Tell Me a Lie (The Story Series Book 3) (3 page)

“I’m not going to take your face or anything to identify you. I want these for me. To remember this night.”

I felt his hand on my ass, squeezing. “Oh, that’s so perfect. Look.”

He nestled behind me and reached around with the phone. Like he said, the photos were sexy, the contrast of my skin against the straps, the dominance of his hand on my cheek.

Caleb moved in front of me and took a few more.

“Let me see,” I said.

He showed me the few he took and grinned.

“What are you going to do with them?”

Leaving the phone on a bureau, he knelt in front of me, his cock in his hand, stroking languidly. “This, when I’m away from you.”

I groaned. “Caleb. Please. Don’t tease me.”

“I never agreed to
not
tease you, my love.”

The straps seemed to get tighter, and I shifted. I felt like I would die if he didn’t make me come soon.

“Please touch me.”

He stopped stroking himself and again ran his palms up my thighs, leaving sparks in his wake. His thumb hovered between my legs, then slicked against my smooth labia, dipping into my wetness. There was a grace to his touch that was decadent, incapacitating.

“Christ, Emma. You’re like a faucet.” He brought his thumb to my lips and rubbed around my mouth. So dirty and so hot. I tasted myself and whimpered, my eyes briefly rolling under half-lids.

“The vibrator? Please?” I glanced down at it but, of course, couldn’t grab it because I was restrained. So frustrating. My clit ached and pulsed. When he pressed the button on the little pink device, my breathing sped up.

It took a faint touch of the vibrator for me to gasp. It wouldn’t be long until I came, and I knew I’d likely orgasm more than once. If only he’d press into my core with the vibrator a little firmer, a little faster.

“Fuck, Caleb, more. Harder,” I moaned.

“Mmm, maybe not,” Caleb said, taking the vibrator away from the junction of my thighs.

I huffed and made an indignant noise, and Caleb chuckled tantalizingly. Again he moved behind me, and I heard the rustling of pillows and fabric.

“Tell me if this is uncomfortable.” He arranged a few pillows in front of me, then hoisted my knees onto them. Roughly, he folded me forward, so my ass and legs were slightly in the air, elevated by the pillows. My stomach was nestled into a pillow and the position was gentle on my body. It was my insistent, pulsing neediness between my legs that was the issue.

“It’s comfortable.” I turned my head to one side.

“And this?” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head up, my nipples brushing against the pillows. His grip tightened enough to make me feel a jolt of pain. “Does this hurt in a good way?”

I gasped. “Y-yes.”

“Excellent. How about this?”

I felt the heel of his hand at the bottom of my ass, and then his fingers pressing into my wetness, his middle one finding my clit and looping around it with lazy circles.
Fuck
. He was teasing me, tormenting me, doing what he did best.

“Caleb,” I breathed. “Please make me come. Please?”

He laughed low and twirled his finger while pulling my hair with his other hand. Then he took his fingers from between my legs and I was left dizzy.

“No,” I cried. “You’re driving me fucking insane.”

“Good.” He smacked me on my ass, hard. The pain and the sound of his hand on my flesh jolted the dizziness away, turning me on even more.

“Beg,” he demanded. “Beg for my cock. Now.”

I moaned. He’d never been this demanding. “Please, Caleb, please? Just be inside me. Fill me. Fuck me.”

He released my hair, and my head pressed against the bed. I felt his erection at my entrance. Then he slid it in and I cried out, every cell in me thrumming from his rhythm. He pumped a few times, then smacked me, harder, on the ass.

“I’m fucking you now, Emma. This is what you wanted, no?”

God, yes, it was. He was thrusting hard and rough, and my mind was going white-hot with pleasure.

My body shook against the restraints and I gasped a few times as ripples of adrenaline coursed through me. He smacked me again, and my orgasm blossomed and spread over my skin, making me shudder uncontrollably.

Unlike all my previous orgasms, this one started not in my clitoris, but deep inside my core. It rumbled, then rocketed. I came harder than I’d ever had in the past and screamed, which was unusual for me. I usually kept my sex noises to breathy moans and little cries. No, this was no time to be dainty, I realized. This was an intense, full-body sensation, drowning out all thought and time. I squeezed my eyes shut, and little bursts of light danced against my eyelids. I was dimly aware Caleb also let out a primal noise.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Are you okay? Why are you breathing so hard?”

“Can you please help me sit up?” My voice was muffled in the pillow.

