Spin (The Indigo Lounge Series) (4 page)

I follow her step outside. She lets out a stunned gasp.

The terrace of our Upper East Side penthouse has been transformed by a Bedouin tent complete with Moroccan lamps, plump floor cushions and traditional Berber carpets.

“Oh, my God. This is incredible, Zach!”

“You like?” Not all our memories from Marrakech are brilliant, but some of them give me a glimpse into her heart. I plan on tapping shamelessly into it tonight.

“I love!” She rushes into my arms and plants a kiss on me. “I love you. Although God knows how I’m going to top date night next week.”

“You can think about that later. Go and change.”

She catches her lower lip between her teeth and shoots me a look through lush lashes. “Change? So you don’t plan to eat your meal off my naked body?”

A smack on her ass evokes a sexy yelp. “Behave. We have company.”

Her breath catches. “Company?”

“I made the
couscous
, the chef and his team are in charge of the rest. Go to the bedroom. Your surprise is on the bed.”

Another radiant smile blooms on her face. She raises herself on tiptoe and kisses me before skipping away towards the bedroom.

I wait till she’s out of sight before I stroll to the terrace wall.

I’ve toyed with staging this in many of Bethany’s favorite places around the city—on Broadway with the cast of Wicked, her favorite show, in the background; on my chopper flying over the Empire State, aboard one of my Indigo Lounge jets. I’ve even considered flying us to my San Francisco home, the place where I told her I loved her for the first time. But I discarded them all because I want this done and dusted a-fucking-sap. And I also like to believe that where I am is the most special place to be for her.

I’m in the middle of rehashing my game plan when she steps out.

My breath locks in my body.

My life flashes before my eyes.

And I know that should I be cut down tomorrow, this is the last image I want to see: Bethany dressed in indigo, the diaphanous gown floating to her bare feet, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and her gorgeous, shining eyes tinged indigo as she comes toward me. On her wrist is the bracelet I gave her for her twenty-fifth birthday. The charms set within the diamonds are pictures I took that day in the desert, and I’m humbled that she’s chosen to wear it.

My feet move of their own accord and breach the gap between us. I slide both hands into her hair, and gaze at the wonder of the woman who holds everything I am in her hand.

“Dear God, Bethany, you’re so fucking beautiful. I
ache
just looking at you.”

Tears film her eyes. She takes a moment to blink them away before she lays her head on my chest. We stay like that for a moment, too overcome to speak or move.

The mood is broken when the chef in charge of our meals appears a minute later. I nod for the evening to begin and lead Bethany to the cushions.

I keep the conversation light and make sure she’s well fed. I don’t intend us to come up for air until she speaks the words I want to hear.

I watch her polish off a sticky dessert I sourced from an authentic Moroccan bakery this afternoon. And I sense her question before she speaks it.

“Why this, Zach?”

“Because that day in the dessert was the day I knew that for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t be able to take a breath unless I knew you were mine,” I answer, not one iota of fear in my voice for baring my heart and soul to her.

Her hand trembles as she sets down her wine glass. “Oh, Zach.”

“But it was also a time when I hadn’t come clean with you about everything in my life. It was a period of imbalance.”

She laces her fingers in her lap. “I know.”

“We’re still out of balance, baby, and it’s driving me insane. I very much want to right that wrong tonight.” I stand and hold my hand out to her. “Come.”

She obeys without hesitation.

Philip carried out my instructions to dismiss the chef an hour ago, and the apartment is quiet as we walk through and head upstairs. I pause in the bedroom long enough to tug off my clothes and free the gold ropes securing her gown. Then I lead her through the other door that adjoins our bedroom and let it click shut behind us.

“You said you weren’t going to fuck me until we’d talked.” Her voice is firm, but thick with anticipation too.

“Correction.” I toy with the strands of hair obscuring her breasts from me. “I said we’d talk. I didn’t say where, I didn’t say you had to be dressed for it and I didn’t say I couldn’t... indulge a little.” My knuckles brush one nipple and she squirms. “Do you want to pick the toy, baby, or shall I?”

