Know Her, Love Her: Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE (8 page)

I stumble through the lyrics, skipping words and singing off-key. It’s embarrassing, but people seem to be enjoying the show. Maybe because they’re all smashed. Dexter sways my hips so we’re moving in unison. Great, now I’m off-rhythm because the music is moving faster than I am.
 

Kristin runs up on stage to join us. The men hoot and holler again. Soon Kate and Emma join us. Dexter is still holding the microphone in front of my face. Kristin tries to take it from him, but in a subtle way, he refuses to let go.
I wish he would give it to her
. Finally the song concludes, and another starts immediately. I don’t recognize the song, but my coworkers are singing it with gusto. Two guys and three girls climb on the platform with us.

I turn to Dexter. “I’m leaving.” I break out of his grasp and step down.
 

Everyone seems to be watching me, wondering why I’ve decided to abandon the fun.

 
“You’re over it?” Damien says once I make it back to the table.
 

“Pretty much.” I collect my purse.
 

“Me too,” Damien says. “By the way, I really dug your book.”

“Oh, thanks.” For some reason, I’m thinking twice about leaving.

“You want a drink?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, I’m a lightweight. What I can go for is some coffee. I’m going to be up all night trying to map out a scheme for the South of France.”

He snickers. “You won’t find much coffee in Chicago outside of Starbucks. This is a bar town.”

“I noticed.”

He scoots closer to me. “So you’re going home to work?”
 

“Yep.”

“We take a commuter flight from Paris to the Provence, unload all our shit, get situated, and then what?” he asks.
 

“We do what I did when I first visited the region.”

“You climbed a slope to a hillside village in Provence.”

I smile. “You read my book.”

“I did. I don’t normally read books like that, but it got me excited about working with you on this series.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You know what I think? If we stick to the pages, then we can’t go wrong.”

“I agree.” I turn my attention to Dexter, who’s walking our way.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

I shoot straight to my feet. “Yep.” I turn to Damien. “See you tomorrow.”

He lifts his glass. Dexter says good-bye to him and escorts me out of the bar. Once I’m outside, I squeeze my eyes a few times. The sudden change in the noise level has clogged my ears.
 

“Getting acquainted with the team, I see,” Dexter says as we start up Chicago Avenue.

“Oh, Damien? He seems excited about the project.”

“So, Daisy, tell me more about yourself.”

I glance at him. “Like what?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you this, but your husband called yesterday.”

I flinch, taken aback. “He called you personally?”

“On my cell phone.”

“But how did he…? Forget it. Belmont can do anything he puts his mind to. What did he say?” My heart is beating so fast.

“He wanted your address. I told him I couldn’t give it to him because that violates our policy.”

My eyes expand. “What did he say?”
 

“He said he understood.”

“Ha. He was charming you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, what did he say next?”

Dexter’s eyebrows furrow. “Shit, you’re right!”

“What?” I’m anxious to hear it. Belmont’s ability to charm the socks off the Grinch is one of the things I love about him.

“He started talking about your book and how observant you are. He said you hardly have any fun and he’s probably the reason for that. We just talked more about
you
.”

“Then you gave him my address?” I can hardly breathe. Belmont could be waiting right outside my door. I want him so badly. We can make love tonight and resume fighting in the morning.

“Which leads me to the next course of business: you need to process in with HR tomorrow.”

I grin. “You didn’t have my address?”

“That would be a negative.”

I’m disappointed that my address didn’t miraculously find its way into Belmont’s hands, but I laugh anyway.
 

Dexter chuckles a little. “So is that how he got you to marry him?”

“Like I said, he’s very convincing.”

“So you’re the one who wants the divorce?”

I finally realize that we’re stopped at a light. The bridge over the river is just up the street. “It’s complicated.”

“That means it’s none of my business.”

I snort a chuckle. “Kind of… But he’s the one who left me.”

“Get the fuck out of here!”
 

“Apparently I make a really bad wife.”

“Why do you say that?” he asks.

