The Replacement (5 page)

“
Mmmm
,” I breathe, answering him with a buck of my hips. My breasts are tender and swollen with arousal as they bounce against his sweaty chest.

He hammers me with another piercing strike and withdraws, releasing my wrists to flip me over onto my torso. I cry out from the sudden emptiness. In a flash, he gathers my wrists above my head again with one hand, while he lifts my ass with the other. He gives me no warning, slamming back inside of me. The warmth is deep and decadent, just as much as it is possessive. “You like that?” His words ooze into my ear, his head hovering over mine. “You want me to keep fucking you like that?”

“Yes,” I say, the word muffled as I answer into the side of the pillow.

“Then say it.” He lifts himself up to lean his weight on his hands and peer down at me.

“I’m yours,” I lie, pressing my ass harder against him to capture each thrust. I’m about to combust, and the sight of his muscles flexing over my shoulder sends a sinful shudder through me. “Don’t stop, Christian.”

“Say please.” He leans in and bites savagely on my neck, and the pain is numbingly exquisite. Christian has always liked it rough. It’s one reason we’re so compatible in bed.

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, don’t stop.”

He growls in approval and lowers himself back down so his chest is pressing against my back, leaning on his forearms. One of his hands fists my hair, tugging my head farther to the side, and he pauses for a beat before powering away. He fucks me mercilessly, pounding me into the bed, and I come hard and gloriously, convulsing against the damp sheets. “So…goddamn…good,” he hisses through his teeth, pushing the syllables out in a broken staccato as he comes. His hips slow and our heavy pants fill the air, my body aching in the most delicious way.

Groaning in pure satisfaction, he pushes off of me and rolls me onto my back, sitting back on his heels. He pulls at my legs, propping my knees up, and grasps the tops of my thighs to part them. Before I can catch my breath, his hands slide underneath my knees and he yanks me forward, shoving his face between my legs. His mouth hits my clit, and he begins to suck, setting my body back on fire. “God, I love your pussy,” he mumbles against my flesh, rubbing his nose up and down the slit in between licks. The man has a tongue women dream about, and the way he looks up at me, with the most wicked, gorgeous smile, confirms my earlier musing: He is the devil personified.

The fire he ignited is raging now, like flames doused with gasoline. My entire body tingles from head to toe, the hypersensitive skin at the junction of my thighs blazing with need. My fingers find his hair and push his head down, pressing his mouth tighter against me. He groans as he licks and sucks, moving a hand to tap my calf, encouraging me to hook it over his shoulder. I obey and slide the other one around for good measure, linking them both behind his neck. He loves that, and I find pleasure in giving him what he loves.

My stiletto heels dig into his skin and he groans, moving from my clit to fuck me with his tongue. The bliss sends me into a shout and I start to rock my hips against his hot mouth. Each shot of pleasure he delivers travels from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes, reminding me exactly why I keep coming back to Christian for more. No one screws me like he does, and although I’m cautious today about his sudden interest in sharing a meal together, he’s kind to me, unlike Tim and some of the other assholes I hook up with. Tender, even. The way he leads me into a room, places his hand delicately on the small of my back, and the way he brushes my hair over my shoulder when we talk, leaves me feeling like his lover sometimes, instead of what I actually am.

In seconds, I’m coming again, and he’s delighting in every wave of ecstasy that washes over my body. I’m utterly spent, my skin buzzing with a high that only Christian knows how to give. My legs fall lazily from his shoulders and his head rises, his eyes burning as he looks down at me. He watches my chest rise and fall, lets his gaze drift over my curves until it settles on my legs again.

My eyes are shut as I breathe deeply, fluttering open when I feel his teeth graze my ankle. I find him holding my calf up, nipping the skin there, then trailing up to the inside of my knee. The little bites are the perfect dessert for the aftershocks. “You’re insatiable,” I finally speak, giggling when one of his bites triggers a small tickle.

“You’re mouthwatering.”

