HisMarriageBargain (23 page)

He parted her folds and thrust his fingers inside her once more.
She groaned and rolled her hips, wanting more. Not just his fingers, but all of
him. The man took particular joy in driving her crazy.

“You’ve got to come back to me,” he muttered. Sammi grasped
her knees and pulled her across the slick marble surface until her legs hung
off the edge. At some point she’d wiggled almost to the middle of the island,
probably during his cold and hot torment of her body.

Autumn sat up, wrapping her arms and legs around him. She
reached between them and grasped his cock, glad they’d done away with the
clothing already. She didn’t have the mental capacity to bother with pesky
things like buttons and zippers, not when she wanted him as bad as her next
breath, but he held back, resisting the pull of her hands.

“What?” she snapped. Did he not want her anymore? Was he
suddenly having second thoughts?

“Need to get a condom.”

That was all?

“Forget it.” It wasn’t as though he hadn’t touched every
part of her already. Besides, between all his doctor tests, the birth control
and her strict STD testing, it wasn’t as if they weren’t aware they were each
clean.

“You sure?”

She cupped his face with one hand and grasped his hair with
her other, tugging him toward her. “Yes. Sammi, I just want you.”

He froze, staring at her for a moment.

Autumn could read emotion there. She could see a tumult of
feeling going on and, if she had to bet, he wasn’t completely comfortable with what
was going on inside him. Inwardly she cheered. At least she wasn’t the only one
who was an emotional wreck here. He wasn’t the playboy he thought he was. He
was more. Better. Hers.

Sammi leaned into her, the turmoil in his gaze subsiding, at
least for the moment. She met him halfway, twining her arms around him and
grounding herself in his kiss, his touch, this thing building between them.

Sammi pushed her hand aside and guided his cock to her. She
felt him against her folds, his fingers parting her again. Autumn tipped her
head back and gripped the edge of the counter. She held her breath, waiting for
that moment when they became one, except he didn’t move.

She peeked at him and found him staring at her, his gaze so
intense it felt as if he were boring holes into her skull. The grip on her
thighs tightened and he thrust. Her eyes fluttered open wide as her body
stretched, yielding to him. They groaned in unison.

It just got better every time.

He thrust again, sliding deep into her channel and dropping
his head forward until their noses almost touched. It felt different this time,
the sensation of him in her, skin on skin.

His gaze dropped to their joined bodies as he withdrew. She
closed her eyes, relishing the slow drag of flesh on flesh as he stroked in and
out of her in even, measured thrusts.

The good part of kitchen sex was the versatility. The bad
part of kitchen sex was the unconventional positions. It wasn’t as if she could
do a lot with her feet dangling over the side, toes curling in on themselves
and gripping the counter.

He grasped her thighs, pulling her almost off the counter
and thrusting all at once, driving her breath out of her lungs and sending a
sizzle of arousal through her veins.

“Oh yes,” she groaned.

Sammi lifted her as he moved and her foot swung back,
hitting the cabinet. Duh—the new cabinets! Autumn wrapped her toes around the large,
orb-like knobs and used that to leverage herself, moving in time with him.

He grinned at her and she smiled back. There was something
really great about having a partner just as horny and sexually active as she
was.

He eased his grip, letting her move as she wanted, adjusting
the angle so he rubbed just the right spot with each thrust. She let her head
drop back, surrendering herself to the sensations he created within her, the
warming in her abdomen, the tremors shaking her limbs. But it went deeper than
that, all the way to her heart. She felt him inside her at her very core. It
was scary and wonderful all at once.

She gasped for breath and peered through her lashes at him.
Sammi had leaned forward, his gaze on her breasts as they bobbed in time to her
motions. She arched her back and he glanced at her face, his features sharper,
lust-ridden. His cheeks were sunk in, his lips pressed into a tight line and
his pupils were dilated.

His gaze narrowed, trained on her face.

Her breath hitched.

She loved him. He might not love her as she did him, but he
was not without feelings for her. She’d have to be okay with that. He saw her
for who she was and still, he desired her.

Her inner muscles clamping down around him, she threw her
head back and screamed. Sammi groaned into her neck, his fingers digging into
her rib cage almost painfully.

