DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) Page 42

  “Thanks. You look…great.” I breathe, really digging the way his tux seems to highlight the leashed strength that hides beneath that veneer of coolness.

  Chase smiles a little and walks toward me, turns me slowly, and looks at me though our reflections in the mirror.

  “I’d like for you to wear this.”

  My first instinct is to reject whatever overpriced monstrosity hides in the box. I hate anything that is too over the top. hate even more having to lug around thousands of dollars’ worth of bragging rights, but he surprises me when he gently lays a thin white-gold chain around my throat and fastens the clasp.

  It’s perfect—just that one strand of gleaming gold that doesn’t hold anything. Plain, understated, though I know it cost a fortune just looking at the delicate weave of the chain.

  It’s some.

  “It’s lovely.”

  He smirks and I bite my lips. He knows that I was planning to pitch a fit, just assuming he was trying to give me a trophy-wife bauble. I feel myself blush and look down, gathering my nerves with an effort.

  “My parents will be there.”

  I’ve worried about this for days and instead of Chase doing what he always does—soothing me—he just shrugged and told me to roll with it. I’ve tried, I have, but I’m terrified of what they’ll say or do, and terrified even more of what they won’t.

  Chances are I’m looking at a public snub from my own parents, and while I won’t break over it, I really hate the thought of them telling the world that I’m no longer part of the fold.

  “Yes, as will Brian Carson,” he says dismissively, waving off my words and forcing me to snap my mouth shut.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be. I’ll be there with you the entire time along with Gabe, Liv and Brick. They can’t hurt you unless you let them. Unless you’re hoping to reunite?” he asks drolly, making me grit my teeth at his mocking tone.

  He’s in one of his moods I now see, so instead of answering or trying to get a response that is really not happening, I gather my clutch and heavy wrap and walk past him in defeat.

  I’m definitely going to have to think of a way to get through to him tomorrow, I think, as he helps me into the car and jogs around to get into the driver’s side.

  I love the guy, but he’s seriously not doing himself any favors with the cold shoulder he keeps giving me.

  Halfway there, I finally stop sulking—yeah, I now sulk, a lot—and turn to him, my brow scrunched with curiosity.

  “Is this it then? We’re married and living a farce? There won’t be any warmth or companionship—just fucking.”

  Ooooh and I think I need to start a curse jar if I keep this up.

  Chase shrugs and doesn’t even bother to glance at me as he skillfully navigates the car around puddles of this morning’s rain and drives us closer to my worst nightmare.

  “It’s not a farce, Rem. A lot of couples live perfectly acceptable marriages with less than what we have. At least we still have passion to look forward to.”

  “Lust.”

  He inclines his head and stops the car, breathing deeply before looking at me with such kindness I am momentarily stunned. It’s the first time in weeks that he’s not giving me his trademark mocking smirk and I think I just fell in love all over again.

  “We can make this work if you just lower your expectations, babe. I will never be what you want, and I now see you aren’t capable of being everything I need. We’ll revise and work with what we have. Now chin up, Mrs. Marshall, we have a show to put on.”

  Chapter 24

  Chase

  I hate these bloody events, and what’s more, I fucking abhor having forced Remy to come here I know how much she despises all the pomp and show of a ‘charity’ function, which in all honesty is nothing more than rich idiots putting themselves on display and showing off their circumstance by layering jewels over their vapid wives’ necks, arms and fingers.

  One of those pieces is enough to feed a shelter full of people for more than a month. Yet they don’t see a thing wrong with ‘donating’ piddly amounts while preening around like Persian kings.

  Bloody leeches.

  At then there’s the fact that instead of begging off and donating an obscene amount of money as I usually do, I’ve brought my wife here to see how she’ll react to not only this fiasco, but her parents and her ex as well.

  Oh, and I’m also quite chuffed to be showing the bastards that I’ve stamped my ownership on her. Let’s not forget that little compulsion.