I sigh and smile, rolling my head to the left to find the alarm clock on the bedside table. I move to sit up on my elbows. It’s time to go. He’s done with me—I’ve been here all day—and the moment our feet leave the bed and hit the carpet, I know I’ll start thinking about how I can get away. I don’t ever want to hear a guy awkwardly ask me to leave. Which is why I always beat it to the punch.

“I better get going.” I wriggle out of his way and swing my legs over the side of the bed, searching the floor for my dress.

“Wait,” he says, moving with me.

I snatch up my dress and begin sliding it over my head, mumbling absentmindedly while searching for my scarf next. “
Hhhmm
?”

“Elise, wait.”

His tone causes me to still. I turn to him, and find a determined expression on his face. There’s a deep set to his jaw, his blue eyes churning with intensity. I’m afraid to ask. “What is it?”

“Can we talk before you go?”

I sneak a side glance at the alarm clock again, wondering if we really do have the time. That was probably Kylie calling earlier. She could pull up any minute. “Talk about what?”

Christian extends a hand, gently guiding me to sit back on the bed with him, and I feel it—the awkwardness. I let myself sit, but my feet are poised to stand.

“Elise, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh, God.” I jump up, pulling my hand from his. “Don’t tell me you have another mistress. Or three. Christian, whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? I don’t ask questions, you don’t ask questions. That’s never been an issue, so let’s just—”

“I’m leaving Kylie.”

“What?” I blink, not sure I heard him right.

“I’m leaving Kylie. She knows I want a divorce. It’s over.”

“Oh.”

The bedroom becomes quiet, his words hanging heavily in the air.

“I know how you feel about me—about this, about us—” he waves his hands in the air, “and you know I respect your position. But I thought you should know. I’m leaving her, and she’s relieved. She hasn’t been happy, either. I want you, Elise. I want you to be mine.”

Shock explodes into little sparks around me, and I suddenly feel the walls closing in. The air in this bedroom is too stuffy, the ceiling too low. He can’t have possibly said what I think he just said. “Christian,” my voice comes out throaty and dry, “I’m not sure I’m hearing you right.” He relaxes with a knowing sigh, leaning forward on the edge of the bed to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m not trying to put any pressure on you. I just want to be honest, want to put it all out there so you know what’s waiting for you, if you decide it’s something you’d be interested in. You know I’m a rich man, Elise. I would take care of you, take care of everything. I’d pay for you to go back to college. Anything you want, it’s yours.” Suddenly, he rises from the bed, carefully approaching me like he knows I’m about to dart at any moment.

I am.

“I want every inch of you, inside and out. And I don’t give a damn who thinks what about it. This isn’t enough for me anymore.”

My mouth bypasses my brain’s filter and lets out a laugh, one that I know will hurt Christian if I don’t quickly explain where it’s coming from. “I’m sorry,” I say, half covering my mouth, “I’m not laughing at your offer, I’m laughing at…” I search for the words, turning in a circle to look out the bedroom window. What am I laughing at?

Could it be the fact that aside from being a cheater, this guy is actually a dream? Young, rich, handsome, charming, and amazing in bed to boot? Or could it be the fact that I’m possibly the reason he’s leaving his wife? He hasn’t mentioned that detail yet, or if I even have anything to do with his decision, but judging by the reality that he sees me often and his wife is not a stupid woman—she’s a well-read, educated med student—it’s a very real possibility. My mind tumbles through these options, then pauses as it reaches a realization: I’d classified him as someone like me.

Someone who uses his good looks and charm to deceive and take what he wants, then casts aside the object of his interest the second he’s accomplished his goal. Granted, Christian had never been a one-night stand or cold lover from a sordid affair, but I’m certain that with each bedroom tryst, he is willfully using me, just as I’ve been using him. He is unfaithful to his wife with me and who-knows-how-many other women, and he never sees me as anything other than a piece of ass he can call up anytime he is feeling lonely. Each time he touches me, he makes me feel like I am the only one in the universe. The only one he has eyes for. He knows that isn’t true, and I know that isn’t true, but he has led me to believe it anyway, because he is a wolf by nature. He is wicked like me. Or at least he was, until he started bringing his feelings into the equation.

