Chapter 46

Quentin

I flicker my gaze over the features of my sleeping wife. Every night, after working until the early hours of the morning, I make it home, but do I sleep? No. I prefer to spend the time watching her.

I take in the way her cheeks are flushed, how her lips are parted, how her hair is a halo around her shoulders. She's on her side, with her face turned toward me.

The first time I watched her sleeping, I spent the night in the chair next to her.

The next night, I sat on the bed.

On the third, I lay down on my side and watch her until the first rays of the morning light came through the window. My wife sleeps deeply. My climbing into bed didn't register with her.

A strand of hair has fallen over her face. I reach over and tuck it behind her ear, then freeze when she mumbles something under her breath. She falls silent, her breathing evens out, and I allow my muscles to relax. I don't want her to find me in bed with her. I don't want to fall asleep next to her. If I did, I'd wake up wrapped around her, and my dick, which is already erect by her proximity, would not take no for an answer.

She moans in her sleep. That's never happened before. She must be dreaming. Her sleep camisole leaves very little to imagination, with her full breasts pushing the material tight across her chest, the shape of her nipples outlined by the fabric.

I sweep my gaze down to where her camisole has ridden up, revealing a strip of pale, creamy skin. And below that, her panties ride high on her legs, showing off the thick spread of her thighs. I swallow hard. The crotch of my pants—I didn"t bother to undress so I don't get too comfortable—is too snug. I adjust myself. Then, unable to resist the allure of the woman next to me, I reach over and slide my fingers under the gusset of her panties. Jesus, she's soaking wet.

She's sleeping, and unaware of what I'm doing. I should... put distance between us. I should get the hell out of this bed before I make her come in her sleep.

I begin to pull away, but she moans, then spreads her legs apart. The lips of her pussy glisten with her arousal, and just like that, all thoughts of leaving vanish from my head. She's my wife and she's turned on. She moans again, then squirms in her sleep. And when she widens the space between her thighs, I don't hold back.

I tease her slit, then slide two fingers inside her. Goosebumps pepper her skin. She turns her head in my direction, but her eyes are closed. I resist the urge to lean in and kiss her. If I do, she'll definitely wake up. Instead, I ease my fingers in and out of her, in and out.

Her pussy clenches, then ripples around my fingers. My dick extends, and fucking hell, I can't hold back. I shove my other hand down my pants and squeeze my cock from base to crown. The pain cuts through the noise in my head and helps me focus. I add a third digit inside her, and she groans.

Her breathing grows heavy, but her eyes are closed. Thank fuck. I weave my fingers in and out of her, while also jerking myself off. My movements speed up, the moisture squeezes out from between her legs. Jesus, this woman… She's so fucking sexy, it slays me. The pressure at the base of my spine builds, and I know I'm not going to last long. I curve my fingers inside her and am rewarded by a shudder that sweeps through her. She pants, her mouth open in a silent cry. Watching her come sends me over the edge. I swipe my cock from base to crown one last time, and my balls explode.

I come and come in my pants like a teenage boy, then lay there with my fingers inside her pulsing pussy for a few seconds. I pull my fingers from her wet channel and suck on them, then scoop up some of my cum and paint it on her lips. She licks it off, then turns over on her side.

I pull away without waking her, then roll off the bed, head toward the ensuite bathroom, and step into the shower.

That orgasm should have relaxed me, but looking at my hard cock, you wouldn't know it. I need her more than ever, and not only in a physical way. I want her with me, next to me, by my side, in my life.

But I can't have that. I will not let myself have that.

I'm torturing myself by having her here under my roof. I'm setting things up to hurt her even more by being unable to break things off with her.

Whatever happened to the bravery I was known for in military strategy? Come up with a ballsy plan to keep ahead of the enemy? I'm your man. Want to structure an audacious acquisition to grow the Davenport Group's profits? I'm one step ahead of you there. But shoring up my courage to tell my wife that I want to leave her, and I lose my balls.

I switch off the shower, grab a towel and dry myself, then walk out with it wrapped around my waist. I walk into my closet, and dress quickly. With a last look at my still sleeping wife, I head out of our bedroom and for the office.

The door to my office flies open. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Davenport, I tried to stop her."

I look up to find my assistant red-faced and on the heels of a young girl who's barged in.

