Hard Luck (22 page)

Chapter Two

“When drowning, one grabs the first lifeline thrown without regard to who holds the rope.”

Four months later…

James silences his blaring alarm clock in the early morning darkness of our bedroom. He falls back on the bed with a sigh as I face the wall, feigning sleep. Not moving a muscle, I wait for what comes next. He’ll either get out of bed or climb on top of me. When I sense a slight movement from his side of the bed, I hold my breath.

“Come here, Harlow.” His hand curls around my waist and he rolls my body over to face him. Morning sex it is. He pushes away the tangled bed hair covering my eyes as I blink the sleep from them. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He kisses my forehead with a soft brush of his lips.

“Morning,” I reply in a sleepy, hoarse voice. He pulls down the twisted covers and exposes our naked bodies. His gaze travels over me, lingering on his favorite spots—ones he knows very well.

“What a sight to wake up to.” He hovers above my body and looks down at me with hooded eyes. “My day is always better when I start it inside you. Now, spread those long legs so I can fuck you.”

I part my legs and my day begins…

***

On the mornings James craves sex, he also craves a home-cooked breakfast. The exertion ravishes him, or so he says. I slip on the silk robe he bought from a Paris designer and head down to the kitchen, aiming straight for the coffee pot. A fitful sleep last night makes me feel more worn out than awake. I set the pot to brew and turn on the television to break the stillness while I get the eggs out of the fridge.

Fifteen minutes later, James walks into the kitchen, a transformed man after a shower and shave. Dressed to perfection in a suit and tie, he fits the stereotypical definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’s definitely the hottest forty-one-year-old man alive—doesn’t look a day over thirty-five.

“Something smells good.” A teasing grin crosses his lips as he sidles up behind me. He slides his hands up my bare legs under my robe; his sexual desires are relentless at times. I spin out of his grasp.

“How about some coffee?” I open the cabinet to retrieve a cup in an attempt to divert his attention from my rebuff. When I turn around, he narrows his eyes into a scowl. I’m busted.

“When my hands are on you, don’t you
ever
move away from me.” He smiles calmly, though his words are threatening, and takes a step toward me. I scoot back against the counter to gain space between us. One more step, and the space disappears. “Understand?”

“Yes.” I nod, and he brings his face closer to mine.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” Staring at me with a look crossing between anger and passion, he parts my silk robe. It falls from my shoulders, exposing my breasts. Not satisfied, he pulls the sash at my waist and the rest puddles onto the floor.

I stand before him bare while his eyes burn my flesh. He touches my hands as they hang at my side and trails his fingers up my arms. Goose bumps run across my skin before he reaches my elbows.

“Mmm,” he hums, the sound of his desire vibrating between us.

“These lips are mine.” James brings his thumbs up to my mouth and traces over my lips, easing them apart. He inserts a thumb and I suck on it until my cheeks are hollow, watching his eyes grow darker. “You’re a naughty tease, Harlow. The innocence of an angel’s face, but the body and mouth of a vixen.”

James traces his thumbs down my neck and over my collarbone, stopping at my breasts. “Mine.” His fingers twist and pull at my nipples, and my eyes shutter. “Look at me, Harlow.” I raise my lids at his command. “I can’t get enough of you. Do you feel the passion between us?”

I briefly close my eyes, steeling myself for my second acting performance of the day.
The feelings will follow
, I tell myself,
I just need more time
. Naturally, my body reacts to his physical touch, but my passion is frozen away deep inside me.

Until the feelings surface, I’ve decided the truth would hurt him more than the lies, so I stuff away the guilt and hope he believes my words are true.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I feel it.”

When I speak this lie, a fissure cracks open in my heart, pulling us further and further apart. I want to unravel under his touch, get lost in his love, but those feelings won’t surface no matter how hard I try. The want and yearning isn’t enough.

Bending slightly, he places his large hands around my waist and lifts me onto the counter as if I weigh nothing more than a feather. He tugs me forward to the edge and widens my legs, exposing me to him.

“Your breakfast,” I tilt my head toward the stove where his eggs sit in the pan, “is getting cold.”

“Before I eat the delicious breakfast you made me, I’m going to eat you.”
Holy shit.

James genuflects like an act of worship before me and pulls my hips to him. He consumes me without hesitation, leaving me no time to think. I place my hands flat behind me for balance and drop my head back. Closing my eyes tight, I surrender. He takes command of my body while my mind centers on where he touches me. My surroundings fade away and the harder I focus, the more pleasure I eventually feel.

His touch will bring me to release, but if I have to work this hard, something’s missing. I wonder if he knows how I struggle, or if I’ve hidden it from him. If he does, he hides it from me, too. Frustrated, I concentrate harder, hoping a spark of deep desire ignites.

Slightly breathless, and guilty my orgasm took an eternity to materialize, I slip on my robe and return to my normal breakfast routine. James brings his laptop to the kitchen table and opens it to catch up on work before he leaves for the hospital.

No one would guess he’d had his head between my thighs a minute ago. Everything is back to normal as usual—James, the handsome doctor, planning his day, and me, the dutiful fiancée, tending to her man.

I pour him a cup of coffee, plate the now cold scrambled eggs I’d cooked to perfection, and place them down in front of him. Taking a quick glance at what James is working on, I see an open email on his laptop screen. I sit down at the table as he takes a bite.

“Fuck.” He drops his fork onto the plate and I raise my hand to my throat.

“What is it, James?”

“It’s Sinclair.” He pounds away on his keyboard and curses again before shutting his laptop in a huff. He looks up at me with anger in his eyes. “He’s not coming tomorrow.”

