Chapter 6

Six

Amethyst

A s a teen, I knew I wanted a protective husband. A man that would put himself between me and the world. I wanted a man who would treat me like a queen and give me all the love my mother never had with my father. Oliver was that man. I knew it the day he took that bullet for me. And then he was just gone.

Emptiness fills my stomach. I reach for the rings hanging between my breasts, but I don't feel the calmness they usually provide.

A heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach. I try to lift it by inhaling through my nose and letting the stress out with a heavy sigh, but I just feel more tense.

I lift my heavy hair off my neck. "Jewel." I try out my safe word and I'm suddenly knocked into the past and the last time I heard my husband call me his jewel . Or it could have been a dream. I was in bed. The light of the moon spilling over me and my husband's mouth pleasuring me. I remember not wanting to wake if it were a dream or not interrupting him if it wasn't.

A fine layer of sweat breaks out over my forehead, and I pat at the dampness. I can't see anything through the blindfold. My heart is beating so fast I feel faint.

And then the door opens.

"Hello?" The tiny hairs on my arms rise and goosebumps race over my skin. I pull deeper into the cloak. "Let me know if you are in the room."

Silence.

I strain to hear anything else but all I get is a vast void of darkness behind this stupid blindfold. I've had enough of this. I feel for the folded edge and move to yank it off, but my fingers grow still when a deep voice fills the silence.

"Don't break the first rule, sweetheart, before the night gets started."

I jump and nearly fall over, my heart on the floor between my legs. Strong arms come around my middle and the scent of a man surrounds me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was left here and basically told to stand still until I'm told to do otherwise."

Warmth seeps into my cold body and I try to tell myself I should be scared but I'm not.

"Such impatience," the husky-voiced stranger drawls out close to my ear. His words brush against loose strands causing a shiver to work through my body. He sounds familiar. Maybe. I dig around in my memory bank, but nothing comes back.

"I don't have patience for games, nor do I flare for the dramatic is all," I deadpan with a little more sass than I should have with the price tag he just paid.

His low, warm laugh peppers my ears, but I still can't place him. I must be losing my mind.

Tips of callused fingers caress over the edge of the blindfold. After a couple of tugs, he secures it back in place. As quickly as his arms come around me, they suddenly drop, and I'm left standing in the middle of the room.

"Hello? Where did you go?" I reach out only to pull back empty air.

Silence.

"I'm putting a lot of trust in you. At least tell me your name."

"No one is here to hurt you. Tonight is all about connecting and finding pleasure." I feel him reach for a strand of hair and I imagine he's either smelling it or twirling it around a finger. He drags the tips along the small curve of my jawline in a languid stroke. I don't want to react, but my body hasn't been mine to control since I became pregnant. I'm hungry all the time and most embarrassingly horny, too. Heat blooms over my breasts and flows up my neck to settle in my cheeks. I lick my lips. At least the cloak hides my hard nipples and most of the red flush.

The stranger vibrates a low hum of appreciation. "You look beautiful when you're off balance."

My smile is held in place by sheer determination to get through this night without making enemies. "It's not a great feeling," I admit. What I really want to say is can we get to the dirty part of this so I can leave? I reach for patience I don't feel and calmly say, "Are we going to spend all night like this? I'm not into the cat-and-mouse games." Then again, he paid handsomely to do whatever he wants with me, I remind myself. But I'm not going to say it if he's not.

My question is ignored for one of his own. "Did Solomon tell you your safe word?"

I nod.

"Words, precious. Tell me the safe word to make sure we are both aware and then we can move on."

"To what?"

The stranger's low laugh tickles a memory in the back of my mind. I reach for it, but it slips through my hold like smoke in the air. Then again, my heart is pounding and blood rushes in my ears. I could be dead wrong about the sound of his voice. I've met so many of Oliver's "associates", as he calls them.

"You… umm…you sound familiar," I finally spit out.

There's silence before he speaks, but I swear I hear a lowly growled curse.

"Do I know you?" Oliver has a lot of friends and more enemies. How royally did I screw up here? Did I sell myself to someone who wants to hurt me? My breathing hitches and I back up until I hit something with the back of my legs. I reach out to find the edge soft and covered in cloth. Since the couch is on the other side of the room, it has to be the bed.

"I assure you, we have never officially met."

"And unofficially?" I swallow hard and try to sound nonchalant like I do this sort of thing all the time, but my voice wobbles.

Footsteps shuffle over the carpet and then fingers brush over the slope of my cheek like a whisper of reassurance. I reach for the hand, but he's already moved away.

"What are you? A ghost?"

There comes that laugh again. It's deep and not too unlike my husband's. My heart squeezes. I wish I could be in his arms and hearing his voice.

"I've watched you, Amethyst Stone."

I raise my head up and jut my chin out like I have the upper hand here. "I mean, you are the one who purchased the evening with me. I imagine you watched me all evening."

