Page 45 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Connor

"Long day. Long week." A furrow forms between her brows. "Long months," she says on another yawn.

Long months? What does that mean? Those shadows drag down those beautiful hazel eyes of hers. Or perhaps, it’s the specter of sleep which turns them a dark green.

I tuck myself back into my boxers, then cuddle her close. "Sleep, I’ll wake you when we land."

I kiss the top of her head, lift her in my arms and walk toward the bedroom at the back of the plane.

The ability to be horizontal on a flight is not something I’ll ever take for granted. Not after being undercover and having to fold my six-foot-four-inches height into economy class seating.

Or curling my length into spaces where I needed to stay hidden as I conducted surveillance. It’s made me appreciate the Davenport name, and the wealth that comes with it, anew.

It’s why, when I realized I could help children in war-torn countries by supplying food and medicine, I knew I had to find a way to access my trust fund.

How can I sit on my hands when the means to save lives is within reach?

I tighten my hold around the woman I know is responsible for that. The trained part of me tells me it’s healthy to feel these emotions. It confirms to me I’m alive, that I’m not living a lie.

That I’m in my skin… Living a double life means, I’m mostly closed off to emotions that normal humans face.

It’s the only way to survive living in another character’s skin.

This freedom to allow my thoughts and feelings to lead is refreshing and scary.

And I’m not prepared for it. Which is why meeting Phoenix has hit so hard.

I’m like a child learning to self-regulate all over again.

I walk into the suite and lower her sleeping form to the bed. Wanting her to be more comfortable I decide to undress her. I slip off her ballet pumps and strip off her yoga pants.

Unable to resist, I lean down and sniff her the triangle between her legs. The sweet scent of her arousal makes my mouth water.

I really shouldn’t... but if I pulled off her underwear, I could make her come properly. I could give her relief.

As if reading my thoughts. She rubs her thighs together. Then parts them on a moan.

I glance up to find her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Her eyelids flutter open.

“Connor, please,” she whispers.

Instantly, I slide her panties down her gorgeous legs. When I glance down at the flesh between her thick thighs, I take in the moisture coating her lower lips. My heart rate escalates. My blood pounds at my temples. I need to taste her. Right now.

I sink down to my knees beside the bed and lick it off. A low groan emerges from her lips.

Unable to stop myself, I lick up the crease between her legs, around her already engorged nub. I slide my fingers inside her, gently weaving them in and out of her while I nibble on her clit.

She writhes. A fully body shudder grips her. She’s so close.

I go to work, licking her pussy, curving my fingers inside her, biting down gently on the irresistible button of her cunt until, with a sigh, her hips twist, her back arches and the moisture of her cum coats my mouth and runs down my chin.

Her orgasm is like a gentle summer shower sweeping over the English countryside, coating the greenery with pearls of reflected light, and turning the earth into a fertile life-giving organism.

When she’s still, I raise my head, and move up her body, making sure not to touch her until I kiss her lips. I share her breath, and when I pull back, her lips cling to mine briefly.

Then she turns over on her side and lapses into slumber. I pull the cover over her, watching her sleep for a few minutes, before I straighten, then leave the room. Walking into the main cabin, I take my seat and pull out my phone.

The steward, who magically disappeared while we were occupied, comes by to check on me. I tell him I don’t need anything before I dial Brody’s number.

It rings twice then, “Wassup?" Brody’s voice is alert.

"What are you doing up so early?"

I hear the creak of a chair, then the shuffle of papers. He must check the time, for he exclaims, “I lost track of time."

"You’ve been working all night?"

"It would seem that way." I hear him crack his neck. "But since you’ve interrupted my flow, this is a good time to go home." I sense him rising to his feet, the rustle of fabric indicating he must be pulling on his coat. "Which begs the question, what are you doing up at four in the morning?"

"I’m on the jet."

"Okay."

"With Phoenix.

"O-k-a-y?" A note of caution sweeps into his voice.

"A couple of hours from Gibraltar."

Silence. "Did you say Gibraltar?"

I nod, though he can’t see it, but he must sense it because the air over the phone waves grows heavy. Then he whistles. "Holy shit, you’re doing it?"

He makes the connection right away, since Gibraltar is one of the few places where couples can marry quickly without needing a lengthy residency—much like Vegas.

"It would seem that way, yes." Unable to sit still, I rise to my feet and begin to pace the aisle between the seats. I take in the plush leather of the chairs, the darkness outside, interrupted by occasional far-off lights of a city we’re flying over.

"You sure?" His voice is steady, but there's doubt bleeding into his words.

"No. Yes. I don’t know."

"So… You’re not sure if you want to marry her?"

"Oh, I’m sure about that." I hesitate.

The silence stretches. When he speaks next, his tone is softer.

"It’s not like you to be this indecisive.

Of all of us, you were very clear about not wanting to be a Marine.

You were the only one who could stand up to Arthur and tell him that life wasn’t for you.

You convinced him there were other ways you could be of service to the country.

You argued with him and refused to give in. And when he still didn’t listen you?—"

"I went off food and water for almost a week until he gave in." Yeah. That was me. Stubborn bastard. Even more stubborn as a child, when life’s experiences hadn’t yet chipped away at my determination.

One could argue, at my core, I'm the same. More cautious, perhaps, since getting in the Secret Service. More patient, since I’ve learned to channel my brain power into biotech advances.

