Have Me (Stark Trilogy, #3.6)(3)

“Do you own this?” I’d asked Damien after we’d arrived and I’d had time to catch my breath. He’d smiled, but then surprised me by shaking his head.

“I almost bought it years ago when it was stumbling,” he said. “I ended up giving the owners a loan to help them get past a hump, do some upgrades, and rebrand the place as an exclusive—and very upscale—getaway destination.”

“They succeeded in spades,” I said.

“Yes, they did,” he said. I heard the note of pride in his voice and looked at him curiously. “This property has been in the same family for over three generations. There’s a history here, not to mention the kind of work ethic that would have found a way to make the property viable. I just pushed the process along. I didn’t want to alter what the family had built, but I did want to make sure that what they’d established would continue to flourish.”

I nodded, remembering what he’d once told me about a small gourmet wine and cheese company. He’d loved the product and had wanted to help the company, so much so that he had partnered with them, letting them run autonomously, but with the full weight and resources of Stark International behind them. It had been a mistake. Suddenly, the small local company that had been praised in the press was vilified, with critics claiming it was actually big business pretending to be small and family-owned. Damien had pulled his resources and sold Stark International’s share back to the owners, but the damage was done, and it had taken many years for that company to recover.

Now, as we approach our bungalow, Damien draws me close. “There was another reason, too,” he says.

I frown, trying to follow his train of thought. “For not buying the resort, you mean?”

He nods. “I wanted a place to come when I needed to be completely alone. No work. No obligations. A respite.”

“Like now,” I tease.

“Like now.”

I pause on the path, then hook my arms around his neck and rise up onto my tiptoes. “In case it escaped your attention, you’re not alone.”

“But I am,” he says.

I open my mouth to say something light in response, but then stop. I can see by his face that he is serious.

“A man is never more himself than when he is alone,” Damien says, in answer to my unspoken question. “That is when the mask comes off. Shut the door, and the persona drops away. Alone, you reveal your soul. You and I know that better than most people.”

I nod, but say nothing.

He brushes his lips over mine in a kiss so soft it makes me want to cry from the sweetness of it. “You, Nikki, are the only person I can be with and still be alone. You see me—the core of me. And not only do you see me, but you love me.”

“Yes,” I say, and only when I taste my tears do I realize that I am crying, after all. Throughout my entire life I have played a part. Social Nikki. Beauty Queen Nikki. Dutiful Daughter Nikki. But with Damien, I am only Nikki.

“I am alone with you,” he says. “And at the same time, neither of us will ever be alone again.”

I blink away the tears. “It’s perfect,” I say. “You could have searched forever and still not found a better place for us. It—it fills me up.” The words are inadequate, but when he squeezes my hand and says, “I know,” I think that perhaps he understands.

When we arrive at the bungalow, my thoughts are still on Damien’s words and this place. I meant what I said about the location being perfect. Ever since his murder trial, things have been just a little crazy. And he’s right, this is a well-deserved respite for both of us. Time to be alone together. A chance to stop the movement of the earth for just a little bit. I grin at the thought.

“What’s that for?” he asks, brushing the corner of my mouth with his fingertip.

I lift a shoulder casually as he opens the bungalow door for me. “I was just thinking about how easily you control the universe. Stopping the earth’s rotation is no mean feat.”

He chuckles. “Is that what I do?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I take his hands and pull him inside. “But right now, I don’t want the earth to stop. Just the opposite. Make the earth move for me, Damien,” I say, pressing my body against his. I draw in a deep, self-satisfied breath as he shifts against me, his erection hard against my abdomen. “I want you to make me fall apart,” I whisper. “Please, Damien. I want you to make me scream.”

“As you wish,” he says, in the kind of low voice that makes me tingle in anticipation. “After all, Mrs. Stark, this is your wedding day.”





[page]Chapter 2


As it turns out, I don’t scream. Instead, I squeal as he scoops me up and holds me tight against his chest, my arms hooked equally tight around his neck. I laugh and kick as he carries me toward the bedroom.

“I’m not going to make you scream, Mrs. Stark,” he whispers with mischief in his voice. “I’m going to make you beg.”

“Because you like it when I beg.” My voice is breathy as I repeat what he said to me on the beach.

His mouth curves into a grin, but he doesn’t answer in words. Instead, I see the truth in his eyes. Oh yes, I think. This is going to be fun.

I expect him to deposit me on the bed, and I’m prepared to cling to his shirt and pull him down on top of me if he even thinks about stepping away, even if only to undress. Instead, he surprises me, moving through the bedroom to a sliding wooden door. He shifts his grip on me just long enough to open it, revealing the most spectacular bathroom I’ve ever seen.