“I thought his clerkship at The Clinic started on Monday.”

“He’s coming tonight and I’m needed at the hospital until later in the evening. Dammit, you’ll have to meet him at the airport.” He pushes his plate away, stands up, and peers down at me, his jaw stretched tight.

“Sure. It’s not a problem.” I stand up next to him and rub his arm soothingly, although I don’t understand why this would upset him so much. “What do you want me to do? Just tell me.”

“I haven’t seen him in years, so I don’t want you alone with him.” His possessive side shocks me. He usually saves this display for his friends at the country club when they become too flirty with me. I’m surprised he feels this way with his own nephew. “Sinclair took a year between high school and college, a gap year. He lived up to his nickname, Sin, during that time. I don’t trust his womanizing ass for one second.”

“James, really, I’m sure it was just a phase. Look, he’s going to med school now.” He runs his fingers through his hair and gathers up his laptop. “Where should we go then?”

“God, I don’t even know.” He stuffs his laptop into his case, throws the strap over his shoulder, and pushes the chair back under the table, anger rolling off him with every movement.

He turns around toward me, his fists balled at his side. I understand him not trusting the forward, sometimes handsy men at his club, but the same reaction to his own nephew seems over the top and unwarranted.

“Don’t bring him back here for fuck’s sake. I need to get a read on him first.”

“Okay.” I nod and wonder what will happen if he doesn’t trust Sinclair. I thought James would let Sinclair stay with us during his time here, but now I’m not so sure. There are several hotels downtown, or maybe James’ apartment, but I was excited about having a guest here with us. It gets so lonely in this ten-thousand square-foot house by myself.

James glances down at his watch and looks at me. Stress shows in his stormy blue eyes. “Hell, I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for my first rounds.”

“What about your breakfast? And Sinclair?”

“I don’t have time to eat anything else.” I blush, knowing he means our diversion on the counter. “I’ll have my assistant pick up something from the cafeteria.”

“I’m sorry.” I run my fingers under the lapel of his suit coat. The hard muscles of his chest defy his true age with their strength.

“You can be so distracting, Harlow.” He shakes his head and glides a finger across my cheek. “Pick Sinclair up at seven. He’s flying American and connecting in Chicago. Take him to that new place downtown called Rogue. It’s two minutes from the hospital. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I suppress a smile and the desire to jump in excitement like a child. I’ve been dying to go to Rogue—or any place that isn’t the stuffy country club.

James’ idea of a night out consists of dinner and drinks at the country club with his friends. I hate going there with him. The women whisper behind my back, calling me a gold digger. The men leer at my body and make sexually charged comments when James isn’t paying attention.

I end up drinking too much to drown them all out, which makes James livid. He says I seductively smile at the men when I’m tipsy. I tell him nothing could be further from the truth. I leave out that the men make me sick because I’m afraid of James’ reaction, but they do.

“One request.” His so-called requests are well-mannered demands. “Wear your red Jimmy Choo heels and the new white dress I bought you from Dior.” The smile on his face spells trouble.

“That seems a little flashy for Rogue.” James places a finger under my chin and tilts my face up. His eyes scold and unnerve me. He doesn’t like me contradicting him, but I was only sharing my thoughts. “What did I do?”

“You, my darling, didn’t do a thing. God created you as every man’s temptation. I want to see how Sinclair reacts to you. And it better be as his future aunt, no matter how close you are in age.”

“But I am not a carrot you can dangle.” He pulls me into a forceful kiss before I can protest further. The thought seems twisted and doesn’t make sense if he’s worried about me being alone with Sinclair in the first place.

“Get the house ready.” James releases me from his arms. “And keep me posted on your day.” He walks toward the side door to the garage, but stops before he is fully out of my sight.

“Harlow,” his eyes blaze fire, “I love you.”

A quick moment passes while I try to find my voice. “I feel the same.”

Three words. Three confusing, life-altering words. Every time he utters them to me, I feel compelled to repeat them back, but I end up replying in a roundabout way.

One simple phrase could wash away any doubts he has of my affection, but the words stick in my throat—like they do every other time he has proclaimed his love for me. We are getting married in four weeks, so I better sort these feelings out and answer the question that troubles me: if I love him, why can’t I say it out loud?

***

After James leaves, I rinse away the morning’s sex in the shower, get dressed, and run out to my favorite grocery store to stock up. I have no clue what Sinclair likes to eat, so I empty the shelves into my cart. Healthy to junk food, it doesn’t matter. It’s novel, being able to pick and choose what I want without a care for the cost.

My mother and I lived the exact opposite life. We turned shopping into a sport. It felt like we’d won the Super Bowl when we saved a few dollars. I don’t miss the scrounging for pennies, but my life will never be the same without her.

What I wouldn’t give to have her back, even if just for a day. To hear her laugh at her own silly jokes, blame the burnt toast on a hateful ghost, or cry as she watched
The Notebook
.

We only had each other, but she made my life full with her love. She’d make me laugh so hard my sides felt like they would split. We didn’t have money to live like I am now, but we had laughter and joy. I miss her so much. If only she’d never met Tony.

A familiar feeling washes over me and I brush tears from my eye.
Time to pay and leave before I break down in aisle five.

By some miracle, I keep myself together until I’m sitting behind the wheel of my BMW. The darkened windows hide me from an outside view. I lean into the steering wheel and bow my head, the ache in my heart beginning to subside with each falling tear.

Continue the story here:
Marry Screw Kill