Page 22 of The Marriage Deal (Hawthorne Billionaires #6)

Levi

SHE WAS RIGHT. WE were probably better off not having sex and keeping things professional, but not only had we blown past that gate, I didn't care. I wanted her and damn the consequences. The sex only proved how compatible we are. It was everything I dreamed of and yet not at all what I expected.

Damn, we fit so well last night. Her pussy was so snug that I thought I was going to come as soon as I entered her.

But something in me made me stop. The need to pleasure her, to hear her come apart in my arms, overwhelmed everything else and made me slow down.

Her pleasure was just as, if not more, erotic than any porn movie.

Elle was the woman I had been waiting for all these years. Last night proved it. All that was left was to prove to her we were right. We fit. We were perfect together.

A cannon sounded, taking me out of my thoughts.

"Fire!" A man shouted on the field, and another cannon went off.

The reenactment was slightly inaccurate, but the history academics around me who might point this out in a movie were clapping along as they watched.

I don't blame them, the reenactment was well done.

Elle in particular seemed invested. Odd, considering she didn't like the Civil War era.

Too much death and suffering for my liking, I once heard her say.

She was either focused on the battlefield or ignoring me.

The sun above us was hot, and she was fanning herself with the little pamphlet we got from the military museum and simultaneously using it as a shade.

There was a guy selling umbrellas and handheld fans at the entrance when we got in.

I had ignored him when we got in, now, I realize why he was there.

"I'm coming back," I said to her.

The umbrella cost twice the regular amount, and the fan was just as expensive.

I came back with the fan and nudged her.

She looked at me, surprised. "Here," I said and gave her the hand-held device.

The two puffy buns she had tied her hair into, bobbed when she turned her head.

She had not requested my help styling her hair like she had promised.

I had gone down to thank the concierge for the recommendations he gave me, and when I came back, she was already done and on her way to breakfast.

"What is it?" She glared at the fan suspiciously.

"You look hot," I said.

Her gaze snapped to my face.

“Literally.”

Her frown deepened.

“It's a fan.” I turned it on, and the cool, artificial wind blew between us. She grabbed it immediately and focused it on her boobs. "Oh, thanks," she practically moaned. "Oh wow," she said as I opened the umbrella and shaded us both.

"Wow, you came prepared." She leaned into me so she could be fully covered by the umbrella. A small smile threatened to break through my lips as her arm grazed mine. I should have thought about this sooner.

"I didn't. I bought it over there." I gestured at the confection stand. Elle frowned and looked at me as though she were seeing something she's never seen before.

"Thanks," she said. Then added, "Doesn't mean I am going to sleep with you. I am not that cheap."

"I wasn't thinking about it."

She turned her gaze away from me, blushing. "I never… I was just…"

"The offer is still on the table, though."

I leaned in and whispered. "Don't you want to feel me between your thighs again?" She jerked back, startling Gina, an archeologist, sitting beside us. "Sorry," Elle muttered and then slapped my thigh. "Look what you're making me do."

"So you still want me. Noted."

"No," she said in a hushed tone. "I don't. One night was enough. I had my fill. The money is on the dresser."

"If you think making me feel like a sex worker will dissuade me, you're mistaken."It only made me want to prove how good I can make her feel. "This slut will lick your cunny all night long, Missus."

"Cunny?" She rolled her eyes at my archaic term, her gaze on the battlefield. But a smile popped at the corner of her lips. When she turned to face me again, she had schooled her features into a cool, bland mask."I am not available, mister. Get your pleasure elsewhere."

"But you're the only one who can satisfy me." I trailed my finger down her arm. "There's only one woman I want, and it's you."

Her eyes darkened. Desire flaming up. Heat spread through my body that had nothing to do with the weather.

A cannon sounded as I pressed against her ever so slightly.

I thought I saw her come closer too, but at the last second she pulled back, cutting off the string of desire, and turned back to the field.

The reenactment was in its final act. We watched as the soldiers performed their last battle as my heart hammered to the drumbeat.

I wanted to stay close to her, but being this close, inhaling her scent was only driving me crazy.

And the rejection only making me even more determined to have her again.

After the reenactment was over, we went to a luncheon Thompson had planned, which was a cross between a barbeque and a picnic.

Somewhere along the line, I had been given the barbeque task while Elle got busy setting up the picnic.

We didn't get together again until it was time to settle down and eat.

By then, half the group was halfway drunk and the other half itching to get there.

"I had no idea the geriatrics were this rowdy," Elle said to me as Thompson and the husband of one professor tried to reenact what really happened on the battlefield of Gettysburg only to clash into the other and fall on top of each other in a messy heap.The two men triedand failed to get up.

I shook my head. "If I had known, I would have taken them up on their offer a long time ago."

"They invited you before?" She asked me, sliding over to me on the picnic bench.

I'm not sure she noticed that she was moving to my side, and I didn't want her to take note only for her to withdraw.

We were sitting on our own with the entire six people table to ourselves.

We had booked a bigger part of the park and had a great deal of privacy as a group.

I nodded. "I didn't need to be married or be dating someone. Thompson even suggested setting me up with one of his kids."

