To Have and Hate Page 13

  Because you’ve been attention starved.

  Because of what happened in the car.

  Because no one ever wanted to buy you before, though you’ve been treated like garbage plenty.

  ‘Fine.’

  There. I reined it all in. I didn’t shout, swear, hit the roof, or jump on him. Even if there isn’t anything fine about his stipulations. ‘Go ahead. You tell me how this isn’t good old-fashioned prostitution.’

  ‘From the beginning, we need to move in together to make things believable.’

  We’re moving on from sex to cohabitation. Basically, we’re taking the scenic route.

  ‘You could move into my place,’ I offer, testing the waters. Though for what, I don’t know.

  ‘I could, I suppose. How many bedrooms have you got?’

  ‘One.’ The word comes out strangled, and the corner of his mouth twitches as though he’s trying not to smile.

  I get what he’s suggesting. The two of us bumping around a space built for one would be a disaster of epic proportions. We’d end up hate fucking because sex would definitely happen, one way or another. Oh dear, you appear to have tripped and driven yourself inside my body while you were unloading the dishwasher. Accidents happen, what!

  ‘I have several more bedrooms,’ Beckett adds in a cool tone. ‘Do you still want me to move in with you, or would you prefer to live somewhere where you’ll also have your own space?’

  ‘Ha.’ I sound like one of the Muppets. One of the squeaky ones. ‘You wouldn’t move in with me anyway. You’re just trying to play nice.’

  His expression is wry as he agrees with a slight incline of his head. ‘Do I get points for at least looking like I would?’

  I don’t condescend to answer. I’m not finding him cute. Annoying, yes. And maybe one or two other things. Sex. He wants to have sex with me. Can we get to that discussion point before I explode and make a mess on his nice furniture?

  ‘Married people live together.’

  ‘Not all married people,’ I protest.

  ‘Newlyweds do.’

  ‘Not those in the armed forces.’

  ‘Are you thinking of enlisting? No? Then don’t be obtuse. I have lots of space and several spare bedrooms. You won’t even need to see me in private. Unless you want to.’

  ‘Which is the perfect segue into the next point. You want to fuck me,’ I state bluntly. ‘And you felt the need to put it in a contract.’

  Chapter 15

  OLIVIA

  ‘I so don’t have anything nice to say to you at the minute. You brought me here under false pretences.’

  ‘I don’t believe that’s true.’

  ‘You lied to me about this whole thing,’ I retort, trying hard not to get emotional or overwrought. But how can I not be emotional when it feels like my life is unravelling? ‘You never once mentioned that we would have to have sex.’

  ‘Did you think we had to have sex in my car? Did I coerce you or lie to you?’

  ‘I’m not talking about that, not now. I’m talking about this,’ I say, stabbing the paper on the table in front. ‘Have you added this clause just because you want to fuck me?’

  ‘Yes. And no.’ He leans back in his chair, his expression a study of calm.

  ‘I really don’t understand. You climbed out of the car. We would’ve already had sex if not for you!’

  ‘Don’t do this,’ he says softly.

  ‘What? I should just let you do it to me? Let you fuck me—fuck me over—every chance you get?’

  ‘There’s no need for profanity.’ He sighs as though this topic bores him. ‘I’m not sure what you want me to say.’

  ‘I want the truth. Those things you said about Luke—were they true?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘So if I pick up my phone and call him, he’ll tell me the same?’

  ‘I’d assumed you would’ve already had that conversation with him.’ His reaction kind of throws me for a loop. Cool and calm and definitely calculated. ‘Though I expect he’d add a little creative spin.’

  ‘And what about dinner that night, when you just appeared behind me?’

  ‘A coincidence,’ he replies with a sigh. ‘I wasn’t following you. This hasn’t been some grand master plan. You really do overestimate me.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true. I just . . . I just don’t know what to think.’ Except I’m running out of options and beginning to doubt myself.

