Penthouse Prince (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

She stretched and rolled to her side to find the other side of the bed empty. The pillow, though, still smelled like him, and she tugged it close to bury her face in it. All night, he’d tempted and teased her, not taking his own satisfaction—well, not until she expressed curiosity about his penis. Making a man as powerful and intelligent as Camden lose his breath and tremble in desire was heady stuff.

It turned out she could give as good as she got, in this arena at least. She wasn’t half bad at it, after all. And he’d—

She couldn’t even think of words to describe all the things they’d done. Her smile spread as memories of the night before rippled over her, causing little aftershocks of pleasure to clench the muscles between her legs and leave her belly full of butterflies.

He’d never tired of her, seeming just as thrilled by this part of their relationship as she couldn’t help but be. They’d not talked, other than whispered demands and sighs of pleasure. Every time she’d thought they might talk, he’d teased another overwhelming orgasm from her well-used body, and she’d forgotten she’d planned to talk first.

Somehow, the idea of talking wasn’t as scary now that she’d realized he loved her. He still hadn’t said it, but the way he’d touched her? It wasn’t just sex and a business arrangement.

But a new morning dawned, sunlight kissing their honeymoon suite, and she couldn’t hide from the facts any longer. She’d made love to her husband—repeatedly—and she still didn’t know what he wanted out of their pairing, not really, even if she could guess based on his actions he must feel something more than general caring for her.

It seemed beyond illogical for him to actually want to keep up the pretended marriage, not when it didn’t serve any purpose she could glean if he didn’t love her. It wasn’t like her appearing on his arm brought him any additional acclaim or helped his business any. Not to mention they’d had sex—
repeatedly.

Had she made a huge mistake? Was she just as bad as her mother, really, unable to think when it came to sex? He’d never once said he loved her, nor had he promised to make their vows into a real attempt at marriage, only agreed they could blend business with pleasure. Putting words to action, they’d had a
lot
of sex, and she’d woken up alone.

Probably that wasn’t a good sign.

Fumbling her way out of the sheet she’d somehow tangled up in while she slept, she managed to make it to the bathroom. Finding her rumpled clothes—which he’d tossed after round one and right before round two—she dressed and ran her hand through her hair. Grabbing her cell phone off the nightstand, she fired off a text to Lori to check on Kaycee.

She’s fine. I’m assuming you’re still with Camden?;)

He popped around the corner, two mugs of coffee in hand and…humming. His face looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen it, the constant lines carved in it from exhaustion gone, and a smile that didn’t look calculating curved his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You look quite chipper.”

“Surprisingly, you don’t. You’re thinking too hard. Quit giving me scrunchy face and drink some coffee.” He ducked his head and slanted his lips across hers, and she melted into the kiss. Once she couldn’t breathe right, he lifted his head again to smile down at her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she sighed back at him.

Cupping the mug of coffee in her hands, she wondered how hard it would be to convince him to crawl right back into bed.

“So, last night you wanted to talk.”

Since she’d been sipping the coffee, she swallowed a bigger gulp than she planned and burned her tongue. Once she’d choked for a second and shot him a glare, she managed, “Yes, I believe I tried to bring that up a few times.”

“We have forever to talk. We’re married, and I’ve explained that it suits me to stay that way.” He shrugged, not looking concerned.

“Camden—”

“You, drink the coffee. I’ll talk.” He stroked his fingertips across her forehead, moving her hair to tuck it behind her ear. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She blinked at him, and a hundred possible reasons for his apology flitted through her mind before the novelty of him apologizing caught up with the list. “For what, exactly?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful with you. In my defense, I, well, kind of got caught up in the moment. I said things I shouldn’t have said, but I wanted you. I have wanted you, for quite some time to be honest.”

She believed him, having been swept away in the storm of emotion herself. “Okay.”

“I don’t regret being with you, just to be clear. I do regret the way I acted before we made it to the bedroom…” He trailed off, one brow arched and lips scrunched. “Let me just be blunt. I can’t think of a flowery way to say, ‘I was so damned turned on and I’ve wanted you for so long, I couldn’t see straight, not to mention think in any kind of logical way, so I acted like an ass.’”

