Lush (11 page)

She retracted her hand and went back to putting her clothes to rights. “I don’t understand you, Cal Sellers. I don’t understand what this is or what you want from me.”

“Did I leave you wanting? Because if I did, then you should shove your skirt back up, and I’ll make you come so hard the staff will think I’m killing you up here.” He rose onto his knees and bracketed her with his hands on the arms of the chair. “Don’t think for one second, Lucy, that I don’t want to fuck you into next week. And then when I’m done, fuck you again and again until my name is the only thing you say and my face is the only one you connect with pleasure.”

She gasped, her eyes widening, and he thought for a moment that he’d scared her with his intensity. But no, she was
excited
. Her full breasts heaved, and her cheeks were flushed. She watched him with the same hunger he felt for her. Oh yeah, she was turned on.

“I’m going to think about the sound and feel of you as I jerk off tonight. And then tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, however long it takes until you trust me completely, I’m going to walk across the hall to your room and make you come over and over again. And then I’m going to go back to my room and get off on everything I’ve done to you. When the day comes that you trust me, that you truly believe I’ve changed, that’s the night I’m going to take you to bed and make you my wife.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Every night for nearly a week, Cal had gone to Lucy’s room and gotten her off in increasingly inventive ways. Then, just as he’d said he would, he’d gone back to his room and jacked off, remembering everything he’d done to her. This had seemed like a really good idea when he’d originally come up with it. But the memory of Lucy naked, legs spread, her face flushed, and lips parted chased him into the days. More than once he’d gone into his private bathroom in his office and gotten off thinking about the way she looked and the sounds she made when she came.

Tonight he had something special planned for her. Owning a company that sold adult toys had never been handier than it had in the past couple of days. One of the boxes he’d stuffed inside his briefcase for her contained something he wasn’t sure she’d ever considered trying. Which made him want to try it all the more.

He found Lucy playing with their daughter on the living room floor, where Lucy helped Poppy pound colorful balls with a hammer until they dropped into holes, rolled down shoots, and popped back out again, eliciting a shriek of joy from Poppy. Dropping his briefcase on the couch, he sat on the floor next to his two favorite girls.

He bent and kissed the top of Poppy’s head. “Hey there, sweet pea.” Then he gave Lucy a long, lingering kiss. “Hello, darlin’.”

She blushed and dropped her gaze to her lap. So she’d thought about him while he’d been gone, or at least the things he’d done to her the night before. He’d been quite inventive, if he did say so himself. It hadn’t been a hardship to research different ways to pleasure a woman. He thought he’d been experienced in it before, but now every night with Lucy had been like a master class in getting a woman off, and he hadn’t even scratched the surface of all there was to know and do.

“Hi,” she said, her blush deepening. “I wanted to talk to you before dinner and Poppy’s bedtime ritual.”

“Go on.”

“You don’t have to come to my room tonight.”

He frowned, his mood turning. He’d already failed in wooing his wife, and it hadn’t even been a week. Where had he gone wrong?

“If that’s what you want,” he said, flattening his voice so she wouldn’t hear his disappointment.

She watched him closely from under her lashes, her body stiff as though she was bracing for something. “It’s just that I got my period today, and I’m not really feeling like doing, you know, things.”

Oh, was that all? He suppressed a relieved sigh and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Not to worry. Is there anything I can do for you, darlin’? Are you feeling very sickly?”

“I’m okay.”

She kept watching him in that odd way, and then it hit him. She was expecting him to react the way her ex would. It brought back the memory of the night she’d agreed to marry him and her insisting on adding the last option to their option agreement, the one that made everything in it totally and completely optional. Goddammit. She was probably going to be on pins and needles the rest of the night, wondering if he’d keep his word or not, wondering if he was going to force himself on her. Fucking hell. His chest tightened, thinking of everything she’d been through, and it got hard to breathe, like he’d been punched in the gut.

He traced the barely there bruise under her eye. He wanted her to remember the difference between him and her ex. He would cut off his own hand before he’d ever put a mark on her like that asshole had.

“This is almost gone. I’ll be glad when I can look at you and not see what that bastard put you through. I only hope one day you can look at me and not expect me to turn on you like he did.”

“I don’t.”

“No, darlin’, you do. But that’s okay. It’s part of your healing and the trust we’re building between us.”

“I don’t know what to say when you say things like that to me.”

“There’s nothing that needs to be said.” With his finger he stroked from her temple to cheek. “Eventually you’ll just know…” he put his hand over her heart, “…and feel, and nothing will ever have to be said because it will just be. I’m not like him. I might hurt you in other ways, but I’ll never hurt you physically, and I’ll never, ever force myself on you.”

“I know that. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He could’ve chased her denial until he cornered her and forced her to admit what she could hardly admit to herself, but that wouldn’t get them anywhere. So he changed the subject.

“I brought you a present.” He grabbed his briefcase.

“You don’t have to get me things.”

“This is really for me, but I’m hoping you’ll like it too.” He opened the case and pulled out the
other
present he’d brought home for her.

“Cal, you did not get me a gun.”

“I did, darlin’, and I arranged for you to have lessons on how to load it, clean it, and shoot it. I want you to be able to protect yourself.” He’d wanted to give it to her sooner, but it had taken awhile to find the right teacher for her, someone who would be discreet and understanding of their situation.

“I don’t want a gun in the house with Poppy. What if she gets a hold of it?”

“Well, that will be part of your lessons—proper handling and safety.”

She thrust it back at him. “No.”

Instead of taking the box from her, he picked up their daughter and sat her on his lap. “I understand your position. I really do. But let me ask you this—what if Kevin gets in here again? What if I’m not home and Sam’s not here? What if he gets past our security and there’s no one to protect you—to protect Poppy—except you? How will you do it? Because I’m telling you, darlin’, if that asshole gets in here, I want you to be able to put a bullet in him.”