They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, joined
body and soul for a few blissful moments. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but
they grinned and eased apart. Sammi had a dishtowel in hand and swiped it over
her then him, giving them both a quick cleanup.

She slid off the counter and he steadied her.

“Warm up something to eat.” He kissed her brow and patted
her ass.

Autumn rescued her frozen dinner from the ledge of the
island and popped it in the microwave. She turned around to find Sammi spraying
the marble countertop down with a disinfectant.

To think, a few hours ago her crabby mother-in-law had stood
there drinking horrible tea.

If she only knew what had just happened on that island.

* * * * *

Autumn smoothed the knit fabric over her thighs as Sammi
pulled the Escalade into a tiny parking lot. She’d been dreading this moment
since last night. Yet another meeting with her mother-in-law.

The building next to the lot was mocha brick with black
awnings and brass light fixtures. Even the parking lot had a very old-world
feel to it with the wrought iron fence and frosted globe streetlights.

“It’s going to go better than last time.” Sammi turned the
car off and smiled at her, but there was nothing reassuring about it.

“Yeah.” She mustered a smile in return, but felt the lie
deep in her bones. People like his mother didn’t change their opinions
overnight.

At least this time Autumn felt more like herself.

She’d chosen a bright-blue knit dress because it was one of
her favorites. The stripes banding the skirt were cheerful, and lord only knew
she’d need all the help she could get.

They walked into the little restaurant hand in hand. She
couldn’t put her finger on it, but something had changed between them in these
last few days. She didn’t have a name for it, couldn’t identify what had
started it, but she could feel it.

“Hello, Mr. Zimmerman,” a host said as they entered, his
hands clasped in front of his pristine white apron.

“Hello,” instead of glancing around, Sammi studied the man,
“Miguel.”

Miguel’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Your party is waiting in
the private dining room.”

“Thanks. We can find it.”

Autumn smiled to herself as Sammi led them through the
dining area. It was small, quaint even, with black-and-white-tiled floors,
wooden circular tables with matching chairs that seated only four.

Sammi opened an unmarked door and stopped in his tracks,
blocking the way. Well, that was weird. Autumn peered over his shoulder and her
blood went cold. She shoved him forward and the door swung shut behind them.

“Mother—” Sammi started.

“What are you doing out of rehab?” Autumn marched to the
unexpected fourth member of their party.

Autumn’s mother. Cathy.

When Autumn was growing up, Cathy had played the role of
mother little enough it had always been hard to call her Mom.

And she was supposed to be in rehab.

“Hi, Autumn.” Cathy patted the chair next to her, her gaze
never resting for long on one thing or person. “Sit down. They’re going to
bring us bread soon. Why don’t you have a bigger purse? We could have taken
more home. I guess that one will have to do.”

Autumn cringed. While most people took a few leftovers home,
Cathy took it to the extreme, sometimes even gathering plates from nearby
tables and packing up half-eaten meals. Autumn shoved the shameful memories to
the back of her mind. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She didn’t have to live
her life as her mother had.

Cathy had had a shower recently, evident by the frizzy,
unruly nature of her hair. She fidgeted with the menu, her fingers picking at
the corners as she tipped her head back and smiled. Or tried to. The muscles in
her face jumped and shifted. Her eyes couldn’t stay on Autumn’s face but kept
sliding off, distracted by something else.

Autumn gripped the back of the empty chair and shifted her
glare from Cathy to Sammi’s mother.

The snake in a dress.

Mrs. Tamara Zimmerman sat with her hands politely folded on
the tabletop, a serene expression on her face. It wasn’t that dissimilar from
the vacant stare Autumn saw from some of Kellie’s grandmother’s nursing home
friends.

“Hello, Son. Won’t you have a seat?” Tamara gestured to the
chair beside her.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Sammi sat in the chair next to
Tamara, his expression tight.

“Cathy and I were just getting better acquainted.”

“My mother is supposed to be in rehab. Why is she here?”
Autumn wanted to throw the silverware at the woman. She wanted to scream her
frustration.

