Katherine Garbera - Claimed by the Millionaire

He caressed her creamy thighs. God, she was soft. She moaned as he neared her center and then sighed when he brushed his fingertips across the entrance to her body.

The area was warm and wet. He slipped one finger into her and hesitated for a second, looking down into her eyes.

She bit down on her lower lip and he felt the minute movements of her hips as she tried to move his touch where she needed it.

He was beyond teasing her or prolonging anything. He needed her now . He swept her dress over her head and tossed it on the floor. She shrugged out of her bra and he lifted her off the dresser, turning her to face its mirror.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“I want you to watch us as I make love to you.” She murmured something he didn’t catch. “Bend over slightly, ma petite .”

She did as he asked, her eyes watching his in the mirror. “Take your shirt off, please. I want to see your chest.”

He smiled at her as he shrugged off the shirt she’d unbuttoned. His tie was tangled in the collar, but he managed to get them both off. He took out the condom he’d put in his pocket this morning and donned it quickly.

“Hold on and keep your eyes on mine in the mirror.”

“Yes,” she said.

He covered her with his body. Their naked loins pressed together and he shook under the impact.

He cupped her breasts in his hands then slipped one hand down her body, finding her wet and ready. He adjusted his stance, and then entered her with one long, hard stroke.

She moaned his name, still holding his gaze. He bit softly at her neck and felt the reaction all the way to his toes when she squirmed in his arms and thrust her hips back toward him.

A tingling started in the base of his spine and he knew his climax was close. She writhed more frantically in his arms and he moved deep with each stroke. Breathing out through his mouth, he tried to hold back the inevitable. He slid one hand down her abdomen, through the slick folds of her sex, finding her center. He circled that aroused bit of flesh then scraped it very carefully with his nail. She screamed his name and tightened around him. Tristan pulled one hand from her body and locked his fingers on the dresser over her small hand, then penetrated her as deeply as he could. Biting down on the back of her neck, he came long and hard.

Their eyes met again in the mirror and he knew that he wasn’t going to find a way to live without her while he kept making love to her. And that meant he needed to come up with another plan. Something that didn’t involve her being his pretend fiancée.

Ten

Two weeks later Sheri was still no closer to getting the answers she wanted from Tristan. But plans for the engagement party were going forward. The Paris branch of the Sabina Group was prepared to launch a new magazine on weddings and was using their engagement party as the first big glamorous event they’d cover. She’d promised Tristan that she’d stay with him until the engagement party was over.

A part of her worried that what she’d found with him was going to end too soon. Another part was afraid that it wouldn’t end soon enough.

The one thing she didn’t doubt was that she was in love with Tristan.

“Sheri, have Maurice come to my office in ten minutes.”

“He’s going to want to know what you need to see him about.”

Tristan glanced up from the folder in his hands. “I’m going to fly your suggestion for the Travelogue column at the back. See if we can use celebrities instead of travel writers.”

“Really? It was just an idea to boost readership.”

“I know. I like it. I’ll make sure that Maurice knows you came up with it.”

She smiled. “I don’t care about that.”

Tristan leaned one hip against the side of her desk. “What do you care about?”

“World peace,” she said, completely deadpan. She didn’t want to have a serious discussion at work, but this was the only time when Tristan really opened up to her. It was almost as if he knew she’d only let things go so far in the office.

“ Ma petite , are you going to leave me for a beauty pageant?”

“Not my scene.”

“I know. This is your scene, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Working with you suits me to a tee.”

“Just working?”

“Well, we don’t live together.”

“And whose fault is that?” He sounded almost huffy.

“Yours.”

“Mine? I asked you to move in with me.”

“More like ordered.” She smiled. Take that.

“It didn’t do me a lot of good.”

“You wouldn’t want a woman who just said yes to your every whim.” That she knew.

“Try me.”

“Try you? How?”

“Move in with me. Stop making me take you back to Brooklyn every night.”

“What would change if I did that?” She was so tempted to say yes. Had been since the first time he’d told her to move in with him.

He leaned in close. “We’d be together all the time.”

“But just temporarily.”

“Is that what’s stopping you from saying yes?”

She wasn’t going to answer that question. She’d have to reveal too much of herself, too many things she’d long kept hidden. She glanced down at her computer screen and clicked on the instant messenger button to summon Maurice. The sooner they had someone else in the office, the better it would be for her.

“Sheri?”

“Hmm…”

“Look at me.”

She glanced up.

“I want to know why you haven’t moved in with me. The truth this time.”

She folded her hands together on her desk blotter and then pulled them apart. “It is the temporary thing.”

“I don’t understand how it’s any different if you move in with me,” he said.

Sheri pushed her chair back from the desk and got up, walking around so that he wasn’t leaning over her. “The difference is I’ve never lived anywhere but that brownstone.”

Tristan stood up from where he’d been leaning against the desk. “The brownstone is your home.”

“Yes. It’s my home. It’s the one constant I’ve had in my life since I was eight, when my mother died and my father dumped me at my aunt’s, and, as you pointed out, what we’ve got going is only temporary.”

Tristan didn’t say anything else and Sheri wanted to curse at herself for letting the conversation get so personal. She really tried to be cool and breezy whenever she talked to him. Always tried so hard to keep her emotions bottled up and a secret from him.

“Is that it?”

“No…I’m also afraid that, if I move in with you, I’ll start to buy in to the fantasy you’ve written for us. I might start to really believe that I’m your fiancée, and that would be devastating for me when you leave.”

“All relationships end.”

“How do you figure?”

“Even the strongest and most loving relationships end with death. So no matter what, everything is temporary.”

“Tristan, that’s sad.”

“What is?”

“That you view life that way.”

“It’s realistic, Sheri. Hell, if you were to admit it, you see things the same way.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Even though you won’t leave your little brownstone?” he asked.

“That’s different. I don’t see relationships as temporary. I see them as unbalanced.”

“I’m not following.”

Sheri crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Tristan. His eyes were misty gray today because of the shirt he had on. He was so handsome, sometimes she worried that he’d wake up to the fact that there were a million gorgeous women in the world who’d gladly be his pretend fiancée and do whatever he asked of them.

“My reality and that brownstone are tied together. I see relationships as unbalanced because I’ve always been the one to care more than everyone else. And in the end, they’ve all left me behind.”