She drags her gaze from mine, her teeth gnawing her lower lip as she stares around the room as if seeing it for the first time. My mind flashes back to that real first time, to the horse-like structure that made her scream with ecstasy. Her fingers drift over it now, but she bypasses it and all the new favorites we’ve added over the past several months.

I follow, the invisible cord that ties me to her, pulling me. My breath almost strangles me when she stops in front of a structure covered with black silk.

“This one,” she murmurs

“The cross? You’re sure?” We’ve haven’t used the structure since Marrakech, since the hours before she found out about my previous marriage, and that I was involved in my wife’s death.

She nods. “You’ve had your moment from Marrakech. This is mine.”

“I bound you to the cross and you told me you loved me.”

“It was the scariest and most exhilarating moment of my life. Something tells me if we want to get to the bottom of this, I need to be here.”

Her fingers stroke the silk, then she yanks the cloth away in one swift move. The power she exhibits in that instant nearly sends me to my knees.

She steps onto the foothold of the black St. Andrews Cross and the memories slam into me. They’re strong and raw enough for me to momentarily question if this was the right choice. But her gaze clashes with mine, her intractable will rising to battle mine, and I realize that she wants to fight for us as hard as I do.

I make quick work of securing her to the structure. Once she’s bound, I breathe easier, and even allow my fingers to play over her cheeks, her jaw, her luscious lips.

“Tell me why you’re distant.”

“I’m scared,” she repeats the words from this morning, albeit a little slurred on account of my fingers whispering over one nipple.

“Why are you scared?”

“I don’t know.”

My fingers pause. “Okay. Let’s work our way through this. Farrah died because I was careless with her. You think I’ll be careless with you?”

Her glossy hair slides over my arm as she shakes her head. “No. Your wife was an addict and she overdosed, Zach. You tried to help her despite being in a bad place yourself. You didn’t succeed. You’re in a different place now.”

“Karim’s threats, then?” My ex brother-in-law did everything in his power to stop Bethany and I from happening, even hacking into her phone to leave threatening messages. I put a stop to it, but I knew he blamed me for his sister’s death. He made a nuisance of himself every couple of months, but I put top notch security in place to ensure Bethany’s safety.

“Karim barely crosses my mind. He knows what you’ll do to him if he comes near me.”

“Good. We’re making progress.” I squeeze her breast and my cock jerks an urgent message. Bethany glances down and bites her lip.

I release her and push her hair over her shoulders. She’s a magnificent sight. Bared like this, I can smell her arousal. I know she’s getting hotter for me by the second. We need to get this over with.

I step closer to her, stare into her eyes. “I love you, Bethany. Sometimes I feel my love is so huge I can’t contain it.”

She trembles, her delicate wrists straining against the leather cuff. “I love you, too.”

I trail my fingers over her hands until she relaxes. “My life belongs to you. Is that what scares you?”

“N...no. My life is yours too.” Her whole body is caught in an endless shudder now. She’s stroking the edge and I want to grant her the pleasure her body seeks.

But I’m not going anywhere near her pussy. Not if I want to retain my sanity. Not if I want to reach her deepest core. I circle her waist and stare deeper into her eyes. I see the shadows swirling.

“Please, baby. Let me in. You’ve packed your little mental suitcase. One that hides that last piece of your heart you’re holding back from me. It’s your security blanket in case something happens to fuck us up. I see it right there your eyes. Baby, I can’t bear the thought of what’ll happen if you don’t let go.”

She starts to shake her head, but stops. “I...not that. I think...I think I’m scared of what’s around the corner.”

Ghost-like tendrils of terror slide over my nape. “What could possibly hurt us?”

“I don’t know,” she wails, tears gather, her locks falling away to reveal the naked fear in her eyes. “Every bad thing that’s happened to me, I never saw coming. One minute, I was happily swimming in my parents’ pool, and the next I was being drowned. My heart belongs to you now, but I once thought I’d end up with Chris, and he left me for another man.”

I want to slide into her right now, fuck away every single fear residing in her heart. But I shut the fuck up and let her speak.

“And you, Zach. You were my biggest fear.”

