Darkest Ecstasy (11 page)

“I am.” He took another bite of burger.

That admission stunned her. First, she'd never met a man who was anxious to have kids. Generally, they took the full term of the pregnancy to get used to the idea of a child. And second, wasn't he the wrong gender to be worried about his biological clock? “Why the rush?”

“It's for . . .” He didn't finish his explanation, which worried her. Instead he filled his mouth with more grilled beef and bun. What was the deal with this man? When she'd first met him, he was the epitome of a player, jumping from her bed (okay, if you wanted to get technical, she didn't sleep with him that first night) to Angela's. He was into bondage games, too, which was very strange. And now, all of a sudden, he had ambitions to become Mr. Perfect Husband and Father?

She couldn't say yes. No matter how attracted to him she was, lust wasn't a solid enough foundation for a marriage.

“No,” she said. “I won't marry you.”

He visibly swallowed. “No?”

“I can't marry you.”

“I have plenty of money. You'd live a good life, have anything you want. You wouldn't have to work if you didn't want to. Our children would get the very best—”

What the hell was up with this guy? “That sounds like a dream, but the answer is still no. For now.”

“For how long? A few days? A week?”

She shook her head. “I would say closer to a year.”

“That long?” He drained his wineglass. Then he refilled it and took another swallow.

“Marriage isn't something I would ever enter lightly or on a whim. It's a lifelong commitment. I don't want to end up in a bad marriage or the wrong marriage. I won't get divorced, especially if there are children involved.”

“I have no intention of getting divorced, either.”

“Then you should be glad to wait, to make sure I'm the right wife for you.” Unable to eat another bite, she pushed back from the table. “To be honest, this whole thing has me stumped. Men generally don't sprint into a marriage recklessly. They usually have to be dragged into one, kicking and screaming.”

“I'm not your average guy,” he pointed out.

“That, I wouldn't disagree with.”

“So.” His brows pulled together. “You won't marry me?”

“No.”

He visibly swallowed again. “There's no chance you'll change your mind? What can I say? What can I do—”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.” He exhaled. Then he stood.

Was he leaving again? Running off once more? What would it be this time? He hadn't even offered an apology for last night, outside of that quick “I'm sorry” yesterday as he was racing out the door.

This man was . . . too hard to figure out.

“Are you finished?” he asked. “I'll take you back to your car.”

So that was it? The end of their romantic date? It was early. Why was he cutting it off so soon? Had she bruised his ego so badly that he needed some time to lick his wounds? Surely he'd get over it with a little time. He might even thank her someday.

She followed him to the car.

When she reached the car, she turned to face him. “Thank you for the delicious dinner.”

He reached for her but then pulled his hand away. Shadows darkened his eyes, and his expression went blank, suddenly lacking any hint of life. If she didn't know better, she would swear he was genuinely hurt by her rejection.

“I'm sorry I couldn't agree to marry you right now,” she said, her voice soft.

“I'm sorry, too, Michelle.”

“I
'm sorry.” Those were the last words Michelle heard from Tage.

The next morning she went to work, expecting to see him in the office. They were scheduled to talk about the layout of his brochure. There was a message on her desk when she arrived. He had cancelled the appointment.

Wow, he'd taken her refusal really bad if he couldn't even set aside his bruised ego for business. She called him to reschedule, but she got his voice mail. After leaving a message, she shoved aside the little twinge of confusion about his reaction and carried on with her day. If he was going to be this broken up over an off-the-wall marriage proposal, then maybe it was a good thing she'd rejected his offer. He had to have some personal issues, some serious ones. By the end of the day, when she hadn't heard back from him, she was convinced he was more troubled than she had guessed.

Something was up with that man. Something serious.

Plan A had failed. It sucked. But Talen had always believed that things happened for a reason. He'd had some doubts that Michelle could handle the stress of being his wife. Not every woman was willing to make certain sacrifices in exchange for money and all the perks that money could buy.

But, even after over a week had passed since her refusal, there was this little knot of pain in his gut. The thought of being around her, wanting to touch her, but not being able to, had gnawed at him. He hadn't gone to work today. That was the first time he hadn't worked since they'd moved to southern Ohio. He loved his work.

He would not marry Michelle.

Dammit. I want her. I. Want. Her. Nobody else.

He needed to get on with things. Lei was counting on him. His brother was counting on him.

At least he had a Plan B. In the end, he told himself, it would work for the best. He would have chosen the right wife. They would have two boys. Lei's obligation to Malek would be fulfilled, and she would be able to remain married to the man who loved her almost as much as he did.

