More than hate you, p.19
More Than Hate You, page 19
“I’d rather not.”
If it’s going to upset her, I’d rather not, either. Today is about us, but… “Sloan, baby…”
“I’m fine.”
Like hell. Her face drawn so tight, she’s almost expressionless. But I see her pain. Rawson’s unexpected appearance on her wedding day was a body blow. Though she’s trying to hold herself together, she looks a half second from falling apart.
But she won’t give in to her emotions in front of everyone, especially Evan—and me.
Taking Sloan’s hand in mine, we cross the lanai, accepting congratulations and well wishes along the way. Evan and Nia catch us just before we ease inside the house—and into the honeymoon suite for the next twenty-four hours.
“I’ve got the office covered until Monday,” my boss assures me. “Turn off your phone and enjoy married life.”
Given how tense Sloan is, that will be easier said than done. But I simply smile. “That’s my plan.”
“We left a few things for you to enjoy in your suite,” Nia confesses, wearing a wide grin. “Y’all should have fun.”
Since I didn’t give Evan any time to throw me a bachelor party, and all the ladies pouted that I’d rushed Sloan to the altar, subverting a bachelorette bash, I’m almost afraid to see what sorts of things they left us in the suite.
“Thank you,” my wife says nervously.
When Nia starts chatting up Sloan, Evan leans in and drops his voice. “I don’t have to tell you that you need to make this work. There’s a new rumor that Michael Astor will make Wynam’s decision in the next two weeks. The moment we’ve officially assumed control of Reservoir, I have an email ready to go, advising him that we’re now one and the same. You just have to keep your bride too busy to work behind your back for the next five days.”
That’s not all I have to accomplish, but Evan is focused on business, so I nod. “I’ll do my best.”
“Your ex-girlfriends usually wore happy smiles, at least before the breakups, so I assume you have skills.” He claps my shoulder. “Use them.”
Believe me, I’m hoping to. “Understood. Let’s go inside, baby.”
“Stay,” Sloan insists. “Enjoy the party. I need a few minutes alone anyway.”
So she can button up her emotions and build more walls around her heart with me on the other side?
“No.” Before she can object, I lift her into my arms and ignore her squeal. “This is our wedding night. It’s time for us to start being man and wife.”
Sloan clutches my shoulders. Not that I would let her fall, but clearly she doesn’t understand that.
Yet.
“It’s still morning.”
I raise a brow at her. “You know what I mean.”
Before she can reply, our guests turn their attention to us. They cheer and toss flower petals from little pouches I suddenly see in their hands.
I take that as my cue to wave, then slip into the air-conditioned house. Thankfully, Nia shuts the door behind us, leaving the wedding guests outside. Presumably, Keeley and Maxon have other guests staying at the Sunshine Coast Bed-and Breakfast, but they must all be upstairs, still in their rooms. No shock since it’s not even nine o’clock, but that means my wife and I are essentially alone.
I’m taking advantage of it.
And I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure Sloan starts falling for me.
I carry my wife across the great room and round the corner to the honeymoon suite before she turns stiff and begins to wriggle in my grasp. “You can put me down.”
Now that our guests aren’t jubilantly pelting us with rose petals and smiling for our joy, Sloan thinks she’ll retreat into herself? Is she nervous that we’ll be alone for the rest of the day and all night? Or upset that her father crashed our wedding? Probably both.
“I could, but I’m not going to,” I tell her as I make my way to a pale door with a sign that reads male ána. That’s wedding in Hawaiian, which tells me we’re in the right place.
After ducking inside, I kick the door shut behind us, set my wife on her feet, and stare down into her wide, wary eyes. “You look so beautiful. I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier.”
She looks away. “You don’t have to say things like that. I’m a big girl. I know this is a business arrangement.”
One she probably already regrets. If she tied herself to me purely in the hopes of saving the sinking ship for her father, she has just cause to be bitter.
“This is far more than a convenient arrangement, wife.”
She frowns. “So what are you going to do? Rip off my dress, toss me on the bed, and fuck me to prove it?”
Sloan is itching for a fight. Not only did her father upset her but I think she’s scared of me. Of us. Challenging me is her way of keeping emotional distance.
Too bad for her it’s not going to work. “No.”
She watches me strip off my suit coat and waits for me to declare myself.
I’ve played hundreds of corporate games. I’ve BSed to schmooze clients. I’ve bluffed my way through negotiations. I’ve gone hard and aggressive to close deals.
But Sloan isn’t a game to me. This is my future. She is my forever. Since she’s not ready to hear that, I need to approach her carefully, keep her off guard, leave her guessing.
“Then what?” she challenges me.
I don’t answer, simply meander to the corner where I see a gift basket.
* * *
Enjoy your first night as a married couple. We wish you the best. Congratulations!
* * *
Evan and Nia
* * *
I sift through the goodies they left us. A bottle of very nice champagne—still cold—Godiva chocolates in one wineglass and some lux caramels in its matching stem. A sandalwood and coconut scented candle. Lip balm, mouthwash, and bath beads. Some bougie shower gel, massage oil, a thumb drive in a plastic case marked Sensual Classics, and, of course, a whole bunch of condoms. There’s also an oblong box marked For Sloan, From Nia, which I hand to her, and a door hanger that says Do Not Disturb.
