Hitched (9 page)

"He's not my—" but I stop, because, well, I guess he is. This is all so confusing.

Vi types something into my phone and hits send, then tosses the phone back to me. "You're welcome."

I read what she wrote. It's the address to our restaurant and an invitation to come pick me up. "What are you doing? We're supposed to hang out at my place after this."

She shakes her head. "I'm not going to stand between you and true lust. Go freshen up. He'll likely be here soon."

I hurry from the table and find the restroom. As I'm reapplying some lipstick, the door opens, and Sebastian Donovan strides in like he owns the place. I expected him in scrubs, but it makes sense that he wouldn't wear them around town. Instead, he's got on jeans and a blue cotton shirt that brings out his eyes. His dark hair is disheveled, and his eyes look tired, but his smile devastates me.

"I think you need some training on which bathroom the boys are supposed to use," I tell him.

"Separate bathrooms are trite," he says, and then pulls me to him and kisses me deeply.

He tastes like mint, and I melt into him as he holds me close.

"Do you have a thing for bathrooms?" I ask, when our kisses pause.

"No, just a thing for you."

When a woman walks in and sees us, I blush, and he smiles. She just stares.

Sebastian, without saying a word, guides me out of the bathroom and through the restaurant to my table. Vi is standing, her purse in hand, and the bill has already been paid for our dinner.

She smiles brightly at me. "You two have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Sebastian frowns, but I laugh, because there's not much Vi won't do. Except dishes. She really hates doing dishes.

I kiss her cheek, thank her for the night and we promise to get together again soon. "Tell Chad I said hi," I say as we walk out of the restaurant and go our separate ways. I'd driven here with her, and I'm apparently leaving with Sebastian.

"Where would you like me to fuck you tonight?" he asks.

His words send a shiver through my body, and I think for a moment before responding. "Your house."

He pauses. "My house?"

I nod. "You asked me for the summer. I'm giving you the summer. But that means tit for tat. You've seen my house; I want to see yours."

"Fair enough," he says.

He holds my hand as we continue walking to his car. His hand practically swallows mine. It's big and warm, and when I think about how it feels to have those fingers roaming my body, something clenches inside me, and I hope that he doesn't live too far away.

The night is surprisingly cool, and I press in closer to him, enjoying his warmth and the chill in the air.

Normally I skip car rides. They are usually pretty boring, wouldn't you agree? But this drive is anything but boring.

It starts with his right hand on my knee. My skin burns at his touch, greedy for more.

As he drives, his hand moves up my thigh, under my skirt and between my legs. I suck in my breath as his fingers brush over my panties, teasing my pussy with gentle movement.

"Wait," I say, "I want to fuck in your bed."

"And we will, but I need your pussy now, Kacie." Grinning, he massages my clit through the fabric.

"Sebastian… " My words cut off as I get lost in the ecstasy of his fingers.

"Yes?"

"More."

His fingers slip under satin and penetrate me.

I bite down on my lip, stopping myself from crying out.

"Don't hold back, darling. Never hold back with me," he says.

And I let myself cry out. "Fuck. Sebastian." His fingers feel so good, but there's one more thing I want to know. "Did I—"

"Darling, we can talk later, but right now, I need something from you."

"Yes?"

"I need you lips around my cock, Kacie."

I want to finish my question, but my hand trails up his muscled leg to his already hard cock, and I remember how good he tastes.

"Kacie, I need you."

Fuck. That settles it.

As he fingers my pussy, rubbing against my clit only enough to tease without release, I unzip his jeans and free his cock. As we're stopped at a red light, I lean over his lap and take him into my mouth. He moans, one hand between my legs still as the other grips my head.

"Fuck, Kacie. You know how crazy you make me?"

I don't answer, because my mouth is full of cock, but I suck harder, stroking and licking as I look up at him.

When the light turns green, cars behind us honk, and he pulls off the road as I continue to suck and lick. I can feel his body tense, and his finger inside me moves harder, pushing me deeper into a spiral of pleasure even as I bring him to the brink.

"I need you to take me as deep as you can," he says.

I take him almost completely, his cock filling my throat. Then I pull back a little. And with another lick I send him over the edge. His come is hot in my mouth, and I swallow it all, licking the rest off his shaft and tip as his fingertips dig into my scalp.

When I sit up, he shudders, his smile slow and sexy, and continues playing with my pussy, rubbing my clit until I too climax, my muscles tensing, body going tight as a wave of pleasure floods me.

We're silent for several moments, holding each other, lost in our own thoughts. "Wow," is all I can say.

"My sentiments exactly," he says.

We tug our clothes back in place, and he starts the car and pulls back into traffic.

There's been something on my mind since the nigh we met, and so I ask the question I really want to know, have been curious about since I woke up in his arms and realized we were married.

"The night we got married… did we? Did I? Did you? Um… did we say the 'L' word at any point?" Oh God, I sound like a moron.

"Which 'L' word would that be?" I can hear the teasing in his voice, and I know I deserve it.

"You know what word I'm talking about. Did we profess our love to each other?"

"Yes." His answer is simple. Short. Incomplete. Because now I have too many other questions.

"Did you mean it?" I hold my breath waiting for his answer.