She smiled. “Um, me either. Or too. Whichever.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

She waited for him to add something, to admit he loved her.

She chewed on her lip and tilted her head. She finally met his blue-eyed gaze. “You want us to stay and keep things as they are…because we had sex. Like past the shares, just stay here indefinitely?”

“Yes.” He looked relieved. “I didn’t think you’d understand quite so easily.”

She shook her head and put down the coffee. When her thoughts scrambled on top of one another, she reached for it again and took another gulp. “So we’d what? Be married in name, have sex, and everyone is happy? That works for you?”

He nodded.

“What happens when the attraction wears off? Then we’re simply smiling strangers sharing a house?” She searched his face and hoped she’d see that he understood. That he’d admit he wanted that, too.

“We’ve discussed my feelings on that topic, Jeanie. I think being married is enough. It will offer you security. We don’t have to be alone, we would have each other.” He shrugged. “It removes all the usual lies couples tell each other that are eventually proved impossible and leads to breaking up. We could have the kind of relationship most people want, but don’t know how to maintain.”

“What if I’m not built like that? What if I need more than a roommate and lover? Maybe I can’t work that way, can’t turn off all my emotions like you can? What if I need love?”

“I want you to stay because you’re my
wife
.” His voice went a little hoarse, and his face looked serious. He cleared his throat and tried again, his expression modulated to a calm, and far more distant, mask. “You’re safer here. Staying makes sense; it is the logical choice for you.”

She stepped away from him. “I’ll always cherish what you did for me and Kaycee, but…”

She trailed off.

She could walk away. She could collect Kaycee and move somewhere else. File for a divorce or annulment or whatever…and it would be a very safe choice, as she’d go on with her life as it had been before he swept into it with his fast talk and contracts.

Or she could gamble on the fact he didn’t look like a man who was simply being logical. He looked like a man who cared very much what she thought. She could stick around, see if those budding emotions turned into love. She could wait him out, make him admit it.

In the meantime, she could show him how great having her as a wife would be.

She turned back to face him, then sat her mug on the nearby hall table before going up on tiptoes to slip her arms around his neck. The tension in his body didn’t release as he waited for her verdict. Which got her thinking…
why today?

Why was he pushing for her to commit to stay? It couldn’t be just because they’d had sex. He wasn’t a man led by emotions, hence the entire conversation up to that point.

“So, you want me to stay, but you haven’t said why you’re bringing it up. I’ve been here all week, after all, and you didn’t bring any of this up until this morning.”

If she’d thought his expression to be shuttered before, it snapped closed entirely at her words. An actual mask would have revealed more than his expression. “No, I didn’t.”

“What changed?”

He turned away from her, shoulders tense as he looked down the hallway toward the still open bedroom door. “They’ve found the loophole.”

Her hand fluttered to her throat.

“I’ve told you, I care about you. We’re good together.”

She shook her head. “And I’ve told you, that’s not enough. Not for me.”

Maybe it would hurt her to go, but it was better she leave while she remembered he’d written the words on the wall clear enough for even her to read. He didn’t love her, maybe couldn’t love anyone, and only a fool would continue to live in an illusion so well built, she’d even begun to believe it.

She remembered, in vivid detail, the day before.

And then the
night
before.

She’d come on to him, ripped off her clothes, and thrown herself in his lap like some desperate and shameless thing…

His response?

He’d carried her to bed, dumped her on the mattress like a sack of unwanted potatoes, and left her. Then, later in the night, he’d made love to her, and she’d confessed she loved him. His response to that? He’d only told her thank you in response.

Thank you. Who in the hell said “thank you” when someone declared her love for you?

My husband, that’s who.

Shaking her head, she refused to let tears spill. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about her. They’d been tired, had a long day, and she’d drank too much. Surely, with the light of day, he’d admit he felt the same way. He’d say the words…

“I love you,” she whispered. He didn’t answer, instead took her arm and led her to the kitchen of the suite.

