Lush (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Her wedding night.

Lucy followed her new husband into the suite at the Ritz-Carlton, dread heavy in her belly. The honeymoon suite. He must be expecting her to fulfill her duties as his wife. He’d said everything between them would be optional. He’d even signed a notarized agreement to that effect. But she knew from experience that men didn’t always mean what they said when it came to sex. And they didn’t always take no for an answer.

Cal had booked this suite. In this fancy hotel. On their wedding night. If that didn’t have unspoken expectations all over it, she didn’t know what did.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I don’t know about you, but all I’ve eaten tonight is that piece of cake you fed me.”

Her stomach rumbled as if on cue. “I’m starving.”

He found the room service menu and started leafing through it. “I could eat one of everything. What sounds good to you?”

“A cheeseburger. With fries.”

“You got it. Why don’t you get changed while I order? Your bags should already be in your room.”

Her room. That meant they weren’t… He wasn’t expecting… She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or disappointed. It was a confusing set of emotions that knocked together inside her like stress-ball clackers.

“Which one’s mine?” she asked.

“The master. Whichever that one is. Hi,” he said into the phone. “I’d like to order some food.”

Lucy wandered off toward a set of double doors that had to be the master bedroom. It was and the bed was huge. And was that…? She rushed forward. A Jacuzzi right in the middle of the bedroom with a view of the Dallas skyline. How romantic. Except this wasn’t a romance.

“I’m looking forward to that,” Cal said from over her shoulder, making her jump and squeak. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s just that this carpet is so plush it totally absorbed your steps.” And now she sounded like an idiot.

“I told Hazel to pack you a bathing suit.” He pointed at the Jacuzzi. “Right there is where I plan to have a drink and soak with my wife after dinner.”

He gazed at her like she really was his wife and he had all kinds of husbandly plans. She peered inside the Jacuzzi. It looked like heaven. Lots of jets and places to put your feet up. She risked a glance up at Cal, but he’d already turned away and was walking out the door. What in the…?

Hot, cold, hot, cold. Right when she thought she had him and this—whatever it was between them—sorted out, he’d throw her a curve and do the exact opposite of what she expected. He flirted with her like he used to, only it was just words, no action. He’d kissed her exactly twice since she’d walked into his office almost two weeks ago. The one time in his office and then again when the minister had told him that he could now kiss his bride. Three times if she counted the peck on the cheek he’d given her when they got engaged. He’d progressed to hand holding and an arm around her shoulders or a hand at the small of her back in the past week or so but no further.

It was almost as though they were virginal high schoolers with their first crush. She half-expected him to ask her to prom. Well, she guessed their wedding was sort of prom like. She was in a big dress and they’d danced… And now they were in this suite that was made for romance.

What was he up to? Because with Cal there was always a plan.

She followed him into the living area and then across the hall and into another bedroom. He was already starting to strip. His jacket was strewn on the end of the bed and he was working on his tie.

“Hey, darlin’. Need help with the zipper on your dress?”

She did, but that wasn’t why she’d come in.

“Spin around,” he told her. When she didn’t comply, he took her shoulders and turned her himself. “It’s got one of those hook thingies. Hang on. These always stump me.”

He shoved his hand into the back of her dress, probably farther than was necessary to unhook a simple hook-and-eye closure. It took him a long damn time to work it. All the while he stroked her skin and moved her closer and closer to him. She was pretty sure she was too close now for him to have any kind of angle at all to work the hook. She slid back another half step and came right up against him. Then she heard the rasp of the zipper and felt a rush of cool air on her skin. He brought the zipper all the way down past her waist.

His touch was featherlight on her exposed skin, scattering goose bumps. Her chest heaved with the effort to breathe, and she was caught between wanting him to rip her dress away and fear that he actually might do it and leave her with a choice to make.

Then his fingers were gone. “There you go.” He gave her a perfunctory pat on the shoulder. “Go get changed into something comfortable. I have plans for us after we eat.” He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. A second later she heard the shower.

She shivered, more turned on than she’d been in a long time, and actually contemplated following him into the bathroom. Instead she fled to the safety of her room.

*****

Cal put a hand on the tiled wall and jerked faster on his dick. He hadn’t masturbated this much since he was fifteen and had accidentally come across a nudie magazine in his father’s garage. He thought of Lucy and the way her breasts had nearly tumbled out of the top of her dress when he’d unzipped it. He imagined gripping the front and ripping it down to her waist and then lifting the back of her dress and pounding into her from behind.

He came with a jerk and a long, low groan. It wasn’t enough. Goddammit, he wanted her. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted anything or anyone ever. She was his wife but not
his
. He was going to have to earn her back, earn her trust, earn her love. He’d do it if it killed him and he grew calluses from jerking off nearly every hour of every day. She’d be his and they could do option number thirty a hundred times a day until they passed out from exhaustion.

He shut the water off and grabbed a towel. He knew she expected him to make a move on her. It was their wedding night. What else did newly married couples do except fuck like they’d never get to fuck again. And goddammit he was hard all over again. He looked down at himself and laughed. This would be part of his penance—having a perpetual hard-on. He’d survived worse, he supposed…but not much. Being around Lucy and unable able to touch her, make her sigh and scream his name was a crueler punishment than any he could’ve ever come up with.

