6. Mira #2
A glance at him from the corner of my eye revealed a sharp profile I could’ve spent hours staring at.
My chest warmed along with other parts of me, much further south.
It was even more unfair that he had to be so handsome with a face that begged to be admired and a body that begged to be ridden like a…
Enough of that . I went back to my phone, hands trembling, my core quaking.
The sleek Mercedes rolled through a pair of iron gates, which slowly swung open on our approach.
This wasn’t my first time rolling up the driveway, having followed the delivery truck after moving out of my apartment, but the house was no less impressive the second time around.
Two stories, with two wings extending from a center structure.
The bright, gleaming white walls made the whole mansion gleam like a pearl against a deep blue sky.
Wide steps led up to a flagstone patio wrapped around the mansion’s front and sides, then spanned the back patio leading to an infinity pool.
That was a perk I would have to take advantage of.
“Welcome home.” There was cold sarcasm in Clay’s voice, but that didn’t surprise me any more than his behavior at the restaurant.
He got what he wanted.
He had won.
He didn’t have to be friendly anymore since there was nothing more to talk me into.
“I won’t expect you to carry me across the threshold,” I assured him since he wasn’t the only one who could be sarcastic.
“How do you know I wasn’t looking forward to that?”
Rolling my eyes as we came to a stop, I retorted, “So sorry to disappoint you on this special day. I’m sure you had all these expectations for what your wedding day would look like.”
He scoffed as he opened his door. “I’ll find a way to get over my disappointment.” His driver opened my door, and I thanked him, following Clay up the steps and through the front door of my new so-called home, where a large, cellophane-wrapped gift basket waited.
“What’s this?” he murmured as he picked it up, then opened the door so I could follow.
Curiosity brought me to a stop beside him so I could watch him untie the black satin ribbon holding the black-tinted cellophane together.
“Oh, he didn’t.” There was laughter in Clay’s voice as he scanned the contents before checking the card tucked among an array of sex toys, including vibrators, nipple clamps, and scented lube, with white roses and lilies tucked among the packages.
I was still puzzled after reading the handwritten card.
Congratulations to the happy couple on your nuptials - hoping this adds to your wedding bliss.
It was stamped with the letters DW.
“A good friend of mine. Dante West,” Clay explained with a wry chuckle.
Interesting friend , I thought, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
The gift had to be some sort of joke, right?
“I’ll be unpacking,” I announced, hanging a right at the top of the winding staircase leading to the second floor.
There were four enormous rooms up here, which Clay claimed were mine.
It was clear he hadn’t given them much thought.
They weren’t even set up as guest rooms. He would need friends to fill them, and I couldn’t imagine him having any.
Not unless there was some monetary gain in it for him.
The room at the far end would be my bedroom, and when I stepped inside, I was just as impressed by the stunning view as I had been two days back when the bulk of my belongings were delivered.
Papa used to tell me about the old days in LA, the smog that used to blanket the horizon.
Now, it felt like I could see forever with nothing but a cloudless sky and the downtown skyline in front of me.
What a shame my future seemed so cloudy.
I had to laugh at myself as I got undressed, ready to shed my suit and all the bullshit that went with it.
I didn’t have to play the part anymore. Not in the comfort of my home, which was very comfortable, for sure, even compared to the sprawling Spanish-style home I’d grown up in, modeled after Papa’s first resort in Santa Barbara.
I had grown up wanting for nothing, and Papa had reminded me more times than I could count how rare that was.
I knew his life story by heart, had it drilled into my head from an early age.
Maybe if Mama had survived my birth, I would’ve learned about more than my father’s struggles and the benefits of hard, focused work.
Not that I could complain. Aside from this whole sham of a marriage, I had a good life.
So damn good, I reminded myself over and over as I unpacked books and clothes, shoes, and photos which I arranged around the bedroom.
I had traveled the world, soaking in everything I could learn about hospitality—traditions and expectations from one culture to another, seeing what worked, deciding what I would do differently. It was my passion.
