Filthy Beautiful Love (3 page)

Realizing we’re just standing in the stationary elevator that hasn’t yet moved from the ground level, she gingerly reaches out and presses the button. My mouth lifts up in a smile.
Progress
.

Per my instructions, Sophie and Becca’s luggage has been moved into the suite. There’s a moderately sized living room, two separate bedrooms, each with its own washroom and a tiny balcony overlooking the courtyard fountain. She takes a minute to navigate the rooms, lightly running her fingers along a gilded antique credenza and bending at the waist to smell the fresh arrangement of white blossoms on the coffee table.

I take every second I can to just drink her in. Even though it’s only been three days since I’ve seen her, held her in my arms, slept with her warm body next to me, it feels like much longer. The privilege to touch her has been ripped away, and my body riots in silent agony, my heart aching and my fists clenching uselessly at my sides.
I fucking hate this.

We need to talk like civilized adults, but fuck if I know how to start. 

"Soph…" I begin.

"Colt…" She says at the same time.

We share an awkward smile.

"Come sit down." I gesture to the sofa – neutral territory and she obeys, slipping off her sandals and curling her legs underneath her as she sinks into the cushion farthest away from me.

"Ask me anything you want to know. No more secrets," I promise.

Bouncing one knee up and down, she twists the ring on her thumb. "How long have you been married?"

I release a heavy sigh and push my fingers into my hair. Much longer than I want to admit.

"If you try to hide things…if you’re going to be evasive…" She swallows.

"Anything you want to know. Even if the truth is hard to hear," I confirm. As much as I’d like to protect her from the ugly truth, I won’t. Not if that’s not what she wants. "I’ve been married for four years. For the past two we haven’t lived in the same state."

"Why was she at your house that day?"

"Who the fuck knows with her. We've been trying to settle our divorce for a long time. But neither of us can seem to agree on anything."

She licks her lips, thinking over this information. "Is she the reason you went to New York?"

"Yes, Stella lives in New York with her boyfriend. I went there to try and talk to her about the terms of our divorce in person. That didn't work."

Her forehead creases. "She has a boyfriend?"

I nod. "Our former gardener. I found out they started fucking after we got married."

Her mouth tugs down in a frown. "Oh."

"It turns out that she never loved me, and even though my family warned me about her motives, I couldn’t see it. I wanted a woman in my life, and I don’t know..." I rub my temples absently. "Maybe it had to do with losing my mother at such a young age… But I liked the company, the companionship of someone by my side. Someone warm and loving to share my life with." I sound like a complete pussy, but that was how the twenty-four year old me saw the world.

And Stella was the perfect trophy wife, accompanying me to work functions, dressing in the latest fashions and always a happy smile on her lips. Too bad it had all been fake.

"What happened?" Sophie asks, her tone softening.

"Things changed as soon as we got engaged. I thought it was just stress over planning the wedding–she wanted it to be the affair of the decade, something the Los Angeles elite would be buzzing about for years to come–she put way too much pressure on herself planning it. I didn’t see at the time that it was all for show. It was more about the dress and the party and French champagne than it was about me and her."

Sophie chews on her lip, listening intently. I have no fucking clue why I’m unloading all this…but something tells me if I have any hope at salvaging things between us, I need to bare my soul.

I clear my throat and continue. "And even though my brothers tried to talk me out of it, I had convinced myself that it was all going to be fine. I wasn’t going to call off my wedding simply because my fiancé was turning into a bridezilla. I figured it would all settle down after the wedding day."

"But it didn’t?" Sophie asks softly.

"No. She was distant, and cold. Not at all like the smiling, charming girl I fell for in the first place. Once the rock was on her finger and the ink on the marriage license was dry, she turned into a completely different person. The one I suspected she’d actually been all along. She’d played me. Married me for my money and I’d fallen for it like a lovesick fool."

"I’m sorry, Colt…" she starts.

