Chapter 8

8

L IZ

I stare at him while he continues.

"It wasn't like she had finally come to grips with the fact that we were over, and I was at the point where no matter how much money she wanted from me, I still wanted a divorce. No. It wasn't that simple."

He sucks in a long breath and goes on.

"She became enraged with the idea that Rain was in my life. Period. Something about her made her reconsider her strategy and plans for the future. She wanted me to pay for being with Rain, and what better way to do that than agreeing to a divorce and taking as much money as she could from me? She got a lot," he says softly with no regret in his voice. "And it was all worth it, I have to say. We were two people wrapped in a story about to deliver some harsh truths and long lasting life lessons. She wanted what she wanted and thought she could get it from me. And I was foolish enough to give in without thinking about the consequences. That's how I learned not to ever make a life–altering decision under the influence of vile emotions. And that's how she learned that no money in the world can change someone's feelings toward her. We were even. We made mistakes and paid dearly. And then we moved on."

A few moments pass.

"Rain knew nothing about it because we weren't in that kind of relationship. She wasn't the person I had confided in. There was no need to bring that up. I paid her to have sex with her, and that was it. She didn't ask any questions. And I didn't feel the need to give her the scoop on my life story. She didn't give me the scoop on her life story either. I didn't know about her connection to James Sexton. Sure, I'd heard about him. Who hadn't? But I had no clue he and I were more than just acquaintances. So, in a way, Rain and I helped each other out. She helped me regain my freedom, and I helped her get back with James. Life has its strange ways when it comes to helping people out."

He smiles at some old memory before talking again.

"That's my story," he says, looking at me. "It's not some epic tale that you can put into a book," he adds, and I can't argue with him.

But there must be more to him than his failed marriage and penchant for paid sex.

With that being said, I've learned a lot about his past this evening, and I'm eager to move on.

I'm sure he feels the same.

"Speaking of money…" I murmur with a smile, shifting to a different topic. "Are we doing the money thing again?"

He flashes a knowing grin.

"Yes." Slowly, he lifts an eyebrow. "Did you buy something nice for yourself?"

Biting my lip, I crush a smile and nod.

"Yes," I say. "This."

I point to my outfit.

"I love it," he says. "You look beautiful," he adds quietly, a candid smile on his face, his mood shifting.

He no longer feels cold and guarded.

Our conversation has made the tension dissipate and helped us get a little closer.

He's my friend with benefits again.

Or my first client.

Or the fictional husband I'm doing naughty things with.

He is everything to me right now, and I want to make him aware of that.

"I'll be putting the money back, though," I say, anticipating a reaction from him.

"Why?"

He sounds intrigued.

"Money makes me anxious," I say. "When I have it, and when I don't have it. It doesn't matter the financial cycle I am in," I say, amused. "I can't handle it right. Plus, I don't want to get used to having money. Or your money, for that matter."

He weighs his answer as our eyes connect.

"The whole thing with getting 'my' money is to turn you on."

Oh, it does. He has no idea how much it does. Even now, talking about it, I feel warm and ready to peel my clothes off and wrap my legs around his waist.

I like the game we play.

It ignites all kinds of filthy fantasies, but it does that because I feel safe with him.

And it's not the first time I realize that.

Pondering a good comeback, I broaden my smile.

"It does turn me on," I say. "The problem is I could quickly fall in love with it," I add, and he flashes a grin."With your money," I specify. "And that can end badly for me."

"You have to be optimistic about it."

"I am. That's why I'm trying to use it judiciously."

"That's a good move," he says, rising to his feet. "Let's go inside," he murmurs, stretching his hand out to meet mine.

I pull up and give him my hand before walking with him into the house.

"So what do you plan to do with the money?" he asks, leading me to the bedroom.

I shrug.

"I don't know. Become an investor?"

A hint of humor colors my voice while his eyes twinkle with a smile.

"I can teach you how to do that. And also how to not get anxious because of money."

"I doubt you can do that," I reply. "There's only one way for me to kill that panic."

He shoots me a questioning look, and I continue.

"I need to have lots of it and also learn how to make it."

"I can teach you that too. Not tonight, though." He gives me a soft wink."You're still on my payroll, and I plan to make you earn your money," he says.

A sultry smile sits on his lips when he pushes a door open and invites me into the master bedroom on the second floor.

A glass wall overlooks the backyard and the pool, and I have a hard time taking my eyes away from the view.

I move closer to the glass wall, his steps trailing right behind me.

"You like it?" he asks, and I pivot to face him, unable to hide my enthusiasm.

"What a nice place…" I murmur, watching him close the gap between us.

"I'm glad you like it," he says with the voice of a faithful husband, slowly bringing his lips to mine.

The kiss comes like a gust of summer wind, warming my blood and making me ripe for his touch.

Kissing me slowly, he slides his hands inside my overcoat and peels it off my frame before reaching my zipper.

His quiet, pervasive moves make me aware of how anxious he's been to have me naked in front of him.

LIZ

Dark shadows grow across the wall, the fire crackles, the music is mellow, and the sheets smell like clementines and lavender.

"Let's take a shower," he says, moving his hands down my bare chest and taking me in like I'm a national treasure.

We're doing the opposite of heading to the shower.

He kisses my lips and neck, his hands kneading my breasts. His thigh sliding between my legs.

I seriously doubt we'll make it to the bathroom and feel like begging him to pin me up against the wall and fuck me.

As if able to read my mind, he peels his hands away from me, removes his jacket and shirt, and comes to me.

Lips locked with him, I unfasten his belt and push his pants and boxers down before taking him in my hand.

His hard length bounces up, wet at the tip, which only proves he's awaited this moment as much as I have.

"Turn around," he says before kicking his shoes off and shedding the rest of his clothes.

My hands rest on the glass wall while he comes close to me. The heat oozing from his skin wraps around me while a smile tilts my lips.

This is beautiful, romantic, and dirty at the same time, my eyes trained on the stunning nocturnal view of the lights, fallen leaves, and water rippling in the pool in front of me as his hands take ownership of my body.

He moves them with confidence, knowing exactly how to awaken my body.

No sensitive place or spot that could trigger desire remains untouched.

He kisses the back of my neck and rubs the hard tips of my boobs.

He also slides his hand between my legs and almost makes me come, burning my neck with his breath.

He teases me unendingly with his erection before tilting my hips and lowering himself a little to have perfect access to my center.

Driving himself in, he sets off a chain of chemical reactions, making me want him more and more with every passing second.

I wish I knew what his secret was.

I wish I knew why us.

Why me.

How come two people like us thought that we could forge a path together, even if only paved with endless hours of hot sex.

Slowly moving, he gives me a nudge toward the absolute high, in no way rushing.

He knows the best fucking is the slow fucking.

This way he can never leave me behind.

Tilting my head down, I stare at the floor, my spine arched, my hair falling over my face, my attention no longer on the view in front of me so worthy of a lifestyle magazine spread.

When my body stiffens, he picks up the pace, and things deteriorate in a good way.

His force comes with some pain that I don't mind, and his breaths come in short bursts of air.

His grip feels like iron, and the way he plunges into me has nothing to do with the calm, controlled man he's always appeared to be.

The glass takes the brunt of his force while I welcome his hammering with a smile on my face.

When he gets closer, he runs his fingers between my legs and strokes my clit, dragging me to a swift ending.

The orgasm is shared and delicious, bringing us together instead of making me feel like he's always preferred to experience this journey alone.

And this is truly a milestone.