“I don’t like rehab. Don’t want to go back there. Won’t.”
Cathy crossed her arms over her chest. Great. She wasn’t wearing a bra either.

“Your mother made it very clear she wanted to go home. I
merely offered her dinner and a ride home.” Tamara finally met Autumn’s gaze.

What Autumn saw there made her feel dirty. Whatever was in that
woman’s soul wasn’t good.

“Don’t want to go back.” Cathy shook her head and chanted
the same line several times.

“Mrs. Zimmerman, maybe you don’t understand, and I wouldn’t
expect you to because you’ve probably never dealt with an addict, but my mother
is in rehab for a reason.” As problematic as Cathy had been, she was still
Autumn’s mother and if Autumn could stop Cathy from dying with a needle in her
veins, she would.

Tamara scowled and pointed at the last empty chair. “And you
need to learn to respect your elders, young woman. Sit. Down.”

Sammi leaned toward his mother and placed his hand on her
arm. “Mom, Autumn’s mother is sick. She needs to go back.”

“I’d rather not sit down with you.” Autumn wanted to deck
the old lady in her smug face. What did she think? That bringing her mother out
of rehab would make Autumn run away in shame? Her mother’s choices were her
own. Not Autumn’s.

“I think you’d like to be here to explain yourself.” Tamara
slid her menu aside. Under it was a worn manila folder with stickers, tabs in
various colors and notes scrawled on the cover. It was thick with papers,
forms, reports, some of which Autumn had made.

The pounding in her head was deafening.

Autumn’s mouth worked soundlessly.

“Mom, what is this? What are you doing? This isn’t okay.”
Sammi reached in front of his mother and fanned the pages with his thumb. He
didn’t get it. Not yet.

“That’s supposed to be sealed,” Autumn blurted. Her breath
was coming too fast, her heart hammered against her chest.

“I hired a private detective who was able to get his hands
on this.” Tamara flipped it open.

Autumn didn’t know who she’d paid or how much, but it had to
have been a lot. Should have been impossible. Least that’s what the detective
had told her when they closed the case.

“What is it?” Sammi leaned over Tamara’s shoulder. Autumn
wanted to grab him, shove him out the door, but she couldn’t move.

“I’m not sure what you thought you knew about your wife, Son,
but at one point she was a stripper.” Tamara laid another small stack of papers
on the table.

“Paid good money too. Can’t believe she quit,” Cathy
muttered, staring daggers at Autumn.

“She was arrested on suspicion of prostitution.” The
smallest stack, because it was the one untruth, the one thing she hadn’t
actually done. She’d just been standing on a corner eating ice cream and said
the wrong thing to an undercover cop.

“Prostitute?” Cathy’s nose wrinkled up and she stared at the
paper, no doubt having no memory of it since she’d been missing for a month at
the time, high as a kite in Oklahoma.

“And she was tied up in some drug scheme where she turned
informant on her boss.” The biggest stack of papers and a huge chunk of two
years.

“I remember that. The money stopped.” Cathy’s gaze returned
to Autumn, accusatory because the cash that she’d stolen from Autumn to buy
more drugs had dried up.

There were more papers, more reports on her, but Autumn knew
what they were. Her juvie record.

“Now what do you think of your bride, Son?” Tamara sneered.

The silence was deafening. All Autumn could hear was the
blood rushing past her ears. She flicked her gaze from the papers to Sammi’s
face. His features were twisted, disgust, horror, she’d seen them all before on
other people who hadn’t understood. Who’d read a piece of paper about her without
the full story.

No more.

Not again.

She’d put that life behind her.

There wasn’t anything Sammi, his mother or anyone could do
to make her into that person again. She was different now, and Autumn liked who
she’d become.

“You believe all that, don’t you?” Autumn asked Sammi.

“It’s right here in your file.” Tamara gestured to the
folder still in her lap.

“You, shut up.” Autumn pointed a finger at Tamara. She was
done with this vile creature. “I’m not speaking to you. Sammi, what do you
believe?”

“I-I don’t know what to think.” He studied the papers and
spread his hands. “You never told me any of this. Why?” His tone rose, growing
angry.