"No, don’t." She shouldn’t be the one apologizing to me. The headache I’d felt coming on earlier was full-on throbbing in my temples. I continued, "After the game Stella pulled on me, it made it hard to even think about trusting another woman. Being separated for the past two years, I tried dating causally. I didn’t want to, but my brothers occasionally set me up with a woman. Behind every sweet smile and every flirty look was someone only interested in my bank roll and the lifestyle I could provide. I wanted a genuine connection, not a trophy wife. But I realized with my status and my wealth, real love wasn’t going to be something easy to find."

"Then why go to that auction?" Her confusion is etched between her eyebrows as she waits for me to answer.

"To put it bluntly?" I smirk.

She nods for me to go ahead.

"A man has his limits. The pent up sexual frustration of being celibate for two years…I was horny as fuck and needed to get laid."

Her mouth twitches in a smile.

"That’s the complete truth. I knew exactly what I was paying for and that there’d be no chance of feelings or false promises."

"Why not just hire an escort?"

I shrug. The thought had crossed my mind a few times. "I guess I’m not the kind of guy to hire an escort. I wanted something more discreet. I couldn’t have that information getting leaked. CEOs who get caught hiring prostitutes usually end up on the evening news."

She nodded in silent understanding.

"With the auction, I liked the medical testing, non-disclosure agreements and confidentiality promised to me. Plus the companionship angle we covered before."

"But you never…we never…" She pauses.

"I never fucked you," I finish for her.

She lifts her chin in indignation. "Why not? Is it because you would have felt like you were cheating on her?" she asks, her big blue eyes locked onto mine.

I reach for her hand, pulling it into my lap, unable to resist the physical warmth it provides. "No. It’s because I would have felt like I was cheating on you. You deserved more and I knew it."

Her bottom lip trembles and the urge to suck it into my mouth flares up inside me.

Pulling her hand away, Sophie rises to her feet. "You can’t say things like that." There’s anger in her eyes and I’m left speechless. I can’t even begin to imagine all the thoughts and emotions running through her head. So I won’t try. She moves to the window and looks out solemnly.

Rising to my feet, I stand behind her, resisting the urge to pull her close. "I can’t lose you," I whisper. "Not when I feel like my life is finally falling into place. You were the missing piece. You were the cheese to my macaroni." I smile lightly, hoping she remembers.

She turns to face me. Her soft gaze is pinned on mine and I can tell we’re both remembering the time we spent together. It just felt right. "I can’t do this, Colton. I was developing real feelings for you."

Was?
I
know
I’m falling for her, terrifying as it fucking is. I shake the thought away, once again trying to convince myself that my interest in her is only about seeing the arrangement through.

"You’re married," she reminds me.

Tramping down my emotions, I swallow. "Only legally. And if I can just get her to agree to the terms, I’ll sign off on the divorce…"

"Wait. You’re the one holding up the divorce?" Anger flashes in Sophie’s normally calm blue eyes. The change in her is unmistakable. It’s like I’ve inadvertently tripped some wire and a bomb is about to detonate. I take a hesitant step back.

"Yes."

"But…I don’t understand…"

Fuck.
How do I explain this without further upsetting her?

"If I divorce her, she wins. She’ll take half of everything, plus I’ll be ordered to pay her spousal support." It’s not about the money – well, I guess it is, because splitting up my millions will put my investment into the Africa project at risk. It means I’ll have fallen for her game, hook, line and sinker. Stella one, Colt zero. But worse than that, the funding for the school, hospital and all the projects I had planned would be stopped dead in their tracks as my money is tied up in a legal battle. I won’t let my personal fuckup be the cause of so much destruction. I’m funneling every bit of money I have into this charity and I won’t sacrifice a single dollar to keep Stella in Manolo Blahniks while children go hungry.
Fuck no.

"You…" Her eyes widen and then slam closed. "You didn’t have a pre-nup, and now your male pride is too damn stubborn to take the hit financially." She blinks up at me and something twists deep inside my gut.

She’s right about the pre-nup, I was a fucking fool. Twenty-four years old when we tied the knot and thought I was in love. But she’s wrong about the rest. "This has nothing to do with male pride. My goal all along has been to wait her out, and complete my project in Africa before finalizing the divorce. I won’t have my money tied up in some court battle while I could be doing something actually fucking useful with it."