Plan B.

He picked up his phone and scrolled down to the number. His finger hovered over the screen for several seconds before he summoned up the strength to put the call through. His heart thumped fast and hard as he waited for his future wife to answer the phone. One ring. Two.

Speaking of rings, he needed to get with Drako about the ring. He had something in mind. But he wasn't sure if Drako would have what he wanted. No matter what, he had to return the ring he'd chosen for Michelle. That one had been perfect for her.

Only her.

On the fifth ring, the call bounced to voice mail. He left a message. Hung up. Shoved his fingers through his hair. Lei was coming home soon. Drako had run over to pick Malek and her up. He wouldn't rest easy until she was safe at home, where she belonged.

And until he had a pregnant wife, her belly swollen with his seed.

He'd already done some research. There was one surefire way to make sure his wife gave him sons. He wasn't against using science to make sure she gave him what they all needed. He had a feeling Angela wouldn't mind, especially if it meant she would only have to endure one pregnancy.

 

Three hours later Talen was parked outside of Angela's condo, wishing he didn't have to be there. Sure, he'd told himself over and over he was making the right choice. In reality, this was his only option. But still.

How would he deal with seeing Michelle the next time? How would he keep himself from grabbing her, hauling her curvy, soft body against him and kissing her until she agreed to marry him? How?

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

No.

He wouldn't coerce her. He wouldn't manipulate her. He knew he'd already hurt Michelle enough already. Dammit, he'd been too wrapped up in the marriage proposal to even offer her a decent apology for leaving her that night in his office.

I'm such an asshole. It's no wonder she shot me down.

If a woman accepted his proposal, it would be of her own free will. And she would know exactly what she was getting into.

He checked his pocket. The ring box was there. He had everything he needed. But he didn't feel particularly good about what he was about to do. Still, Lei and Malek were counting on him.

He pulled in one last deep breath, let it out, and opened his car door. He was on her front porch much too soon.

She clearly had been waiting for him. She answered his knock immediately.

Angela looked very nice, her long hair a tumble of blond sexy waves. Her lips were glossed and plump, curled into a shy smile. “Hello again,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “This is a nice surprise.”

If she thought his call was a surprise, she would be shocked to learn what was coming later.

Standing just inside the door, she reached for a jacket that had been draped over the back of a chair nearby. “Is it getting chilly yet?”

“A little.” He took the jacket from her and held it up so she could shrug into it. As he stood there, inhaling her sweet scent, memories of Michelle invaded his thoughts, distracting him. Trying to hide his conflicting emotions, he smiled as she turned to thank him.

An awkward silence fell between them.

He combed his fingers through her hair. “You look beautiful tonight.”

She smiled up into his eyes. “Thank you.” Her gaze flicked to his mouth, and her little tongue darted out, to moisten her lips. Although his gaze focused on that pink bit of flesh, nothing stirred within him. There was no heat. No spark. No desire.

Damn.

Shit.

If only...

“Are you okay?” she asked, head tipped to the side.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Had a rough day.”

“We don't have to go out if you're not up to it.” She circled around his back, placed her hands on his shoulders, and started rubbing.

Now that felt good. “Mmmmm . . .” He let his head fall forward.

Appling gentle pressure, she urged him forward. He followed her direction to the couch in her living room. “You're very tense. I know how to take care of that,” she whispered. Standing behind him. “I long to serve you, Master. Will you lie down?” Then she kicked off her shoes. “I'll be right back.”

For a split second, he was tempted to jump up and leave. Everything about this evening felt wrong. It shouldn't have. This strange, unsettled feeling hadn't been an issue the first time he'd met Angela, when they'd spent the night playing and fucking until they were both too exhausted to move.

She returned a few minutes later with a bottle of some kind. She flipped the lid up and the scent of vanilla filled the air. “This is my favorite oil.” The soft sloughing sound of skin against skin filled the silence. “Will you take off your shirt?”

“Sure.” About as thrilled as a guy waiting for a root canal, he shucked his pullover, the shirt underneath, and the tank beneath that.

“Master, you are absolutely beautiful,” Angela murmured as he lay down on his stomach, face turned toward the couch back.

“Thank you. You are, too,” he said.

“Why, thanks. I wasn't fishing for a compliment, but I'll take it anyway.” Setting her warm hands on his back, she began working out the tension in his shoulders. It hurt a little, a good pain.

He grunted as her fingers pressed into a knot.

“Sorry. Am I being too rough?” she asked.

“No, not at all.”

