Читать книгу The Royals Collection - Ким Лоренс, Rebecca Winters - Страница 50
Оглавление“CONFIDENT. NOT THE SAME.” His words came out gritty and chopped, not at all like him.
Understandable and welcome in the circumstances.
“No, maybe it’s not.” She worked his hot shaft out through the slit in his boxers, thankful they were made from stretchy fabric. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Do whatever you want. I promise to enjoy it.”
She smiled. She believed him. There was one area of their relationship she was absolutely certain about and that was the amount of pleasure he took from their physical intimacy.
The man could not get enough of her.
So she didn’t let herself worry if she was doing it right when she bent forward and licked around the head of his erection. It was wide and she knew she’d have to stretch her lips to get him inside. No way was much of him going to fit into her mouth, though.
She didn’t worry about that right now, but concentrated on enjoying the taste of him. It was salty and kind of bitter, but sort of sweet, too. His skin was warm and clean and hot against her lips and tongue.
She liked it. A lot.
He didn’t try to rush her, though a steady stream of pre-ejaculate was now weeping from his slit and his thighs were rock-rigid with tension. She jacked the bulk of his shaft with her hands while sucking on the end.
He made small, nearly nonexistent noises, letting her know he was enjoying this as much, or more, than she was.
Suddenly he grabbed her head and pulled it back, messing up the curls Laura had taken such effort to tame. “You have to stop.”
“No.”
“I’m going to come,” he said fiercely.
“That’s the point,” she whispered back.
He shook his head. “You’re not swallowing your first time. You don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“You’re being bossy again and this is not the bedroom.”
Ignoring her less-than-stern admonition, he pulled her into his lap, maneuvering her so she could continue to touch him. Then he handed her a napkin from the table.
She grinned and almost asked what it was for to tease him, but the light in his eyes had gone feral. And really, she wasn’t looking to get arrested for public indecency, which might well happen if his control slipped his leash completely.
So she finished him with her hand, catching his ejaculate with the napkin and his shout with a passionate kiss.
When he was done, he slumped in the chair, though his hold on her remained tight. “You did that on purpose.”
“To give you pleasure?”
“That, too.”
She snuggled into him. “I’m not giving you an answer tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Really?” She kissed under his chin, a little startled by the reality of his suit and tie still pristinely in place.
“Yes, but that will not stop me taking you back to my condo and showing you what our married life will be like.”
“I’ve got no doubts about the great sex.”
“We will make sure of that by morning.”
“Should I call in at work tomorrow?” She didn’t want to try to do the complicated calculations for their current phase on no sleep.
And the look in his dark eyes said while she might get to know his bed very well, she wasn’t going to be doing a lot of resting there.
“I think perhaps you should.”
She did. In the early hours of the morning after he made love to her through the night in his condo that turned out to be a penthouse taking up the entire top floor of one of the more historic Seattle buildings.
* * *
Demyan woke her with kisses and caresses a few hours later.
Their lovemaking was slow and almost torturous in its intensity. He seemed set on proving something to her, but Chanel wasn’t convinced it was what she needed to know to agree to marry him.
When she was once again sated and relaxed, he informed her he’d called her sister and arranged to invite Chanel’s entire family, including Andrew, whom he was flying up for the weekend in his private jet, for dinner the following evening.
“My parents are coming here?” Postcoital bliss evaporated like water pooled on a rock in the desert as she jumped out of his king-size bed and started pacing the darkly masculine bedroom. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you think you should ask me first?” she demanded.
Looking smug and certain of his answer, he said, “You were asleep.”
“You could have waited until I woke up.”
“I was bored.”
“Right. And you had nothing else to occupy your time but calling my sister. How did you even get her number?” Had he gone snooping through her phone?
He averted his gaze without answering.
She sighed. “You got sneaky and underhanded, didn’t you?”
It wasn’t exactly a challenging conclusion to draw. As if there was any other way to get her sister’s private cell number without waking and asking Chanel.
