Chapter 19
nineteen
EDEN
I swipe the towel across my face, pushing back damp strands of hair, and stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
My cheeks are still heated as I think about everything that happened tonight.
The margaritas, the kisses in the kitchen, the way West’s eyes burned into me like I was his to claim.
And yet since dinner he’s been locked away in his office, the muffled hum of music leaking from under the door as he works.
Now it’s past midnight. Bennett has long since gone to bed in the guest room at the far end of the hallway. He chose it, I think, because it’s the furthest away from the master. And because he’s still pretty much in awe of West.
It’s kind of sweet, the way he talked about him like West is a god. That his uncle insists he can learn a lot from him. That he wants to be just like him when he grows up.
Once I’m in my pajamas, I pull the covers down from the side of the bed that I think is mine and climb underneath them, my heart speeding with a mixture of anticipation and something else I don’t want to name.
The bookstore bag is still on the nightstand.
I pull out my new romance novel and flick to the first page, telling myself I’ll read until he comes up.
Ten minutes later, I’ve read the same paragraph three times.
The words blur, my mind wandering back to the way his hand curled around my hip in the kitchen, the heat in his eyes when he kissed me.
With a sigh, I close the book and set it aside. He’s still downstairs. Still shut away working.
And I can’t sleep without him being here.
I’m going to drag him up if I need to. He might think he’s a superhero but even Batman needs sleep. So I climb out of bed and pad barefoot to the bedroom door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway.
Bennett’s door on the far end of the hallway is firmly closed. Good.
I head down the stairs, the low hum of music getting louder with every step. Light spills out from the crack beneath his office door. I pause, knuckle raised, and give a soft tap.
“Come in,” his voice calls, low and rough.
I push the door open just enough to peek inside, and my chest does a weird flip.
He’s at his desk, not behind a laptop screen like I expected, but leaning back in his chair, the book I gave him open in his hands. His shirt is loose, buttons undone, exposing his chest, and the crisp cotton is creased like he’s been tugging at it for hours.
When his gaze lifts to meet mine, there’s something unreadable in it. Something softer than I’ve seen all day. Maybe a lot longer than that.
“Are you coming to bed soon?” I ask him, my brow furrowing.
“Close the door.” And for a minute I think he’s telling me to leave, but instead he puts the book down and beckons me over.
Like the good wife I am, I do what he asks. I walk over to his desk, the wood cool against my bare feet. He’s cranked the air conditioning up in here.
“Bad day?” I murmur, trying not to shiver at the icy cold air wrapping around my body. The cami and shorts I put on earlier seemed a good idea until now.
“Something like that.”
I run my tongue along my bottom lip to moisten it. “I’m sorry I took your car without asking.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not that.” His eyes lift. Meet mine. “I should have told you I’d ordered a ride for you. I’m sorry I didn’t do that.”
“It’s okay.” I offer him a soft smile. “I’m still sorry if it made your day harder.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, and it strikes me just how stupidly good looking he is. In the half light, with a shadow of beard growth, he looks almost dangerous. “It’s not you. It’s Vin.”
“What’s he done now? Is he making us adopt Bennett?” I step closer. Until I’m in between him and the desk. Without blinking, like it’s almost subconscious, he reaches out and touches my bare thighs.
I shiver. This time not because of the cold.
“He still wants to put a casino in the resort,” he murmurs. “And obviously, I don’t.”
“Obviously,” I say, trying to ignore the pulse of heat between my legs. His thumbs brush my inner thighs. “Did you tell him where to shove his casino?”
“He’s withholding money until I agreed to that and to keeping Bennett here.”
There’s a rough edge to his voice, like the words cost him.
“That sounds suspiciously like blackmail,” I murmur.
His mouth curves humorlessly. “It is. But I can’t let the resort stall. Too many people’s jobs depend on it. Not to mention Hudson and Parker’s investments. And Bennett… he’s a kid. It’s not his fault his uncle’s a manipulative bastard.”
