Satisfaction Guaranteed (28 page)

Gage, admitting he was at fault? Emma tried to take it in, tried to reconcile the patient, seductive stranger who'd met her at the door with the proud, stubborn man she lived with.

"I'm glad," she said finally. "That you didn't cheat. Because I don't think I could have ever gotten past that."

"You had sex with me thinking I cheated."

Emma closed her eyes. He would point that out. "Yes, I did. It happens all the time. Sex with the ex. It's comfortable and familiar, and people find the habit hard to break." And she could understand why now. Ex marks the spot, she thought, remembering how he'd known exactly where to find the sensitive point inside her to bring her off. The kind of knowledge that only came with deep familiarity.

"So you were willing to sleep with me but not sure you wanted to live with me again?" His voice sounded hard, and Emma forced herself not to flinch.

"I didn't know," she answered honestly. "I knew if you'd slept around on me, nothing would ever be the same between us. I knew I still loved you, but I didn't know if I could forgive you."

"You planned to cheat on me," Gage said.

"I couldn't do it." She swallowed, feeling a hard lump in her throat. "Whatever our problems, I couldn't take that step. And I thought I was losing my mind, because I felt like I was with you. Then I realized I wanted to be with you."

"I'm glad you wanted to be with me." He freed her hands and levered himself off her, lay beside her, and pulled her back into his arms. "Although I didn't mind giving you
Adam if that was what you needed to believe that you're a beautiful, desirable woman."

She sighed and burrowed into him. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about all this right now." The past and the future both seemed fraught with difficulties, but in this moment, here and now, they had a fragile truce. They were together and talking, and sex had reestablished one bond they'd always shared. As infrequent as sex had become in their too busy and too separate lives, Gage had always made certain it was good for her. Which was probably why she'd missed it so much when he didn't have the time or energy.

"Tired?" Gage stroked her hair as he held her.

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his skin in the process. "Very." She felt emotionally drained as well as physically spent. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and rest. "I haven't slept well for weeks," she admitted a few minutes later.

"Me either." She felt his arms tighten around her. "I kept reaching for you at night and then realizing all over again that you weren't there." His lips brushed her hair. "I want you back, Emma. I want you home with me where you belong."

It was good to know where she stood, at least. Gage still wanted her. Enough to have planned this elaborate charade and to seduce her by steps and stages. It didn't erase the past or the way she'd felt all the nights she'd waited for him to come home, but knowing he did still want her soothed her bruised spirit.

He drew the covers up around her shoulders, and Emma relaxed with the warmth of his body and the blankets
cocooning her. She'd missed this the most. Going to bed with Gage wasn't just about sex, it was the warmth and closeness and security she felt when she curled up with him at night. They had more to deal with, she knew that. But not now. She closed her eyes and let sleep steal over her, weighing her body down.

She woke to a series of light kisses on her forehead, nose, and cheeks. Emma blinked her eyes open and focused on her husband's face close to hers. So familiar, yet in some ways it was like seeing him for the first time.

She remembered the high school Gage very well, too good-looking in his letter jacket with his blond hair long on the top, brown eyes that followed her and made her belly flutter, an athletic build that had enticed her younger self and hadn't been lost in adulthood. Instead, he'd filled out a little more in his twenties, gained another inch or two in height. The hair was worn in a much more conservative style now, but his eyes still made butterflies dance in her tummy, because she knew exactly what it meant when he looked at her that way now.

"Good morning," she said. Then she noticed that the light in the room came from a bedside lamp. "Or is it still night?"

"Early morning." Gage stretched out on top of her, his legs and arms on either side of her body making a loving cage over her with the covers between them. "Room service has delivered. I was hungry. I thought you might be, too."

Her stomach growled at the mention of food, and he grinned at her. "Thought so."

Her appetite was back, apparently. In the past few weeks, it had deserted her for the most part. Not that the scales reflected any difference, Emma thought with an inner sigh.

"I don't have anything to wear," she said as the fact dawned on her.

"Yes, you do." Gage kissed the corner of her mouth, then teased her lips with his. "I love the outfit you wore last night, but I have something else for you to put on this morning."

Emma considered the implications of that. "We're playing dress-up?"

"We're playing, but dressing you is only part of it." Gage rocked his pelvis into hers in a blatant demonstration of one way he wanted to play with her. "I had you delivered to me, and I have this suite for the weekend. Consider it your golden cage and me the holder of the key. You, luscious Emma, are my captive. You will wear the clothes I picked for you to wear, and we will play with the toys I bought for us because this game is far from over and I play to win."

Her lips formed an "oh" as she realized he intended to continue to be her captor while she remained his plaything.

"Nod and I'll let you up." Gage smiled at her. "If you have doubts, the food will get cold while I rip off those covers and have you for breakfast instead."

Heat curled in her belly, and Emma woke all the way up without any help from caffeine. Her body's response told her that physically, at least, she wanted very much to continue what they'd started last night. How did she feel in her mind, in her heart? Cautious. Interested. Hopeful. "It's a nice cage," she said.

His face turned serious. "I thought it was an improvement over the backseat of a car."

"That had its own charm," Emma said thoughtfully. "I felt like such a bad girl, letting you go all the way with me in the back of your car. And there was the risk of getting caught. And the thrill of knowing you wanted me so much that you'd take me anywhere you could get me alone." She stretched under him, luxuriating in the feel of his body on hers. "Of course, we're older now. Stiffer joints, less flexible. More serious consequences if we get caught in the act. I think car sex is probably doomed to remain in the nostalgic past."

Gage looked at her in silence for a minute. "You're serious. Your first time was in a car and you liked it?"

