Sweetened With a Kiss (12 page)

Then he leaned in to her, bringing his face very close to hers. Her lips ached, her throat went dry as everything turned to liquid heat below her waist. “If you think for one minute I’m letting you marry that hippie musician, you really have lost your mind.”

“You can’t stop me,” she shot back, fighting to keep her smirk in place. He was so close she could almost taste him.  Her whole body screamed for it. Even the muscles in her legs started to burn. She wanted to grab him by the hair and kiss him hard, but only after he was on his knees.

“Really? You want to test that theory.”

“Yeah,” she said, the word a dare.

He pressed her harder against the wall, leaning one forearm close to her head as he moved even closer to her. “What’d I tell you when you were sixteen?” he demanded.

Her eyes widened. All these years she’d thought she’d dreamed that. He really had found her on the back porch while everyone else was asleep and she was trying to get over the worst prom night in the history of civilization. Stefan had ruined it before it started with one look and she’d spent the entire night sorting through crushed hopes and damaged dreams. She’d cringed when he’d joined her on that swing, afraid of what he’d say. He’d shocked her silly by kissing her. A sweet fairytale of a kiss that she still wasn’t convinced was real. Then he’d made her promise no more boys.

“Did he fuck you, Jen?” Stefan demanded, tearing her away from the sweet, treasured dream she now knew was a real memory.

Her whole body jerked with fury. He had not just said that to her. So she nodded, but found she couldn’t meet the wild look in his eyes when she did it, and her dark lashes swept down as she closed her eyes. This was not so exciting anymore.

“No, you lying little witch,” he snarled at her, his hand on her jaw as he tried to turn her face to his. “You open your eyes and tell me to my face that you gave him what was mine.” His hand clamped down on her face. “Open your eyes.”

She shook her head because she knew she just couldn’t do it. She’d lost. She should have known better. How could she possibly go up against him and win? She actually loved him. She only ended up hurting herself. “Let me go,” she whispered.

“Open your eyes or I will find out for myself if you let him touch you.”

Her eyes snapped open and the look on his face made her blood run cold. It had honestly never occurred to her to be really afraid of him. But it should have. She’d pushed him way too far. Part of her reveled in it. Part of her wanted to crush his mouth with hers and see what happened. But the part that really loved him knew she had to diffuse this situation before he did something he would never forgive himself for. The weak, pathetic, stupid part of her that loved him won.

“Are you sleeping with him?” he asked, his words so soft and quiet, her lungs seized and her heart actually slowed down.

“No, of course not,” she said softly, still unable to meet his eyes as hot color swept over her cheeks. She’d thought she had dreamed making him that promise that night. She’d believed all these years it had just been a fantasy, but she’d kept the promise anyway. It hadn’t been that hard to keep since she’d never actually looked at another man. She’d never wanted anyone but Stefan.

He closed his eyes and his chin dropped as he apparently tried to rein himself in. But he didn’t loosen his hold on her. Then he looked up and his eyes snapped open and he was completely back in control. The Sellers calm was back in full force. It broke her heart.

Then he leaned his face in closer to hers. “The only man you are going to marry is me. You got that?”

“No,” the broken parts of her hissed. “No, I don’t ‘got’ that.”

“You’re mine, Jen. You’ve always been mine.”

“No,” she whispered, opening her eyes and meeting the blue fire of his straight on. “I want a pre-nup. I don’t want a big wedding. No dress. No cake, no big party. We can go to Vegas or to a judge, I don’t care. I’ll only agree to six months and then we can separate until the divorce is final. But I will not live with you in that house.”

The calm drained right out of his expression, and she finally understood the definition of livid. “Is that all?”

She knew she had gone too far. Again. She still didn’t care. So she went even further. “Yes. No. I mean. No sex. I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Are you done?” The words dripped from his mouth like frozen chips of steel.

She nodded, knowing the only way out was straight ahead even though she already knew she’d seriously miscalculated. She braced herself for shouting, but what came out was so deadly soft, so amazingly lethal that it was the equivalent of a bunker-busting bomb when he spit it out at her. And it was only one word. “No.”

His blue eyes were glacial. Her bones turned to ice and threatened to shatter. He got as close as he could, forcing her to flatten against the wall. His mouth hovered over hers,  but all she could see was simmering glacial blue ice. Who knew ice could burn?

“There will be a huge wedding and you will wear an obscenely expensive white dress, and you will dance with me at the big party afterward. You will live with me and you will sleep with me. And you will never ever mention divorce to me again. Do you understand?”

She nodded, drowning in something she just couldn’t describe. She ached everywhere. She wanted him to kiss her. Damn it, why did she always want him to kiss her when he was angry at her? What was wrong with her?

“I want to hear you say it.”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She hadn’t even known he could get this angry. Her heart was about to come out of her chest and she was inexplicably burning up. Maybe she should kiss him.
No
. No kissing.

“Don’t you dare start crying,” he warned her.

“I’m not,” she shouted back at him even as one hot, tear escaped down her pale face. “I’m not crying,” she said, dashing back the tears. “I hate you. I am not marrying you.”

The curse that cut out of him as he backed up had her sliding down the wall. He caught her and pulled her back up. He started to say something else, but she just closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. “I am not going to marry you. Why can’t you just let me go? I’ll sign whatever you want. You don’t have to marry me.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “If that’s what you want Jen, forget the wedding.”

“What?” she whispered, her focus snapping back to him.

“You win,” he hissed. “No wedding.”

She nodded. She’d won? What?

