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Gripping her upper arms, he shifted her to the center of the bed, her head cocooning in the deep pillows. He placed one knee on either side of her stomach, without putting any weight on her.
He stretched her right arm out again.
He was not serious. He was not.
He wrapped the other end of the scarf around the bedpost.
She tried to talk, but her throat had gone dry, and the words turned into a rasp. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t angry. In fact, she was sort of …
He stretched out the other arm.
“Reed,” she tried, wiggling her hips.
He centered himself over her, capturing her gaze, looking directly into her eyes. “Do you think I’ll hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“Do you think I’ll do one single thing you won’t like?”
She shook again. She wasn’t scared. In fact, she was turned on. She was well and truly turned on at the thought of giving him free rein over her body.
“Do you trust me?”
She nodded.
He smiled. “Good.”
Then he kissed her mouth. She opened wide, welcoming his tongue. Instinct told her to hug him, but she kept herself still instead.
He kissed her jawline, her neck and shoulders. He made his way to the tip of one breast, then drew the nipple into his hot mouth. She groaned, and arched, and he moved to the other. Sparks of hot sensation traveled the length of her body, flushing her skin, making her blood burn with need.
She hissed his name. But he took his time, indulging in her belly, her thighs, her knees, all the way to her ankles. On the way back up, he moved to the inside, closer, slower, until he hit the center, and she nearly arched off the bed.
Her breaths became pants, and her head thrashed from side to side. Her thighs moved apart, knees bending.
“Now, Reed,” she finally cried.
He levered up on his arms, settling over her, pushing inside in one smooth stroke. And she gave a guttural groan. Her arms automatically went around him. The scarves fell away, and she realized he’d never tied a single knot.
She wrapped her ankles across the small of his back, trapping him to her, rising to meet him, reveling in the barrage of sensations she’d nearly forgotten could exist. Her need drove higher, her body grew hotter, as their slick bodies came together over and over again.
A roar grew in the depths of her brain, and a pulse at the base of her spine became insistent. It throbbed harder and faster, radiating out to engulf her limbs.
She moaned his name and tightened her body around him as his rhythm came harder and faster, until rockets exploded behind her eyes and warm honey seemed to fill every crevice of her body.
Then the pulse slowly subsided, and her limbs grew limp. Her legs fell down to the bed, and her lungs worked double-time to recover.
Reed smoothed her hair from her face.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said.
“I love you,” she affirmed.
He pulled her tight, rolling them both, so she was cushioned by his body. Then he flipped a comforter over her back and tucked her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair, his chest rising and falling with his own deep breathing.
Their time in Biarritz was like a second honeymoon. As the days drifted by, Reed watched the tension ease from Elizabeth’s expression. They walked the beaches, rented a yacht, tried windsurfing, and visited the funky little shops that dotted the town. They even bought and shipped home an oil painting of the local lighthouse.
They made love every night, most mornings, too. He felt like they were finally reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies. He dreaded going back to the fertility charts and programmed sex.
He was surreptitiously checking with Selina, Collin and Devon several times a day. He’d kept the communications quiet, not wanting to break the spell for Elizabeth. But he knew that issues were beginning to pile up on his desk, and their vacation had to come to an end.
Elizabeth resettled against him on a sofa in a little nook they’d found in the turret on the third floor of the chateau. The sofa faced a curved bank of windows that showed off the brilliant orange sunset over the ocean. A storm was forecast overnight, and Jean-Louis was reluctantly whipping up a gourmet pizza so they could dine casually.
Let it rain, and let the waves blow in. Reed was looking forward to a cozy evening with his fabulous wife. It was their last evening in France. Elizabeth didn’t know it yet, but the jet was already on its way to the Biarritz airport.
“Why can’t it always be like this?” she asked.
“Sunset?”
“I mean, us. Together. No worries, no problems.”
Reed couldn’t help but smile at her wistful voice. “Well, for one thing, we’d run out of money.”