Right? Could just anyone walk in here as if they purchased me? Solomon wouldn't let that happen. The headmistress would cut heads off.

"Are you asking or telling?"

I hear the humor in his question, but I don't feel like smiling. "Both, I guess."

He gives a soft laugh that works at the knots in my stomach.

"Yes." Tingles work through from the palms of my hands all the way down to the soles of my feet. One word leaves my knees locked and my body numb. I can't move and I have to remind myself to breathe.

Yes.

God, help me. This is truly happening. I've sold my body to some sadistic bastard who wants to fuck the wife of his enemy and then what?

I spiral downward into the darkness of my mind.

"Amethyst Stone."

My mind grinds to a stop.

"Yes?" My lips part and I draw in a shallow breath.

"Where did you just go?" He teases my hair away from my face. He brushes a finger under my chin and just as quickly he moves out of reach. I'm getting better at following the nearly-silent shuffle of his shoes over the carpet.

"What? What do you mean?"

He circles me.

"Your heart is racing, and your breathing is erratic."

His voice comes from behind and then in front of me.

"Do you fear me?"

The stranger speaks softly to me, stepping closer. I can feel the warmth of his body brush against mine. I reach for him and this time he takes my hands and places them on his chest. I feel the pulse of his heart.

"Nowhere. I'm here, as you can see." But I would rather be home with my love. My heart squeezes.

Oliver, where are you?

I shove aside my wishful thinking. I'm not home and this is not Oliver.

But I can admit to myself how much I miss the way his presence made me feel safe. Protected. This man is not him, but I can pretend. Maybe the blindfold isn't a bad idea after all. This man's voice is close enough. Deep, rough around the edges like a half-polished diamond. My stranger speaks slowly and makes sure his words are heard and understood. Just like Oliver.

"I'm going to touch you again, and this time you will not jump under the feel of my hand. Understood? You have nothing to fear from me and you can use your safe word at any time."

I shrug a slight shoulder and fall into a false calm. It's a tactic I picked up from my mother growing up. Never give the other side weapons to use against you. If you show them what you fear, they can use it.

I only wish I was as good at hiding my emotions as she was. I swear I had no idea she actually loved me until the day she left this world.

He steps away and my hands drop to my side. And then he's back. Warm lips press against my forehead before moving to either cheek. And then the softest of kisses brushes over my lips. I don't back away or jump. Instead, I find myself reaching out. Slowly at first. When my fingers find a strong chest, I follow the lines of hard pecs that lead to broad shoulders. I continue my exploration to rock-hard biceps. He has his shirt sleeves rolled up. I liked it when Oliver would walk around our penthouse, phone to the ear, and his shirtsleeves rolled up. Sexy as hell and probably what led to me being knocked up within the first month of our marriage.

I trace the hard lines of his forearms and stop when my fingertips skim over his opened palms. Oliver liked it when I explored his body.

My heart wants to cry for the love I've lost. I take my hands away and settle them over my baby bump. I need to shove the past away and focus on my very present predicament.

"I've never done this kind of thing before. Do you want me to drop the cloak and get on the bed?" It's easier to shut down and put a wall up. This was all about getting my husband's attention. That didn't work so now I need to put up and then I can… I don't know what comes next. I'll figure it out as I go, I guess.

"I'm going to need you to tell me what you want so I can make your purchase worthwhile." Wow. Since when did I become the ice queen? Even I flinch at the bitterness in my tone.

Two hands come to either side of my face. Thumbs stroke over the roundness of my cheekbones while his fingers cup the back of my skull. I feel captured and slightly panicky, but I inhale slowly and force my body to relax.

"I've never paid a billion dollars to sleep with another man's pregnant wife." A gentle touch comes over the swell of my baby. The sides of my cloak part and the weight of his touch is surprisingly soothing.

"I would say we are on a level playing field, wouldn't you?" His hands drop away from my face as he speaks.

I gasp when warm lips caress over my swollen abdomen. How long have I longed to feel Oliver's lips on my belly? His hands? Every day he's been gone is the truthful answer. I find myself slipping my hands through the stranger's hair, pretending it's him.

Oliver, I mentally reach out.

"Why is that? Why did you pay so much for a night with someone you can't keep?"

My head falls back when fingers slide over my ribs, past my heavy breasts to work the thread holding my cloak in place.

The heavy cloth falls to the floor. Cool air brushes over my heated skin. My nipples turn rock-hard behind the velvet ribbon. A throaty growl tells me they are all too visible.

He's on his feet again and I'm being picked up. He spreads me out on the bed, his heavy weight coming down beside me. Warm lips trace the slope of my neck. Fingers trace the folded edges of the ribbon. Heat flashes through me and I'm transported back to the last night I slept beside my husband. I dreamed of him taking me, marking me, and then… I woke to being all alone.

I fall into the fantasy and ride the euphoria of being touched again.

"The better question is why would I not pay to taste and feel such a jewel?"

And then he unties the bow holding my ribbon in place.