Tempted by Pleasure (Secret Invitation #1) (11 page)

Another lie. She thinks she’s going to fuck Jeffrey and the guilt is consuming her. She can’t even look at me when she mentions him. “A friend?”

“No one you’d know.”

I snatch her hand. “Why don’t you introduce me?”

“No!” She tries to wiggle free, but I hold tight.

“I want you.” I dip my head, grazing her soft lips with mine.

“Feel it?” The bolt of fucking lightning that strikes every time our lips meet. The air is thick with tension, and I’m not sure I can contain my deepest feelings anymore. “Tell me to leave.”

Her shoulders sag and her purse straps slip down her arm. I tug it off, letting it hit the floor. I stash her cell phone in my jacket pocket, then press her against the wall, spreading her legs with my knee, cupping her face with my right hand. She nuzzles my palm, and blood rushes into my cock. With a whisper of a touch, she caresses my arm.

Why has she waited all this time to love someone? She reeks of need and lust. And the longer she deprives herself, the more Thomas becomes an existential threat.

I palm her stomach, loving how soft she is, how I can feel the heat radiating off her skin through her clothes. “Let me take you out of here. There’s a back door in the kitchen.”

She shivers against me and I take it as an open invitation. Our lips crash together and my tongue knifes into her sweet mouth.

Seconds later I hear a cough and break the kiss on a curse. I turn around, shielding Erin with my body.

“This is a
family
restaurant.” The middle-aged woman crosses her arms over her chest, clearly offended.

“And quite a public one,” I say, frowning at the intrusion. I turn back to Erin, her cheeks scarlet. “Splash some cold water on your face and meet me outside in five minutes, okay?”

“B-But . . .”

“I’ll take care of your date.” It’s not open for discussion.

I pick her purse off the floor and return her cell phone. “Five minutes,” I remind her.

With ardent strides I approach Jeffrey’s table. He looks up, definitely surprised to see me. “We need to talk.
Now
.” I drop a hundred-dollar bill on the table. He slides a folder off the high top, then follows me outside to my car. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What you hired me to do, to help Erin feel confident and comfortable.”

“She’s a mess.”

“I noticed,” he says.

“Not outside the club.”

“Relax.” He gestures for me to ratchet my temper down a few notches.

“I called her last night to see if she wanted to meet for drinks. When she didn’t call back like she promised, I got worried and stopped by her store today.”

He gazes toward the entry to the restaurant, then shoves the folder into my hands. “You’ll want this.”

“What is it?”

“She completed the worksheets, and let me be the first to congratulate you. You’ve chosen well.”

I snarl, disliking the idea of him reading her intimate thoughts. But without the information I wouldn’t know her fantasies. I unlock my car door and stash the folder in my briefcase. Just in time, too. Erin is walking toward us.

She looks so pale and delicate. “Is everything all right?”

“Perfect,” Jeffrey answers. “Foster explained you had a standing appointment. I apologize for making you late.”

She gives him a hug. “I’ll call you,” she offers as Jeffrey turns to go.

Finally alone, she relaxes. “What did you think of Jeffrey?”

I don’t want to discuss him, but can’t risk her finding out we know each other. “Polite and professional.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Ready to go?” I escort her to my Jaguar and open the door.

“Where?”

“My place.”

Chapter 20

Erin

After Foster pulls into the same condominium parking lot I had lunch with him at, I throw him a disgusted look. “Company condo?”

“Technically.” He shrugs, kills the engine, and climbs out of his car.

I open my own door, hugging my purse close, wondering what in the hell I’m doing here. All the warning bells went off already. I’m in too deep. Between Foster and Jeffrey, life is complicated enough. Add Thomas’s blackmail, I simply need to cut myself off from the world until I meet Thomas at church to take vows.

I follow Foster upstairs, my stomach churning. He opens the door and I step inside. He places his keys and wallet on a ceramic dish on a table in the entryway, then turns on the lights in the living room.

“We could both use a drink.”