Lucy looked down at the box in her shaking hands and couldn’t come up with an argument against it. If she’d had a gun the last time she saw Kevin, she would’ve used it. In a minute. Without a thought. She’d have shot him and kept on shooting him until she ran out of bullets, and then she’d beat him with the gun until her arm got too tired to swing anymore.

She clutched the gun to her chest. “When’s my first lesson?”

“That’s my girl. And this is my girl,” he said to Poppy as he lifted her above his head, making her giggle.

Poppy sure did adore her daddy and had pretty much from day one. Cal had taken to fatherhood as though he’d never missed a day in her life. More than once Lucy had wondered what would’ve happened if she’d told Cal about her pregnancy when she’d found out she was expecting. Where would they be right now? Would they have gotten back together? Did Cal resent her for the months he’d spent away from his daughter? Did he regret not being there for her birth?

“When’s dinner?” Cal asked, drawing her out of her musings.

“In about fifteen minutes.”

“I’m going to change and come back down to play with Poppy.” He sat Poppy back down and put the hammer in her hand. She immediately went back to whacking a ball into the hole.

“And that’s what I’m going to do when boys come knocking on my front door wanting to court you. Thump them upside the head.” He ruffled Poppy’s hair and then went upstairs to change.

Lucy couldn’t help but stare at him as he walked away. The backside of Cal was one of her very favorite sides of him. She blushed all over again, remembering of all the things he’d done to her over the past several days. And not once had he asked for anything in return or made a move to do more than see to her pleasure. If she was honest, she’d admit that there’d been times when she wished he’d drop his pants and drive into her. She missed the feel of him on top of her and the way he’d watch as he thrust in and out of her.

She shook her head to stop those thoughts. She’d only frustrate herself since he wouldn’t be visiting her tonight. She rubbed her tummy. Her cramps had gotten worse after having Poppy. The over-the-counter pain meds helped but didn’t take away all the pain.

She thought about what Cal had said, that she expected him to behave like Kevin had. He’d conditioned her to expect the worst, and she’d usually been right. Kevin hadn’t cared if she was on her period, sick, or if she was in the mood. When she’d been on her period, he’d force her facedown on the bed or wherever they happened to be and did what he wanted. It had gotten to where she’d hated sex. Even when she hadn’t resisted, Kevin had still managed to make her feel ashamed and dirty.

He’d complained about how fat she’d gotten after having Poppy, pinching her breasts and the rolls at her waist. She’d tried really hard to be a good wife to him, to be quiet and timid the way he liked. She’d dressed in the clothes he preferred and worn her hair the way he wanted her to. And it was never enough. The slightest thing would set him off, and then he’d start in on what a horrible wife and mother she was. The insults quickly escalated to threats. If she didn’t move fast enough or address him with respect, he’d grab her and shake her, twist her arm behind her back or smack her around.

He
enjoyed
hitting her. When he’d come around later with his apologies, it was the look on his face as he’d hit her that helped her remember how much he loved to hurt her. She accepted his apologies and promises to never do it again, knowing he didn’t mean them. Hit, blame, apologize. Over and over they repeated the same cycle. Until she’d finally gotten out.

She glanced at the box in her lap. She’d like to see the look on Kevin’s face when she pulled a gun on him. She’d like to humiliate him and make him suffer the way he’d humiliated and hurt her. And then she’d put the gun to his head and blow his brains out. Just thinking about it brought a smile to her face.

Poppy crawled over and whacked the box with her hammer.

“No, no, sweet girl. No whacking mommy.”

Cal came back into the room. “She’s aggressive. I like that.” He lay down on his belly on the floor to be eye level with Poppy. “But no hitting people. Unless they’re boys wanting to take liberties before they’ve put a ring on your finger and made you their wife. Maybe not even then.”

“I think having a daughter is karmic retribution for all of the liberties you’ve taken with women who weren’t your wife.”

“I think you’re right. Add to it that my wife is the only woman I want to take liberties with and it’s definitely ironic if not some kind of retribution.”

“With all the ironic karmic retribution you’ve racked up, you’re bound to have only daughters and no sons.”

“As long as I’m having them with you, darlin’, I don’t care which I have.” He grabbed a ball that had gotten away from Poppy and handed it back to her. “Here you go, sweet pea. I’d have ten daughters if they all came out looking like you,” he told Poppy.

Lucy snorted. “You say that because she looks exactly like you.”

“You think? I think she looks like her pretty momma.”

“The only thing she got from me was my grandma’s red hair.”

“Nah, she’s every inch you.”

“Thank you for the gun.”

He glanced up at her. “I’d rather give you diamonds or pearls, but that’s not what you need.”

“Is it wrong that I hope I get a chance to use it?”

“No, but honestly, darlin’, I hope you don’t. I hope that bastard stays locked up where he can’t get to you or Poppy.”

“Still.” She lifted the lid of the box and was surprised at how utilitarian the gun looked. “It’s kind of ugly.”

“But effective, and that’s what we’re going for here.”

She lifted it out of the box, weighing it in her hand. “Not as heavy as I thought it would be.”

“Easy there.” He pushed the nozzle away. “First lesson in gun handling is to assume the gun’s always loaded. It’s not, but if you approach every gun as if it was, you’ll be much safer.”

She gripped it in both hands and aimed at an ugly vase across the room, resting her finger lightly on the trigger.

“Now that’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“I’m not going for sexy, I’m going for scary.”

“Scary sexy then.”

She sighed and put the gun back in the box. “Maybe I’ll be more frightening once I’ve had lessons.”

“No doubt.”