  “Drink your water, Remy,” I say, still keeping half an ear as Ricardo Blane keeps prattling on about tax write offs and whatever the hell else the man seems to think he knows.

  Remy gives me one look and ignores the glass of water, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downing it instead. Rebellious minx.

  When another waiter comes round to retrieve her empty glass, I have to grit my teeth when she takes another and sips at it. She hasn’t said one word in over an hour aside from murmuring greetings to others. I’m starting to regret this mission when I hear a murmur and look up to see her family approaching with Brian Carson in their wake.

  “Crud.”

  People are trying and failing to hide their interest when the Harrows come to a halt in front of us, their countenances pinched and so cold I feel my eyes narrow at the way they’re looking at her.

  “You aren’t welcome in our circles anymore, Remington.”

  I feel her stiffen where my left hand rests at the small of her back. I completely expect her to break, she’s held so rigidly, but my wife surprises me. Instead of crying or lashing out, she just gives them a slow once over and shrugs neatly.

  “Free country.”

  I’m utterly amused when I see their eyes widen somewhat before Mrs. Harrow launches a scathing attack on Remy. Through me.

  “You’re making a mockery of your lineage, Remington. Your boyfriend may be rich as Croesus but he has no breeding or alliances like we do. Brian is willing to forgive and forget if you stop this nonsense. We’ll even allow you back into the family. ”

  Remy looks down at the platinum band I put on her finger. A simple piece that is in no way showy or impressive, just something that tells the world she’s taken.

  “Yes, darling. You deserve better than this. Marshall is a thug—even in the business world—just ask Gareth Knox,” Brian interjects.

  “Really, Remington, come now,” her mother says after casting us a haughty look.

  I hear Remy take a deep breath and feel her shift away from me. Then she looks up at me with a brilliant smile that reaches all the way to my dark soul.

  Her eyes are dancing with mischief and no small amount of affection when she winks at me and gives me an apologetic grimace.

  “Sorry, Mom, but that is not possible. Aside from my being married to Chase, well, I wouldn’t leave the man I love for anything in the world. Not your approval. Not the approval of these assholes standing around here, and fuck all if you think I will throw away a man as worthy as Chase for that weasel standing behind you,” she drawls, loud enough that I glimpse Brick, who’s standing clear across the room, smirk and cough into his fist.

  “He didn’t just screw anything with a pulse and a vagina, he went and screwed my cousin on top of it—and with your knowledge, I’ve come to learn. And then you had the audacity to tell me to just look past it.”

  Oh, she’s on a roll.

  “I wouldn’t want to be part of that hotbed of lies if you all were the last lifeline I had while dangling over a bed of ravenous piranhas. I. Am. Happy. With. The. Man. I. Love. Get over it, and really, don’t expect a fucking Christmas card.”

  Mrs. Harrow gasps and I choke out a laugh when her father’s lips twitch minutely. Brian is looking around as if searching for a hole to crawl into and the rest of the guests are eating the spectacle up with more amusement than horror.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I only came here to give you all a w
hat’s up and let you know that you can take your family ties and shove it up your ass. I have a family, and believe you me, Brian, with the way he’s having at it, we’ll be expanding our family soon. Bye now.”

  I almost choke on my tongue when the vixen shoves her glass at her father and grabs my hand, muttering obscenities under her breath and glaring daggers at anyone who dares approach her on the way to the door.

  “Come on, Brick, we’ve got better things to do than hang around here smelling the manure pile that comes out of these peoples' mouths. Liv! You coming or what? We’re ordering pizza.”

  I don’t say one fucking word because I bloody can’t get past the smile threatening to split my face in half. I also can’t get a word in edgewise with the way Brick, Gabe and Liv are howling and trying to high-five Remy.

  My smile stays firmly in place as I hand her into the car, and fuck me if I’m not laughing my ass off by the time I pull away and leave them all in the dust.