I don’t disagree and watch him head to the wet bar in the dining area. “How long have you lived here?”

“Three years. This is my main residence, but I spend a lot of time in Galveston, too.”

“Galveston?”

“We opened an office there last year. I manage a small engineering team, lots of refinery work.”

“Sounds challenging, travelling around the world, mixing it up with oil barons and Saudi princes.”

He gazes over his shoulder. “Not as romantic as you think.”

“I’m lucky if I get to Europe once a year.”

“I always appreciated your sensibilities, Erin. You never bragged or showed off. What you saw was what you got.”

“Is that your nice way of saying I’m boring?”

“What?” He turns around with two glasses in his hand. “Where did you get that from?” He offers me my drink. “Rum and coke.”

I take a tiny sip. “I sell books.”

“I sell oil. What’s the difference?”

I can think of a million things, but he’s kind for not marginalizing my career choice. I wander to the wall of windows overlooking the bay. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Followed in the old man’s footsteps. Pretty hard to fail when you have a financial giant on your ass 24/7. My father doesn’t take no for an answer.”

I can relate. “I know how it feels.”

I hear him set his drink down on the dining room table. “Don’t do it, Erin.”

I wish I could open up to him. “Sometimes you have to accept fate for what it is.”

“Bullshit.” I’m turned around. “Thomas isn’t your fate,
I
am.”

I can’t stop the tears. All the pressure breaks me, I weep like a baby.

At first Foster can’t believe it. He just stares down at me, his eyes wide with surprise. But then his expression changes and he sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the sofa. He cradles me on his knees, letting me bury my face in his shoulder. “I’m an asshole,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

I latch on to him like he’s my savior, snorting and gasping for breath between the violent sobs. “Not your fault,” I manage to croak.

He rubs my back, his strong hands easing my stress. “Please trust me.”

I shake my head. “I can’t tell anyone what’s going on, Foster.”

He sighs. “Say the word, I’ll cap his ass.”

I laugh so hard my insides hurt. “Pretty sure you can’t do that.”

He grins and thumbs a couple tears off my cheek. “If you only knew.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s boiling underneath his calm façade. Foster knows how to fight. I witnessed it first hand in high school, on and off the football field. Time doesn’t change that in a man, but his education probably included lessons in diplomacy.

“Whenever I need rescuing I know who to call.” If I can focus on the positive, enjoy what time we have left together, I’ll be okay. Humor is never misplaced, no matter how bad things get.

“Erin?”

His gravelly voice could talk me into anything. So could his eyes. There’s only one thing on his mind now. “Please. Don’t.”

I don’t know how to react.

“You say no, but your body communicates something completely different.” He shifts me on his lap; I’m facing forward now. Then he lifts my hair off my shoulders and bites the tender spot at the base of my neck. It lights me up like fireworks. I arch my head, praying he’ll lick me. “See?” He hooks an arm around my waist, locking me against his body.

“Why torture each other?”

“Because it feels so good,” he growls into my ear.

He’s relentless, and I’m incapable of denying him or myself the pleasure.

“Remember that night in high school?” he asks, sounding mischievous.

I’ve begged him to forget about it. But our history together is our strongest link. There’s something incredibly wonderful about reliving moments like these. There’s unspoken trust and kinship. “Yes.”

“I want to hear you tell me why you ran away.”

“I gave you the letter.”

“Yes,” he says. “But I wasn’t drunk, Erin. Not sure why you think I was.”

Oh God. Truth sucks sometimes.
“I don’t remember.”

He lets my hair go. “Turn around, baby.”

I do, unable to look him in the eyes.

He tilts my chin. “I’m waiting.”

I buy some time pretending to get more comfortable. I’m straddling his lap, my knees squeezing his thighs. “Can we talk about something else?”

“After you tell me.”

I shake my head, refusing to give in. It might be hopeless to fight our attraction, but I can’t budge on this one. I’m not into self-humiliation. If he ever found out . . .

“I already know.”