We walk again.
 

“I was pregnant. Had a baby. Lost her. I didn’t want to have another one.”

“And he does?”

“I think so.”

Dexter nods. “I was married, now divorced. I have two daughters.”

“What’s the divorce rate again?” I ask.

“High.”

We chuckle.
 

“Well, I’m sure there are a host of women who want to pick up where your wife left off,” I say.

“First of all—likewise. Secondly, I was twenty-four when we got married. I just turned thirty-seven. The next time I do it, there has to be fireworks and shit like that.”

“It wasn’t like that with your wife?” I’m getting too personal, but he started it.

He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Well, I experienced the fireworks.”

“And yet you’re separated?”

“Yep. And I still see them whenever he’s near.”

Dexter grunts thoughtfully. We walk past one of the many tall buildings in my neighborhood.

“So you stay over here?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“Near a park?”

I tilt my head suspiciously. “Why, what’s wrong with the park?”

“Have you ever been out in the neighborhood in the daytime or on the weekend?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing…”

“No, there’s something.”

He shrugs. “You let me know if there’s something.”

 
I grin. “Okay.”

We gallop down a sloping road. Dexter walks me to my front door, which is right off the street, and says he’ll see me in the morning. He adds that he’ll try to avoid calls from Belmont now that he knows where I live. Five minutes with Belmont, and he’d spill the beans. We share a good chuckle before we say good-bye.
 

I go into the kitchen and cook the tuna steak I sliced in half before leaving this morning. I have to hand it Heloise—she knows me better than I thought. I find spinach and onions to sauté, and the Greek feta salad dressing is one-hundred percent organic with nothing on the label that’s hard to pronounce. Unless I’m on the road, I’m a clean eater.
 

I make a tuna burger and a cup of mint tea, and go upstairs to work. However, I sit at the desk unable to lose my yearning for my husband. He’s been screwing another woman, and my soul just knows he’s done it more than once. Regardless, I want him to ravish me. I run my fingers through my hair, messing it up, as I try to stave off the anxiety. I get up and take long steps to my bedroom. I stand in front of my cell phone, which is sitting on top of the dresser. After a deep breath, I pick it up and dial him. It rings once.

“Hey,” Belmont answers.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”
 

“Fine.”

It’s silent.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Where are you?”

“I’m just walking into the hotel. I was at a bar. I got your message.”

I squeeze my eyes, regretting what I said in that message. “Oh, sorry about that. I totally jumbled it up.”

“You’re in Chicago, right?”

“Um-hum.”

“You want some company?”

I release the breath I’ve been holding. “Um-hum.”

“What’s your address?”

I give it to him, wolf down the rest of my tuna burger, and brush my teeth before jumping in the shower. Belmont likes my honeysuckle-scented lotion, so I put it on. I don’t want to look as though I’m in it for the sex tonight, so I put on an oversized T-shirt and leg warmers. Belmont knows the outfit as my work-in-the-home-office clothes, and this look usually drives him insane with lust. I fluff out my hair, the way he loves it. I smooth on a little matte dusty-rose lipstick.
 

The doorbell chimes. I jump. That was fast.

Dire Consequences

Belmont looks divine and smells delicious.

“Hey,” he says as though he’s out of breath.

“Hey.”
 

I wonder if I’m staring into his eyes like he’s staring into mine. He puts his hands on my waist and comes in for a kiss. It starts slowly, as if we’re rediscovering each other. I forget where I am. The taste of his mouth is gratifying. The door slams. He lifts me off my feet, walks me inside, and our tongues and lips are entangled as my backside meets the sofa cushion.
 

“You know what this outfit does to me,” Belmont says as he pulls down my panties.
 

Next thing I know, his face is between my legs, and he’s latched on to my clit. I whimper and moan. He’s looking at me, but my eyes won’t stay open long enough to meet his gaze. He moans as though I taste delicious. I run my fingers through his hair. His hands knead my stomach as my muscles tighten. My wriggling and moaning excites him even more. He whimpers louder, intensifying whatever he’s doing with his tongue. The impact is immediate. I cry as pleasure streams through my pussy. He never fails to take me there—never.
 