She swung a knee over his hips, wedging it between him and the couch back and straddling his ass. “Wow, are you tense. You must have had a terrible day.”

“No worse than any other.”

“I had no idea how stressful being a computer programmer could be.”

“It's not so much my work,” he said. “It's more . . . family stuff.”

“Ah, now that I get. My family drives me crazy sometimes.” Again, she dug her little fingers into that same tender spot on his back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She worked in silence for a while, which he was grateful for. It made it easier for him to relax a little, forget about why he was there. Every now and then, as her fingertips glided down his spine, he imagined it was Michelle dragging her blunt-tipped fingernails down his back, and a tiny flash of heat would simmer in his veins. But the instant he remembered who was sitting on his ass, the heat of her pussy burning through his pants, the little flicker in his blood would sputter out.

Damn, he might not be able to get it up tonight.

“Okay, I'm done with your back,” she said. “Would you like me to massage your chest?”

“Sure.” Waiting for her to swing off him, he angled up on his elbows, then pivoted on his hip.

Her gaze went from his face to his stomach, then down to the couch. “What's that? Did you drop something out of your pocket?” She pointed.

He had a feeling he knew what
that
was. He looked. Yep.
What the hell? Here's your chance. Just get it over with.
He palmed the box. “It's the reason why I came over tonight.”

Her brows drew together.

“You know how I said I was tense about some family things. Well, that's because I have an obligation, a responsibility.” He snapped up the lid, displaying the ring.

Her gaze locked on the ring. Her mouth formed an
O
.

“I realize we don't know each other very well. I can't promise you that our marriage will be perfect or even loving. To be honest, I don't know if I'm capable of loving someone. Or being monogamous. But I can promise you that I will respect you and provide you with a good life, a beautiful home, and just about anything your heart desires. Designer clothing, jewelry, cars. You can quit working if you want. Or you can continue if it makes you happy.”

“Are you kidding me?” she squeaked.

“I'm not kidding.” He forced a smile.

She plucked the ring out of the box. “Is this for real? You're asking me to marry you?”

“I am.”

“But you don't love me.” She slid the ring on her finger. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it wasn't bad.

He wouldn't lie to her, wouldn't give her any reason to feel manipulated or deceived. “Not at this point I don't.”

“So why do it? Why get married?” she asked as she stared at the ring.

“It's a family thing.”

“Ah, like in a romance novel. Are you going to inherit a fortune ?”

“I don't need to inherit a fortune. I already have a fortune.”

Her lips twisted. “Hm . . . you said you can't be monogamous. So does that mean I'll be your wife in name only? Or will we have an open marriage? Will you continue to go to the club?”

He studied her face for any sign of confusion. She didn't look over-the-moon happy. But she didn't look particularly put off by the idea, either. “No, it won't be in name only. We will have sex. It can't be open, at least not on your end. I will continue to scene with other submissives. I may or may not fuck them. But you cannot. You'll need to provide me with two children. Boys. Their paternity cannot be questioned.”

“No sex. Two boys,” she repeated, still admiring the ring on her finger. Evidently Drako was right, the ring was a good choice. He'd wanted a colored diamond, blue. But Drako hadn't been able to find him one on such short notice. “This is so weird, like the plot of a novel.”

“I assure you it's real.”

“Are you a prince?” she asked, twirling the ring around her finger.

“No, I'm no prince.”

She pulled the ring off, but she didn't return it to the box. “Can you tell me why you must marry and have two children?”

“Two boys.”

“Boys,” she said.

“As soon as possible.” He enunciated those four words clearly.

One of her brows rose. “You know, those things can take time.”

“Do you have any issues—”

“As far as I know, I'm good down there. My mother had twelve kids. If I inherited her fertility, there won't be a problem, though there's the issue of gender. All twelve of us are girls. Then again, you and I both know that has nothing to do with her.”

“I'm thinking we'll take no chances,” he stated.

Now she lifted both brows. “What does that mean?”

“IVF.”

“IVF.” She visibly swallowed, and he wondered if she might hand the ring back. “Two boys. And then my childbearing obligation would be done? I'm not too thrilled about being pregnant. To tell you the truth, I hadn't planned on having kids. Ever. Pregnancy does ugly things to a woman's body.”

“More the reason to go IVF. You would only have to be pregnant once. Then you would be finished.”

“I like that idea.” She nodded. “Okay, I will agree to those terms. Two children, conceived by IVF. But there's one issue that we must address first. If you won't be monogamous, then you couldn't expect me to be, either—once the children were born. Right?”