  ‘Do you want me to tell you I find you attractive? Because I do.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m asking. I don’t want adulation, and I don’t want lies. I have this whole ridiculous argument running though my head right now. Which came first?’ I laugh, but there’s no joy in the action. ‘Like the chicken and the egg. Do you want me because of what happened in the car, but only with your boundaries and provisos and addendums and stuff? Or was the dry humping some crazy audition or an interview; something to fit in with your plans?’

  ‘You’re painting all sorts of unsavoury pictures.’

  ‘Tell me which is right!’ I demand.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘To me, it does. It matters a hell of a lot.’

  ‘I want to fuck you. I wanted you then, and I want you now. Does that make you happy? Soothe you? And yes, I want it all in a contract because I refuse to give you an excuse to back out.’

  ‘I’m not going to back out,’ I answer with a vehement growl because what choice do I have? The same choices as I had before. It’s marry him or lose everything, with or without the added fucking. And the fucking? Let’s just say I feel conflicted.

  ‘Wanting you is aside from everything else because I also need your help, but I’ve already explained that. You were in the right place at the right time or, perhaps, the wrong time. But whichever way you choose to view it, it became obvious we could help each other. Right wrongs and be all the better for it.’

  ‘I don’t want revenge.’

  ‘You will. The best kind of revenge is success. Your achievements will never be at the mercy of men like Luke and his stepfather again.’

  ‘Don’t try to pretend you’re some advanced altruistic being.’ He doesn’t flinch or try to defend himself. ‘My God,’ I moan, my head now in my hands. ‘I can’t believe I let you touch me like that!’

  ‘And I can’t believe I got out of the car, but I never do anything without an exit plan.’

  My head comes up fast, my mouth falling open. ‘You seemed to exit the door pretty well. In fact, you seemed to do it very efficiently.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean I wasn’t tempted.’

  ‘Is it because you just want someone to control?’

  ‘Yes, because you’re such a docile flower. So biddable.’

  ‘Someone beholden to you?’

  ‘Someone who fights me at every step? Someone who can be quite ridiculous? Look, we’re going around in circles, and I have a lot to do before we leave for New York.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, I’m busy tomorrow.’

  ‘Then you’ll need to choose another day. Tuesday, Wednesday. Just fucking say.’ The cracks in his façade are shown in the tension in his jaw and the way his eyes begin to flame. ‘You want me, and I want you on so many levels. And we both need this marriage, no matter how temporary, to work. Looking at this on a more practical note. Let’s discuss the very valid reasons for annulment, which would ruin both of our plans.’ He sits forward suddenly, poised to tick the points off his left hand. ‘Bigamy. Incest. Age of consent issues. Idiocy—’

  ‘That’s it!’ I throw my hands up dramatically. ‘There’s no point in marrying me. Because I must be crazy to even consider it.’ Crazy desperate, maybe.

  ‘Coercion,’ he continues without even a pause. ‘Fraud and non-consummation of the marriage.’

  ‘Non-consummation of the fake marriage,’ I repeat. ‘Did I get that right?’

  ‘It isn’t a fake marriage, Olivia. Just a temporary one, but with the same commitments and t
he same legal pitfalls. Make no mistake, you won’t be allowed to back out of this. There are consequences should you say yes, then try to renege on this deal.’

  ‘Is it a deal or a marriage?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘And what kind of consequences are we talking here?’

  ‘I urge you to seek the help of your legal team, but in brief, you’ll lose everything. Seek an annulment or divorce before the end of the term, and you lose it all.’

  ‘What about if you end it?’

  ‘There’s a penalty clause. You get an obscene payout, but that won’t happen. I need six months of your time and acting skills. I want this company, Olivia, and I’m willing to do what it takes.’

  ‘Including me,’ I mutter unhappily. ‘What difference does it make if we don’t, you know, have sex? If only the two of us know, who’s going to pick fault?’

  ‘I will,’ he states bluntly. ‘And you will. And we’ll probably kill each other in the interim without it because we both need to get this out of our system.’

  Listening to him, looking at his expression, it’s like he thinks sex between us is some kind of virus. Something debilitating. Something he needs to sweat out of his system.

