Kept (7 page)

"Wait." The order was barked impatiently from behind her, but it didn’t even slow her down.

She’d already reached the door, with Kell standing protectively at her back when she said, "I don’t think so, Mr.

Douglas." The door opened a few inches, but then she found it slammed shut as a huge paw appeared from behind her and pressed it closed.

"Wait, please," the word sounded as if it was torn from the back of his throat. Reed Douglas wasn’t used to having to say

"please".

Trish stood stock still, feeling his overwhelming presence at her back, the spicy scent of his cologne drifting into her nostrils. "I over-reacted. I’m sorry." Another rarity in his life – an apology.

What this woman did to him was criminal. "Come back and talk with me, please."

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She didn’t move, and he grew worried that he’d blown it entirely. One hand still held the door shut, but the other fit itself into the familiar curve of her waist. "Please, Trish."

That soft, deep voice wormed its way into her mind, calling forth an immediate response from her body as her nipples peaked with remembered pleasure, making her turn around despite her better judgment.

She walked back to her previous seat, but not before he saw that she was blinking back tears. It was like a kick in the gut. He’d never felt anything worse, except maybe when he’d seen his mom cry, damn it.

Although he tried – against his lawyer’s advice – to get her to accept more money and things in general from him, she flatly refused. One of their biggest battles was over whether or not he could buy her birthday or Christmas gifts. Trish remained adamant that theirs was not that type of relationship – they were not in love.

They were not boyfriend and girlfriend. There was no reason for him to get her presents on those occasions.

"As a matter of fact," she ordered Kell, "add Valentine’s Day in there, too." Trish heard Reed growling from across the coffee table, but he finally backed down.

They fought over the credit limit on the credit card he would give her – she wanted five hundred and he wanted five thousand, countering that five hundred wouldn’t go very far in his world. Kell suggested a compromise of two thousand five hundred, and Trish conceded.

"Thanks," Reed commented sarcastically.

Tricia stuck her thumbs in her ears, wiggled her splayed fingers, and blew a loud raspberry at him, at which point Reed’s lawyer coughed discreetly into her green tea.

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The birth control issue was settled with one word from Reed. "Vasectomy."

Eyes popping, Trish asked, "You’re going to have one?"

"I’ve already had one," he replied.

"I want medical proof, and I still want the clause about retaining custody of any child."

Reed leaned towards her. "I’ll be glad to provide the proof to you. But if I should, somehow, end up becoming fertile again, there is no way I would give anyone sole custody of my child."

He sounded like a fiercely protective father, and Trish knew that any child of his would never doubt for one moment that it was loved.

Katherine, Reed’s lawyer, stepped in with, "Joint. Could you both agree to joint custody of a fictional child?"

They both said yes at the same time, but then Reed said,

"But the first thing I would want is to get married, so that my child would have my last name."

Trish was stunned, as was Kell. "Yes, I would agree to that

– but then there should be a separate pre-nup about that, too, because although the child should have your name, I wouldn’t really be your wife."

All three of the people in the room turned to look at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. It was Reed who broke the silence. "Bullshit. You’d cease being my mistress and you’d become my wife, in every single aspect of the word. End of discussion."

With a shrug Tricia let it go, knowing that, in that circumstance where they were marrying merely because of a

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pregnancy, that she wouldn’t feel like his wife, regardless of what he said or did.

"What’s the problem with acting as my hostess?"

"I’m a country bumpkin fifth grade teacher from New Hampshire – what do I know about entertaining on your level?"

"That’s what caterers are for." Her reticence about this surprised him.

"I don’t like parties, and I’m not going to do it. Be happy I agreed to the date part," she said from between clenched teeth.

Reed could see she was digging in her heels, and watched her compulsively clutching her pocketbook. This certainly wasn’t a deal breaker for him, but it seemed to be for her. He wondered why. "Fine," he inclined his head towards Katherine, and she made the appropriate notes.

"About that stupid thirty day notice crap . . . "

His eyebrow rose at her tone. "It stays." There was no room for compromise at all in his voice, so Trish agreed. She didn’t really care.

"Well," Katherine shuffled papers around, "is there anything else we need to discuss?"

Everyone was shaking their heads. "When will all of this take place?" Trish asked as she stood. "I need to know when to give my notice to the school board."

She felt him walk up behind her and slide his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her back against him. "Do it now.

Today. This’ll be wrapped up by tomorrow – " he gave each of the lawyers a threatening glare when they both groaned at his pronouncement – "I’d like you to move into my place this

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weekend, and then you can take your time and find a place you like."

"What about my house in New Hampshire and all of my stuff?" Trish turned within his arms to face him.

"I’ll take care of all of that." She was frowning and biting her lip. He totally misinterpreted her concern. "Don’t worry. I’ll cover the difference if you lose money on the sale – " and got his shoulder slapped for his trouble.

"You certainly will not. I was just thinking of the logistics –

I really should go back – "

"No," he settled his lips over hers in a warm, slow kiss.

"No?" God, he was good at distracting her.

"I’ll take care of it." More wonderful, stirring kisses.

"But – "

Reed pulled away just enough to catch her chin with his fingers. "No ‘buts’. Stop being so contrary, woman. I said I would handle it, and I will. Now shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, Boss," Trish agreed, and she did just that.

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he couldn’t believe it, but he bullied them into doing exactly what he wanted – she was ensconced in his Shuge apartment by Saturday afternoon, wandering aimlessly around through a place she knew she would never feel comfortable in.