At heart, though, I'm still that child. Idealistic. Wanting to make the world a better place.

Getting bored easily was the bane of my existence. Until I understood that there's a bigger picture—a reason for our living.

It was my mother’s devoutness that helped me find a focus. Going to church with her, realizing there was a higher power… Then discovering that didn’t explain many of the phenomena in daily life. Like why the sun rose in the east. Or why the sky was blue. Or why water never flowed uphill.

It was the laws of science that helped me understand the world around me better.

It helped me understand myself better. I’d found my calling: explaining the hidden, finding solutions to what people had deemed unsolvable.

And then, needing to have more than one obsession, and perhaps, because all of those arguments with Arthur had stuck in my head, I also applied to be in the British Secret Service. And was accepted.

No one was prouder than Arthur that I worked for the government. It did mean having to spend long lengths of time away from home on undercover missions, while building up my own company within the Davenport Group to drive biotech breakthroughs.

And then, the shock that Arthur owns my patents. I was pissed off at myself. I left the process of patent registration to my team.

A team which, I now realize, Arthur bribed to register the patents in his name. A team I've since let go.

The anger I felt at the betrayal gave way to resignation.

I should have been more vigilant.

The crafty bugger found a way to hold something over me. A route to coercing me into settling down.

Of course, it resulted in finding Phoenix. I might have met her anyway, but to think of marrying her so quickly after meeting her—that’s due to Arthur putting that thought in my head, I must concede.

Maybe, that son of a gun’s methods work, after all?

"So, what I’m saying is that you always knew what you wanted and went after it. To find you vacillating is unusual."

"I’m not vacillating," I protest.

"No?"

"I’ve never been as sure of anything as I am about wanting Phoenix as my life partner. However—" I hesitate. "There’s the fact that she doesn’t feel the same."

Another silence, this time filled with surprise, and more than a little disbelief. Then he barks out a laugh. "Mr. Bachelor-for-Life finds someone, only the woman doesn’t have feelings for him. Who’d have thought?"

"I’m going to disconnect now."

"No, hold on. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. Or maybe, I did. You have to admit, it’s a surprise. It’s not like any of us Davenports have a problem finding women."

It’s true. Thanks to the money and prestige that come with the Davenport name, women have been throwing themselves at us since each of us hit puberty. I see the truth in what he’s saying. But it doesn’t make it any easier to hear it.

"I gotta say, I have no idea what it's like to be in your shoes, except, ouch, that must hurt."

I wave at the steward who’s hovering in the doorway to the galley. He snaps to attention and disappears inside the sleek space.

"I’m sure I can change her mind," I say with confidence. "Only—" I hesitate. "Only, she has something on her mind. Something she’s promised she’ll share with me… Just not yet."

"Okay."

I hear him thinking.

"She’s been upfront with you about it, so there’s that."

"It’s the one thing giving me hope that she’ll eventually tell me about whatever it is that’s bothering her, but damn, if I don’t want her to tell me about it right away."

"It’s bothering you, huh?"

"Of course, it is."

The steward walks over with a snifter of whiskey and places it in the holder built into the armrest.

Yes, it’s almost dawn and I have a big day ahead, but I need the crutch of something a little more substantial to keep me going. I nod my thanks, and he leaves, sliding the doors to the galley shut behind him.

I cup my fingers around the tumbler. "We’re getting married. Surely, she should trust me with her secrets?"

“And have you told her all of your secrets?”

“I don’t have any… Not the kind she’s hinting at.”

“Have you told her about your undercover missions?”

I pause. “You know, I can’t. That shit’s classified.”

I sense Brody nodding.

“I’m not saying she’s right to shut you out. But you both have secrets. And you’ve known each other—what? A month?”

He has a point.

“That's the deal with marriages of convenience, right? You commit first. Then you unpack the rest…later. If you’re smart.”

I sip my whiskey, letting the burn remind me I’m still in control. I’ve known Phoenix for just over thirty days. Many people don’t reveal their real selves in thirty years.

I watched her before I ever spoke to her. I mapped her routines, her tells, her moods. I learned what makes her laugh, what grates on her nerves, what pulls her attention when she’s pretending not to care.

But knowing her preferences and her patterns isn’t the same as knowing her soul.

And I want that. I want her—entirely.

To get under her skin and stay there, I have to earn more than the right to her body. I need her trust. Her truth. Her past. Her fears. Her fire. Her secrets. The parts she doesn’t even show herself.

I know she feels the pull too—the gravity between us. It’s not just physical. It’s cellular. Atomic.

My pulse spikes every time she walks into the room. My brain generates white noise when she looks at me like she might let me in. It’s not want. It’s need.

And I know she feels it. She just doesn’t trust it yet.

Brody’s right.

I should stop expecting full surrender from someone still bracing for impact.

I need to give her room to breathe. Need to give her enough space to choose me on her own. Then, when she does… She won’t just open up. She’ll fall for me.

"When did you get this wise about relationships?" I scowl.

"Might have to do with watching each of you fall for your women and tie yourselves up in knots."

I hear the smirk in his voice.

"But seriously"—his tone turns serious—"give it time, eh?"

"Yeah." I lean back in my seat. "Thanks for the reminder."

"I assume Arthur doesn’t know about this sudden little trip of yours?"

"Of course, not."

He blows out a breath. "You realize, I’ll need to let him know?"