Sophie’s judging stare and her rigid posture force me to see that maybe this isn’t all going to end well. After surviving Stella, I need a woman who understands my drive and desire to see some good in the world. I thought Sophie would be that woman. But perhaps I was wrong. I take a calming breath and struggle to clear my head.

Sophie moves across the room, her posture stiff as she goes to the far window that looks onto the courtyard below. I cross the room in a few long strides and stand behind her, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Soph…" I murmur.

Her shoulders relax and she sniffs like she’s crying.

Spinning her to face me, I see that her face is red and a single tear tumbles along her porcelain cheek.

"Don’t cry." I brush the dampness away with my thumb. "You’re all I want. The rest, Stella, the paperwork, I’ll figure it out. I just need time. And I need your faith in me." I don’t know why that’s suddenly so important, but it is. Her eyes drift closed and she doesn’t protest. It’s a start.

I’ve never groveled like this before, but I’ve also never felt quite as strongly about a woman as I do about Sophie. Unable to resist the urge to touch her, I run my fingertips along her exposed arms, lightly caressing her smooth skin.

Sophie swallows and blinks up at me. Leaning down to lower my mouth to hers, I whisper against her lips. "You’re mine, sweetness."

My cock was half hard all through lunch, but now that we’re alone, the beast is demanding attention. I’ve traveled thousands of miles to get her to listen, and now the last thing I want to do is talk. I'm craving her like a drug.

Her mouth parts and I take the opportunity to gently kiss her full bottom lip, and then the top, carefully peppering her sweet mouth with tender kisses.

Her hands fist in my shirt and for just a moment I think she’s going to push me away, but she tugs me closer and my kisses go from chaste to hot in two seconds flat. The knowledge that I haven’t lost her sends a thrill racing through me.

My tongue pushes past her parted lips and caresses hers. Goddamn, I’ve missed the things this mouth can do. The raging erection in my pants remembers all too well.

The need to taste her, to consume every part of her flares within me. And knowing that there’s a bed in the next room sends my mind spinning with possibilities. I want more. I want it all, everything she has to offer, but I force myself to slow and meet her eyes, checking for any sign of displeasure. Her look is pure wanton lust.

My hand slips under the hem of the skirt she’s wearing. If she knew my dark thoughts right now, she wouldn’t have worn this in my presence. But she seems blissfully unaware that I want to fuck her hard and fast until she’s sore and bowlegged from my cock repeatedly impaling her.

The man she’s come to know exercises restraint and control at every turn, but that man is nowhere to be found. Unable to hold back from touching her, I slide my hand up the outside of her thigh and feel her tremble, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t move a single muscle.

Curving my hand around, I palm one rounded ass cheek that’s soft and warm in my hand and knead the succulent flesh. She drives me fucking crazy with desire. I want her ass. I want every part of her.

Feeling bold, I slip one finger under the elastic of her panties and feel her draw a shuddering breath.
That’s right baby. Let me touch you.

"You want this, don’t you?" I whisper against her collarbone.

She shakes her head.

"Don’t lie to me, sweetness."

I caress a finger along her silken folds. She’s already damp with desire. I drag my finger up her slit, parting her lips and find her clit. Using the pad of my index finger, I circle the little bundle of nerves and feel it swell.
Hell yeah.
Remembering the first time I got her off, my cock engorges with blood until it's rock hard and almost painful.

Sophie’s hands ball into fists at her sides, and she looks like she’s struggling with something. Her brow is knotted and her breathing is erratic, but she’s not moving away, in fact she’s leaning in to my touch, tilting her hips so I can rub her clit at just the right angle. I realize she’s having some internal battle with herself. Her body wants this, but her head is telling her no. And my guess is that her hands are clenched tight to stop herself from reaching out and touching me. Surely she can feel my raging erection pressing into her hip.

It’s okay, you can touch him, baby.

Please fucking touch him.

I want to feel her little fist curl around my shaft and squeeze. I feel like I’m going to die if she doesn’t touch me soon. I’m two seconds away from pulling my cock out myself and stroking it until I come.