Irresistible

Irresistible by

Shara Azod

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Double Duty Copyright© 2011Shara Azod Cover Artist: Shara Azod Editor: Novellette Whyte All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement. 

Chapter One “Hey, baby. I’m Cinnamon. You wanna lap dance, private dance, or just a little company?” Cinnamon. Funny she didn’t look a thing like the spice to which she’d referred. Her skin was more of a mocha and sienna combination, darker and richer than cinnamon. Perhaps the fake name had come about because of her eyes. They were brown, but a few shades lighter than her skin rather than darker. At least he thought they were, but it was really hard to be sure because of the muted lights in the club. He supposed it was silly contemplating the absurdity of a “stage name.” He knew very well who she was. Delilah Thomas fit her far more than the Cinnamon moniker. He knew a lot about the woman before him now. Age twenty-nine, even if she didn’t look a day over twenty-one at most. Born in Lafitte, Louisiana to Reverend Elias and Evangelist Sadie Thomas. Third born of five children, the couple’s only girl. “Uh, lap dance? I had something a little more intimate in mind.” Edward generally detested the idea of human contact of any kind. Probably because no one had ever touched him without wanting something from him since he’d hit puberty. He pushed the glasses he didn’t really need up the bridge of his nose, giving the woman a stare that scared the living shit out of most people of his acquaintance. The whys of it had always escaped him. This woman, however, didn’t even flinch. Ah well, he was simply going to have to force the issue. “Here’s my credit card. There’s no limit, so tell your cashier person to charge whatever the going rate is for an exclusive…show.” Whatever the hell one called that sort of thing, he really couldn’t say. He was very aware, however, of the hulking figure in the shadows slightly to their right. It was the main reason he’d raised his voice when shoving his credit card in her general direction. He watched Delilah’s eyes (he refused to even think of her as Cinnamon) dart in the general direction of the shadow before she answered. He’d also seen her eyes before she looked to the right; she’d been about to pawn him off on someone else.

A few precious moments of observation, and Edward was regretting his plan. It wasn’t going to work. More than that, this was not the woman he’d been led to believe she was. There was no way out of the damnable private dance now. The probability of anyone in this somewhat ethically challenged establishment giving in to a simple request his credit card NOT be charged was about as likely as snowfall in Miami. Walking out after conceding to a full charge would look suspicious and garner unwanted attention. He was simply going to have to bite the bullet and soldier on. “All right, honey, whatever you want.” She wasn’t even looking at him when she said it. Edward noticed her eyes were looking toward the shadow, though to any watching it looked as if that pasted-on smile was all for him. “This way.” She sounded oddly defeated as she took his credit card, taking it to the rotund man in the obscenely small booth. Turning back to him, she graced him with yet another false smile; this one, he supposed, was intended to be seductive. It was too bad her eyes were full of disdain—it might’ve helped matters if he could delude himself into thinking she was truly interested in him. She was very good at the subterfuge, though, perhaps to keep him from noticing she was moving away from the man in the booth who still had his credit card. “We have a private room upstairs, sugar. If you’ll follow me?” Miss Delilah Thomas was truly magnificent in the soothing department. Perhaps that was what David saw in her. “My credit card?” Edward worked in academia, a world chock full of false niceties and falser smiles, and he thought he’d seen the best of the fakers. Yet none of them could touch this woman. She actually offered a thrilling little laugh and went back to get the card. Like they didn’t have everything they needed to charge him anything they wanted. “Here ya go, sugar. Come on, let’s go and help you relieve some tension.” There was something that flashed in her eyes when her gaze drifted briefly over him. Not actual hatred, but certainly resentment. Try as he might to not be affected by it, the emotion momentarily stunned him. He wasn’t really sure what he’d find when he

came to the infamous Sailor’s Delight club hidden amidst the trendier but local jazz clubs in Tremé. Flinty eyed, money-grubbing professionals, certainly. Smooth-talking swindlers, definitely. He couldn’t really describe Delilah as any of those things. As soon as they were out of sight of her watchers, walking up a dimly lit staircase, there was a shift to her demeanor. Edward didn’t need to see her face to note the changes in her carriage. Her back was ramrod straight, her head held high and pointed directly ahead. She walked as if she could care less whether or not he followed; gone was the exaggerated sway of the hips. They swayed now, all right, but it wasn’t deliberate. Her natural walk was a million times sexier than the act she’d put on downstairs. Everything about her now practically screamed that she didn’t want to take him to the private rooms; it was as if she didn’t care to have a customer tonight. But then again, why would she need any other customer, since she had David as a regular? The amount of money Edward’s nephew had spent here on this very woman was enough to buy several middle-class homes. Perhaps that money had been spent just as Edward was spending his now. With David as a faithful customer, Delilah wouldn’t need any other clients—none for private showings, anyway. Since David couldn’t be reasoned with to stop coming here, Edward had decided to come and see this Cinnamon person for himself, though not before finding out everything he could about her. “In here, sugar.” Swinging open a simple whitewashed door, she motioned for him to go inside. The false smile was back, brighter than ever. For some reason that smile worked on Edward’s nerves. He had to grit his teeth to keep his sometimes acerbic tongue silent. Verbally shredding her attitude to ribbons would do no good at this point. He entered the room and then came to an abrupt halt. This place really was some someone’s outdated idea of a bordello, wasn’t it? The décor could’ve come straight out of an old-fashioned gentleman’s study, complete with an oak-paneled bar in the far corner, a fireplace, even bookshelves lined with books that had probably never been opened. The only things distinguishing the place from his own office in his country home were the metal pole on a raised platform in the middle