My chest tightens. This is the side of West people don’t see – the one who shoulders more than his share because he thinks no one else can.
“So what are you going to do?” I ask him.
“I told him I’d look at the casino proposal. And I agreed to Bennett staying to work with me.”
“But you won’t build the casino, right? You said it’s a family resort.”
His throat undulates as he swallows. “I don’t plan to, no. But it’s a mess and I suspect every time a payment is due he’ll ratched up the pressure more.”
“Can’t you tell him where to shove his money?”
A ghost of a smile passes over his lips, but there’s no humor in it. “Not if we want this project to continue.”
His thumbs stroke higher, a slow, absentminded movement that makes my pulse stutter. “I’m sorry. I’m not great company tonight,” he says softly. “I can sleep down here. That way I won’t disturb you when I finally come up.”
“I didn’t come down for company,” I tell him, my voice just as quiet. “I came down for you.”
His fingers tease their way to the top of my thighs and I let out a soft gasp. He goes to pull away. “I’m sorry…”
And I put his hand right back where it was. Cover it with mine.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper. Then I push it higher. Until he can feel how much I ache for him. He lets out a groan.
“Eden…”
I reach out to touch his shoulders. “I hate seeing you like this,” I murmur. “You know you’re not alone, right? We’re in this together.”
“Like you and Bennett were together?”
The edge to his voice isn’t sharp. It’s softer than that. More aching than annoyed.
“We weren’t together. Not like this.” I step forward until I’m straddling his legs. He reaches for me, his hands wrapping around my waist, pulling me onto his lap.
And dear lord, I can feel how hard he is.
“You’re my husband, not him,” I whisper, leaning forward to kiss his neck.
He groans again, his head tipping back. “I don’t kiss him like this.
” I slide my lips down his throat. “I don’t feel him like this.
” I rock my hips against him, the pleasure of his hard cock against me making my eyes close. “He doesn’t make me come like you do.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice is a rasp now.
But before I can continue, he tilts my chin up with one hand, his thumb brushing my jaw. Our eyes lock, and something deep in my chest twists.
He leans forward and presses his mouth against mine.
It’s not rushed. Not at first. His lips are warm as they move over mine with an aching thoroughness that steals my breath. Like he’s memorizing me, tasting every secret I’ve ever kept.
I curl my arms around his neck, arching into him until my hard nipples meet his chest. He groans deeper as I sink my fingers into his hair, holding him there, because if he pulls back I might actually shatter.
Our kiss deepens, becomes more frenzied, his tongue sliding against mine, coaxing, caressing, and there’s nothing in the world right now but the delicious movement of his mouth.
By the time he breaks away, his breath is ragged. There’s a dark look in his eyes that’s mesmerizing. I can still taste him, still feel the roughness of his beard against my face as I whisper, “Let me make you feel better.”
He blinks like he doesn’t understand. So I reach between us, unbutton the rest of his shirt, and push it open, my fingers dragging along the ridge of his abdomen and the hard swell of his chest.
There’s something achingly sweet about the way he leans forward and lets me take his shirt off, exposing his beautiful, strong body to the cool air.
God, he’s built like sin. His broad shoulders make me feel small in the best way.
His chest is dusted with dark hair that tapers down over firm, cut abs – not the overdone kind, just ridged and tight.
My fingers trace the deep V leading below the waistband of his pants, and I swear I feel him shudder.
I slide down, off his lap, between his legs, my bare knees hitting the floor. Then I reach for the waist band of his pants, my fingers find the button, unfastening it. It’s only when I slide my hand inside, wrapping my palm around his hard, hot girth, that he finally realizes my intentions.
His breath hitches.
“Eden…” His hand comes down to cup my jaw, gentle but firm, like he’s about to stop me. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” I interrupt softly, looking up at him. “I want to.”
For a long second, we hold each other’s gaze. His thumb strokes my cheek like he’s memorizing the moment. And then he lets out a low curse, leaning back in the chair, giving me permission without saying a thing.