  “That was quite the show, Remington,” I drawl, laughing harder when she thwacks me upside the head and drops her face into her hands, groaning in agony.

  “That was horrible! How can you find this funny? You should have stopped me.”

  “And miss the sight of your mother grinding her teeth to powder? Not bloody likely.”

  “Stop laughing you moron! How am I going to face those women? Some of them are on the board of your charity. Jesus! Would you please stop fucking laughing?”

  Her tone and the way she tries to hide her own mirth only makes it worse and I’m roaring at her muttering by the time we get home. Gabe, Liv and Brick pull in just behind us and I watch them go into the house as I sit and take a minute to breathe before turning to Remy and giving her a real smile for the first time in weeks.

  No, she may not be everything I thought she should be, but bloody bless me if the woman isn’t a fighter like me. And I fucking love it.

  “That was by far one of the most entertaining evenings I have ever had. Given the fact that you just told the nation that I’m a better catch than a senator, and you just outed our marriage, and bloody add to that the fact that you just said you love me, and I swear, I don’t think I’ve had a better time in my life. Now stop pouting and let’s go, you promised me pizza.”

  I don’t give her a chance to say another word. I buss her lips in a hard kiss and vault out of the car, still chuckling as I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way inside, whistling like a loon.

  I’m going to have to revise my plans for Remy once again. Instead of feeling annoyed, I look forward to seeing what the woman will do next. Will I lose some business thanks to her sideshow?

  Undoubtedly.

  Do I care?

  Not a bloody wit. After all, she just said she loves me. Now I am set on making that a reality.

  Chapter 25

  Remy

  I wake to the feel of lips surrounding my nipple and a strong hand settling between my legs, the insistent push of fingers and teeth bringing my body to screaming life and wrenching me out of a nightmare that included me, the charity event and a Carrie incident that left my dream-self covered in pig’s blood while the rest of the guests—all sporting pig’s heads—oinked and snorted in glee.

  “You’re awake, babe.”

  I hear that gravelly voice and feel his lips smile around my nipple. I can’t help smiling myself as I stretch languidly and push my breast deeper into his gently suckling mouth.

  “Well, you woke me up.” I point out, bumping my hips up to increase the pressure of his fingers on my swelling clit.

  Chase chuckles and keeps up the slow tease, his fingers slowly circling my nub in the same maddening rhythm he’s using to flick his tongue over the very tip of my hardened nipple.

  The sensations are gentle yet so intense that I’m hot and wet and begging in a matter of minutes, my sheath feeling achingly empty and hot.

  “Chase.”

  “Yes, babe?”

  I hear the smile in his voice and growl in frustration, lifting my head to glare down at him when he ignores my writhing hips and just keeps circling. Slowly.

  I’m wet, wanting and on the verge of begging him to just hurry up and fuck me already when he surprises me by rearing up and hanging over me, his bi-colored eyes so adoring I feel an ache set up in my chest.

  I know he doesn’t believe me and that he thinks my declaration of love was just for show; and, more importantly, I know he doesn’t want to hear it, so I’ll show him.

  It really helps that last night’s shenanigans have softened him to the point that he’s looking at me now without a shred of calculation and with affection instead.

  Affection I can build on.

  “Can we talk about some of that stuff now?” I ask, looking away when I see his eyes lose some of the warmth I’d been basking in.

  He doesn’t answer and I’m not surprised—hurt a little at his refusal to so much as even give me a chance, after last night—but not shocked a bit.

  Stubborn man.

  I do, however, forget every hurt his rejection brings when he flips me over onto my stomach and brings his body over mine, his skin covering every inch of me as he shifts his legs to the outside of mine, angles his hips and drives into me from an angle that hits me so deep I feel a shudder implode in my womb.

  The position is way beyond pleasurable. I’m struggling not to focus solely on how good it feels when he hits me so deep I think my cervix just flowers open for him. It’s intimate and sexy and wild even in its gentleness.