“The prospect does not make you angry?” he asked with a cautious look.
Nonplussed, she stared at him. “You aren’t worried about how annoyed I am that you made plans with my family, just how irritated I am about your method for getting my sister’s number?”
He shrugged.
“News flash—I find it a lot less upsetting that you scrolled through my phone’s contacts while I was sleeping than the fact you used said contacts to set up a dinner with my family.” She shook her head. “Well, this ought to be interesting.”
With that, she went into the bathroom for a shower. It was her turn to lock the door.
Being the sneaky, underhanded guy he was, Demyan found his way inside regardless. Chanel hadn’t expected anything else.
So she didn’t jump when his hand landed on her hip and his big body added to the heat behind her from the shower. “You told me you wanted me to meet your family.”
“I said my sister,” Chanel gritted out.
The man was far too intelligent not to have made the distinction.
He turned her in his arms, his expression more amused than concerned. “You know I will have to meet all of them eventually. Why not now?”
“Because I’m not ready!” She made no effort to control her volume, but she wasn’t a yeller by nature, so the words came out sounding only about half as vehement as they did in her head.
The argument might have escalated, but he had the kissing-to-end-conflict technique down to a fine art.
They made love, moving together under the cascading water, his body behind hers, his arms wrapped around her so his hands could reach her most sensitive places.
As he brought her the ultimate in pleasure, he promised, “It will be all right, sérdeńko.”
She desperately wanted to believe him, but a lifetime of experience had taught her otherwise. “You’ll see me through their eyes.”
“Or I will teach them to see you through mine.”
Maybe, just maybe, his supreme self-confidence would guide his interactions with her family down that path.
She could hope.
* * *
The following night, her entire family showed up at Demyan’s condo right on time.
Chanel was so happy to see Andrew and Laura that her stress at seeing her mother and stepfather didn’t reach its usual critical levels instantly. That might also be attributed to the way Demyan kept one comforting arm around her throughout introductions and the launch into the usual small talk.
He’d brought in catering with servers so Chanel didn’t have to cook or play hostess getting drinks. Somehow he’d known that those domestic social niceties had always been a source of criticism and failure with her family in the past.
She hadn’t invited her parents to her apartment since moving out as a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old. Chanel had thought that having her own place would make a difference in how Beatrice and Perry responded to her efforts at cooking.
She’d learned differently quickly enough when they’d made it clear she fell short in every hosting department. The meal was too simple, the drinks offered too narrow in choice and even her bright stoneware dishes from a chain department store were considered inferior.
As could be inferred by her mother’s gift of appropriate understated chinaware on Chanel’s next birthday. She’d donated it to Goodwill and continued using her much less expensive, bright and cheerful dishes.
Since then, Chanel had assiduously avoided her mother’s inferences and even direct suggestions that Chanel might like to host one of the smaller family get-togethers over the years. In the ten years since that first debacle, Chanel had made sure there were no situations in which she’d have to invite her mother or stepfather into her home for so much as a drink of water.
Perry was clearly impressed by Demyan as a host, though, the older man’s expression shining with approval over the high-end penthouse and being offered his highball by a black-clad server.
Demyan kept them occupied with small talk, redirecting the conversation any time it looked like it would go into the familiar let’s-criticize-Chanel direction. He was also overtly approving, verbalizing his appreciation for Chanel in ways that could not be mistaken or overlooked by her parents.
His protective behavior touched her deeply and Chanel found herself relaxing with her family in a way she could not remember doing in years.
“So, you work for Yurkovich Tanner?” Perry asked Demyan over dinner.
“I do.”
Chanel added, “In the corporate offices.”
A vague answer never satisfied her stepfather and she wasn’t sure her addition would, either, but she could hope. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening listening to Perry grill Demyan about his connections and job prospects.
She realized moments later that she needn’t have worried.
