Chapter Eleven
Jake was on cloud nine after his fake wedding. He ushered her to the truck, and they ordered take out from a local diner that was usually outstanding. Tia couldn’t help but razz him about the house rules, and Jake found himself not minding. She was his wife, albeit a fake wife. He would put up with it.
“The house allows this?” She waved the menu in his face.
“The house doesn’t want me to starve and it’s not fast food. I can’t cook. And after watching Chase learn to cook, the idea scares the hell out of me. You know how many pots he went through to get good? My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I was ruining pots at the rate he did. It’s sacrilegious in her mind.”
“What if I teach you? No pots will be harmed that way.”
He frowned. The stakes would have to be skyscraper high for him to learn to cook.
She seemed to sense this, because she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I’ll wear only an apron. You can grope me all you want as long as you cook something.”
The idea of her naked under an apron, him caressing every inch of her as she taught him how to burn food was indeed a high enough ante. “Teach me, then.”
The answering smile she gave him left him breathless.
They visited the local feed and tack store while they waited for their food, and Jake bought her real boots to ride in because his sister-in-law’s boots were too small. They weren’t fancy, because the feed store didn’t do fancy. But they fit and they’d be safer than her sneakers. She fought him on paying, but he insisted—his bride, his purchase. She shrugged.
But he liked watching her face glow as he paid, loved it even more when she glared at the overly friendly store clerk, Judy, for touching his arm to get his attention. Kate had never been possessive of him, even in work situations. She was plenty possessive of Chase, though.
To have his own woman spitting mad over casual contact was as brand-spanking-new as her boots. He had slipped his arm around Tia’s waist, claiming her with a kiss in front of Judy, who had gaped. Tia’s smug look was worth every penny the boots cost him.
A half hour later they returned home and he studied Tia over their delicious meal, every bit as good as he had said it would be. He had ordered prime rib and a baked potato. She chose eggplant parmesan, because she said it reminded her of home. And then she’d given him that smile that he felt down in his toes, one so open that he wanted to pinch her ass to make sure she was real.
Tia extended her fork with a bit of green on it. “Have some of the zucchini. It’s really good.”
Jake balked, shooting her his best mulish glare.
She laughed and poked him in the shoulder. “You afraid? You, the big bad brave cowboy spy, who has ridden a bull and cheated bad guys, is afraid of vegetables.”
He glared at her fork. “The house doesn’t like veggies.”
“Jake doesn’t like veggies,” she corrected and sighed. “What if they were served differently?”
He set his jaw and narrowed his gaze at his beautiful wife. He chewed for a moment, then said, “I don’t like them in a in a box, with a fox, or in a dish.”
“What about off my naked body?”
Within seconds, his cock throbbed at full attention as he imagined her on his table. Naked. Willing. Vegetables on her belly, spilled over her breasts, between her thighs… “Now?”
She slapped his shoulder this time. “Not right now. These aren’t the right ones for your first time. Too much sauce.”
He grinned and he dropped his gaze to her firm breasts, then lower to areas he couldn’t see. “I can think of a sauce I’d like on them.”
She laughed again, and Jake was mesmerized by her beauty. She was radiant. Glowing. Marriage did wonderful things to a woman. “I’m not the only one who will learn new things this weekend, I think.”
“That’s what marriage is about.” He wanted to take her upstairs and teach her new things, right now. His cock agreed, so he whipped out the Texan charm in full force. “Aren’t you glad you married me? Don’t you want to bed me, right now, so I can get to work on my wedding gift? I love giving presents.”
“You promised me a trail ride, remember? And we have cake to share.”
But she looked coy and perhaps on the fence about the trail ride. He wanted to taste her so badly, her mouth, her pert nipples. The nectar of her pussy would be sweeter than any cake.
“Damn it.” He dragged over the plate with the chocolate cake slices they’d selected to be their stand-in wedding cake. If he got her through the rituals faster, maybe she’d let him make love to her. “Feed me, wife.”
“Do I get to smear it?”
“If you do, you’ll pay. You’re next.”
Her eyes glittered with amusement, and he couldn’t help but give a chuckle at her wickedness. She used a fork to cut off a small bit and picked it up in trembling fingers. She dabbed a little frosting on his lips and leaned in to lick it away. His cock flared, threatening to spill, like a sparkler lit on the Fourth of July. Then she held the cake against his lips. “Open up.”