“Excuse me?” I’m afraid of what he’s going to say next.

He nudges me back and unzips his pants. Heat surges through my body at the thought of seeing him naked again. I’ve caught hints of his tanned skin and muscles.
No.

“Give me your hand, baby.”

He doesn’t wait and grabs my fingers, then massages gently. He’s so warm and alive, so passionate and uninhibited. I’m the opposite, scared and unsure of myself.

“Years,” he reminds me.

I close my eyes and picture the past. That’s when he guides my hand down his pants. I feel soft hair and heat. Then soft skin.
Shit.
As if it were the most natural thing to do, I grip his erection, loving the velvet smoothness, how thick and hard it is.

“Open your eyes, Erin.”

Again I follow his instructions, finding myself lost in his stare. He’s a snake charmer or master magician. He slouches against the leather cushions, granting me better access to his body. I reach inside with my other hand, pawing and exploring. He’s so perfect, so unbelievably hard and soft at the same time. I can’t let go of his dick, so I stroke it.

“Wait, baby,” he says a few minutes later.

I remove my hands from his pants and he reaches inside and frees his dick. It’s in full view now, thick and long and so hard I want it inside me.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispers, guiding my hand back. “Touch me again, Erin.”

I fall against him and our lips connect. He cups my face between both hands. Slanting his head, he sucks my tongue into his mouth. I moan and squeeze his cock harder, stroking faster and faster until he throws his head back and shouts. “Erin, fuck.” Warm liquid shoots out.

I love knowing I made Foster come.

Chapter 21

Erin

I haven’t managed my life very wisely. The more time I spend with Foster, the harder it gets to imagine myself living out my fantasies with Jeffrey. In fact, I can’t. I’ve ignored a flurry of calls from him over the last week. But that doesn’t change what I have to do to protect my family. My future is with Thomas. Period.

I’m meeting Katie at Denny’s for breakfast. I’m already sitting at our favorite spot in the corner. It’s dark and rainy outside. The doors open and she struts in with an open umbrella wearing a red raincoat and matching boots. She closes the umbrella and hangs it and her coat on the rack, then straightens her blouse. She automatically looks my direction and smiles.

I’ve already ordered our traditional short stacks, bacon, and orange juice. Coffee is on the table. She slides into the bench across from me.

“Another sleepless night?”

“I’m a moron.”

She chuckles. “Why?”

“I can’t keep having clandestine meetings with Foster. We spent all night together again. I’m exhausted and confused. However, I do have some good news. The Halloween party is tomorrow and I know what I need to do about Jeffrey.”

“Finally recognized the wisdom in what I told you before? Cancel your membership, blow off Thomas, and accept Foster for what he’s meant to be, your future.”

The waitress delivers our plates.

I saturate my pancakes with maple syrup. “Maybe in a perfect world. Thomas has made it abundantly clear that after tomorrow, we’re a real couple. I can’t keep ignoring the facts. I’m the only lifeline my parents have.”

“Your father is responsible for his own mistakes, not you.” She shoves a straw in her glass and takes a long drink of juice. “Listen, Saint Erin, can’t you seek counsel from the church or talk to a cop off the record? Maybe an attorney?”

“My family is so high profile, the second I mention our name, someone will alert the media.”

She shakes her head. “I’m glad I come from an ordinary, middle-class family.”

“Want to swap places?”

“Sorry, girlfriend, I love my peeps too much.”

I sigh, wishing I had a different life.

“So, about Jeffrey . . .”

“I’ll attend the party, but the first chance I get to pull him aside, I’ll explain why I changed my mind.”

“Good. And Foster?”

“Email?”

She slaps my hand. “Don’t even go there.”

“I can’t see him again, we almost slept together last night. A phone call, that’s the best and safest choice I have to say goodbye.” I nibble on a piece of crispy bacon. No matter how I feel, I can’t let my emotional attachment to Foster get in the way of following through with Thomas.

But I love Foster.

