tried her best to ride out the incredible storm.
He came then, body plunging upward and watering the mouth of her womb with his seed. Lifting his head, he seized her lips, hands gripping the back of her head as he explored the sweetness of her mouth.
His body shuddered, hips twisting to drive even deeper, to become one with her., to stamp his ownership on her. His wife, his woman, his mate. Switching position, he turned so that she was lying beneath him and still he continued to make love to her mouth, even when he had emptied himself inside her.