By the time I finished, it was well past nightfall.
No wonder my stomach was growling. There was no time like the present to get myself acquainted with the house, so I traced my steps back down to the entry hall.
I turned right at the bottom of the stairs and headed deeper into the main section of the mansion.
The rooms in this area were all interconnected and open and came to a stop, with the family room, kitchen, and dinette visible from where I stood.
The wall facing the back patio was nothing but glass, giving me an enticing look at the pool and the twinkling lights beyond it.
A look inside the refrigerator revealed tons of fresh produce, grilled tuna and chicken, hard-boiled eggs. The makings of a quick meal. I threw together a salad and ate while standing at the counter, feeling very small in the very large room. What a wedding night.
Only when I heard Clay’s footsteps ringing out down the hall did I look down at myself and wish I was wearing something nicer than an old UCLA T-shirt and leggings. I wasn’t even wearing socks.
Clay was still dressed in the suit he had worn earlier, only now he wasn’t wearing a jacket or tie. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows with the top couple of buttons opened. I would have to do something about the way my pulse picked up speed at the sight of him.
“Oh. Hello. Glad to see you settling in.” He continued to the refrigerator without pausing. “Finding everything all right?”
“Sure.” I had just learned something. Until now, I was always in a suit, feeling powerful and put together. Now, I was just a girl in a T-shirt from college. Vulnerability was a bitch.
So was the addictive scent of the musky, spicy cologne clinging to his clothes.
It worked magic on my pussy, making it moisten in a dangerous way.
I had to stop staring when he closed the refrigerator door and glanced my way, holding a package of turkey and a bottle of mustard.
“Let me know what you want to see around the kitchen. My housekeeper shops twice a week.”
How much more awkward could this be? I hated the man, but I couldn’t stop wanting to smell his neck. “Thanks,” I murmured, finishing my meal. What were we supposed to do now? I knew what my stupid, traitorous body wanted to do, but that was out of the question.
He finished making a sandwich and put the ingredients away while I stood frozen in place. “You made a beautiful bride today. Really. Thank you for going to the trouble.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.” And it wasn’t enough, but since when did that matter?
“I’m sure it’s not the wedding you wanted.” Was he messing with me? I couldn’t tell. It left me all twisted up inside.
“You didn’t even get a kiss at the end of it,” he mused in a light tone, leaning against the refrigerator.
“Don’t worry about it.” Waving a hand, I added, “Your sandwich is waiting. You don’t need to comfort me.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” He touched a finger to the corner of his mouth. “You have something here. On your mouth. It made me think about the kiss you didn’t get.”
Why didn’t I just crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment? “Oh. Thanks.” I took a swipe with my thumb.
“No, you still didn’t get it.” I could hardly believe what was happening, going still like a deer in headlights as he took one step, then another, closing the gap between us before hooking a finger under my chin and tipping my head back.
Our eyes locked for a brief moment. He dipped his head and brushed his thumb over something on my face. “Still there…” he murmured, a soft chuckle escaping as his lips curved into a smile. Then, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth.
A kiss that set my lips on fire and made my skin tingle as he tilted his head to the side, lining our mouths up and kissing me again with a soft grunt that made my knees go weak. The finger under my chin now trailed down my throat, tracing a fiery path that made me shudder.
What was happening? And holy fuck, why hadn’t it happened sooner?
He filled my world—his scent, his taste, the breath warming my skin, and the firmness of his body pressing me against the counter.
My nipples hardened when his chest brushed mine, every movement sending bolts of electricity to my aching clit.
There was nothing to do but melt under the heat and hope there was more coming because shit, did I need this. It was like I had never been kissed until now.
A high-pitched ringing sound made my body jolt and my heart stop for one sickening moment. Clay broke the kiss but held me in place, eyes searching my face, looking for… what?
It didn’t matter what he was looking for. What he got was my hand against his cheek in a sharp slap, then I used the same hand to shove him away. My chest was heaving, and dammit, I was so wet, but some things mattered more. Like my self-respect.