Demyan adroitly evaded each sally until Perry gave up with a rather confused-sounding “Well, maybe you can put a good word in for Andrew. I tried contacting them on his behalf, you know, because of Andrew’s connection to one of the original founders.”
Andrew wasn’t the one connected to Bartholomew Tanner. That was Chanel and her connection was tenuous at best, but trust Perry to dismiss her blood relationship to the founder and receipt of a Tanner Yurkovich university scholarship as unimportant altogether.
“I haven’t heard back.” Perry shrugged. “It was a long shot, but business is all about contacts.”
Demyan nodded and then looked away from Perry to smile at Chanel. “I’m always happy to put a good word in for family.”
Oh, the fiend. Chanel kicked Demyan’s ankle under the table, but he didn’t even have the courtesy to flinch.
So, that’s why the dinner tonight. He’d said he was okay with waiting for her answer on his proposal, but really he had every intention of getting her family on his side. He had to realize it wouldn’t take much.
Beatrice Saltzman had given up hope her oldest daughter would ever marry, and had never had any that it would be advantageously. She would be Demyan’s biggest supporter once she realized the plans he wanted to make.
Chanel was going to kill him later, but right now she had to deal with the fallout of his implication.
It wasn’t her mother or Perry who picked up on it, either. They wouldn’t
“You’re getting married?” Laura gasped, her eyes shining. She grinned at Chanel. “I told you that outfit was going to hook him.”
“I wasn’t looking to hook anybody. We’re not engaged.”
“But I have asked Chanel to marry me.”
Chanel’s mother stared at her agape. “And you haven’t said yes? No, of course you haven’t.” She shook her head like she couldn’t expect anything else from her socially awkward eldest.
“I’m thinking about it.” Chanel glared daggers at Demyan, but he smiled back with a shark’s smile she was now convinced was not her imagination.
“Don’t think too long. He’s likely to withdraw the offer,” Perry advised in serious, almost concerned tones. “You’re not likely to do better.”
“It’s not a business deal.” Chanel ground out the words, refusing to be hurt by her stepfather’s observation.
Because it was true. She couldn’t imagine anyone better than Demyan ever coming into her life, but that wasn’t what was holding her back, was it?
“No, it’s not,” Andrew chimed in, giving his dad a fierce scowl. “Leave her alone about it. Demyan would be damn lucky to have Chanel for a wife and he’s obviously smart enough to realize it.”
Their mom tut-tutted about swearing, but Andrew ignored her and Chanel just gave her little brother a grateful smile. He and Laura had never taken after their parents’ dim view of Chanel. Their extended family, other friends and colleagues of the Saltzmans might, but not her siblings.
For that, Chanel had always been extremely thankful. Because she loved Andrew and Laura to bits.
Instead of looking annoyed by Andrew taking Chanel’s part, Demyan gave him an approving glance before turning a truly chilling one on Perry. “Neither of us is likely to do better, hence my proposal.”
“Well, of course,” Perry blustered, but no question—he realized he’d erred with his words.
Chanel wanted to agree to marry Demyan right then, but she couldn’t. There was too much at stake.
* * *
Chanel was sitting down to watch an old-movie marathon on A&E when her doorbell rang the next evening.
She’d turned down Demyan’s offer of dinner and a night in at the penthouse, telling him she wanted some time alone to think.
He hadn’t been happy, insisting she could think as easily in his company as out of it. Knowing that for the fallacy it was, she’d refused to budge. No matter how many different arguments he brought to bear.
Chanel had taken the fact she’d gotten her way as proof she could withstand even the more forceful side of his personality. And that he respected her enough to accede to her wishes when he knew she was serious about them.
If he was the one ringing the bell, both suppositions would be faulty and that might be the answer she needed.
As painful as it might be to utter.
It wasn’t Demyan through the peephole, though. It was Chanel’s mom.
Stunned, Chanel opened the door. “Mother. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?”