Only then do I unzip his pants, pulling them down over his long, muscled thighs, and off his legs, followed by his boxers.
And then he’s naked. In his office chair. Like an adonis made just for me.
His eyes don’t leave my face, like he’s fascinated by me. He’s already thick and hard, the head flushed and tempting, resting heavy against his stomach. My chest hitches.
I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the heat of him pulse against my palm. He groans, low and raw, his hips jerking into my touch.
“You’ve had a shitty day,” I murmur, my voice husky as I stroke him slowly from base to tip. “Let your wife make it better.”
I lean forward to press a kiss to the sensitive head, tasting the salt of his skin. His breath escapes as he threads his fingers through my hair. “Just let me,” I murmur against him.
I take him into my mouth, slow and deep, my tongue swirling as my lips seal tight around him. Tasting him, teasing him. His hand tightens against my scalp, not to force me, but to anchor himself. His other hand grips the arm of the chair, knuckles white.
“Fuck…” The word is a broken prayer. I look up and our eyes lock.
I move at my own pace, with long, languid strokes, pausing to hollow my cheeks before letting him slide all the way to the back of my throat. Every sound he makes, every shudder that runs through his body, fuels me.
He needs this. Maybe I do, too. Last night he made me come so hard I’m still feeling the aftershocks twenty-four hours later. It’s his turn now. I’m going to make him feel so good he forgets his own name.
I hit a rhythm and his eyes close, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows. There’s a tension in him, like he’s afraid to let go, and that only makes me want to pull him apart more.
I slide my hands up his thighs, feeling them flex beneath my touch, and hum softly around him. The vibration makes him jolt, his hips lifting. I drag the tips of my nails against his balls and he groans.
“Jesus, Eden,” he grits out, opening his eyes to look down at me. The heat in them could burn me alive.
I take him deeper still, my nose brushing the hard plane of his stomach, my nails digging into his skin just enough to make him growl. His breaths come faster now, his thighs tightening around me.
“I’m close,” he warns, the words hoarse and urgent.
Good. That’s exactly where I want him to be.
A few more strokes, my tongue circling the head on every retreat, and then he’s coming with a guttural moan, spilling hot and hard down my throat. I swallow every drop, not taking my eyes off his face until he slumps back in the chair, completely undone.
When I pull back, I press a final kiss to the inside of his thigh, my fingers rubbing his skin. “Better?” I ask softly.
For a moment he doesn’t answer, his chest still heaving. Then his hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up. His expression is unreadable, but his voice is rough with something that isn’t lust.
“You have no idea.”
His thighs are still trembling and his hands are fisted tight in my hair. His chest rises and falls in deep, shuddering breaths. For a moment, neither of us moves. There’s only the sound of our breathing, the faint hum of the air conditioning, and the taste of him still warm on my lips.
“Come here.” He tugs me up onto his lap, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s slow and almost reverent, nothing like the frenzied one that started this. His hands skim down my sides, settling on my thighs, then move higher, the clear intent to return the favor.
I catch his wrists, holding them still. “Not tonight,” I whisper against his lips.
His eyes search mine, confused, because he can probably feel how turned on I am through my thin shorts. “Why not?”
“Because this was about you,” I tell him softly, brushing a kiss over the corner of his lips. “You’ve been carrying too much all day. You needed to let go. I got what I wanted.”
He looks at me for a long moment, his fingers flexing lightly against my skin.
Then he cups the back of my head and pulls me into another kiss, deeper this time, but still unhurried. It’s the kind of kiss that seeps into my bones, making me forget where I end and he begins.
When he finally rests his forehead against mine, his voice is barely a murmur. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Once his clothes are back on, we leave the office together, his hand wrapped around mine. He holds me close all the way to our room, like maybe I’ve managed to rub off more than just his stressed edges tonight.
When we finally climb into bed, our teeth brushed, me in another one of his t-shirts, and him in shorts, he slides an arm around my waist and holds me close, like he’s the ship in the storm and I’m the anchor he’s always needed.
And he doesn’t let me go all night.