She looks like my wife but is not my wife, because I recognize her from the picture my wife showed me of her and her sister. She's thin, almost painfully so, and is wearing tights and an oversized sweatshirt with the words "Royal Ballet School" on it.

She marches over to my desk and slams down an oversized backpack with various badges pinned onto it. "You have some nerve making my sister unhappy," she fumes.

The soft American twang to her accent, not to mention the way her eyes dart arrows at me, reminds me of Raven.

A sharp tug winds itself around my heart. I ignore it and nod at the girl. "Lizzie, good to meet you."

"It's not good to meet you, Mr. Asshole Davenport. Or should I say Mr. Butthead Davenport?" she snaps.

Behind her, my assistant draws in a sharp breath.

I wave at her. "It's okay, Mary."

"But, but..." she splutters.

Guess she's never been exposed to temperamental artistes. Trust my wife to change one more thing.

"It's fine. Lizzie's my sister-in-law." I rise to my feet and nod toward my assistant. "You can leave us."

Mary sniffs, then turns to go.

"Oh, Mary, could you send in some"—I turn to Lizzie— "ice-cream?"

"What?" She blinks.

"Do you prefer cookies?"

"Cookies?" Her eyes light up, then her shoulders slump. "Can't. Diet. Ballet, and all that."

"A no-sugar, no-carb, buckwheat, organic, dark chocolate-chip cookie, with very little calories?" I nod in Mary's direction.

She looks at the girl, then back at me, before sniffing again, then turning and walking out.

"If you're trying to weasel your way into my good books, it won't work." She plops herself into her chair. "Also —" She stabs her thumb over her shoulder. "Why are you keeping her on? Don't you lifestyles of the rich and famous bosses prefer shapely assistants who cater to your every need?" She uses her hands to demonstrate the shape of a curvy woman.

"If you mean Mary, she's been with the company for thirty years. She came with this office and is only a year from retirement. She's given her life to this company. Why would I let her go? If anything, I plan to reward her loyalty and ensure she's set up for the rest of her life, so she can enjoy her retirement with her grandkids."

Lizzie regards me with a strange look on her face.

"As for your second question, I only have eyes for my wife," I state.

She scoffs, "Is that why you made her cry?"

I squeeze my fingers around the edge of my desk. My heart threatens to cleave its way out of my ribcage. How could I have done that? How could I have caused her pain? "She... cried?" I ask in a hoarse voice.

"Oh, she didn"t say it was because of you; she's too loyal to you. But when I called her this morning, her eyes were red-rimmed. She said she's been painting non-stop and not sleeping much in preparation for her exhibition."

"I'm aware she's getting her paintings ready for her showing." I also know she's been putting in long hours and not taking out the time to eat. Which is why I told my housekeeper to bring Raven's food to her studio at mealtimes, to ensure she eats.

It's why I decided to spend my nights at the office, sleeping on my pull-out couch so she won't be disturbed by my presence. She"s going to crush this showing; I have no doubt. "She's brilliant. And soon the world will recognize that, too."

Lizzie nods slowly. "She is. And I"m so pleased she's getting her due."

"The two of you are close."

She levels a look at me, a very knowing look. A look which makes her seem older than her eighteen years. A look I recognize, since I've seen fellow Marines with that similar look in their eyes after their first tour, when they've had to grow up quickly. Both of these girls have been through a lot in their young lives. I tend to forget that my wife faced challenges very early on which granted her more life experience than many of her peers have. It hasn't made her cynical though, unlike me with my own past.

"Vivian stepped into my mother's role after she passed." Lizzie folds her arms together. "She became my de facto parent, especially since my father was busy trying to hold down a job and provide for us. Then, after my father fell ill, Vivian stepped into the role of breadwinner, as well. She's a brilliant painter and loves poetry, as I assume you already know."

I nod.

"She's so talented"—Lizzie's features soften—"I was sure she'd be a well-known painter by now. She even got admission to the Royal Academy of Arts but decided not to join."

Again, I'm aware, thanks to my friend, the private detective. But nothing like hearing about her past from someone close to her.

"I was gutted. I begged her to reconsider, but she was firm. The money my mother had left us would cover a year of education for only one of us, and she was determined I would benefit from it. She said I had to learn ballet while I was young enough to pursue it, while she could paint at any time in her life." Lizzie laughs. "My sister can be persuasive. It was an argument I couldn't turn down."