"Oh!"

"I know. It didn't feel as odd as it does now."

"Interesting." She ripped a piece of the bun in her hand and popped it in her mouth. A simple act that had no business being as seductive as it was. "You could be sitting with a younger, feminine version of Thompson right now in a different universe."

"Never," I said, my gaze lingering on her mouth, watching the way it moved.

"Don't." The breathlessness in her voice made me gaze into her eyes. The dark brown eyes were a chocolate shade in the sunlight.

"What?"

"Look at me like that."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like you want to devour me."

"I do. You know I do."

Her breath hitched in her throat. She broke the stare and turned to her charred chicken. She broke a piece, placed it on a piece of a bun and ate.

"Stop!" she said again.

"What am I doing that you want me to stop?"

She tilted her head to the side, facing me. "Acting like a deranged voyeur is not going to get you in my pants."

I gazed at her arm as it grazed mine. A few moments ago, I was sure she was a few inches away from me. And I am pretty sure I didn't move an inch. "Then why are you rubbing your body against mine?"

She jerked back, but did not make an effort to move away. "I am not!"

I glanced down at where our arms touched.

"You're seeing things."

I got back to my food. We ate in silence, watching Thompson and his friend try for what I was sure to be the fifth time now to do something they had failed to do four times before.

"How did you know yesterday was my birthday?"

Elle wasn't looking at me when she asked, but I could tell the question wasn't as casual as she had posed it. Her back was stiff, and she was avoiding eye contact. "I told you. I've always known. What I want to know is why you don't celebrate it."

She whipped her head. "How do you know that?"

"Because whenever anyone congratulates you, you don't look happy, but sad."

Her eyes watered. "You noticed that?"

That and other things. Like how she did not like the one time when Wyatt bought her a bouquet of red roses that filled her office and hired an acappella group to serenade her.

Many people had passed by, commenting on how lucky she was.

But she looked like she was drowning in the flowers.

A few moments later, I saw her coming out of the office, her eyes tear-stained.

That was the last time Wyatt did anything big for her birthday.

"I know you don't like celebrating it, and I promise I wasn't trying to do a whole thing, but I wanted you to be happy. If you didn't like—"

"I liked it. I liked it very much."

"Then why?"

She took a deep breath. "My father died on my birthday.

Not only that, it was his birthday as well.

We share the same day, you see. He had been sick for a while, and it was hard on my sister and me.

The previous week, while in hospital, he had talked about celebrating it with me.

So we made arrangements to bring the cake to the hospital.

And flowers. My dad loved flowers. He was a macho man through and through, but he always made sure our house had fresh flowers.

So, my sister and I bought a car full of red roses.

And when we arrived at the hospital, that's when we learned my dad had died.

I had to drive the car back, in a car full of roses and cake.

When he died." The last sentence came out in a choked sob that she quickly swallowed.

She sniffed and exhaled. Then flashed a sad smile.

"I've always hated roses since that day. And my birthday."

"No wonder you did like what Wyatt did."

She frowned. "You're oddly perceptive."

"Not perceptive enough not to throw you a birthday celebration."

Her hand went to mine, splaying her small fingers on top of mine on the table. "I loved what you did. It was the best birthday gift anyone has given me in a long time." In a much lighter tone, she added. "Orgasms not included."

"You didn't like the orgasms I gave you?" I feigned a wounded expression.

"I liked them well enough. I just don't consider them part of the birthday gift. If you enjoy giving it too much, then it's not a gift. As per the gift-giving rules."

"I've never heard of them."

"Santa invented them. It's a well-known fact." She chuckled. I joined in her laughter.

◆◆◆

WE GOT BACK FROM the retreat Sunday evening.

I drove Elle to her place thinking of ways to get her to stay at mine, but I couldn't come up with any.

And besides, after her confession, I didn't want to pressure her into being with a guy who was only desperate to be in her pants because he slept with her one night.

I was that guy. And I was getting really desperate.

I parked my car in her driveway, and she got out to open the door.

As I was unloading her suitcase, she came back, a frown marring her brow.

She held up a paper. "The house is still under repair.

" She shook her head. "Can you give me one sec?

" She took out her phone, and I watched as she paced in the driveway making a call.

When the phone was answered, she wandered off into the house.

A few minutes later, she came back looking dejected.

Her jeans soaked ankle deep, and her sneakers making squishing noises as she walked.

"I can't stay here for at least two weeks. The pipe burst, and there's water all over. Apparently, the entire thing needs to be replaced."

"That's horrible."

"I know! Can you take me to a hotel? The landlord has agreed to foot the bill for my stay there while the place is under construction."

I was about to nod in agreement, and then it dawned on me. I made a silent prayer to God or the gods for this landlord and his shitty home.

"That won't be possible, I am afraid. Can you imagine what people would say if they found out that my wife is staying at some cheap hotel? They'll think our marriage is already on the rocks. That won't do for your reputation, I'm afraid, considering people already think you cheated on Wyatt."

She shrugged. "What am I supposed to do?"

"It was already weird that we weren't living together. Come stay with me."