Beyond the Consequences (Book 5 of the Consequences Series)(14)

When his grip upon her hair loosened she reached for his, running her fingers through his salt and pepper mane. “You, sir, are always my first choice.” Kissing his neck and hearing the familiar growl, Claire knew her plans to read would never transpire. Within seconds, her husband seized her lips, swallowing the moans she didn’t realize she was producing as their tongues intertwined. Finally, pulling back, she said, “But… I didn’t lock that door.”

Easing her legs farther apart, Tony lifted Claire’s nightgown and pulled her hips toward his. “My dear, everyone else has gone to bed.”

Claire couldn’t think of any other arguments. She wasn’t trying. Honestly, she couldn’t think of anything besides her husband and what he was doing, how he was twisting her body and mind merely with his words and tone. Though this hadn’t been her plan, she consented. It had been a long time since they’d allowed themselves to do anything outside of the security of their bedroom. Being home did have its advantages. As Tony’s large fingers roamed, Claire cared less and less about anyone else in the house. “Tony?” she managed, though forming words was becoming increasingly difficult.

“Hmm?” he asked, easing her panties down her legs with his gaze lingering on what he was unveiling.

Seeing him unbuckle his belt, her question no longer seemed important. “Let me help you,” she offered. Not waiting for permission, she reached for his shirt and began to unfasten the buttons. His grin was enough reassurance as she continued to remove his shirt while he freed himself from the confines of his slacks.

Still sitting on his desk, with her nightgown bunched around her waist, and her robe forgotten, Claire ran her fingers through the softness of his chest hair. Leaning back, she unconsciously bit her bottom lip as she admired her view. Scanning her husband from head to toe, she took in his toned abs, which, even with age were still defined. As she peered lower, her eyes followed a trail of dark hair that led the way to his impressive erection. Rarely was she the one clothed, and he not. Moving her gaze back upward, their eyes met, and her cheeks flushed.

“Are you enjoying the view, Mrs. Rawlings?”

Freeing her lip, she grinned. “I am. Thank you for asking.”

Stroking himself, he asked, “Perhaps you’d rather go upstairs?”

She shook her head. Watching his hands, she suddenly thought about how much she wanted to be doing what he was doing. “No, this feels a little scandalous… I think I like it.”

“Oh, scandalous is the way I like you.”

Kneeling before the desk, Tony reached for her legs and placed one on each of his shoulders. Planting a kiss on the inside of her leg, he slowly moved upward. His dark eyes peered up. “I like my view too.”

Moments later, Claire’s moans filled the office as his tongue and fingers consumed her thoughts. Lying back on the desk and closing her eyes, memories of similar scenarios filled Claire’s mind. In time, their bodies became one, the good memories overpowered the bad, and for the second time in one day, she accepted all her husband had to offer and more. In the aftermath, as they walked hand in hand toward their suite, Claire squeezed his and whispered, “Those memories… they’re not all bad, not at all.”

His light chocolate eyes said more than words could ever convey.





Responsibility is the price of freedom.

—Elbert Hubbard




“IT DOESN’T MAKE sense. How could anyone know?” Taylor whispered to Phil.

He shook his head. “How did they know about the restaurant? I bagged these cards, just like the other one. The FBI will have them analyzed. All that matters is that the private viewing box is now clean. You stay with them in there, and I’ll stay outside the door.”

Taylor nodded. As the Rawlings family approached, she looked once again toward Phil. His headshake was almost indecipherable, but she saw it. With his unspoken statement, Taylor knew that telling Mr. or Mrs. Rawlings about the cards that had been left in Nichol and Claire’s seat should and would wait until after the play.





NICHOL’S EXCITEMENT WAS contagious as she bounced beside her mother. Her little patent-leather shoes danced with anticipation, as her eyes widened and took in all the grandeur of the Broadway theater. “Look, Momma, look, Daddy, I see the music intruments!”

Claire smiled at Tony and back at Nichol. “In-stru-ments. Yes, honey, that’s the orchestra. See the man with the wand in his hand?”

Nichol turned in amazement. “Like a magic one?”

“No, princess.” Tony’s words came through booming laughter.

“He’s the conductor,” Claire explained. “He’ll tell the orchestra when to play the music. And when he does, he’ll move the wand.”

“I want to hear them.” She turned toward Tony. “Daddy, make them start now.”

Apparently Nichol believed there was no limit to her father’s abilities.

“I could, princess.” Tony replied.

Claire shook her head. Maybe Tony wasn’t aware of his boundaries either.

Tony continued, “But see all the people who aren’t in their seats yet? If I had the orchestra start playing, they’d miss the opening act.”

Nichol pressed her lips together and wrinkled her forehead. “Then they should have gotten here sooner, like us.”