She was completely unprepared for the dull blades that started spinning in the pit of her stomach before slicing towards her heart. She’d been so focused on trying to get him to let her go, she hadn’t really considered how it would actually feel if he did. Things would just be so much better if she had one shred of pride where he was concerned. Then maybe her face wouldn’t have shattered into the devastated tears that had been lurking on the edge all day. How was she supposed to know it was going to hurt even worse if he gave her what she claimed she wanted?

He dragged her up against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “As long as I live. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what goes on in that beautiful head of yours.”

She pressed closer to him, hiding her face in his neck. Wanting to disappear. What was she going to do now? She really never imagined he would change his mind. He’d never changed his mind about anything before. Not ever. It only proved he’d never really wanted to marry her at all. Not really. She really was just an unwelcome responsibility.

“Why do you do this?” He growled against her hair. “Are you trying to drive me crazy? Because it’s working.”

The door opened suddenly as Elliot finally broke into his own office. “Sellers, what the hell?”

“Is there a back way out?” Stefan asked, ignoring Elliot’s anger.

“Jen,” Elliot called. “Are you okay? Say the word, and we’ll walk him out of here.”

She pressed deeper into Stefan’s arms. “My fault,” she said hoarsely. His arms tightened even more. Was he really going to leave her? Humiliated and terrified at the same time, she’d never even suspected he would actually give in.

“It’s been a really bad couple of days, Elliot. We’re both exhausted. She just likes pushing my buttons.”

Elliot wasn’t convinced, but he had known Stefan a long time. “Wow, who knew you had buttons? Two minutes and we’ll have your car around back. Give me your keys.”

Stefan tossed his keys at Elliot. Then he slid his arm under her legs, lifted her up, and carried her through the kitchen.

Too angry to let himself enjoy the feel of her curled into his chest, Stefan set her on the front seat of the Range Rover and slammed her door a little too hard.

“And the legendary Sellers calm bites the dust,” Elliot snickered behind him. He was holding bags with food boxes. “I don’t remember her driving you crazy like this. She was always so quiet.”

Stefan nodded and took the bags. “Thank you.” He ignored Elliot’s comments and put the bags on the back seat, then ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He had lost it tonight. He couldn’t ever remember losing it like that. He really needed to go for a run. Soon.

“Try not to break her, man. I’m going to get rich on her cake. I think I can sell it for twelve bucks a slice.” Elliot clapped him on the back.

“About that,” Stefan turned around. “You think you might’ve mentioned the bakery disaster to me?”

Elliot’s grin faded. “Disaster? It’s not a disaster. It’s a great idea. The space is one block down and the foot traffic from the French Market alone will keep them in business.”

Stefan stared at one of his oldest friends in complete shock. “I don’t want her working down here.”

“Geez, Sellers, what’re you thinking? She’s going to stay home and have your babies? Grow up. She does crazy things with sugar. You want her to waste that talent on birthday cakes you won’t even eat?”

“You think I should give her fifty grand to partner up with that hippie so they can open a bakery that probably won’t last six months?”

Elliot shrugged. “That hippie has an MBA from Tulane and a law degree from Loyola. Although why he didn’t go to LSU beat me. Marshall and Marshall out of Baton Rouge? Maybe you’ve heard of them?”

“Grant Marshall’s brother?” Stefan asked, suddenly very tired.

“Yeah, asshole. Grant’s younger brother. I guess Tulane was his form of rebellion. Otherwise you might've been his big brother seeing how he would've been a fourth generation legacy.”

Stefan took a deep breath and pushed his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe Grant thinks this is a good idea either.”

“It doesn’t matter what Grant thinks or what you think. They have a solid business plan, a great location, and the financial means to pull it off. You need to get out of her way.”

Stefan glared at Elliot, not recognizing him for a minute. Elliot was always so easy going. Stefan had never seen him quite so determined before. “She’s that good?”

“Yeah, man. She’s that good. Rogan calls it Voodoo, and he would know. Now that you aren’t in constant training, you should live a little and have a cookie.”

Stefan laughed. “She made me pancakes this morning,” he admitted.

“And you ate them? Did anyone take a picture?”

“Ha. Ha.”

Elliot grinned, then. “Seriously, she’ll be right around the corner, Stefan. I suggested the location so I could keep an eye on her. And you know Jackson will camp out there for carrot cake. She’ll be fine.”

“I’ll look at their business plan, but I’m not making any promises.”

“She wants this, Stefan. You stop her and you’ll lose her.”

“She told me she’s in love with the hippie, that they’re getting married.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped, then he practically spun completely around as he burst into hysterical laughter. “No shit? She said that?”

Stefan nodded. “I don’t think it’s funny.”

“You must have really pissed her off.”

“What?”

Elliot laughed again. “You don’t know her at all, do you? Absolutely no clue. It’s hysterical. She’s got you on your knees and you don’t even know it. You’d better pray
she
doesn’t realize it.”

“Again with the not funny.”

Elliot sobered. “Let me tell you something about the future mother of your children, Sellers. If she wanted Jared Marshall or any other man in the state of Louisiana, she’d already have them. She would not be putting up with your overbearing control freak self. Hell, I’d switch teams if I thought I had a shot.”

“Fuck you,” Stefan grinned. “I’m telling Jackson you said that.”

Stefan rounded the car to the driver’s side.

“Jackson would switch teams too if he had a shot. Get smart, brother. Give our girl whatever she wants.”

When he slid behind the wheel, he was in much better control. Jen, however, was huddled up against the passenger door, as far away from him as she could get.

“Seat belt,” he said gruffly, and when she didn’t respond he reached across her, grabbed the strap, and pulled it across her.

Her scent wrapped all around him, but he didn’t let himself linger too close to her. She was chalk white and very careful to stay back as he clicked the seat belt into place. He’d scared her.