“But we got through all the bullshit. Isn’t it our turn for some goddamn happiness?” My hold tightens and her breathing alters. “You’re not a coward, sweetheart. You’re the strongest person I know. Take this last step with me. Please.”

Tears roll down her face. “If we do this...if something happens. I won’t survive it, Zach.”

And there’s the confession. The same fear that lives in my heart. The certainty that our love is too big, that it has the ability to grant us the fiercest happiness. Or destroy us.

“I feel the same, baby. But there’s no fucking way I’m going to let that fear rule us.”

“Zach—”

“No, sweetheart.” My hands slide from her waist to her hips, then down her thighs as I sink to my knees.

She stares down at me, her lips part as a look overcomes her. Bewilderment. Trepidation. Joy.

“You’re the air I breathe. In case I didn’t make myself clear, Peaches, I want you to be my wife. I want to stand in front of a priest or a rabbi or whoever the fuck your little heart wants, and take a vow to be yours. Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together. No more running away. No more holding back. I want to hear you take a vow to be mine, too. I want to own you as you own me. I want to tattoo my name over that juicy, beautiful ass of yours and hear everyone call you Mrs. Bethany Savage.” I slide my hand upward, rest it on her belly. “And when we’re ready, I want to put little Savages in here, watch you bloom with my babies. Is that plain enough for you?

“Y-yes.”

“Good. You say I didn’t ask you before. I’m asking you now. I need you to open your heart and give me a fucking answer. Bethany Green, will you marry me?

“Yes. I’ll marry you.”

My heart slams hard against my ribs. For a moment I’m shit-scared it’s going to give way. The words she’s uttered have calmed her. The tears have stopped and only radiance shows on her face.

But the fever has transferred to me. I’m caught in a moment I want to freeze forever. Surely, nothing else can compare to this level of happiness?

“Zach?”

I swallow hard. “Yes?”

“Get up, baby. I love you at my feet. But I need you up here.”

“Do you?”

She nods. “I need you to kiss me.”

I laugh, and the sound is unfettered and filled with utter contentment. “Just kiss you?”

“No. I need you to do other things to me. Very specific things.”

“Tell me.”

Her breath rushes out. “I need your cock. Inside me. Deeper than you’ve ever been. And I need it now.”

I stagger to my feet and I fall into the kiss, my limbs weaker than a newborn lamb. I fumble for the wrist ties and she moans a protest. I lean back. “Baby?”

Her body goes lax in profound, abject surrender. “No. Don’t release me. Take me like this. I want it just like this.”

And I give it to her. Just like that.

Montauk, Baby!

Bethany

I
can’t believe nine months have flown by since I conquered the last major hurdle holding me back and accepted Zach’s proposal. Or that it’s been a year and a half since I walked into the Executive Guest Suite of the Indigo Lounge at Newark Airport.

I woke up that morning braced for an out-of-my-comfort-zone experience. What I wasn’t prepared for was the insane roller coaster my life would become the moment I saw Zachary Savage.

That moment has led me here.

I’m getting dressed in the master suite of our beach house in Montauk. Everything is awash with golden light that reflects off the churning Atlantic. The house is too big, of course. Everything that involves my fiancé is too big, too overpowering,
too much
. I grin as I brush my hair. The sheer scale of life with Zach is one of several aspects of our lives I doubt I’ll ever get used to.

After that memorable night where I bared my soul to him while tied to the St. Andrew’s Cross, once we reaffirmed our soul-deep commitment to one another, Zach let the matter of setting a wedding date drop. He was content that he finally owned every square inch of my heart and soul.

Or that’s what I believed.

In direct contrast, and in a weirdly coincidental converging of minds, my parents and his mother, whose plea to forge a relationship Zach finally gave into, started to apply pressure. Zach left the details entirely up to me, however, and, after diplomatic consultations with my mother and his, I’ve finally come up with a date - April Thirtieth.

Zach became pensive when I told him. He took me to bed and tried to get me to commit to an earlier date. I got my own back by getting him to admit he was behind the parental pressure.

The end result is that he isn’t thrilled our wedding date is months away, so to appease him, I agreed to host the mother of all engagement parties at our property in Montauk.