"Well, it was kind of uncomfortable because it was the first time, but you're pretty good with your hands." Emma gave him a smile wide with remembered satisfaction. "As I recall, you got me there twice before you did the deed, and it all went pretty well."

And after that, as her body quickly grew accustomed to his, sex had been anything but uncomfortable, no matter how cramped the car was.

He shook his head. "Emma, I felt like the biggest loser and the biggest winner on the planet at the same time. You said yes to me, and I wasn't about to stop. I wanted you too much. But I knew you deserved better, and I swore I'd make it up to you by making sure you had better in the future." Gage levered himself up and moved to sit beside her. "At least tell me you like the scene of your present seduction."

"I like it very much. What I've seen and felt of it, anyway." She smoothed her hand over the mattress. "Um, you mentioned something to wear?"

"I did." Gage stood and gestured toward the window
with one hand. Emma turned her head to look and saw a chair with something peach colored draped over it.

She sat up and hesitated a moment before throwing back the covers. Gage had seen her naked enough times to make modesty ridiculous.

He watched her stand up with blatant interest and reached out to pet her pubic curls. "Spread your legs, Emma."

"I thought I was getting dressed," she said. She felt proud of herself for not stuttering.

"First you're going to spread your legs."

She drew in a sharp breath as she felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment and shifted her feet apart, opening her thighs in the process. He palmed her sex and stroked her labia, squeezed her mons, toyed with the soft folds at his fingertips.

"I love to touch your pussy, Emma." He held her eyes while he moved his hand between her legs. "I always have. The first time you let me touch you through your panties, I almost came in my shorts. Getting my hands and my mouth on you makes me hard every time. You can get dressed, but whenever I want to touch your pussy, or see it, or have it, I'm going to tell you to spread your legs. And you'll do it because you belong to me and because it makes you hot."

Words failed her entirely, but she did manage a nod. Having her husband order her to spread her legs affected her like nothing she'd ever imagined. He'd said something the night before about domination and submission in the bedroom. Was this what he'd meant?

He stroked his hand over her in a final caress. "Get dressed. I'll wait for you out in the living room."

Emma nodded again and stayed frozen in place with her
legs apart, watching him walk away until he was out of sight. Then she blinked a few times in an effort to focus. Dressing. He'd picked something for her to wear, and if it was anything like last night's outfit, it would be something they'd both enjoy.

The peach fabric turned out to be a dress with long sleeves and an A-line skirt that came midway down her calves and buttoned all the way from hem to neck in front. The scooped neck was low, and Emma thought she detected a pattern in Gage's clothing choices. He liked displaying her breasts.

She held the dress to her front and looked down at it, realizing that in spite of the deceptively conservative style, the low neck and all those buttons, not to mention the skirt, meant easy access to any part of her Gage wanted, without taking it off. She looked at the chair's cushion to see if there was anything else, like underwear. Or if he intended her to be completely bare underneath.

A bra in matching peach lace sat there. Emma picked it up and saw that the see-through lace cups would hide absolutely nothing. The low cut of the bra meant her breasts would be exposed nearly to the nipple again. Where had he found this stuff? Not in a typical department store lingerie selection, that was certain.

There was another scrap of peek-a-boo peach lace under the bra. It took her a minute to understand what it was, and when she did, she wondered why he'd bothered with anything. It formed a lacy frame for her sex while it left her crotch bare. He wouldn't even have a thin barrier of silk or lace to bar him from looking or touching. Or taking.

She sucked in a breath as she realized that he could simply lift her skirt and have her at any time, any way he wanted. She crumpled the lace in her hands and thought, My husband wants me to wear crotchless panties and spread my legs whenever he tells me to.

"I should have left two years ago," Emma whispered to the empty room. How stupid she had been, letting it go on for so long, being patient and understanding instead of complaining, feeling quietly wounded instead of throwing something at his head when he'd come home from Denver after being away on business while she turned thirty-three without him.

Gage had admitted he'd made mistakes. She had to take some of the blame for the state of their marriage, too. He'd ignored her needs, but she'd let him do it. She hadn't demanded better, had settled for silence and distance, and why?

Because I was always afraid he'd leave me
. The realization hit her like a blow to the stomach. She almost doubled over from it. Shy, quiet high school Emma had been out of her depth with the popular and good-looking football hero, amazed at her luck that he'd noticed her, stunned into disbelief that he wanted her. Hadn't she grown up at all in sixteen years? Was she still full of adolescent insecurity on the inside? Or just trapped in the patterns of old habits she'd long since outgrown? She'd felt trapped, and she'd come here in an attempt to break free.

Well, it looked as though Gage wanted to break free, too, while holding her captive and refusing to let her go. Crotchless panties. Spreading her legs on command.

Breakfast could be really interesting.

Emma stepped into the X-rated underwear first, then put on the rest of the getup.

"Hussy," Emma said to herself, and grinned. She felt pretty and feminine and brazen and sexual.

A quick search in the bathroom produced a comb. Emma smoothed out her hair and then took a good look at herself in the mirror. The signs of strain in her face had relaxed. She looked younger, happier. Pretty. Even sexy, with her cleavage shown off by the low neck of the dress with the visible edge of her lace bra hinting at what lay underneath. The peach color complimented her fair skin and hair, and knowing that she was bare at the crotch underneath made her feel she had a naughty secret. The knowledge glimmered in her eyes, giving them a sparkle she hadn't seen in a while.

She retraced her steps from the night before, this time seeing what her feet had touched, the thick plush carpet that stretched ahead, high ceilings overhead, recessed lighting, beautiful original paintings hung on softly tinted walls. The penthouse. He'd spared no expense. She was willing to bet they'd been drinking Dom Pérignon last night, too.