I nod slowly. "I'm sorry the two of you had to go through that. I'm sorry you felt the lack of money, and that she had to sacrifice the opportunity to study so you could follow your passion. I'm sorry your father fell ill and couldn't get the care he needed. But I hope"—I clear my throat—"I hope I've helped to ease some of your lack since I married your sister."

"I wasn't convinced you were good for her. I thought she was moving from one unwanted marriage to another. She and Felix were never right for each other, but moving from the son to the father? You can imagine how that looked from the outside."

I stiffen. Neither sister pulls any punches, apparently.

I nod slowly. "I'm aware of how Vivian will have to go through life with people judging her for marrying me."

No one dares point that out to me, of course. Because I'm a man, and because I have the money to shut them down. But Raven doesn't have that luxury. She has me, though.

"And if anyone dares say anything about her, I'll destroy them so fast, they won't know what hit them."

She seems taken aback, then a small smile curves her lips. "How many people are you going to track down? There will always be somebody who'll point a finger at you and be judgmental."

I lean back in my seat. "It doesn't matter how many people I have to silence, whether it's through money or otherwise, I have the resources for it."

Her eyes round. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that, though I appreciate the sentiment." She pushes a fingertip into her cheek. "It seems you care for my sister."

"Of course I do."

"Do you love her?"

It's my turn to be taken aback. I'm tempted to tell her it's none of her business, but this is Raven's sister we're talking about. Someone she's very close to, someone who deserves the courtesy of an answer to her question. I nod slowly. "I do"—I clear my throat—"I love her."

She sits up straight. "Why don't you tell her so? What are the two of you arguing about? Why are you trying to put distance between the two of you?"

"She told you that?" I frown.

"We're sisters; we gossip. We know about each other's lives. We like to share the intimate details."

What the?—?

She must see the slight look of panic on my face, for she scoffs. "Not those intimate details. But you made her cry. I noticed that as soon as I saw her swollen eyes. Besides, she's more reticent than usual when it came to details of her marriage. She insists she"s happy, even though she doesn't sound it. It's why I realized something"s up between the two of you. But it seems the two of you haven't been open with each other. You love her. She loves you. What's the problem?" She throws up her hands.

The look of exasperation on her face draws a chuckle from me. "It's not that simple." I rub the back of my neck.

Mary comes in with a plate, on it, there are two cookies. Thank God for the respite. It gives me a little time to figure out what I'm going to tell her. She places the cookies in front of Lizzie. "Enjoy, dear." She turns and leaves.

Lizzie breaks off a tiny piece and places it on her tongue. Her face lights up. "Oh wow, that's so good." She takes a piece and chews on it before nodding at me. "You were telling me why it is that you feel the need to stay away from my sister and break her heart, even though you love her?"

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "It's complicated." I rise to my feet and begin to pace. "I figured I should give her space."

"Space?" she asks in a disbelieving voice.

"She has a big exhibition coming up and needs to focus on her paintings. It's… Best I stay out of her way."

"Bull-fucking-shit." She pushes away her plate. "I might be young, but I wasn"t born yesterday. Any fool can see the two of you are made for each other." She holds up her hand. "I confess, I was skeptical about the marriage. But she sent me pictures of the two of you at your country home where you took her for your honeymoon, and you both looked so happy. And whenever she texted me, she sounded so upbeat. She told me she was no longer working at the pizza parlor but was focusing on her painting, and I knew she'd made the right decision. It doesn't hurt that you have the cheese to support her career."

Cheese?I frown, then smooth out my forehead. Oh, money.

"She also told me that you got our father onto a trial at Johns Hopkins, which could see a huge shift in his quality of life. For the first time in her life, she's able to focus on herself and her painting. You made that possible, and I'm grateful to you for that—" she hesitates.

"I sense a "but" coming on," I murmur.

"—but you're still an ass."

"Thanks?" I roll my shoulders.

"That's all you have to say?"

I try to find a more comfortable position in my chair, and when that doesn't work, I rise to my feet and begin to pace. "The fact that I love your sister is the reason why I need to stay away from her."

"I don't understand."

"If I let her get closer, I'll end up hurting both of us."

"What do you mean?" Her eyebrows knit.