He dressed in loose sweats and a T-shirt. Just about the least sexy thing he could come up with. This was about Lucy and helping her feel safe and secure. It was about trust and commitment, two words he hadn’t ever given much thought to before he’d seen the photos of Lucy and the way her eyes went blank when she thought he was going to make a move on her.

He wanted to punch something so badly. That son-of-a-bitch ex of hers had taken the most precious, most vital woman Cal had ever met and made her a shell filled with fear and shame. Cal would bring her back. She was already starting to come back to him in tiny increments. He’d go slow with her if it killed him. And it just might.

There was a knock on the door. Cal went out into the living area. The double doors to Lucy’s bedroom were closed, but he could hear the water of a shower running. He opened the door to room service and signed the check as they set everything up. Lucy wouldn’t be expecting what he had planned for them.

He poured himself a glass of wine and stood at the window overlooking the city, waiting for his wife. His wife. The moment he’d slipped his ring on her finger and pledged himself to her, he’d known he could never go back. He could never look at another woman and not compare her to Lucy.

He heard the door behind him open, but he didn’t turn.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Dinner. I’m starving.”

He turned then and nearly wished he hadn’t. She was wearing a robe, her hair wrapped in a towel on top of her head. Her skin was scrubbed pink and clean. The scent of whatever soap or shampoo she’d used coasted toward him, stroking him like a lover. She wore nothing beneath the robe, and it nearly brought him to his knees. God couldn’t be this cruel to him. Surely he hadn’t been that wicked.

She sashayed toward the table and plopped herself down. The rest of his wine disappeared in two desperate gulps.

“Wait,” he said as she reached for one of the lids. “We’re going to play a game.”

She tilted her head to the side. “With food?”

“Sure. Why not make dinner fun?”

She looked like she might argue and then she withdrew her hand, relenting to him. “Okay. What are the rules?”

“The rules are we’re both blindfolded.”

“Why?”

“No utensils,” he continued without answering. “I feed you, you feed me, and we have to guess what we’re eating.”

“But you ordered everything. You already know what’s here.”

“No. Actually I don’t. I asked the kitchen to prepare a variety of finger foods, but I didn’t specify what they would be. We’ll both be surprised.”

“Can’t we just eat? I’m starving.”

“You’ll eat what I feed you. It’ll be fun. Now close your eyes. Please.”

“You first.”

“Okay.” He sat next to her at the table and rolled two napkins. He handed one to her. “Put this around my eyes and then put this other one around yours.” He waited as she tied the napkin around his head, cutting off all sight. After a few moments he asked, “Is your blindfold on?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. You go first. Lift a lid and then feed me what’s underneath.”

He waited, listening as she fumbled over the metal covers, and then he heard one hit the floor.

“I didn’t know what to do with it,” she explained.

He grinned. She was getting into this game. “We’ll pick it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

Her hand hit him mid chest and then climbed slowly toward his throat and chin. She put her palm on his cheek, and her thumb swept across his lips. He opened his mouth, and she pushed something rough coated into it. He moved it around and then bit into it.

“Chicken nuggets,” he guessed.

“I have no idea. I can’t see anything.”

“Okay. My turn.”

He felt around on the table until his hand hit one of the plates, then he moved his hand to the next one, then the next and lifted the cover. Whatever it was, it was kind of slimy. Shrimp maybe?

Reaching across with his other hand, he found her knee and grazed the outside of her thigh, over her hip and arm, across her shoulder to her neck, and up her throat to her lips, which were parted in apprehension or expectation, he wasn’t sure. Sliding his thumb along the seam, he parted them farther and slipped the bite into her mouth.

He kept his hand on her jaw as she chewed then swallowed.

“Mmm, shrimp. My turn.”

He wished he could see her and her reactions. The soft sighs and throaty moans she made when he fed her something she liked drove him nuts. They were the same sounds she made during sex. Three bites later, he ripped his blindfold off to find Lucy watching him.

“You cheated,” he declared.

She laughed, tipping her head back. “I just took my blindfold off. I swear. And shut up. You cheated too.”

“I can’t help it. I’m starving.” He placed both his hands on her knees and leaned in. “Feed me.”

She stared at him for a moment and then reached out without seeing where her hand landed and grabbed something. “Here.” She pressed a mini quiche into his mouth, filling it, and watched as he chewed and swallowed.

“My turn.” He picked up a strawberry that was almost too large for her and slipped it partway through her lips. “Bite.”

He bit into the other half of the strawberry and their lips touched briefly before he pulled away.

Lucy couldn’t believe what they were doing. This had to be the most erotic thing she’d ever done. They took turns feeding each other until she was so full she thought she’d burst.

“That was fun, but I can’t eat another bite,” she told him. “Is there any more wine left?”

He lifted the bottle and poured the last bit into her glass, then tipped it upside down in the bucket. Settling back into his chair, he took a sip of his wine. A comfortable silence settled over them as they gazed out at the view of the Dallas skyline.

He was the first to break it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Tonight?”

“No, with yourself. Have you ever thought about going back to school and finishing your degree?”

She couldn’t believe he remembered her talking about doing just that when they’d been together the first time. Quitting school was one of the things she regretted most in her life besides her marriage to Kevin. Since then she’d hardly been able to think past next week let alone a year or more from now. “I used to.”

“You could do it. Go back to school I mean. You’ve got Sam to watch over Poppy now and no job. The corporate things I’d need you for would mainly occur in the evenings. You have days free to take classes if you want to.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought it would be an option, so I haven’t given it any consideration.”