Still panting hard, he pulled me up and kissed the back of my neck, which was sweaty. He moved aside a few sticky strands of hair.

“I’m okay,” I mumbled, my body still shaking and covered in sweat.

“Intense enough for you?” he asked as I felt the buckles around my torso loosen. He rubbed my arms and came around to the front to undo the buckles on my legs.

I nodded and took in a big breath now my upper body wasn’t restrained. I opened my mouth to say something, but wasn’t sure how to form words. So I laughed.

When I extended my legs, he rubbed those, too, and I finally formed a coherent thought.

“I think I had a vaginal orgasm.” I shifted a pillow behind me so I could relax against the headboard. “It was like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

Caleb moved up my body and kissed me. “That’s how I would describe my love for you. Like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

As we drifted off to sleep, I wondered if the intensity of my orgasm was truly because of the pregnancy hormones or if it was because I’d finally surrendered both my body and my emotions to one man.

“
M
y God
. You’re luminous. I think arctic air did something incredible to your skin. Or did you get a really excellent facial at a spa while on your honeymoon?”

I played coy, aware Laura was staring and grinning. It was two weeks after the wedding, and we’d been back from our honeymoon for two. I was in the elevator at the King family’s development company, riding to the top floor so I could bring Caleb lunch and tell him about the morning’s doctor visit.

“Your brother’s been good to me. And I can’t do any major skin things until after the baby’s born. So if I’m glowing, it’s all because of Caleb.”

“Whatever. I can do without those details. But Canada? How was it? Those photos you texted me from the glacier were incredible. I’ve been looking at them and wondering what it’s like to walk outside and not sweat like a pig.”

I smiled, thinking of our trip, where we’d gorged ourselves on fresh scones and hot cocoa. I’d even broken my vegetarian diet twice and eaten some wild-caught salmon, my first flesh in decades, and all because my nutritionist convinced me it was good for the baby’s growing brain.

“Perfect…” I trailed off, thinking of our trip. I didn’t mention how Caleb and I had stretched out on a furry rug in front of a fire every night. How we’d watched the dancing green Northern Lights from our porch swing. Ten days of quiet, ten days of doing nothing, ten days of just
us
.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Caleb so relaxed.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine that. He’s always in motion.”

And what I was about to tell him would almost certainly set him off in a frenzy of action. I almost hated to tell him the news the doctor had given me an hour before. My initial instinct had been to keep it from him, but I’d long learned I shouldn’t hold back where Caleb was concerned. Anyway, it wasn’t like it was all
that
bad.

Not yet, anyway.

“It was weird seeing Caleb be still for hours at a time. Maybe the cold shocked him into it. The air felt incredible. It was biting. I’ve never felt anything so cold. Then we get back here and I’m sweating from the minute I wake up until I go to bed. I can’t believe how hot it is for November.”

“I know, right?” The elevator stopped at the executive offices on the thirty-fifth floor of the downtown Orlando high-rise. It’s how Caleb lived and worked best, with vast views and lots of light. “You doing okay in this heat?” Laura glanced at my ever-growing stomach as I walked out of the elevator, slightly penguin-toed. I’d gained a lot of weight, the doctor had said.

“The baby’s perfect,” I replied, managing a tight smile.

It was me that might be a problem.

“Awesome news. Anyway, we’ll catch up before the holidays, okay? I can’t wait to hear more about your honeymoon. I need to tell you all about the latest saga with the IVF, too.” Laura kissed my cheek and turned left into her office, and I went right, toward Caleb’s.

His secretary beamed when she saw me. “You look gorgeous!” she chirped. “How are you feeling?”

It seemed to be the only question anyone wanted to ask me. The thing was, I felt fine. But was I? I murmured something pleasant and banal.

“Caleb’s waiting for you, go on in. I hope you brought him lunch.” Caleb’s intolerance to hunger was well known to anyone in his universe.

“Thank you, Marie. I did.”

When I entered, I pasted on a huge grin, although my heart was hammering. Caleb was on his laptop, frowning. Even annoyed, he was beautiful in the bright sunshine streaming through the windows.

“Hey, sweetie,” I said, setting my purse and vintage wicker picnic basket down on the coffee table, then going around his desk so I could kiss him. “Sorry I’m late. After the doctor I stopped at the store and then went home to make lunch and then got a call from the bookstore and…you know how it goes.”

“It’s okay.” He wheeled his chair away from the computer and stood. He folded me in his arms. “Thanks for bringing me lunch, babe. I’m ravenous.”