"I don't say anything I don't mean."

That's a yes. That means he loves me, or he did that night. My heart flip-flops.

"Why did we get married? It seems so unlikely, for either us."

"I can only speak for myself. I married you because I knew that night, and I know this even now, that you are someone I don't want to live without. My mother always said when it comes to choosing your mate, don't pick someone you can live with. Choose someone you can't live without. That's what I did when I married you."

He lives about twenty-five minutes from the Strip, in a larger house than I would have imagined for a single man living alone. At least, I assume he lives alone. I have to remind myself that despite having married the man, and despite all the amazing sex, I know frighteningly little about him. I guess that's what he thinks this summer will be about—getting to know each other. For me, it's about getting over him. I'm convinced that if I spend enough time with him, his flaws will show, and the bloom will fade. When that happens, I'll be able to put him out of my mind, and heart, once and for all.

But of course, the more he talks, the more I learn about him, the more my heart resists imagining a life without him.

Large palm trees stand sentinel in his lush, green front yard. Lit globes line the walkway to his front door, with bushes trimming the path. The impossibly green grass is dotted with terra cotta colored boulders and stones, and boasts at least three different breeds of trees in addition to the palms. The house itself is Spanish in style, with touches of Moroccan architecture. The dark red tile roof and thick stucco walls gives the house an inviting feeling that evokes images of family and friends.

He pulls into the four-car garage, and I follow him into a spacious kitchen fit for a chef with cast iron pots and pans hanging over an island in the middle. "Do you cook?" I ask.

"I guess you'll find out when I make you breakfast in the morning." He winks at me, and my stomach flutters.

I wish I'd brought a change of clothes, but it won't be the first time I do the walk of shame in the morning, and it probably won't be the last. Though I hear women are reclaiming this term to counteract the prevalence of our slut-shaming culture. Now it's the “strut of pride.” I like that better, though I still hate being stuck in last night's clothes. Time to start carrying an overnight bag with me.

"Welcome to my home," he says, clutching my hand close to him as we step into his living room. It's huge, with a wide screen television taking up most of one wall and comfortable leather couches and chairs arranged strategically for conversation or entertainment. The walls are high, the ceilings tall and there's a fireplace in the center of it all, one that takes real wood and looks well used. An eclectic mix of art pieces hang from white walls, giving splashes of color to the space. In a corner sits a black grand piano. "Do you play?" I ask.

"Not anymore," he says. Before I can ask why, he continues. "Would you like a tour?"

"I'd love one."

He takes me through the rest of the house, where I learn that his office desk is the only messy part of his life, that he likes swimming in his Olympic-sized pool that has a crazy amount of landscaping around it to give it a feel of being in the tropics, that he has enough guest rooms to house several families, and that he enjoys reading outside on his shaded patio. I know this because he left a few books on the table by the most comfortable looking chair. I sneak a glance at the titles and roll my eyes. Medical books, of course. I'd have romance novels.

We end the tour in his bedroom, which is dominated by a king bed facing another fireplace and has a nook for reading or watching television on another larger than life screen. His bathroom is to die for, with a sunken, jetted tub, a shower with multiple heads, and a walk-in closet that I might have to steal, at least for a few months.

I whistle. "We're definitely spending more time at your house than mine this summer."

He laughs. "I normally find it too much space for just one person." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his body. "But with you here, I can imagine some possibilities."

"Why did you buy something so big just for you?" This house must have cost close to a million.

His face darkens, and he looks away. "I bought it with someone. We planned on starting a family here, but things didn't work out."

My heart lurches. I'd like to say it's because I feel his pain, and it saddens me, but if I'm being honest, it's also some jealousy. Even though I don't want that kind of life, and I hate this about myself right now. I'm jealous that he started building it with someone else. I'm a bitch, I know.

"Were you married?" He'd said he'd never been married.

"No. Engaged."

"What happened?"

His eyes fix on me again, and he smiles. "Let's not talk about the past. It ended a few years ago, and I'm over it. I'd rather focus on the present. With you."

I understand and let the conversation rest as we go back downstairs. I notice something in the living room I didn't see before. A wall with framed art, but not done by professionals. "Who drew these?" I ask. There are pictures of rainbows and ponies and many drawings of what looks like a doctor holding the hand of a child.

"My patients. They often draw pictures for me, and I always frame them and hang them here, then take photos of their art displays to show them later. They love seeing their artwork featured like this. It raises their spirits."

"They're beautiful. They must really love you."

He smiles wistfully. "They're incredible kids. To go through what they do with such a positive outlook… they're the bravest people I know."

I walk toward him, my heart swelling at his kindness and dedication to the kids he helps, and I wrap my arms around him. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

He responds by kissing me, then smiling. "What do you want to do now? There's that bath you were eyeing upstairs, or would you rather skinny dip in the pool first?"

I weigh the two options, but the lure of swimming naked is too much. He's found my weakness and exploited it, the bastard.

I unbutton my blouse and shrug it off my shoulders, then pull down my skirt, kicking it to the side.

He breathes in sharply as I slip off my bra, his eyes glued to my body.

Once I'm completely naked, I grin at him. "Which way to the pool?"