Cabin Fever (2 page)

And he was threatening to topple all her carefully constructed plans with this childish move of his. Hell, she’d worked too hard for Drew to get a case of the ignored child. Her lips moved, but no words came out. She blinked, prayed for guidance not to erupt all over her husband in fury. She breathed deeply, remembering she couldn’t very well kill him; his body was too heavy to drag out of the place to hide.

“Drew, my phone...” She shook her head. She couldn’t articulate it without resorting to the worst kind of name calling. That would get her nowhere.

Instead of going there, she held her palm out and waited for him to put his own damn phone in her hand. Sure, he didn’t have her contact list, but she had the phone numbers in her laptop. Then she glanced at the suitcases just inside the entrance way and frowned. Two suitcases. Zero laptop bag.

“Drew...my computer...the ebony, leather case with the lilac engraving of my name? Where is it?”

He smirked, and shook his head slowly. “No laptop, no phone, nothing but your fine ass and me. You think I’m kidding, Chanta? I’m your only entertainment this weekend.”

“I’m not here for entertainment! I have important work to do!” She hated how exasperated she sounded. Tucking rogue strands of hair behind her ears, she took in a deep, calming breath. It would be all right. Tamika could handle the buyer for a few days. But if the buyer wanted to go ahead with the deal, she had to be available or risk losing the sale.

“Chanta, we had an agreement.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t agree with you. I said we’d go on a mini vacation. That doesn’t mean I can just, just ignore my other responsibilities.”

Drew’s body went still. He lifted his left hand and turned it to face her, palm facing him. He wiggled his ring finger. The gold band caught and reflected the overhead light’s sparkle.

“This is the only responsibility you have right now, baby.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Sure, they hadn’t been making it like bunnies, but hell, she was tired most nights. Work exhausted all traces of energy so when Drew touched her, her libido would flicker before fading. She loved him, a lot, with her entire being, but her work life drained her energy—greedily consuming like some fat, gluttonous monster.

Drew yanked the knot in his tie, loosening it. He pinned her to the spot with an expression of hunger plain on his face. With jerking motions, he removed his tie. The tie she bought him for their anniversary, the tie she’d longed to have tied around her wrists, binding her to one of the posts of their king sized bed.

He held it up to her like an offering—a promise—before he slung it around his neck. Saving it for later—but what later? He had no idea about her secret longings…did he?

Chanta swallowed the hunk of mounting desire in her throat. She caressed her right wrist as if the silk of Drew’s tie had swept across her skin.

“First one undressed starts the licking,” Drew promised with a hushed breath. His eyes narrowed in lust didn’t waver from her, watching her reactions to his slow strip tease.

“Oh, no you don’t.  I told you to grab my laptop before we left. What else did you leave at home?”

“You’re going to be last and that means I get to lick first.” He completely ignored her question.  “You know where I’m going to start first? At that sexy ass of yours. Right across the curve of your beautiful ass. God, it’s so damn sweet!”

He unbuttoned his pinstriped shirt with ease, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the round plastic bits. His eyes locked on her face, determination shined out from them. He meant to seduce her into getting naked she realized. With resolve, the firm set of his smirking grin giving testament to her deduction.

Wasn’t happening. He’d pushed too far—gone too far.

“I want my phone back,” she said patiently, biting each word. “Now.”

Drew arched an eyebrow at her and unbuttoned his cuffs. Palming the cufflinks into his strong, capable hands, hands that cupped her breasts with care, held her attention for a brief moment before she realized what she was doing and snapped her eyes back to his face. His deliciously broad shoulders shrugged indifferently.

“That phone has held your attention long enough.  Not anymore. Not tonight, not tomorrow, and not for the next few days. It’s about us—no one else.”

“How do you think I’m going to handle that deal for the business executive from San Diego?  I just suddenly don’t answer my phone or respond to emails and what? He’s going to take that as a good thing?”

“Don’t give a shit about his sweetheart deal.” He tossed the shirt to the floor. “You’re still too damn dressed.”

She put both hands on her hips and shook her head; the mass of black curls brushed her shoulders. “You’re not going to get to forget my responsibilities and you’re damn sure aren’t going to get me into that bed.”

“No?”

“No.”

There. Take that.

Drew crept closer to her, his delicious chest on display. He deliberately moved leisurely, slower and slower, while his grin grew wider. That grin. Damn him. It was that lopsided grin that wore her down in graduate school when she swore she wanted nothing to do with the white dude, no matter how fine he was. It was the grin that ended arguments a bit sooner than they should’ve been, and it was threatening to tear down her resolve again.  She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. No can do. Drew wouldn’t win this one. She had to get her phone back or at least use his Smartphone to take care of her responsibilities.

“Chan-ta,” he said softly, stretching out her name into two seductive syllables.

His breath raked across her flesh and set her belly to flop. Chills skated down her spine and she shimmied in her slacks, her love button beat once, twice in warning. Damn Drew and his infectious smile.

“Stop it!”

He circled around her like a shark ready to devour the increasingly succumbing treat.  “Chan-ta...”

His hands touched her waist, non-threatening, comforting. She was completely unprepared for the sharp slap to her behind, however. The palm of his big hand warming the cheeks of her butt made her gasp. With ever more firmer swats to her ample ass, Chanta’s throat grew increasingly dry. She started to tremble from need, her clit beating so fast it seemed to compete with her heart. Chanta’s thoughts spun. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?