  ‘And like it or not, what happened in the car wasn’t all one-sided. I didn’t force you to respond. You enjoyed it every bit as I did. The proof was in those breathy little noises you made and the way you rubbed yourself against me.’

  His eyes were like fire as I slid myself over the hard length of him, his upward thrusts making my insides clench violently.

  I shake my head and the sensory memories away, and as I look back at him, I realise he probably just read every pornographic thought I just had.

  ‘In fact,’ he says slowly, softly, temptingly. ‘I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping us from tearing the other’s clothes off right now is this table between us.’

  He kicks the thing with his foot. Then with what can only be described as a look of pure incitement, he hooks his foot around the leg and moves it from between us.

  Chapter 16

  BECKETT

  I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. I promised myself when she called that I’d bring her here but not touch her. Arguing with myself that I should wait until the deal is sealed, the ink is dry on the contract, and the wedding license is in my hand. Yet here I am, pushing the coffee table across the floor, my gaze unmoving from hers.

  Not even as she gasps as the table drags across the rug.

  Not as she reaches for her glass before it falls.

  Not as my empty bottle of Pilsner teeters, then clatters against the floor.

  Not as her gaze returns to mine full of challenge.

  ‘So you’ve moved an obstacle. A physical thing. Big whoop. You’ll note I’ve yet to jump your bones . . .’

  Yet.

  Her words trail off, her eyes widening as she tips her head, watching me as I stand. But I don’t move to her yet. I just feed my hand over my shoulder, grip a fistful of my thin sweater and yank it up and over my head. I drop it to the floor without a word. We don’t need them. All we need to know is written in the unspoken. It’s in the fresh bloom in her cheeks and the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip. It’s in the heat of her gaze before she lowers her lashes, hiding it. And it’s in the rasp of my breath as I run my hand down my chest, farther across the ridges of my stomach, until I reach my belt.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice wavers. Is it from nervousness or need?

  ‘What was it you called me?’

  ‘I’ve called you lots of things. And most of them uncomplimentary.’ The words are the same, but her tone is less strident. It lacks conviction and strength as though the air around us has absorbed the need to fight. To win.

  ‘You said I was an incitement. A provocation. I suppose I’m living up to the way you’ve painted me.’

  ‘You moved the table, but you haven’t made your point. Put your sweater back on.’ As she lifts the glass to her lips, there’s a tremor in her hand.

  I bend and take it from her swiftly, depositing it fuck knows where as I pull her up swiftly by her other hand. It all happens so fast she doesn’t have time to protest. And I realise she won’t as our bodies collide, and she gasps.

  She tilts her head, her lips parted as though gifting me prior consent as her eyelids flutter closed. Like the little girl who doesn’t want to admit to herself and instead chooses to hide.

  ‘Open your eyes,’ I demand, pulling her body into mine, pulling the place where she’s all heat and softness into where I’m aching and hard. My God, I need to be inside her, to possess her completely, if only for a little while.

  Her lashes flutter open, and I get such a visceral reaction seeing the dark depths of those bedroom eyes—the want and the need—before our lips finally meet. This was never going to be a tentative meet, but grasping and possessive. We kiss as we live and as we breathe. Deeper and wetter, our tongues tangle and our teeth clash. My hand slides into her hair, my mouth skimming her neck and biting the soft flesh there.

  ‘You need some sense fucked into you.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘By someone who knows what they’re doing.’

  ‘You’d better add that job to the list of your hires.’ With the taunt, she slides her hand between us, cupping my balls.

  ‘Make no mistake,’ I rasp, grabbing her hand and pulling it away. My balls throb, missing the contact immediately. I bring her hand to my mouth with a dark look. Kiss her palm. Bite her fingertip. ‘When this finally happens, it’s going to be so fucking good.’ And with a growl I can’t restrain, I take her face in my hands as I proceed to kiss the fuck out of her.