He ate from her fingers. Then he grabbed her hand and licked the frosting, sucking the sweetness from each digit. So slow, sensual, knowing his tongue was hot and wet, hoping each lap echoed deep within her pussy.
She sucked in a breath. Her breasts rose and fell quicker, her eyes darkening. Oh, yes, she wanted him.
“My turn,” he said as he finished. He ran a finger through the frosting, then smeared it over her lips like a too-thick lipstick.
“Hey!” She smacked him on the chest. “Not fair.”
But he licked the frosting from her lips, his tongue dipping into her mouth now and then, ignoring the way she wanted her tongue to tangle with his. Finally, he deepened the kiss, sinking his tongue home in her mouth, allowing it to dance with hers, tasting the sweet chocolate. He kissed her harder, then pulled her onto his lap.
“Ride me,” he commanded in her ear, his voice deceptively soft but still firm. She was never able to deny his Dom voice, especially when she was this aroused.
She straddled his legs and settled herself on the length of his erection, hard against her mound. “Ride you? As in, save a horse, ride a spy?” She slid a hand between them and cupped his dick, the shaft throbbing through his pants, jumping under her soft hand. “I don’t think that works.”
“I used to be a cowboy.” He dragged her mouth to his, kissing her hard. One hand slid up, under her shirt to fondle her breast. The other grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, urging her to rock against his hard-on. “Ride me.”
“In front of the wedding guests? What will they think of us?” But she lifted slightly, and he unbuckled his pants, sliding them down with his underwear. God, so close to sinking into her, claiming her as his wife, for real.
He lifted her skirt and grinned when his fingers found bare skin and soaking wet folds. What a good girl, remembering his rules. He’d give her two orgasms for that, on top of the one he’d give her for just being his wife. “See, your skirt is long enough. It will just look like you’re sitting on my lap.”
“I’m sure they’ll be able to tell what I’m doing to you.” She laughed and sank down, using her hand to guide the head of his cock to her pussy. “So good,” she whispered as she drove him deeper.
Jake watched her slide onto his shaft with lustful interest. She’d changed slightly since he put a ring on her finger. She seemed more confident, definitely more possessive. Would she keep taking control and ride him to blissful orgasm, or would she eventually defer to him to take control? He didn’t know, but he liked the changes she offered. No, the changes marriage offered.
She stilled and he grabbed her hips, urging her on.
“No,” she whispered, still again. “Shh.”
“What’s wrong?” And then over their ragged breathing, he heard what she must have heard—hoof beats on pavement. “Shit!”
She jumped off, he yanked up his pants, and they raced out of the house to find Jessa on the front lawn, her hind feet in the garden. Tonka was on the side of the driveway, and he lifted his head and blew out through his nostrils, the noise high-pitched.
He and Tia retrieved grain from the barn, and though Jessa came obediently, Tonka wasn’t giving up freedom that easily. They chased him for half an hour before he decided it would be more fun to go in the barn. Jake glanced at Tia, her face flushed, hair a mess, and laughed. “Well, that was exciting.”
But there was no hope to resurrect kitchen sex, not when there was work to be done. They took tools out to the pasture and found the fence board that had been derailed. He taught her how to fix it, and together they nailed the rail back in place. He kissed her in thanks, and his phone dinged with a text. She had given it back earlier at the feed store.
“Go ahead, see who it is,” she said when he looked at her for permission.
“Chase,” he said and shared the text. Don’t bother waking early—be at the training base Monday by 1400. Please call when you get a moment.
“Business or pleasure,” she asked.
“Probably both, knowing him. May I?”
“Sure.”
She sat on the grass at his feet while he leaned against the fence and called Chase.
“You busy?” Chase asked, inferring Jake might be making love to Tia right now, which actually sounded like an awesome idea.
“No, we’re not busy. Do you want us to be busy?”
“No, because then I’d have to find Kate and she’s not putting out. I tried after your last phone call.”
“What do you want?”
“Friendly, aren’t you?”
“I’m on vacation,” Jake reminded him tersely. “I’d like to get busy.”
“I want you to check out a small furniture company for me. It’s a half hour away. They make hand-crafted baby furniture.”
Jake sighed. Chase did this to him all the time when he was out and about the world. Go here, check out this, bring me back this, send me pictures of this. The fucking guy needed to get out more often. “It’s early to be purchasing furniture.”
“Kate said she doesn’t care.”
“Chase, if she says she doesn’t care, it means she really does. Trust me on this.” Jake glanced down at Tia, so sexy as she picked flowers from the fence line. “What happened with her being tailed?”