“Drew!”

Just what the hell had happened to her conservative husband?

“Scream my name as loud as you want,” he purred into her ear. “No one else’s going to hear you. I want to hear you scream my name, tell how hard you want me to pleasure you, until your throat is raw. Then I’ll nurse you back to health and do it all over again”

The next swat set her cheeks on fire. She turned around to face him, to tell him to stop, to do it again, to...

Drew’s lips crashed over hers, claiming them the way he hadn’t since the day she said “
I do
.”  With the strength of his kiss he told her how much he meant every single word. He meant to take her and set the dwindling flame of their marriage out in the open, kindle it with his relentless love and watch it explode in a bonfire of fiery heat. Irritation dissolved underneath the power of that kiss—how could it not?

She moaned with mounting delight, demanding more.

So much for holding out.

Chapter Three

So what Chanta had written in her diary hadn’t been just daydreams from the trashy books she didn’t think he knew she loved to read. Drew had been worried at first. He had often wanted to push their sexual relationship, to explore the darker edge they had only played at before. He had found the small, leather bound book stuffed in a shoe box that had fallen on his head while he searched for his other shoe. Unlike his ultra-organized wife, he tended to throw things haphazardly in the closet when he undressed.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to read it. He was almost afraid of what the tiny lined pages might have contained. She had been working late a lot recently, seemingly consumed with her job and less and less interested in their marriage. What if…No, he didn’t think Chanta would ever do something like that. If she was tired of him, she would tell him so.  That was the one thing he could be sure of. His wife was the most straightforward person he knew.

That meant that somewhere along the line, work really had consumed all of her time and focus. While he understood her drive to succeed, especially given the real estate market these days, he wasn’t willing to play second fiddle to a bunch of empty buildings. From the discovery of her diary, Drew knew Chanta missed their formerly avid intimacy and wanted more. For days he had poured over every word, every fantasy, committing them to memory. It wasn’t hard to do when he had fantasized of things so damn similar it was almost eerie. 

When some guys at the office mentioned a little out of the way resort set by the sea on one side and deep woods on the other, the idea took root. A little research and Drew found out they offered secluded cabins, delivering food discreetly to their patrons to give guests complete privacy. It was perfect. Despite being a single room, it was a wide open space, luxurious but totally free of walls. There was no way for Chanta to hide the sexuality she had been valiantly trying to dispel by writing out her fantasies in a secret journal and stashing it away from the world. She probably hadn’t even noticed the things she wrote had gotten more intense the farther they drifted away from each other. He wasn’t about to allow it any longer. This was something they both wanted, needed really.

“Take off your clothes, Chanta.” He allowed his voice to drop into a low growl to let her know he meant business. “I won’t tell you again.”

She blinked at him, her mouth opening and closing in a cute little “o.” The shiny gloss that graced those full lips was pretty much history, a new shine coming from the darting of a delicate pink tongue. He saw the slight tremble in her hand as she reached up to slowly unbutton her no-nonsense pinstripe shirt. In spite of the conservative linen shirt and pencil skirt that fell an inch past her knees, Drew knew underneath would be all delicate lace, exquisitely cut to showcase her full, hourglass figure to the best advantage.

He had to bite back a moan of pure need as her silky soft, smooth dark skin was slowly revealed, inch by agonizing inch. She wasn’t even trying to tease him he thought with a wry grin. She was so nervous, moving with genuine caution, not really knowing what to expect. If she only knew how enticing her hesitant movements were, how unconsciously sexy it was to watch a natural performance of a woman disrobing without artifice. He stripped while watching until all he wore were his slacks, sans underwear, so damn hard his dick was rubbing against the metal teeth of his still fastened zipper.

She didn’t take it all off as he had instructed, but stood there in delicate, peach, frilly under things. Her push-up bra was certainly doing its job admirably—pressing the firm round globes of her breasts up so far they looked to be on the verge of spilling over. The matching lacey panties dipped in the front in a perfect “v” shape. He wanted to see what they did from behind.

“Go get up on the bed.” He gentled his voice a little from the first command, not wanting her to be frightened any more than she already was.

“Drew- ” Chanta began, but he cut her off before she could get going.

“Get that sexy ass up on the bed, now Chanta. Don’t make me carry you, baby. It will only make your punishment worse.

He allowed himself a small chuckle as she turned on her heel—she hadn’t taken off the pumps she’d been wearing—and stomped to the bed, glaring back at him after she barely perched on the edge of the mattress. Just as he thought, those panties hugged her juicy ass like a lover’s hand, cupping them perfectly, giving the just-right peek at her ass. Damn, what an ass it was. Despite the glower, he saw excitement shining back at him in those clear brown eyes. The knowledge that she was turned on despite herself made his cock jump. No doubt after this long weekend she would get back at him in some way, but he found he could care less. All that mattered was the here and now, getting to know his wife again, having her know him, and exploring their love life in an entirely new way.

Drew wasn’t walking into this blind. After finding the hidden diary and pouring over every syllable, he’d done his research, even going so far as to seek the advice of a seasoned Dom. After carefully explaining what he needed to learn, he felt fairly confident he could be all that his wife had fantasized about. After all, in the diary he was always the man playing with her body, driving her harder and faster to the very limits of her sexuality. The hardcore stuff he could safely rule out, Chanta didn’t want to be whipped, shared, or in any serious pain. She did long to be tied down, paddled, and taken to the edge until she was almost mindless with need.