  Once he’s in all the way and still pushing to go deeper, I feel him still and place his lips at the nape of my neck. His breath is hot on me, feathering over the side of my face and hitting my lips.

  His chest is flush with my back, though I note he makes an effort to keep weight off me and he’s surrounding me everywhere, covering me from tip to toe.

  “I don’t want to talk anymore, Rem.” He breathes, leaning down to trail his tongue from my ear to my slightly parted lips.

  His head turns and he seals his mouth over mine, thrusting his tongue deep. I can’t reciprocate because of the way I’m pinned and the angle makes a full kiss impossible, but I close my eyes and enjoy the onslaught even as I feel something coil inside, demanding he move.

  He doesn’t though; he only kisses me in a rhythm that mimics what I want him to do below.

  When he finally slides back, I choke out a moan at the maddening way he slowly, ever so slowly, glides back in, making sure to burrow as deeply as possible and pausing before beginning the process again.

  He keeps at that pace forever, torturing me with the need for hard, rough pounding and the slightest friction.

  “Chase, please,” I beg when the pleasure-pain becomes too much and we’re so sweaty I feel his skin slip over mine.

  “No more talking. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

  He breathes the words against my lips, our mouths still joined in that erotic glide of tongues that he hasn’t stopped since sliding home. I can’t breathe and don’t really care.

  All I can do is feel and, God, it feels so good the way he’s slowly building me up that I can’t think of anything but the need to have him do something, anything to relieve me.

  “Chase.”

  “Say it, Rem.” His breath is a stutter against my mouth. “No more. We build on what we have. Say it.”

  I surrender to him and say the words, closing my eyes against the momentary defeat I feel.

  “No more,” I gasp.

  He roars his triumph and picks up the pace, his hips slamming into me once, twice and then one last time before I rip my mouth away and bury my face in the bed, my scream muffled even as I hide my tears.

  Chase shudders and comes not long after, filling me with his release, giving me that one part of himself…but nothing else.

  He slips out and rises, planting a kiss on the small of my back with a happy rumble. All I can do is breathe and pray that this is not all that I have to look for
ward to for the next fifty or so years of my life.

  Because being trapped in an unhappy marriage is one thing, I know from experience, but being trapped in a half marriage, in love with a man who won’t give you more than hot sex and the odd night of easy companionship…I have no point of reference for that and it scares me that eventually I’ll let that be enough.

  Chapter 26

  Remy

  “You need to be patient, Remy.” Dr. Yamota says kindly, her slightly accented voice holding a wealth of understanding but telling it to me straight, the way she always has.

  “I have been. I’ve gone to those stupid events with him and let him dress me like a doll. I never deny him my body or intimacy. I go out of my way to show him with every touch how much I love him.” I argue, picking at the hanging thread in my shirt.

  “Chase has no problem with intimacy, Remy, as you have seen thus far. He shares every part of that aspect of himself with you. From what you’ve said, I think he relies on that intimacy to keep him grounded in a way. It’s almost like he needs to establish that connection,” she says softly, not telling me anything I don’t already know.

  He’s a madman when it comes to my body, and while I’m not complaining—cause, duh, the guy is a master of seduction and sexual fulfilment—that is all the intimacy he’ll give.

  “I tried talking to him about the way I’m feeling isolated here in the house. I wanted to ask if maybe I could go out with Liv, shopping or something, and he shut me down and reminded me that we don’t talk outside of the bedroom.”

  “Not at all?” she asks sharply, and I cringe at her tone.

  Yeah, I know how totally dysfunctional it is to talk about the freaking weather over dinner and to hear him tell me about a deal that I have absolutely no interest in, but that’s not my choice apparently.

  Chase literally won’t let me delve any deeper than the surface and I’m so frustrated I feel panicky most of the time. Really, I started having these weird episodes a few days ago, and the more I think about them the worse they get.