After a quick kiss, he broke away and looked around for the basket of food.

“Let’s sit over on the couch while we eat, and you can tell me about the doctor. What did she say?”

I sat on the edge of the brown leather sofa and leaned to open the basket. “I made your favorite.” I extracted one sandwich. “The roasted veggie with hummus wrap you like. And I brought the cookies I baked and some leftover tortellini salad from last night and apples so you can snack later.”

I pulled out two blue-and-white checked napkins from the basket, with matching placemats from home, and I smoothed them on the coffee table, like we were having a formal picnic. Then came two forks and two plastic picnic plates, and I set them on the napkins. I rested the basket on the floor, wanting to avoid the conversation we were about to have.

Breaking potentially bad news wasn’t my strong point.

I laid the food out carefully on the mats and unwrapped a sandwich roll. He watched me in silence, and I could tell he was appraising me, waiting for me to answer his question. It took a few frustrating minutes to undo the tight plastic around the sandwich and I finally handed it to him, along with a napkin.

He took a bite, then chewed and tilted his head while staring at me. I glanced at him and marveled at how edgy he looked at the office. More like his brother Colin and less like the man I knew at home. Caleb inhaled the sandwich in five big mouthfuls. I opened the tortellini salad and speared one piece.

“You must have been starving. Here.” I held the fork out to his mouth.

He didn’t take my offering. “Emma. What are you avoiding my question? Is the baby okay?”

I popped the tortellini in my mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “Yes. The baby is perfect, according to the doctor. It’s me that could have a problem.”

His brow sunk. “Explain.”

Whenever Caleb was at work, he tended to be more curt, businesslike, colder. Even when it came to me and the baby. I swear, his blue eyes even turned a lighter, icier hue when he was working.

“Maybe I should have waited to tell you this at home-”

“No. You’re doing the right thing by telling me now, but let me know what’s wrong. You know I hate being kept in the dark.”

“The doctor says my blood pressure is slightly high.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, then inhaled impatiently. “Is it high, or not?”

“Well, it’s on the high side of normal, whereas it wasn’t before we went to Canada. They’re not sure if it’s gestational hypertension or not. It’s too early to tell, and my blood pressure was one-thirty-five over eighty.”

“What’s hypertension?”

“One-forty over ninety.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. So what does this mean?”

“They want to see me next week, and the week after. It has to be two consistent readings of one-forty over ninety for them to make a diagnosis. They’d like me to buy a home blood pressure monitor to track the numbers. High blood pressure can be a serious problem in geriatric, uh, older pregnant women. It needs to be watched because there’s lots of potential complications, like preeclampsia. And my doctor’s suggesting more prenatal meditation and massage so I can de-stress.”

“I’d suggest cutting back on some of your activities as a way to de-stress.” His expression was solemn.

“I’m not really doing much,” I protested. “I gave half of my shifts to Gina at the bookstore.”

“Right, but every day since we got back from our honeymoon, you’ve been out scouting for a location for your new bookstore or running around trying to get things ready. Why don’t you think about putting it on hold, at least until the baby is six months or a year or so?”

“I told you I wanted to see if I could get it up and going before I give birth. I signed a lease and hired a manager. I’ve got a few months left to do everything.”

“I think you’re taking on too much. Especially now, before the holidays.”

I shot him a sharp look.

“I’ll go to prenatal yoga. And maybe get a caterer for our Christmas Eve dinner.”

“Maybe? No, you will. And I’ll tell my mother you’re not bringing anything for Thanksgiving.”

“Fine. You don’t need to be so bossy and controlling.” My lips pursed into a pout.

“I’m concerned, Emma. Because I love you. And from now on, I’m going with you to all of the doctor’s appointments so I can ask questions.” He rose and marched to his desk. “Did they tell you what kind of home blood pressure monitor to buy?”

I leaned over, extracting a paper from my purse. He beckoned me with his finger and reached for the paper while pressing a button on his phone. I sank back down on the sofa.

“Marie, please call Emma’s OB doctor to find out when her next appointments are and put them in my calendar. Block off two hours for each appointment. Oh, and send an assistant out to buy…” In a tense voice, Caleb read from the paper, repeating the model name and number of the blood pressure monitor twice. “Thank you.”

I rolled my eyes but was secretly thrilled he was so interested in my pregnancy. I picked up the other half of the sandwich. “Look, the doctor said the slightly elevated blood pressure could be nothing. Let’s not worry about it until we start charting it at home, okay? Please eat. I made these for you because I know you like the homemade hummus.”