“False alarm. You going for me or what?”
“I don’t know if I can go. I have to ask Tia.”
“Pussy whipped already? Damn, she’s good.”
Asshole for a friend, that’s what he had. “No, I’m not whipped already. She’s on vacation and either has to come with me or stay here alone. It’s inconsiderate to just ditch her without a car because of your control freak needs.”
“What does he want?” Tia asked from the ground at his feet where she laced the daisies she’d picked into a chain.
“He wants me to check out a small company that makes cribs and other baby furniture not far from here, to see the quality of workmanship, since it’s Friday and I’m not working. It’s not going to be good enough, so why he’s wasting my time—”
“You owe me!” Chase hollered in his ear. “I gave you clearance, remember? I listened to your busy phone call like a good friend. Just do this for me, so I can make a decision.”
Jake glared and wanted to melt the phone with his eyes, like a superhero. “I owe you? Jesus, the next time you’re on vacation, I’m going to call in favors. I’m sure Kate will love that.”
“Just go, Jake. I don’t mind having a bit of free time.” Tia smiled so sweetly, one that held promise for later.
Jake sighed into the phone, loving her all the more as the day passed. “She said I can go.”
“Pussy whipped.”
“Jesus, you’re an ass. You want pictures?”
“Of the furniture or of you two getting busy?”
“Asshole. I’ll call when I get there.” Jake ended the call and held out his hand for Tia. “Do you want to come?”
She rose, they walked over to his truck, and it felt so good when she slipped her smaller hand into his and leaned her head against his chest. “No, go. I’ll be fine. I have knitting and laundry to do. I’ll give the horses their dinner if you want.”
“It won’t take that long.”
“This is Chase, remember? My gut tells me he’ll keep you there forever. Just admit it now, and the afternoon will go much better.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her sweet lips against his. “I’ll be waiting when you return.”
“Naked?” He held her close for a moment and kissed her back, one filled with promise and tongue. His cock hardened again, and he tugged her hips closer, so she could feel his need. Feel what she did to him. God, what he wouldn’t give to pound her now, up against his truck. But he was a good husband, and instead, he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. “I’ll miss you.”
She smiled wickedly and let her hand slide along his erection, squeezing those fingers in a way that promised him she’d be more than naked when he got home. She’d be naked, wet, and willing.
“I’m sure you’ll miss me, Mr. Whipped.”
****
Tia stood at the corner of the driveway and watched Jake drive off to do the Lord of the Spies’ bidding. After the craziness of the day, she was glad to have a moment to herself, to think and to process what the hell had happened. Because this morning she woke up pissed and devil bound that the wedding nonsense would stop, yet here she stood with Jake’s high school ring on her married ring finger. And she liked it.
Liked it enough to feel the tough girl inside her start to let down the defenses. For the first time in a long time, she was just…the old her. The Sarah from so long ago, who had once dreamed of marriage and boyfriends, pink and lace. That part of her would have done anything to love Jake, to turn him from the confirmed man whore path to be only hers.
Tia went inside and began to put her time to good use by reading the instructions to the beaded purse. She dumped the beads into a bowl and began stringing them onto the delicate yarn. The beads were shiny, as she had once been. Shiny despite living with a drug-dependant mother, hoping for her to clean up, waiting for a man to come and see the real her—Sarah—and rescue them both.
But she’d learned the hard way. Unless your man was a firefighter and your house was on fire, you weren’t getting rescued. Love, she discovered, wasn’t beautiful. It hurt. Her mother had taught her well. Love someone, and that person would turn on you, would show you their true colors. You just had to wait for it.
History repeated itself, over and over, beginning with her mother, who said she loved her. At least Billy was honest. He had just wanted to fuck her. It had been her fault for hoping he was the prince, wanting to rescue them both. All he had wanted was a mother/daughter ménage.
Her first Dom proclaimed love, too. The moment she let her defenses down to take a chance, he dumped her for a heroin addict. Tia didn’t do drugs, period, so she’d been second best to a slut with a great smack supplier and clean needles.
Her second didn’t proclaim love but showed her how much pain she could handle, to keep love away. She hadn’t known it then, but he would have killed her if he hadn’t been arrested. At that point, she was still shiny enough to want to live. There’d never been a third, because she learned that the longer you stayed with someone, the more they pushed the limits. So it came down to longevity with a man meant she’d fall in love and get hurt or she’d die.