Chanel stepped back and watched with some bemusement as her mother entered her apartment for the first time since she’d moved in years ago.
Beatrice sat down on the sofa, carefully adjusting the skirt of her Vera Wang suit as she did so. “Close the door, Chanel. The temperature has dropped outside.”
“Would you like something to drink?” Chanel asked as she obeyed her mother’s directive and then hovered by the door, unsure what to do with herself.
“No, thank you.” With a slight wave of her hand toward the other end of the sofa she indicated Chanel should sit down. “I... You seemed uncertain about your relationship with Demyan last night. I thought you might want to talk about it.”
“To you?” Chanel asked with disbelief as she settled into her seat.
Her mother grimaced, but nodded. “Yes. I may not have been the best one these past years, but I am your mom.”
“And he’s rich.” His penthouse showed that even to someone as oblivious as Chanel could be. Beatrice would have noticed and probably done a fair guesstimate of Demyan’s yearly income off it.
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“He has corporate connections Perry and Andrew might find useful, too. I suppose that might carry even more weight with you.” After all, scientists could be rich, but Beatrice had never made any bones about not wanting another one in the family.
Her mom sighed. “I am not here on behalf of your brother or my husband, either.”
“You’re here for my sake,” Chanel supplied with full-on sarcasm.
But her mother nodded, her expression oddly vulnerable and sincere. “Yes, I am. The way you two are together. It’s special, Chanel, and I don’t want you to miss that.”
“We’ve only been dating a month,” Chanel said, shocking herself and voicing her biggest concern.
Beatrice nodded, as if she understood completely. “That’s the way it was for me and your dad. We knew the first time we met that we would be together for the rest of our lives.”
“You stopped loving him.” What would Chanel do if Demyan stopped wanting her?
Her mother’s eyes blazed with more emotion than Chanel could ever remember seeing in them. “I never did.”
“But you said...” Pain lanced through Chanel as her voice trailed off.
There were too many examples to pick only one.
“He was it for me.”
“You married Perry.”
“I needed someone after Jacob died.”
“You had me. You promised we would always be a team.” That broken promise had hurt worst of all.
“It was too hard. You were too much like him. I tried to make you different, but you refused to change.” Her mother sighed, looking almost defeated. “You are so stubborn. Just like him.”
For the first time, Chanel heard the pain in those words her mother had never expressed.
Some truths were just as hurtful to her. “Perry hates me.”
“He’s a very jealous man.”
“He wasn’t jealous of me. You weren’t affectionate enough to me to make him jealous.”
Sadness filled Beatrice’s eyes. “No, I haven’t been. He was jealous of Jacob.”
“Because you never stopped loving him.” Despite all evidence to the contrary.
“How do you stop loving the other half of your soul?”
Finally Chanel understood a part of her childhood she’d always been mystified by. She’d tried with Perry at first. Really tried. “Perry blamed me. He took his jealousy out on me.”
“Your father wasn’t around to punish.”
“You let him.”
Beatrice looked away and shrugged. As if it didn’t matter. As if all that pain was okay to visit on a child.
“You let him,” Chanel said again. “You knew and you let him hate me in effigy of my father.”
Her mom’s head snapped back around, her expression dismissive. “He doesn’t hate you. He wanted you to be the best and all you wanted was your books and science.”
“It’s what I love. Didn’t that ever matter to you?”
“Of course it mattered!” Beatrice jumped up, showing an unfamiliar agitation. “Science stole your father from me. Do you for one second believe I wanted it to take you, too?”
“So, you pushed me away instead.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“I don’t fit with the Saltzmans.”
Beatrice didn’t deny it, but she didn’t agree either. Should Chanel be thankful for small mercies?
“I did fit with the Tanners.”
“Too well, but they’re all gone, Chanel. Can’t you see that?”
“And you think I’ll die young like Dad did because of my love for science?”
“You’re too much a Tanner. You take risks.”