We’re kissing, and my taste is in his mouth. The tone of our kiss has changed. The warmth of life emanates from his body. His strong frame and the depth of our kiss are the conduits that flood my heart with love. Belmont forces his mouth off mine, and we squeeze each other tightly. My ear is against his chest, listening to how fast his heart is beating.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He doesn’t reply.

“You still don’t believe me?” I ask.

“I believe you,” he whispers.

“You don’t sound as if you do.”

“Do you want to go for a drive?”

I hesitate. That was out of the blue. “Now?”

“Let’s go.” He frees me from his embrace.

I’m inclined to resist. It’s just another instance of Belmont calling the shots. But I love his spontaneity. “I’ll go put something on.”

He caresses my wrist. “You’re fine.”

“I can’t go out like this.”

“The driver is out front.”

I narrow one eye. “You arrived intending to take me somewhere?”

He smirks. “I arrived intending to do what I did. But I’ve been in town for a while without you. We have some catching up to do.” He folds his fingers between mine and kisses my knuckles.

“I didn’t think of Chicago as a romantic city.”

“It can be what we make it.” The look in his eyes is sexy.
 

“Well, I should at least get a coat. It’s chilly outside.”
 

Belmont holds out his jacket for me to slip into. He always has the answer.
 

“Okay,” I say.

We hobble down the steps to where a black limousine awaits. I haven’t ridden in one of those since prom.
 

“A limo?” I ask.

Belmont rubs my back. “I ordered one special for us.”

“That fast? I just called you about an hour ago.”

He winks. “Money talks, baby.”
 

The driver is pretty young, about college aged. He opens the door to the back, which is decked out with white leather seats that look like sofas. Rose petals have been spread on top of a furry runner in the aisle. A bottle of champagne is chilling on a lit bar. We slide inside and get comfortable in each other’s arms.
 

Belmont orders the driver to keep driving until he knocks on the window and not to turn down the same street twice. The driver seems to welcome the challenge. He glances at me before he closes the window separating us.
 

Belmont and I gaze into each other’s eyes. We have so much to talk about, but I’m just happy to be with him. I don’t want to ruin the mood by bringing
her
up. I always knew Jacques was involved with other women while he was married to Heloise, and I swore I would never marry a man who cheated on me. Belmont and I are separated, but we’re still married. If they’d just shared a kiss, then I wouldn’t care. But sex is the betrayal.

“Come here,” he whispers.
 

Our lips touch. The kiss starts slow, tenderly. I squeeze him tighter, separate our mouths, and press my nose against his neck. Dear God, I love the way he smells. His cheek strokes mine, then the other. Each touch stirs an energy that makes me giddy. I’m intoxicated, floating on air. Our lips brush as our faces continue to pet each other. Every molecule of me desires him.
 

My hand comes down on his crotch. He’s so hard that he just might burst. I unzip his pants and wrap my hand around his shaft. Belmont moans on contact. The head is already slippery. He pinches my nipples and tosses his head against the seat as I ride my hand up and down his rigid shaft.
 

I lock eyes with Belmont and run my tongue across my lips. His dick twitches, and his eyes shine with lust. I let my mouth water and lower it over his pole. I suck until his tip touches the back of my throat. Belmont whimpers and shivers. I restrain my teeth and keep up the suction as I bob my head. Then I do what he loves the most: I suck the tip and circle my tongue around it. The taste of his salty, sticky wetness fills my mouth.

“Fuck,” he mumbles.
 

The next thing I know, he’s lifting me onto his lap. His fingers test my wetness before he separates my legs. We gasp as he breaks through my inner sanctum.
 

“Oh, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking tight and wet.”

After three slow, indulgent thrusts, he pins my hips against his cock and mumbles something about my pussy. I know to keep still. He’s overstimulated and doesn’t want to come yet.