Instead, she tried to learn how to get what she needed, that closeness with a man, without jeopardizing her heart. Eventually, the pain drove her to see how close she could come to death. It became a game, like baiting a bear or a tiger. And despite being a hard bitch with a death wish, she still craved that closeness, the kissing and skin contact, wanted it more than she desired the orgasm. Especially from Jake.
But something changed when he slid that ring on her finger, that huge circle of gold with a big blue stone, rimmed with the name of his high school. Stupid but true. So why did she feel differently now, after years of training to be the tough girl?
Maybe it was the way he’d looked at her as he said those vows earlier in the yard, so earnest and serious, meaning every word. Silly, goofy, beautiful words. Impulsive words.
Vows like those, spoken from the lips of a confirmed man whore were powerful. Heady. Enough to make her feel them and begin to believe she was worth them, even after all she had shared. She had told him she was a slut with a death wish, and he wanted to marry her for the weekend. He treated her with kindness and flattery, loved her cooking, praised her riding, enjoyed her company under that big tree of his. He looked at her as if she were someone special, beautiful and unique, not someone used and tarnished.
Life had taught her, though, that he would change. The true Jake would surface, and she would pay. She would still be second best.
She bit her lip and ran her fingers through the beads again. If she listened to her girly side, the one who liked weddings and pink, that side would tell her to take the chance. Let down the walls, remove the barbed wire maze so she could take the bondage tape off her heart and let it feel again. Let Jake continue to see the real her she’d given him a glimpse of when he slipped his ring on her finger.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts and checked the time, shocked to realize the horses would be looking for dinner. She went out and fed them, hay first, then grain as Jake had instructed, checking their water. The late spring evening filled with the scent of sweet hay mingling with the rhythmic chewing and rustling.
She read somewhere once that the heart of a man could be judged by how he treated his horse. Jake treated Jessa like she walked on water. Tonka, not so much, but the gelding was full of himself, Jake had said, and deserved a good ass kicking like any young male. But Jessa he coddled, feeding her carrots, petting and cooing to her in a way that might not be considered manly. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way of a man in love with his first girl.
“You guys love Jake, don’t you?”
The mare’s head popped up, maybe because she was looking for her master, most likely because she wanted to drink.
“Would you be jealous if I tried to love him, too?”
Jessa finished her drink and snorted, blowing bits of hay everywhere. Tia laughed and decided her answer could be taken either way. The mare might share and she might not. Spoken like a true female.
It was also a female’s prerogative to change her mind. Tia decided then and there to abandon her fuck-him-or-die attitude. She wouldn’t hide any longer. She’d go to him tonight, as a true bride, and make love to him the way a woman should. With her heart as well as her body.
This was her deepest, darkest fantasy, to love a man, surrender to him fully. To take her bondage-taped heart out of the barbed wire maze she’d constructed around it and to offer it on a silver platter. She wouldn’t offer it in the spirit of love—she wasn’t ready for that, even if she had known him for months and months.
She’d offer it as she’d offered her pocketknife, a symbol that she’d allow this wedding role play to continue and embrace it. At the end, on Monday, she’d decide if the heart needed to return to the maze. If so, nothing lost. Her heart already hurt. But if she took the chance and Jake realized he could put Tia before Kate…
It would be worth it. For both of them.
Her mind made up, Tia went into the house and twirled around in the kitchen, planning the seduction that would take place this evening. This time they’d dance, but it wouldn’t be that chaste rocking back and forth from yesterday. Today there would be dirty dancing, with grinding hips. She’d kiss him, he’d carry her up the stairs, and this time, when he made love to her, she would come because she sought the pain that stemmed from her heart instead of hiding from it.
Tia went up to the bedroom to see what she needed to prepare for their special evening of wedding sex, take two. It was odd to see the room now, with both of their things mingled. A pair of his boots on the floor next to her sneakers, a spare bra over his sweats on the rocking chair. His bedside table held his gun and a watch. Hers held her smaller gun and a pair of earrings. She smiled at that—such was the life of spies. At least they felt comfortable enough to leave the weapons in the bedroom. She often carried her gun with her at home. She’d bet a quarter he had another gun in the truck.
His second bag was open on the bed, the one she hadn’t searched yet. Tempting. So tempting to know what he had. And, if she got really technical, he had searched her bags earlier and used her nipple clamps on her, the sneak. Yes, it was wrong to peek, but she was a spy, damn it, and training told her if she didn’t go in that bag, she could die. Training also told her if he had something to hide, he would have taken the bag with him. So no, don’t peek in the bag. But Jake’s leaving it there meant it was free game in the spy world.