“I don’t!” She’d been impacted by the way her father and grandfather had died, too. “I’m very careful.”
“If you are, then I’ve succeeded a little, anyway.”
“You succeeded, all right. You succeeded in picking away at our relationship until there wasn’t one anymore.” Chanel nearly choked on the words, but she wouldn’t hold them back anymore. “You couldn’t handle how much having me around reminded you of Dad, so you pushed me away with both hands.”
“And now you can barely bring yourself to see me even once a month.”
“Visits with you are too demoralizing.”
“Your sister and brother see you more often.”
Even Andrew. He was away at university, but Chanel went to visit her brother at least once a term. She always made sure she got time with him when he was home. While she’d done her best to nurture her relationships with her siblings, Chanel had avoided her mother with the skill of a trained stunt driver.
“You have your sister date with Laura every week, but somehow you manage to avoid seeing me or Perry.”
“Can you blame me?” Chanel demanded and then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if you do, or don’t. I know whose fault it is we don’t have a relationship and it’s not mine.”
Finally, she truly understood that. It wasn’t that Chanel wasn’t lovable. Unless she’d been willing to become a completely different person, with none of her father’s passions, mannerisms or even affections, Chanel had been destined to be the brunt of both her mother’s grief and Perry’s jealousy.
There was no way she could be smart enough, well behaved enough or even pretty enough to earn their approval.
Not with hair the same color as her dad’s and eyes so like his, too. Not with a jaw every Tanner seemed to be born with and her bone-deep desire to grow up and be a scientist.
Beatrice’s eyes filled with grief that slowly morphed into resolution. “No, it’s not. You deserved better than either Perry or I have given you. You deserve to be loved for yourself and by someone who isn’t wishing every minute in your company you would move just a little differently, speak with less scientific jargon...”
“Just be someone other than who I am.”
“Yes. You deserve that.” Her mom’s voice rang with a loving sincerity Chanel hadn’t heard in it since she was eight years old and a broken vulnerability she never had. “That’s why I’m urging you with everything in me not to push Demyan away because how you feel about him scares you. I wouldn’t trade the years I had with your father for anything in the world, not even a life without the constant pain of grief that never leaves.”
“You think Demyan loves me like Dad loved you?”
“He must.” In a completely uncharacteristic gesture, Beatrice reached out and took both Chanel’s hands in her own. “Sweetheart, a man like that, he doesn’t offer you marriage when he could have you in his bed without it, not unless he wants all of you, but especially the life you can have together.”
Her mother hadn’t called her sweetheart in so long that Chanel had to take a couple of deep breaths to push back the emotion the endearment caused. “He’s really possessive.”
And bossy in bed, but she wasn’t going to share that tidbit with her mom.
“He needs you. For a man to need that deeply, it’s frightening for him. It makes him hold on tighter.”
“Did Dad hold on tight?”
“Oh, yes.”
Chanel had a hard time picturing it. “Like Perry?”
“Nothing like Perry. Jacob wasn’t petty. Ever. He wasn’t jealous. He trusted me and my love completely, but he held on tight. He wanted every minute with me he could get.”
“He still followed his passion for science.”
“Yes. I used to love him for it.”
“You grew to hate him, though, didn’t you?” That made so much sense.
Chanel hadn’t just spent her childhood as scapegoat to Perry for a man who couldn’t be reached in death. Her mom had punished her for being too like her father, too.
“I did.” Tears welled and spilled over in Beatrice’s eyes. “I betrayed our love by learning to hate him for leaving me.”
Chanel didn’t know what to do. Not only had she not seen her mother cry since the funeral, but they didn’t have the kind of relationship that allowed her to offer comfort.
“He doesn’t blame you.” Chanel knew that with every fiber of her being. Her dad’s love for her mom had had no limits.
“For hating him? I’m sure you’re right. He loved so purely. But if he were here now to see the damage I’ve done to you, to our bond as a family, he’d be furious. He would hate me, too.”
