Chapter Nine
Irun the kitchen tap in the villa and splash icy water on my face, but I’m still a raging inferno after that scene.
I feel like a drug addict—one taste and I’m hooked. I need more, and not just her body. I want weekends at home, watching her fingers darken with charcoal. I want to leave the office and come home to her spread out in her own studio, being herself, not pretending to be whom others expect.
I understand why she stepped in for Eloise. She loves her family and is doing what she thinks she needs to to keep them happy. It’s admirable that she cares so much for other people, but I can’t keep up the charade anymore. I need her to know that I want her and that her father’s company is safe whether she wants me or not.
But God, I hope she wants me, because she’s sketched her way into my skin and tattooed my heart.
I wipe the water from my face, smooth my hair, and fix my shirt, then walk out to the deck and check the table.
A white cloth covers the well-loved wooden table, while the glow from flickering candles reflects off elegant silver plate covers keeping lobster warm beneath.
“Fantastic job, Louis.” I slap my old friend on the back as he sprinkles the last of the rose petals around the table.
“My pleasure, Owen.”
I offer him a tip, and he leaves with a wave, taking his Seaside Serenademeal packaging with him. Guilt hits me as I take in the perfect date-night setup he’s created in a place filled with so many of my favorite childhood memories. I need to tell him and his parents about the plans for the resort. It was supposed to happen this week, with Eloise, but after talking to Charlotte and spending time here again, nostalgia has set in.
The thought of changing this place doesn’t sit well with me like it used to.
I hear the blow dryer in the bedroom switch off, bringing me back to the present.
The anticipation in my belly is uncomfortable, knotting and twisting, turning me inside out. I’m desperate for her.
She walks out wearing that dress.
All my thoughts go to the dressing room and seeing her come undone in the mirror.
I want to see it again, this time while I’m inside her.
She looks toward the deck and notices the romantic dinner set for two. “Are we eating in tonight?”
“I don’t think I can be around you in that dress for very long without making a mess in my pants again. That could be embarrassing.”
“You should probably take them off then.”
My mouth pops open in shock at her flirty confidence. “Mrs. Phillips, are you propositioning me?”
She reaches behind her back and slowly tugs down her zipper as she backs into the bedroom.
I follow her, like a moth to a flame, tugging my belt loose and whipping my shirt up and off my body.
She’s on the bed in lace underwear so sheer I can see the dark tint of her areolae and thin black strip of hair between her thighs.
My cock starts leaking like a tap in my briefs. I cup my crotch and squeeze my shaft, needing friction. “Fuck, you’ve got my body revved up like a horny teenager.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and the color blooms on the rest of her body. She’s going to kill me with that blush. I’m on her a second later, pressing her flat into the bed and rocking against her.
“I need you.”
“Touch me.” She whimpers into my mouth. “Touch me until this ache goes away and I stop wanting you.”
I still, her words stabbing into my heart. “You don’t want me?”
Fuck. I sound vulnerable and needy, the same as every other time when I found out it was my money, not me, that a woman wanted. Those same insecurities come rushing back.
Am I the only one feeling this?
Is Charlotte playing me? Is she stringing me along just to make sure that her dad gets to keep the money I invested in the business?
The money is his. I wouldn’t take it back.
I also wouldn’t have agreed to marry one of his daughters if he hadn’t been too stubborn to let someone who wasn’t family invest in the business.
But it was his stubbornness that led me to Charlotte.
I want to tell her that I know, that when I said I want her, I meant it.
I want Charlotte, the shy artist who blurts things out without thinking and is so loyal to her family that she will do whatever she has to to give them what they need.
But what if she doesn’t want me back?
“I do want you.” Her words are trembly. “But you’re not mine.”
My heart thumps so hard it might burst as understanding soaks into me. “I am yours. Only yours, Charlotte.”
Her eyes widen when she hears her name. “You know?”
I cup her head with my hands, touching her hair and her cheeks. I want to touch her everywhere. “Since the church garden.”
“And you’re OK? What about Eloise?”
“It will be nice to meet my sister-in-law eventually.” I press a kiss to her neck. “But right now I am desperate to consummate my marriage with my wife.”
I thrust my hips against her, loving her sudden gasp and little whimper.
“But… the marriage certificate says Eloise.”
“Technicalities.”
I lean back and peel her panties off to see her lips slick with arousal for me.
Her eyes roam down my body as I peel off my pants, widening when she sees how hard I am.
“I’m a virgin.” She squeaks, then slaps a hand over her mouth. “Forget I said that.”
Arousal swells deep in my balls, and the desire to claim her surges through me. “Why would I want to forget that no one has or ever will have you like I will?”
She waves her hands in the air, looking as flustered as the first time we met. “You’re a guy with lots of experience, I’m shy and I eat too many cookies and I clearly have a problem with rambling around you.”
I press a kiss to her knee. “I love your rambling.”
I press another kiss to the soft curves of her stomach. “’ll always give you the last cookie.”
I settle myself over her body again, my cock resting against her entrance. “And before doesn’t matter, only now. Only you.”
I slide into her in one slow thrust, push past her innocence and claim her as my own.
“You’re now officially Mrs. Phillips.”
She lets out a soft murmured laugh. “Not on the paperwork.”
“Technicalities,” I whisper and kiss my wife.