“Fuck it.” Training won. She sat down on the bed next to his bag and delved in. A sweatshirt was on top, and it smelled so good, fresh, that she wondered what laundry detergent he used. A bit lower, under a clean pair of jeans, was a notebook. She leafed through it.
The first page was filled with notes. Most of it was some sort of code, probably notes from his last mission, which would make sense. Paris was on one line and Kate’s name underlined three times, surrounded by a code of numbers and letters.
Along the edge, he’d doodled crazy shapes, a stick figure with a smoking gun, a dead stick figure bleeding out over the page, and at the very bottom, away from everything, was Kate’s name again. In neat block letters with a little frame around it.
Tia shut the notebook, a bit disturbed. It shouldn’t bother her that he had written her name—she’d been his partner then. But it did. Especially the name at the bottom, alone, in neat block letters. A little frame around it. Kate. Beautiful, perfect Kate, with blonde hair and bombs, roses and ponies.
The pain that had been absent all day surfaced, stabbed, and ached. Unable to stop snooping, she carefully pulled out a few more items of clothing, stacking everything very neatly so she could put it all back the way she had found it. Spies were good at that. His cell phone charger, a second knife, a box of ammo, and then there was nothing left except a scrap of blue cloth in the corner.
She pulled it out, held it up in her hands, and dropped it as if it were on fire. A garter—lacy, light blue with a small pink rose on one side. Kate’s.
She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d used this bag when Kate and Chase had married. Maybe it was forgotten. But maybe, just maybe, he left it there, because it was special to him.
Tia glared. This was what she got for snooping. She put his items back in the bag, careful to layer it all in the original sequence, with every wrinkle in place. She kept the garter, though. For now. Temptation beckoned to her insecurities so she rose and began to inspect the rest of the room, the woman in her a little scorned.
The dresser held more clothes—jeans, T-shirts, underwear. Nothing special. The bottom drawer, though, held paperwork. She pulled it out and found a jackpot of photos—scenery, planes, Jake much younger with another man who resembled him enough to be a twin—Aaron probably. She closed that album, and then at the very bottom, she found her proof.
Inside the last book was basically a photo shrine to Kate. A year’s worth of photos, all in one place. Kate in a bikini, Kate in a deep blue gown, Kate in combat boots and special ops gear, holding an assault rifle. A few of Kate and Chase together. Some of the beautiful redhead she’d seen him with in that Parisian bar. And finally, she found one of Kate in Jake’s arms as they danced, Kate looking at him with adoration, Jake with the same look on his face. Kate looked about to speak, her pink lips amused. Tia slammed the book shut before she could hear what Blondie had to say.
One photo slid to the floor and Tia picked it up. Kate sat on the tire swing out front, where they had said their wedding vows. The elements of autumn sparkled around her, the biggest smile on her beautiful face. Jake had lied about never bringing women home. He had brought her here.
“That, right there, is why this fake wedding was a bad idea,” Tia said aloud, because the part of her that dreamed of weddings and pink needed to hear it, loud and clear. An unguarded heart meant pain—lots of it. And Jake was a very good liar. You had to be if you wanted to survive as a spy.
Unfortunately, the spy was never far from the man. And though he treated his horses well, they probably didn’t care that he loved Kate first. If Kate had carrots, the horses were fine with it. So Tia put the book back and layered the other items on top with spy expertise, all the while wanting to shred those photos. Burn them in the driveway with the garter. Launch grenades at them from the far end of the pasture.
She sighed and, instead, did what any sane, smart woman would do—guarded the heart. She proverbially put it back into the maze, behind the barbed wire and the mines, back inside the shreds of insecurity, bad memories, and doubt that made up the high walls. The bondage tape came out and, with two wraps, it was secure. Jake was nothing but lies. Smoke and mirrors. Deception with a handgun, knives, and a mouth that lied for a living.
Jake had talked the talk during their wedding vows. He’d walked the walk as he had led her to the backyard to say those vows. But when it came down to Monday, Jake would still be in love with another woman, plain and simple.
How could she compete? Kate was a genius bomb maker, beautiful, well-trained, and unfortunately, Jake had sampled her charms in bed—probably better than anything Tia had to offer if he was smitten and he was their third. A man’s heart didn’t heal up and move on after being branded by a woman like that. It just didn’t. Not in a weekend. And frankly, she was tired of the fantasy.