As I saunter to install that helpful piece of hardware on the knob, I catch sight of a box on one of the nightstands. Is this from Evan and Nia, too?
“Maybe you shouldn’t open that,” Sloan blurts as I lift the box.
“Why?” I ask as I untie the red bow, then notice a little card tucked underneath and open it.
* * *
Enjoy this perfect gift on our wedding night.
* * *
Sloan
* * *
She doesn’t reply, just gnaws her lip like she’s second-guessing whatever she left me to unwrap.
I lift the lid and peel back white tissue paper to find a bottle of hand lotion and a towel, wrapped tightly with a pristine bow.
Despite everything, I laugh. My wife is always full of fight. But she’s about to find out I am, too. And I can be both more subtle and more effective in getting what I want.
I toss the box on the bed. “So, what were you planning to do while I was getting busy with myself? Watch?”
She flushes. “No. It was a prank.”
But I think she meant it at the time. It was another way to pick a fight, and I’m not taking the bait.
“Come here.” I loosen my tie.
She sends me a wary glance. “Why?”
“I want to talk to you.” I crook my finger at her.
“We can talk from across the room.”
“I won’t bite.” Not right away…
Warily, Sloan approaches. “What? I wanted to see what’s in the box from Nia first.”
“Then do it.” Her stalling won’t stop what I have planned.
With a relieved breath, she opens the gift. Inside is a scrap of something ivory, lacy, silky, and small. Sloan gasps, then shoves it back into the box, slamming the lid shut.
“What is it?” I ask, not even trying to wipe the smile from my face.
“Nothing.” Her voice sounds high-pitched, almost panicked.
“Obviously something. Nia wouldn’t have wrapped an empty box.” I reach for it. “Show me.”
She hides it behind her back. “It’s for me, so I don’t have to share it with you.”
“But isn’t that the idea?”
Sloan huffs. “Could you back off? This day has already been a lot, and it’s barely nine in the morning.”
“I just want to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.”
I guide her over to a soft blue chaise under the window, with a view of the lawn—where everyone is cleaning up and resetting for the next wedding—and the ocean. “Sit.”
She resists. “What are you going to do?”
I merely smile as I spot a portable music player with a USB port, power it up, and plug in the thumb drive. Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” flows softly from the overhead speakers. It’s nice, sets the mood. “I’ll pour us a glass of bubbly.”
Wordlessly, she watches while I do, taking the glass from my hand with trembling fingers.
“To us,” I toast.
“Sebastian…”
“Drink to us, wife.”
She forces out a nervous breath. I see the exact moment she decides to brazen her way through this because she lifts her chin and tosses back the whole glass of champagne in a few healthy swallows. Then she raises a brow at me. “Trying to get me drunk so I’ll have sex with you?”
“I don’t need booze for that.” I empty my glass, then sit beside her.
She scoots away from me. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“When I had you naked in my hotel room, you came on my tongue in thirty seconds.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Okay. Let’s try it again. You know, to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“It’s not, but you keep treating it like one.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You avoid me, needle me, push back against me… I’m just trying to make love to my wife.”
She stands, pacing nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I follow her. “Why? Because I get to you?”
“You don’t.”
Sloan insists she’s not playing games, but she keeps doing it. So turnabout is only fair. “Prove it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Prove I don’t turn you on. Put on that lacy little whatever Nia picked out for you and give me ten minutes to touch you. Just touch. If you’re not aroused enough to beg me for more, I won’t lay a finger on you as long as we’re in this suite.”
“Why should I say yes to that?”
It’s a fair question. She doesn’t owe me anything. We’re married, but I spoke vows knowing that any part of her body or her heart she gives me, I’ll have to earn. Instead, I turn to Sales 101.
Tell her what’s in it for her.
“Because until you do, you’ll always be curious about what you’re missing.”
Sloan raises a fiery brow at me. “You think a lot of yourself.”
“No, I think a lot of our chemistry. It’s insane.” I step closer. “I’ll admit, you do something to me… The pull is ridiculously strong. Always has been, even before I saw your face.”
My wife doesn’t answer right away. “How do I know that’s not flattery and BS?”
“It’s not. But if it was, would it really matter? You’d have your curiosity satisfied, your itch scratched. The way I want you already makes me weak. It’s possible that, once I get you underneath me, I’ll be even weaker.” Maybe it’s not smart to tell her the truth, but I want to be real with her.
She snorts. “Or it’s possible you’ll unravel me with pleasure.”
“You’d have to want me for that to be possible. Do you?” I brush a finger over her exposed collarbone, staring into her blue eyes. “Is there any part of you that doesn’t care we’re supposed to be enemies? Or are you simply too afraid?”
That should hit her hot button.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she shoots back as if that idea is laughable.
“No?” I lean back on the chaise and send her a challenging stare. I’m not trying to manipulate her, just giving her stubborn pride a reason to say yes.