Reed had given her keys and told her to make herself at home – yeah, right – then had gone into the office, which had surprised her. Trish was very careful not to say anything about being left alone on their first day together – Lord knows, she didn’t want to turn into a nagging mistress. None of her things from her own house had arrived yet, so she decided to keep herself busy and started a load of laundry, then set up her laptop on the coffee table in what she hoped was the den and started to work on the story she’d been writing for what seemed like forever.

Long about three or so, she realized that she was hungry, and while she was snacking on some crackers and cheese she made a pot of spaghetti sauce and left it to simmer on the stove. He didn’t get home until after five, when she was just pulling the garlic bread out of the oven.

The first words out of his mouth were more of a tantalized moan as he smelled the garlic and onion wafting from the kitchen.

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When she heard him come in, Trish set another plate at the snack bar and piled pasta and sauce on it for him. Reed wandered into the kitchen with his nose still in the air, sniffing appreciatively and walking as if he was in a trance. "How did you know that I was starving?"

Dinner conversation consisted of a lot of moans and groans of true appreciation. He all but licked the plate before depositing it into the dishwasher. Trish cleaned up awkwardly, not really knowing where things were, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. When she was done, he took her in his arms, just as the buzzer for the drier went off and she tried to struggle away. Reed was not about to let her go. "For the record, I have a cook and a housekeeper, so although I heartily appreciate the wonderful meal, that is not one of your duties." His mouth descended on hers. "But this is."

Trish didn’t think she was going to have a hard time putting up with this job at all. Reed carried her into his bedroom to lay her on the bed, undressing her slowly, leaving her nude and spread out for his delectation. She shivered, and he immediately asked,

"Cold?"

"No," Tricia whispered.

That insistent hand she remembered from a week ago or so claimed her most private area, fingers delving into just the spot he wanted. "Mmm," he sighed, "excited."

Embarrassed that he’d discovered her secret so easily, Trish buried her burning face into the curve of his neck as she felt him press those seeking fingers deeply into her body. "Ahhh – I –

unnhhhh – oooohh, God!" She was being fucked, not roughly but not gently, either, as his mouth caught each nipple in turn, suckling them to unbearably aching peaks.

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Her whimpers and moans multiplied as he manipulated her willing body. "Does that feel good, Trish?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Reed adored her uninhibited responsiveness.

"Tell me."

"Yes – yes!"

"Yes what?" His thumb joined the fray, rubbing over and over her sensitive nub while she writhed beneath his hand.

"Oh – God – that – feels – sooooo – good!" She didn’t know how she got the sentence out, considering that she couldn’t think straight while he was touching her like this.

"That’s it," Reed watched avidly as she came to pleasure against his palm, riding his fingers, dragging his thumb over and over her until he’d milked that last, hard spasm from her. He mounted her while she was still recovering, still throbbing involuntarily, and sank deep and hard on the first thrust. Reed wanted to draw it out, but it seemed he never could with his prim and proper mistress. She got him hot enough to practically explode in his pants, and when he was able to get inside her, it was all over much sooner than he would have liked.

After his own mind-numbing explosion, he rolled slightly to the side, gathering her close to him. He was going to love having her with him all the time and he was sure that, eventually, he’d be able to love her slow and steady, until she begged him for release.

~ ~ ~

Her things finally arrived from up North at the end of the week, and they were put into storage until she found a place to live.

Reed had recommended a real estate agent, but Trish had quietly gone out and found one of her own after the first day. The houses

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Reed’s agent was showing her were way out of her league. She wanted a nice place that she could afford after he let her go, if she lasted five years, that is. Trice was trying to be businesslike and unemotional, trying not to plan on being around too long; mistresses generally didn’t have much in the way of job security.

The real estate market was so hot, it took her almost a month of looking fairly regularly until she found the perfect place.

It was a beautiful old Victorian-style home, not too big, not too small. Just right for one or two people, and wonderfully sound –

although the insides needed some work. It was currently unoccupied, but whoever had owned it last had absolutely no sense of color or style: the living room was unrelentingly brown – brown shag carpet and brown and red and cream wallpaper in big horrible diamonds. One of the spare bedrooms was done totally in purple, even the ceiling, and the upstairs bathroom was done in a startlingly patriotic red, white, and blue theme. When Trish saw it, she just had to laugh.

But the house felt like home to her, and that’s what she went on. Reed, however, was not thrilled with the more pedestrian neighborhood, and he said as much when they pulled into the driveway. Trish’s enthusiasm was dampened a little, but she knew that, according to their agreement, she had the last say as to what was bought, not him. Although he didn’t know much about houses, Reed had already contacted a contractor friend of his and asked him to come check the house out when he had the chance.

It was easy to see why Trish liked the place – once some major redecorating was done. It had a big, bright kitchen and a small dining room across the back, and a parlor on either side of the foyer. There was a beautiful mahogany staircase, which ended at in a small landing, off which there were two small bedrooms, the guest bath, and the master bedroom, which ran one whole side of the house. There was a good-sized master bath, along with a large walk-in closet. Reed stopped and stared into the Purple Room,

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declaring that he liked it. Trish rolled her eyes and tried to walk past him, but he caught her around the waist. "Are you sure you don’t want something bigger, in a better part of town? It’s not like I can’t afford it, ya’ know."

He felt her stiffen. "I know what you can afford, Mr.

Douglas. I’m thinking about what I can afford once you are no longer paying the mortgage and the taxes."

Again, she tried to get away, and again he held her in place, drawing her back against him tightly. "Settle down, Patricia."

Already she was learning that he wouldn’t put up with much in the way of what he considered bad behavior out of her, and that he tended to use her full name when he was about to lay down the law.