  Breath ragged, my words are as husky as my kisses are wet. The scent of her is addictive, her skin as smooth as silk. I can’t wait to taste her—to really taste her. And don’t ask me how I know, but when the time finally comes, I know she’ll taste this good everywhere.

  ‘Beckett.’ A whisper, a breath. An enticement. Her incitement. ‘We could do it now.’

  ‘You want to have sex? Fuck? Make love?’

  ‘Yes!’ she breathes.

  ‘You want me on my knees, eating you out?’

  ‘Stop talking.’

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart. You’re not wriggling out of our contract.’ Not when we’re so close.

  ‘What if I say I can’t wait that long,’ she half moans as I lower her against the sofa. As I cover her with my body, heat pulses low in my belly, my hands itching to strip her out of her clothes. She feels so small under me, and I wonder if I’m crushing her, but as she wraps her legs around my thighs, the heat of her pussy through her trousers steals the rest of my thoughts.

  ‘Don’t make me beg,’ she murmurs, moulding her mouth to mine, her whispers as sweet as her breath, her lips shiny and pink.

  ‘That would be something to see,’ I rasp out. ‘But waiting is character building.’

  ‘Waiting sucks.’ I wonder immediately how she’ll suck. ‘Let’s call a truce. The next thirty minutes, no speaking. No calling names. Just a little old-fashioned f-fornication.’

  ‘Forgive me for saying I don’t trust you.’

  I smile down at her as I tuck my elbow between the back and the seat of the sofa, freeing both hands to feed them under her top and push it up her body to release her breasts from their lacy cups. Then I promptly forget the rest of my thoughts at the breathtaking sight before me. Round and full and creamy, her nipples are a dusky kind of pink. As I slide my thumbs across their tight pebbling, her breath hitches, bringing my attention to her face again. Her red-brown hair splayed across the sofa, her cheeks are flushed, and her gaze as dark as coal. She looks otherworldly, like a nymph escaped from an enchanted forest.

  I shake my head, coming back to myself before swapping my thumbs for my tongue, relishing the noises she makes as I lick and lave. While using the threat of my teeth and the rasp of the bristles from my chin, I grind against her so hard she moans. Yielding, she grabs
my arse and begins rocking into me as, to my profound surprise and delight, she begins to get herself off.

  This, she, is the hottest thing I have ever seen as she shamelessly works herself. Pressing her pussy against me, she undulates and writhes, releasing tremulous breath after breath. I’m nowhere near finishing, yet I haven’t been this turned on in a long time.

  ‘You’re so fucking delicious,’ I rasp.

  ‘Bad man,’ she whimpers, ‘you said a swear.’

  ‘You have no idea just how bad I can be. But you’re going to find out.’

  ‘What a shame you’ll only get one shot.’

  My responding laughter is a touch cruel. ‘You keep telling yourself that. Because once I’ve had you, you’ll be crying out for my touch.’

  ‘Promises, promises . . .’ Her retort dies on her lips as I bite her neck, driving my hard cock against her as she begins to fall apart.

  ‘Next time you come,’ I rasp, feeding my hand under her head to expose the column of her neck, ‘we’ll be married. And then the fun will really begin.’

  Chapter 17

  OLIVIA

  You’re so fucking delicious.’

  On Monday morning, his words are still echoing in my ear. Reaching for my coffee, I notice the tremble in my hand. Who knew Beckett saved his cursing for the bedroom, or that he’d be such an effective dirty talker?

  But I can’t believe I got myself into that position. And I can’t believe how good his body felt over mine. The weight of him, the fire in his eyes.

  Next time you come, we’ll be married. And then the fun will really begin.

  His base words were a dare and a promise, the husky timbre of his tone a guarantee, and my whimpers weren’t by choice as he rocked himself into me. Hard.

  No demand? No comment?

  None. My voice sounded thin, and I decided it was probably wise not to voice the comments running through my head.

  Yes. Please. Give it to me.

  I can feel the shape and weight of your cock, and I agree. I will be destroyed. And I will die with a smile on my face.