Be a Doll(42)

At Carter Manor we had been taught countless scenarios regarding dinner with guests, but I hadn’t been ready for my husband’s temperament to take the better of him and ruin our efforts. It only took the mention of his father to make him lose his cool.

“You did well tonight, Lila,’’ he said, breaking the heavy silence. His voice seemed distracted as his eyes lost focus as if he was withdrawing into himself instead of raging as I’d expected after his outburst with Mr. Moran.

“For what it’s worth,’’ I mumbled and started to pile the empty plates, but I was immediately stopped with a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t. Mrs. McCarthy will take care of this tomorrow.’’ His voice was no louder than a whisper.

I turned toward him and my eyes locked on his without much effort. His dark orbs were hard for me to decipher, but I thought I saw a desperate need to get out of his head, probably trying to escape some awful memory that stemmed from his twin’s death, something I would bet never truly left him.

Without thinking and only following the tingle in my arms and the hard beats of my heart, I brought my hands to his chest over his firm pecs, so well-defined under his white dress shirt and unbuttoned jacket.

His hands fell to my hips. His palms warmed me through my wrap dress and his fingers gripped me tightly, making me feel each and every touch of them. His touch was powerful, strong. Heady.

Mouth dry, I frowned up at the man who was my husband, a man I didn’t understand, couldn’t make up my mind about.

“How bad will the consequences be?’’

His eyes fell to my mouth before he found mine again. “Let’s say that I’m going another route now.’’

I bit on my lip and looked down at my small hands, too small to even cover the whole expanse of his pecs. “Was he one of the reasons why you were looking for a wife?’’

“Not exactly.’’ At my deepening frown he sighed. “He is one of the few businessmen that were bothered by my lack of personal stability as they see fit, but he isn’t the one that made me turn to Carter Manor to find a quick solution. At least, he didn’t seem to doubt the truth of our marriage.’’

I went to pull away, ready to put an end to that disastrous evening, but Mathis’ hands prevented me from leaving. The tightening of his grip on my hips made me visibly shiver and audibly gasp.

“What, are we already finished with the little touches, Lila?’’

“You know damn well that it was only pretend for the guests,’’ I replied, forcing an annoyed tone of voice when a lump grew in my throat. I pushed against his solid chest, but he didn’t release me. In fact, under my hands his muscles flexed and one quick glance at his strong arms showed me that the muscles in them bulged under his suit jacket. I wondered how much more it’d take to burst the seams of his Armani suit. “Let me go, Mathis.’’

The small muscle in his jaw ticked when his name left my mouth, something I had noticed a few times already.

“No.’’

“Don’t start.’’

He tilted his head to one side and then drew small circles with his thumbs on my hips. I mentally cursed how thin the fabric of my dress was. It was impossible to miss the heat spreading all over me from his hands, the way his fingers curved around my hips.

“You were the one touching my chest first.’’

What could I answer to that? It was the truth. I touched him. I willingly and without thinking, touched him. I pushed against his chest again, but when he didn’t move I let my arms drop alongside my body.

“Stop,’’ I whispered and let him hear the exhaustion in my voice and see it on my face. I didn’t force my shoulders to stay straight, instead I slouched slightly and sighed deeply. “I’m tired and I don’t want to play another one of your games.’’

“A game?’’ The wicked smile that appeared on his face stole my breath. His eyes trailed all over my face and stopped at my mouth. “Playing with you isn’t a game, Lila.’’

“No?’’ I snorted and shook my head, doing my best to ignore the intensity in his stare as he was still locked on my mouth, eliciting more tingles there, more warmth too. “What do you call it then?’’

His eyes slowly went back to mine. He leaned down to erase more of the space separating us. His forehead almost touched mine, his nose almost brushed mine. His mouth, still smirking, was just inches from mine. I saw his every dark lash so thick and accentuating the intensity of his gaze. I saw the whiskers that had grown on his cheeks and chin. I saw the indent of his dimple in his cheek. I also saw the specks of gold adorning his dark orbs like tiny lights floating in darkness, fighting to shine their light in a lost place.

“It’s foreplay.’’

I blinked and stopped breathing. I also shivered. I didn’t stop his hands from moving from my hips to my waist and then up. Up and up until he cupped my face in his big hands, trapping me in his grip.

I was at his mercy.

I was trembling.

I was burning up.

I was aroused.

The blood buzzed at my temples while my heart didn’t just hammer in my chest, it created a frenetic melody that beat so hard and fast I couldn’t follow its pattern. My flesh, so sensitive that even my dress brushing against it made me weak at the knees, begged for more of a stimulation when my brain screamed at me to remember who that man was.