“Look, I made coffee and breakfast. Nothing better for a bad head than a good, greasy breakfast. Rule number one, trust the hangover cure.” He plated eggs, some toast, and bacon. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed the bacon scent, but she’d been rather distracted by the coffee. Her nose, it seemed, had coffee-dar.

“I’m not hungry.” As if to call her a liar, her stomach growled.

“Sure, you’re not hungry. And I’m not rich. Now that we’ve lied once already this morning, let’s eat, shall we?” His hand at her waist guided her to the table, and she considered the plate as she sat.

“It looks good.” If she’d sounded startled, it wasn’t her fault. He was a rich boy from rich blood. Cooking wasn’t exactly a needed skill set.

“It tastes even better. Eat up. It will help, I promise.” He sat across from her and began forking into his own breakfast.

“You’re still in a suspiciously good mood.” She considered his face as she said it and realized his tone was a big fat lie, bigger than any he’d ever told in her presence.

The tired expression dominated his face. Not just peeking through, completely revealed in his face, puffy from lack of sleep and dark circles carving deep lines under his brilliant blue eyes. His lips were pulled down, creating lines almost as deep as those under his eyes.

He looked tired. He looked defeated.

Which made no sense, of course. If anyone had a right to look damaged this morning, it was her.

She swallowed hard. She didn’t like the sneak peek into his tortured soul. Eating gave her hands something to do. After a few bites—which were good, he hadn’t lied about that—she lay her fork down.

“Camden, where do we go from here? You said we aren’t getting divorced. You have your shares now, or must since you married just like your dad required. I’m not useful to you anymore and—”

She broke off, because her voice was about to break. She wasn’t sure she wanted the answers she’d demanded. If she was honest with herself, she cared about him. He’d wiggled under her skin and…

Well, God knew she couldn’t resist the feel of him, the temptation of him. She’d not been able to shake the memory of their stolen moments in the car or the kiss in the hall—for some reasons, those stuck out. Maybe because he’d not been acting for anyone during those occasions. Making her believe—or rather, hope—he wanted her.

As more than an employee and a means to an end.

As…well…as a woman.

Then that night in the dark…when she’d come to him, and he’d held her. Her heart seemed to squeeze in her chest at the memory. When she’d woken, he gazed down at her, not looking as tired, but more open than she’d ever seen him. His whimsical smile as he’d whispered
Hello, you
and traced his hand across her cheek and into her hair left her shivering even in memory.

But the questions needed to be asked. “I’m not useful to you anymore. So, where do we go from here?”

“Well, I thought maybe later we could go on a boat tour. Maybe do the winery thing—I’ve heard they do tastings, and those are supposedly quite romantic. Very honeymoon variety stuff.” He continued to eat his breakfast, his face cast down so she couldn’t read his expression.

She’d told him she loved him, and he’d thanked her. He hadn’t returned her sentiment, so maybe she was useful to him, but what did she need to be happy? She thought she’d be okay without love, even though her feelings for him were growing and the vows meant she’d be with him constantly, but in the cold light of day, she wasn’t.

When he hadn’t said he loved her, she’d felt so disappointed. She knew better now. She needed someone who loved her. “I can’t do this.”

As soon as the words slipped out, she longed to pull them back. To have unsaid them, or perhaps not thought them.

Her heart, as if to make up for the fear clogging it only a moment before, seemed to race double time in her chest and rattle against her ribs.

“Jeanie, if this is about sex—”

“No. Or mostly no.…” She couldn’t finish. Shame, an oily beast with sharp scales, slicked through her veins, cutting and leaving nasty residue where it passed.

“I think I’ve made it clear that I want you.”

Wanting was a far cry from loving. He’d taught her important lessons in passion over the duration of their time together. Desire clawed, hot and demanding, not manufactured or easy to stop once it started. Desire hardened her nipples; left her breathless, aching, needing him to take the passion he wakened and turn it into something tense and fragile.