In this moment, I realize Christian and I are very different.

“You barely know me,” I say evenly, fixing my gaze on his. “You know my body. That’s not the same thing.”

He falters for a second, but he’s not the least bit deterred. He’s confident, his naked body remaining steadfast and still. “I know a lot about you.”

“You know only what I tell you.”

“Nothing you tell me will change my mind.”

“You can’t possibly know that.” I shake my head and something in the back of my skull screams for me to find that damn scarf and get the hell out of his house. Right now. “Does Kylie know about me?”

“Our divorce has nothing to do with you, Elise.”

“Does she know about me?” I repeat sternly.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“A while.”

“Shit.” I spin and start rifling around for the scarf, my movements erratic.

“Please don’t take off like this. Talk to me.” He reaches out to me, but fails to make contact, his open palm hanging in the air.

“There’s nothing to talk about. This won’t work, I’m sorry.”

“I care about you, Elise. I want to take care of you.”

I laugh again. This time it’s got some bite to it. “You want to own me, that’s what you want.”

“I want a relationship. With you. No one else. And I want you all to myself, yes. I won’t apologize for it. I don’t care about the other men you’ve been seeing. Stop seeing them. Move in with me.”

I gasp as I find my scarf, unable to process what he’s saying without going completely fucking mental. “Move in with you?”

“I know you have feelings for me, too.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” I gesture wildly in the air, my hands flailing at my sides, the tension building in me like hot lava. “Wait, let me guess…you assume that from the way I beg you to let me orgasm? The way I say your name as I come? Because I say I need you? That I want you?”

That does it. A flicker of hurt flashes over his features, but he recovers quickly. “I see it in your eyes. Every time you look at me, you’re searching for something. I feel it in the way you touch me, the way you drop everything to come see me when I call. You think I don’t know about the others? Well, I do. I know when you’re with them because you don’t answer. You take time to call me back. But you’re never gone for long. You spend time with me, more time than you ever give to them. I know that much. That tells me something, Elise.”

“Yeah, it should tell you that I like sleeping with you. That’s all.”

“No.” He strides forward, placing his hands softly on my arms. “You need something from me and I can give it to you. Something those other dumbasses can never give you.”

I flinch from his touch. Not because it doesn’t feel good. It always feels good. He’s always careful with me, even when he’s impaling me like a wild caveman in bed. “What, money and college tuition?” I snicker, stepping back. “You can’t buy me, Christian.”

“You know that’s not what I want. You want more, too. I know you do, damn it. So let’s not dance around it.”

My mouth goes slack and I’m about to respond, but the chime of his cell phone interrupts my train of thought. “You should get that.” I eye the phone, then the bedroom door.

“It can wait.”

“It’s Kylie, you know it is.”

His jaw flexes and his eyes dart from me to the phone, then back. He knows I’m right, and he also knows he can’t keep avoiding her calls. Not when she’s due home tonight. He may be leaving her and she may know about me, but I’m certain he wants to avoid that potential shit storm just as much as I do. “Damn it,” he murmurs, moving for the phone. He answers and stops to give me a silent, pleading look before he slips out of the room to handle the call.

And I take that as my exit cue.

Wrapping my scarf around my neck and collecting my bag, I wait until I hear his voice disappear down the hall. I pull my car key from my bag and count to ten. With a deep breath, I quietly open the bedroom door and peek out into the hallway.

The coast is clear.

I zip through the hall and down the elaborate stairwell, slithering through the front door and making it to my car just in time. I rev the engine and speed off, catching a glimpse of Christian’s solemn face in the living room window, through the rearview mirror. He’s standing there, pulling the curtain aside, the phone still held to his ear. I watch only for a second, turning to give my attention to the road. My foot powers down on the gas pedal, and I don’t want to imagine what Christian must be thinking, watching me drive away like this. But I know what I’m thinking.