She straightened to look at him, curling her legs beneath her in slim jeans and a loose, sea-green sweater. “Would we?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe we could sell off a few companies. Or maybe you could hire a manager to run them?”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Everything in his conglomerate was interconnected. It was also interconnected with his father’s companies. Wellington International as a whole was worth a lot more than the sum of its parts.
“Then, how does it work?” she asked.
Reed wasn’t sure how to explain the complexities of his job.
“The companies depend on each other,” he told her. “And someone needs to watch out for the big picture.”
“What about Collin?”
“Collin has his own job. He can’t do mine, too.”
She harrumphed out a sigh. “I think you’re getting too puffed up with your own importance. They didn’t miss you this week.”
“A week’s not very long.” And he’d been monitoring quite a number of things via his laptop and cell phone.
“I like spending time together,” she said.
“I like spending time together, too.”
There was a light rap on the door. “Mr. Wellington?”
“Yes?”
The solid door creaked open, revealing one of the housemen. “A phone call for you, sir.”
“Obviously something important,” Elizabeth sassed.
“Obviously,” he agreed, giving her shoulder a quick rub before getting up from the sofa. He was keeping his cell phone turned off most of the time, and he’d asked the office not to contact him through the chateau unless there was an emergency.
This better be good.
The uniformed man pointed to a telephone in the corner of the room, and Reed perched himself on a tiny, French provincial chair.
“Hello?”
“Reed, it’s Mervin Alrick calling.”
Reed was shocked to hear Elizabeth’s father’s voice. “Mr. Alrick?”
Elizabeth swiveled her head to look at Reed, brows knitting together in a question.
Reed shrugged in answer.
“I’m afraid—” Mervin cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m calling to give you some terrible news.”
Reed’s chest tightened in dread, his thoughts going to Elizabeth’s mother. “Yes?” he asked slowly.
Elizabeth leaned forward, cocking her head, a look of concern growing on her face.
“It’s Brandon.”
“Brandon?”
Elizabeth came to her feet.
“Brandon and Heather were in a car accident on the coast.”
“Are they okay?” Reed reached for Elizabeth, and she moved forward to take his hand.
“What?” she whispered.
Reed gave his head a little shake, concentrating on the call.
“I’m afraid—” Mervin cleared his throat again.
“Mr. Alrick?”
“They’ve died.”
Reed felt like he’d been sucker punched. “They?”
“Both of them.” Mervin’s voice broke, while Reed pulled Elizabeth against him.
Watching his expression, her eyes had gone wide with fear.
“You’ll tell Elizabeth,” Mervin rasped.
“Yes. Of course. We’ll be there as soon as possible. And Lucas?”
“Is fine. He was with his babysitter.”
“My jet’s in France. We’ll go straight to San Diego.”
“Yes … well …” Mervin was clearly struggling for control.
“We’ll call you soon.” Reed disconnected.
“Reed?” Elizabeth’s voice was paper dry.
He turned to face her, bracing one hand on each of her shoulders.
“Why do we have to go to—”
“It’s Brandon,” said Reed, hating what he was about to do to her. “He was killed in a car accident today.”
Elizabeth shook her head in denial. “No. No. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Heather was killed, too.”
Elizabeth took a step back, still shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Brandon was her only sibling, and she’d adored him.
“It can’t be,” she whispered, even as her eyes welled up with tears.
Reed stepped forward and pulled her back into his arms. She struggled against both his touch and the cruel reality of the situation. “No. No. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.”
“I need to get hold of Collin.” Even as he rocked her, Reed reached for the phone. “He’ll contact the jet and make arrangements.”
Elizabeth let out a low, keening moan that nearly broke Reed’s heart.
“We have to get to California,” he told her firmly. “Lucas needs us.”
She stilled, looking up. “Lucas?”
“Lucas is fine. He’s with a babysitter. But we need to get to him.”