He walked back over to the sofa, loosening the knot of his tie. Silently, he took the sandwich from my hand and set it on the coffee table. He eased next to me, and his voice dropped while he caressed my belly with his big hand. “I’m not trying to be bossy. I apologize. I’m worried. It scares me to think of you being sick while pregnant.”

He paused to swallow, and that’s when it hit me. He’d watched his first wife die from cancer. Of course he’d be concerned for my health. Sometimes I forgot Caleb had a life before me.

“Emma doll,” he continued, trailing the back of his index finger down my cheek, “you need to relax. You don’t have to make me homemade hummus. You don’t have to even make me lunch. You could have saved yourself time and stress by stopping at Subway. Or by staying at home and resting. Don’t try to be the perfect wife.”

“But I like making you lunch. I don’t want you to eat Subway. Doing things for you makes me feel productive, and…I don’t know. Makes me feel like I’m caring for you. I
want
to be the perfect wife.” I looked down at his hand on my swollen stomach.

“You are caring for me. You
are
the perfect wife.” He kissed my temple. “Promise you’ll go home and watch a movie or something? Read a book?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, sure, I just got a bunch of new books in. One really good erotica novel I’ve been waiting for. You know how I like to read before starting to write a new story.”

Caleb groaned and allowed his head to flop back. It made a thud when it hit the wall, and he scrunched his eyes shut. “Do you have to write erotica, on top of everything else? Won’t that elevate your blood pressure? We shouldn’t have been so kinky in Canada. Can we even have sex?”

“It’s funny you ask.” I crawled into his lap and pressed my lips to his. “The doctor told me sex during pregnancy
lowers
a woman’s blood pressure.”

Opening his eyes, he lifted his head and his hands went into my hair, fingers twisting into the curls. “So I have to take one for the team and make love to you more often?”

I nodded slowly, and the warmth in his gaze finally returned.

T
hanksgiving came and went
, as did Christmas and New Year’s. Unlike previous years, I didn’t cook a feast and instead relied on a caterer for the holiday parties. It freed up time to work with a decorator on the baby’s room.

Caleb and I had decided on a nursery theme based on the book
Where the Wild Things Are
because it had been a favorite book of Caleb’s and mine as a child, and I pored over wallpaper that looked like leaves and scoured websites to find the perfect birch wood crib. I’d selected a porch swing that doubled as a daybed, so I’d have a place to nurse and lounge. The designer had suspended the white, wooden swing from the ceiling by hooks and chains. It was only a foot off the floor and faced one of the condo’s stunning floor-to-ceiling windows.

I’d already spent hours in there, swaying and reading, rubbing my tummy and wondering who my baby would look like. Caleb or me? Hopefully he or she would have Caleb’s cheekbones. And his eyes. All of his family had such interesting blue eyes of varying hues.
Yes, my baby should have the King family eyes
, I thought as I rocked.

The nursery’s overall vibe was light and whimsical, the stuff of fantasies. It was like stepping into another world, and I hoped the baby would love it.

One day, Caleb walked into the penthouse carrying a five-foot-long alligator stuffed animal. I chortled. “A gator?”

“I thought you’d enjoy a more lifelike one than a cartoon-looking one wearing a University of Florida shirt.”

“What’s this for?” I asked, squeezing the soft head. It was made of a smooth, almost shiny, fabric.

“I had an idea for it. Come.”

We went into the nursery, and he knelt down with the alligator. With a little push, he slid it under the swing so its nose poked out, then he looked up at me. “Too macabre?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I love it. It goes perfectly with the giant giraffe in the corner.”

He stood and we both grinned down at the gator. “I don’t want our child to fear anything. I want him, or her, to face the monsters under the bed, so to speak. Make friends with them.”

I flung my arms around Caleb. “Do you think we should find out the sex of the baby? Like maybe before you go to Brazil next week? We have an appointment tomorrow for an ultrasound.”

“No. We’re going to wait. This is one of the only big surprises in life.” He laughed. “You’re having a difficult time not knowing, aren’t you? You’ve never been good with delayed gratification.”

I snickered. “Yes, but it’s totally fine.” I was anxious to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl, but I did agree with Caleb. Already, I knew so much about the baby: how it liked to kick right when I was falling asleep and how it seemed to dance around after I drank orange juice. The fact I was carrying a person in my body and didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl seemed like alchemy.