“You’ve spent time rebuilding your friendship, getting closer. How can you walk away? Don’t let Thomas win. Let Foster be your first or you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

I hold up my left hand, staring at my ring finger. “In a few days I’ll have a two-carat diamond on this finger. A gift from Thomas’ grandmother. How can I sleep with Foster and turn around and accept an engagement ring from Thomas?”

“The asshole is blackmailing you. Screw commitment.”

“Maybe I’ll add that to the prenup.”

“Prenup?” she yells.

“Lower your voice.” I look around, embarrassed. “Yes, not the traditional kind. Thomas mentioned something about a list of expectations I have to fulfill in order for my father to maintain control of his company and other assets.”

“A fuck clause.”

“What?”

“He’s not taking any chances I bet. Thomas wants to make sure you consummate the marriage.”

Thank God I have a voice of reason in my life. I’m so preoccupied with Foster I can’t think straight half the time. Eventually the subject of sex would need to be
fully
discussed. Thomas has already expressed interest in fathering two or three children. I suggested artificial insemination.

We finish our breakfast in relative silence, the gloom and doom of my future prospects too much for me to accept.

Two hours later I’m on my patio sipping lemonade. The forecast calls for temperatures in the low-fifties for the next few days. Hints of sunshine break through the dark clouds overhead and I smile grimly. That’s the prefect representation of my life, cloudy with only a chance of sunshine. Am I really willing to sacrifice my own happiness to keep my family’s secrets? Would my mother and father do the same? I have to confront them.

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.
Lord Acton’s words couldn’t be truer.

My cell buzzes, and I gaze lazily at the table next to my chair. Foster. I answer on the sixth ring.

“Good morning, baby,” he greets.

“Hello, Foster.” I’m not going to put off the bad news any longer.

“You don’t sound happy.”

“I’m not.”

There’s a short pause. “What’s wrong, Erin?”

“We need to talk.”

“My thought exactly. I’ll drive over.”

“No!” I sit up, my whole body one tense muscle.

“All right.” He sighs. “You can tell me anything.”

He’s stated that many times before. I hope he means it, because breaking up, even though we never had a formal commitment, isn’t going to be easy. “I want you to forget about me.”

“What the fuck, Erin?”

“On Sunday my parents are formally announcing my engagement to Thomas Kingsley.”

I hold the phone away from my ear, not missing his chain of expletives. “I’m coming over.”

“Please don’t.” A tear wets my cheek. If I ever see Foster again I don’t know what would happen. He destroyed any resistance I had left in my body last night. “I’m happy we spent time together and resolved our differences.”

He murmurs something I can’t make out. “Is that how you felt when I was licking your pussy last night?”

I deserve his resentment. I’m weak. I prepare for more insults as silent tears stream down my face.

“I expected more from you, Erin. Never knew you were the kind of girl to let someone kick you around like a goddamned sack of shit.”

Waves of sadness wash over me. I’m too close to confessing everything. I don’t want Foster walking around hating me for the rest of his life. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” he roars, “but for entirely different reasons.” He disconnects.

Foster

Forcing Erin to tell me why she’s marrying that douche bag won’t accomplish anything. Neither will insulting her, but it’s too late. My rage gets the better of me sometimes. I drop my phone on the floor, numb. Then I storm out of my bedroom and open the sliding glass door in my living room. Wind blows the drapes apart and I step outside in my boxers.

Everything is fucked up.

Why? That question keeps surfacing. Thomas Kingsley has nothing to offer a woman. He’s a fucking idiot. Weak. Manipulative. Selfish. Erin is too good for him. I should have strangled him at the country club.

I smash my hands against the balcony railing.

If she needs money . . . But Kevin reported her father’s financial situation as stable. And her store is in the clear. Nothing makes sense.

I have a standing appointment in Venice next week, but can’t possibly go. Erin Covington is the only woman I’ve ever loved, the only person I need. I let her go when I was young and stupid. Not this time.

The Halloween party will be our ground zero.