Tia sighed, put Jake’s bag on the floor and curled up on the bed. The tears that threatened finally came, spilling out slowly, the sadness a dull ache that grew and sliced at her heart. It hurt more this time, probably because Jake’s charm had taken the numbness away.
She suddenly understood Jake’s perverse need for the rules, because a world where your heart was out in the open, unguarded was not a healthy reality. Come tomorrow, the fuck-him-or-die scenario had to be played full force, as if her life depended on it. He was too powerful, too charming, too… Tia closed her eyes. He was too perfect for her.
And Kate was too perfect for Jake.
****
Jake pulled into the driveway long after dark, cursing Chase for this fucking errand that had taken him from Tia’s arms. What should have been an hour of torture had turned into two. An accident shutting down the rain-soaked road turned it into three, then four. He’d called Tia, but there’d been no answer. She must have left her phone as she went out to offer the horses their dinner, so he sent her a text, promising to make this up to her until the wee hours of the morning.
The crib had been beautiful, and he remembered it fondly as he parked in front of the barn. Perfection in handcrafted wood, exactly what the heir to the spydom deserved. He’d called the Lord of the Spies, and together they had mulled over the different options until he finally asked to speak to Kate. Why didn’t she, the spydom’s queen, care about what they picked for her baby?
“Honestly, Jake. I don’t care. Just pick something out.” She had sounded tired. Defeated. Beaten down, and so unlike his Kate that he wanted to shake her.
“You should care. Damn it, grow a set of balls and give the man an opinion.”
“He didn’t ask my opinion when he created this zygote. Why should he ask now?”
He heard Chase in the background, grumbling something, and she told him to fuck off. But her foul language didn’t hold the heat it usually did when she was pissed, and Jake had been alarmed. His Kate lacked fire, and it bothered him to the point that he had ended the call quickly with a promise to put a deposit on the crib. He’d paid for the entire thing because the gift would be perfect, but it still bothered him, Kate’s fireless curse.
Suddenly, it hit him why Kate’s lack of opinion and fire bothered him so much. He realized she had given up, and it hurt him. Kate was a fighter. She didn’t give up, not when she’d fought so hard and long to love Chase. Jake blinked, and thought a minute more.
The tone she had used to curse at her husband sounded suspiciously like Tia when she said, “Whatever you want” to Jake, in and out of the bedroom. Whatever role you want, however I can please you, Husband. It sounded submissive. It had felt submissive, but he realized with growing dread that this was exactly what had bothered him when they first met.
Tia had always felt aloof to him, a little cold. Well, maybe it was hard to be warm when you were leaving the reins to your body hanging over a fence post so anyone could take them. She’d never truly given in and handed them to him.
There’d been no true power exchange. The words and actions said submissive, but you could call a cow whatever you wanted. It was still a cow if you slapped a saddle on it and tried to ride it like a horse. She wasn’t truly submissive.
Tia didn’t give in to his desires. Tia gave up and let him do what he wanted.
However, the Tia that slipped her finger into his ring was a different creature. That Tia held promise of submissiveness, to giving in to his desires. A true power exchange, much in the way they had exchanged vows, exchanged bites of cake. That Tia was his perfection, in and out of bed.
He went into the house with a sense of purpose. He’d get to the bottom of this and then make love to her for the rest of the evening. Or maybe they’d make love first, then he’d figure it out. In any case, he wanted answers, and he wanted to see if she was still the brave, pushy, sexy thing she’d become after he slipped his ring on her finger.
“Hey, Tia?” he called as he entered the house by the backdoor. Silence answered him, so he took off his boots, damp from the rain, and went in.
She’d been busy—her purse kit box was open on the counter, with sticky notes attached to the box with numbers on it. She’d begun to string silver beads onto thin yarn, and the beads glittered as he ran a finger through them in the bowl she’d used to hold them.
Jake stuck his head into the dark living room. She wasn’t on the couch. He took the stairs two by two and found her on the bed, curled up in his favorite T-shirt, asleep. He leaned against the doorframe and drank her in, the curve of her hip under his shirt, the way her thighs pressed together, her hand between them. He saved her face for last and sucked in a breath, because she’d obviously been crying again. Damn it. The flesh under her long lashes was puffy, swollen, and streaks darted down her cheeks.