“Fine.” She sighs, then hops to her feet and grabs the box Nia gave her, marching to the attached bath. “Give me a minute.”
“You’re going to prove you don’t want me?
“I’m going to figure out what this is”—she gestures between us—“once and for all.”
Then she disappears into the spa bath. I take the opportunity to pour her another glass of champagne, eagerly tear off my tie, sweep all the decorative pillows off the bed, then toss some of the rose petals lining the bottom of the gift basket across our pristine white sheets.
After that, there’s nothing left to do but take off my shoes and socks, pace, and stare at the door as my stomach twists and my cock throbs.
It seems like half of forever before Sloan finally eases the door open. She sticks her head out first, using the door to block my view of her body. Even so, it’s impossible to miss her long curls tumbling over one slender shoulder and the spaghetti strap playing peekaboo beneath.
I don’t even have to see the rest to know she’s going to be the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever had in my bed.
“Baby…” I breathe. “Come here.”
“This getup…it’s too much.”
Which means she thinks it doesn’t cover enough. Perfect.
“If you’re wearing it, it looks beautiful.” I hold out my hand. “Show me.”
Slowly, she turns out the bathroom light and eases through the door, then glares at me.
I nearly drop my jaw on the floor.
Holy shit, I need to thank Nia profusely because my wife is a vision.
The creamy white spaghetti straps over her shoulders give way to tiny triangles of lace that almost cover her breasts…but not quite. Satin cups the swells beneath like a pair of loving hands. An innocent little bow wraps just under, emphasizing how tiny she truly is. It’s easy to forget, given how big her drive and personality are.
The bottom half of the baby doll is almost transparent and ends in nothing more than a wisp of lace that skims her thighs and swishes over her pussy. It’s beautiful but frustrating because I can’t see what’s between her legs. A little scrap of pale silk shields her from my hungry stare, leaving me only one question.
How quickly can I get those off?
“You look stunning. You’re making me weak-kneed already.” And that’s not a lie.
Color blooms across her cheeks. Nervously, she clutches her arms in front of her like she’s trying to hide herself.
Is she uncomfortable being mostly naked in front of me…or is it men in general?
“Pfft. Smooth words won’t make you any luckier.”
And there’s more of her bravado. My wife has no idea that I intend to pleasure her, melt her, and make her crave me.
“Just being honest,” I assure her, approaching with my hand outstretched.
“Sure you are.” She eases past me, refusing my touch. “What do you want exactly?”
“To get deep inside you and find mutual orgasm.”
Sloan fidgets, balancing on one foot, then the other. “If that’s true, why am I the only one standing here, thoroughly underdressed?”
“I have no problem getting more naked.” I tear through the buttons of my dress shirt and shrug it off my shoulders, absently tossing it back to the chaise.
Her eyes flare as she scans her way down my body, from my bulging shoulders and broad chest, down my six-pack, then lower still to my stiff cock, trying to lurch through my zipper impatiently.
She swallows, and I smother a smile. Thank god for Evan and his pristine gym habit. He pushes me most every day, and the look on Sloan’s face says it shows.
“That good for you?”
She gives me a choppy nod. I’m not sure she’s actually breathing.
“Good.” I slide my palm over her waist, to the curve of her hip, and pull her closer. Just for fun, I brush her tender little pussy against the hard length of my cock. Once I do, I barely manage to stifle my groan. “I have ten minutes to make you beg me, right?”
“Um…” Sloan looks so rattled, I’m not sure she remembers my offer.
“Time starts now.” I set an alarm on my phone, then grin her way. “But don’t worry, baby. I don’t think it will take me that long.”
I don’t give her another second to push back. Besides, I don’t have any time to spare.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her flush against me and lift my hand to her nape. Other than tongue-fucking her mouth at the altar, I’ve been subdued with Sloan all day, sharing a look here, a peck there. All of that has made me searingly aware of how much I want her. Seemingly more every day, every moment.
Dipping my head, I don’t wait for her encouragement or permission. I cover her mouth with mine, sealing her lips in a hot, hungry kiss, and sinking deep inside her honey-sweet recesses. The moment she responds, breath quickening as she rises to meet me, I back away, leaving her wanting me more. I nip at her plump bottom lip with my teeth, gently, playfully, as my palms wend down her body, memorizing the feel of her warm, satiny skin barely covered by the sheer, lacy confection. When I reach her hem, I slide underneath, fix my hand to the small of her back, then reel her against my body as I capture her mouth again.
I bend, lifting her so she straddles my thigh, then I grind against her sweet spot methodically, rhythmically. She gasps into my kiss. Our tongues tangle. I groan and I drop my palm to the pert, plump curve of her ass, guiding her to ride me harder. But she’s not the only one burning up. It’s been sixty seconds since I started the timer, but I’m already wondering how I’ll make it ten minutes without being the one to beg her.
Sloan deepens our kiss, wriggling on my thigh and clutching my shoulders. Suddenly, she tears her lips free and tosses her head back, her nails digging into me.