"I"ve hurt every person I've ever loved. Why should this be any different? If something happened to her, I'd never forgive myself. Besides, it's only a matter of time before she realizes she could do better than me. She deserves someone closer to her age. Someone who"ll be with her for most of her lifetime. It's only a matter of time before she looks at me and regrets that she married me." I shake my head. "No, it's best I spare her that pain. It's best I put an end to this craziness, before it makes it worse for either of us."

"Oh, my God! Are you hearing yourself?" She slaps her palm on the desk. "Can you see the flaw in what you're saying?"

I turn on her "Explain."

"Who knows what's going to happen in the future? You are so convinced you're going to hurt her, and she'll leave you, you've decided to cut your losses and hurt her anyway by leaving her now. In fact"—her frown deepens—"it seems to me, you've decided to fulfill your own prophecy by leaving her first."

I scowl at her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I mean, you're being very selfish."

My scowl deepens. "I'm trying to do the very opposite. I'm trying to be selfless. I'm trying to walk away before things get too messy."

"Oh my God; they're already messy." She throws up her hands. "The two of you are in love with each other."

She's right. It"s because we"re in love that our lovemaking is so explosive. It's because we"re in love that my need to dominate her is so all-consuming. It's because I'm in love that the thought of not having her in my life ties my guts in knots and turns my heart inside out. "That doesn't mean anything," I choke out.

Am I telling that to her or to myself? My words come out defensive and sound pathetic, even to me.

"You don't believe that." She stabs her finger in my direction. "In fact, you already know you're not going to be able to leave her, which is why, based on the little bit Vivian told me, you"re trying to make her hate you enough that she'll leave you."

I stiffen. Is that what I"ve been doing? Perhaps, subconsciously, I did, but having it called out like this… It turns my blood to ice, and my stomach seems to bottom out completely. "Oh shit."

"Yeah, it's a shit show, and you're responsible for it. You made her unhappy. You kept her at a distance, hoping she'd make the decision for you and leave—since you didn't have the balls to break it off. Not that I blame you—my sister's a catch." She firms her lips. "What you don"t understand is that my sister is committed to you. She"s not leaving you. And you treating her badly won"t make her give up on you. If anything, it's going to make her double down and do everything possible to save this relationship."

She's right. Raven's parting words to me indicated as much.

"So, you have a choice to make. Are you going to torture her forever? Or are you going to love her the way you should because she"s worth all that and more?" She looks at me with an expression of disgust. "Are you going to confirm my opinion that you're a sad excuse for a man? Or are you going to prove me wrong?"

To have this slip of a girl call me out on my mistakes should be laughable, but it's not.

She's pointed out my idiocy, and I can't unsee it.

"You're right, I am pathetic." I squeeze the back of my neck. "I thought I was doing her a favor, but?—"

"But from what I can see, you were trying to manipulate her into leaving you, so you could keep your conscience clear."

She's right. Again.

How could I have done this? How is it that I didn't see how my actions were unfolding? Did I become so insecure about myself, was I so weighed down by the mistakes of my past, I was about to commit the biggest mistake of them all by leaving her?

"Fuck." I hang my head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." A searing pain burns my insides. A heaviness weighs down my chest. Every breath I take hurts my lungs. I feel like I've swallowed broken glass, and it"s tearing up my insides. What am I going to do?

"How do I make this right?" I raise my chin and swallow around the lump in my throat. "How do I make this up to her?" I frown. I must find a way to undo the damage I inflicted on our relationship. I must atone for my mistakes and rebuild the trust between us. "I can make it up to her, right?"

"I suppose." She sniffs. "Maybe, if you show her how much you love her, and if you grovel enough?"

"Grovel?" I ask cautiously.

She rolls her eyes. "You know, the part where you throw yourself on her mercy and ask her for forgiveness?"

I nod.

"And on your knees, no less."

"For her, I'll do anything." This shit is hard... But that's because it"s real. This is as real as it gets, and I'm not going to back away from the hard stuff this time.

She tosses her head. "And tell her how unworthy you are of her love and of having her in your life."

"Okay." I nod again. It's all true anyway. I plan on telling my Raven exactly how much she means to me and that I'll do anything, so she forgives me for my assholery. "Yes, that's good."

She drums her fingers on my desk, then shoots me a canny look. "Of course, you"ll have to figure out what she really wants and give it to her as a grand gesture. Can you do that?"