He drew closer and touched her shoulder, but she didn’t stir. She wasn’t faking it. He’d know the difference, and she usually woke just as quickly as he. So he grabbed the blanket off the rocking chair and gently covered her with it. She rolled and tugged the corner to her in her hand, holding it to her cheek, and she looked sixteen instead of twenty-eight.
He glanced around the room and found her phone on her bedside table. He checked it—no calls except his, no texts except his, so the tears were definitely his fault somehow. He set it back on the nightstand next to her gun and went to his side of the bed. He tripped on something—his bag—and as he moved it, a flash of light blue caught his eye.
He bent down and lifted Kate’s garter off the top of the pile of clothes. He stared at the garter, then back at Tia, his heartstrings tugging. This had been stuffed at the bottom, in a corner. She’d either wanted him to know she’d found it or, in her moment of sadness, fucked up.
Kate had snapped her garter at him in the restaurant after the very tiny, informal wedding, laughing at him as she also chucked him her bouquet. He was doomed to be next to marry, she’d told him, her smile so wicked he’d wanted to strangle her. He’d forgotten all about it until now. But Tia wouldn’t know that.
Jesus, what else did she find? His bedroom was full of ammo against him, and not the bullet type. His gaze flew to the bottom drawer and back to her tear-stained face. He didn’t have to check the drawer to know she’d found his Kate pile, the photos he’d dumped in one album the last time he’d come home, because he’d realized how he felt about her and decided to cleanse her from his life. Without that knowledge, it’d look like he had a stalker problem and needed a restraining order. He didn’t. God help him, he didn’t.
She stirred and whispered something, the blanket over her face. Jake went closer and tugged the blanket from her hands.
“What is it, honey?”
“Hurts.”
“What hurts?” He scanned her form with growing fear—would she hurt herself over something he’d done?
“Heart,” she whispered.
She rolled and something fell from her hand. He picked it up and drew in a breath. It was the engagement photo Kate had sent him, with her big grin and that flashy, carated billboard on her finger, screaming that she belonged to Chase. He frowned and looked closer. It had been taken here.
He whipped out his phone and texted Chase. When did you bring Kate here?
When I proposed. I used the house rules to make her say yes.
Yes, now he remembered. Chase’s plan had been to use the house rules to make sure she said yes. Christ, Chase was manipulative, even before marriage. Of course, Kate had said yes. The last few months were a blur, though. Where was I?
England, the first time around. Everything okay?
No, it wasn’t.
Everything’s fine. TTYL.
Jake closed the bedroom door softly behind him, letting her sleep. He went back to the kitchen and poured himself a generous whiskey and cola, not because he wanted it, but because he needed it. The house rules allowed alcohol if you didn’t get sex, and he wasn’t getting any tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either. The honeymoon was over.
Jake sighed and went to the porch, the crickets loud, the swing creaky as he sat, the moon shrouded in rainclouds. One of the horses snorted, echoing off the walls of the barn. He loved it here. He should be thrilled to be home. But now when he thought of Tia, instead of flashes of her in Paris, he had to suffer her in his T-shirt, tear-stained, curled around a picture of Kate. He’d done that to her, maybe not directly, but this fucking mess was his fault.
He sipped his drink, rattling the ice around in the glass. Tomorrow… He didn’t want to face her tomorrow. How could he bring up what he knew when he wasn’t supposed to know it?
The pocketknife in his pocket seemed to burn into his thigh, probably because he’d cheated yet again and had spoken to Kate. The look in Tia’s eye had been vindictive when she promised to emasculate him if he contacted Kate. Possessive. He liked that, but he didn’t want to lose his balls over stuff that wasn’t his fault.
He had to find a way to convince her that she was wrong—he didn’t want to be Kate’s seconds anymore. But how? His drink finished, he set it aside and stared out into the darkness, up at the stars just beginning to shine through the clouds.
The truth didn’t work with her, nor did charm. The only thing that seemed to work was when he pulled the dominance card, demanding she see things his way. How could he enjoy playing that, now, when the path it would take him would be a fine line between hate and…caring? Did he dare go deeper than that?
Yeah, he did. He had to go deeper, harder than he’d gone before. He would spend the day charming her, playing the gentleman, the kind husband, because that’s what he really wanted to be. But if things had changed like he thought, he knew a way to get her to surrender.
She wanted pain? He’d give her pain. The good kind. It would be the first step to her giving in and personally handing him the reins to her heart.