of the room, with an armless leather recliner directly facing the contraption; a kingsized bed in the corner opposite the bar; and the God-awful purple, red, and black leather color scheme. The total effect was somewhat garish, shocking to the system. “Go on, sugar. Have a seat while I make you a drink. What’s your poison?” “Bourbon, neat.” Edward’s response came without thinking, springing to his lips as an automatic reaction. Years of ingrained response, he supposed. At the time he’d been silently obsessing over the use of the endearment she kept throwing out at him. He really wished she would stop doing that. “Coming right up.” Another bright fake smile, a subtle shift of her body causing the tight, clingy little scraps of cloth she was wearing to move slightly without showing anything. Clever. “Sit down, sugar—you’re not getting any taller. Make yourself comfortable.” Edward sat, but the last thing he was feeling was comfort. “Let me tell you this right up front, this room and my…services are a hundred and fifty an hour, no matter what happens here. What kind of music would you like me to dance to?” Curious. He’d expected her to expand on the “what happens here” part, but she didn’t. Maybe that was how it was done these days; Edward would be one of the last to know. This was his first experience in such a place. “You pick the music. I don’t care.” Nor could he name any songs released in the past century. He seriously doubted Bach was on the playlist. Delilah handed him a drink, offering a smaller smirk instead of the smiles he’d been graced with thus far. This close, Edward could finally make out the exact color of her eyes. They weren’t cinnamon either. A soft amber would be more apt, with the faintest ring of blue around the iris. She was stunning, really, under the layers of makeup and artifice. He had an urge to wash her face and take the piles of auburncolored hair that wasn’t her own off her head. He wanted to take her home, he realized with a start. Why, he couldn’t begin to explain. The world-weary eyes stopped him from uttering any sort of stupid declaration. A woman in her position had probably heard it all; men who’d blurted out promises they could never keep probably came a

dime a dozen. She may be weary, but she didn’t belong here. Determination shone through the disillusionment like a beacon. She wanted out. Maybe she’d seen David as some kind of rescue? Edward found he didn’t believe it. He had no idea why Delilah had consented to a regular such as his nephew, but he was becoming more and more sure that she hadn’t been using the young fool. “All right, sugar, how would you like to do this?” She moved back, out of his reach. Edward could’ve easily pulled her back close to him. Lord, why did he want to so bad? “I can start on the pole or go straight to the lap dance. You can have a body-tobody massage—” “Body-to-body massage? What the devil is that?” He’d never heard of such a thing. Being lost in ancient civilizations had left his own education lacking, it seemed. A peal of laughter caught him by surprise. It was the first genuine expression of emotion he’d witnessed from her, a sweet, honest sound. Edward wanted to make her do it again, but he had no idea how. Interpersonal relationships were a complete mystery to him. The only time he ever made anyone laugh was by complete accident. All too soon the sound was gone, dying in the air as if it had never been. He wanted it back; he wanted such sounds to surround him in a way he never had before. “I’m sorry, sugar, you just looked so adorably lost for a second there.” Her explanation of the laughter might have been as sweet as the laughter itself if it hadn’t been for the infernal use of the word “sugar.” “A body massage is where we both strip down to our unmentionables, and I use my body to massage yours. I’m afraid that’s as far as I go, but if you’re looking for something more intimate, I can get you another girl who’ll be more accommodating.” The declaration at the end of her statement shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did. He knew it, deep down, before she ever took him upstairs. There was something about her, a kinship Edward recognized that wouldn’t let him believe she was anything like he’d first feared when his sister came to him, worried about the amount of time and money David was spending on this place. It hadn’t been hard to find out whom his nephew was coming to see, but he had to know why before he acted.

He still didn’t know why, but nothing overtly scandalous had gone on here—Edward was certain of it. “No, no, that won’t be necessary.” Edward had to drink to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Go ahead and…dance.” Not knowing what else to do, he pointed to the pole. “Up there.” Not his most eloquent, he knew, but it would do for now. His original plan had seemed so simple in theory. Find out what David was doing with this woman, and if it were a matter if simple economics, keep her occupied until David outgrew his fascination and moved on to the next obsession that entered his young brain. Edward had been prepared to return every night that she worked, offer her obscene amounts of money until she forgot about David, and then disappear. The last thing he’d expected was to be fascinated, ensnared by this woman. He had never craved human contact like this. Research was his mistress, his love, his life. There was no place for anything more but responsibility that forced him to interact with the modern world. “No problem, sugar. Let me just start the music…” “Cease with the empty platitudes and endearments, please.” The words whipped across the space between them. He hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but he really couldn’t stand it. How many other men had heard those words from that velvet voice” David, sure…but who else? In this at least he wouldn’t be like her regulars; he could at least fool himself that he wasn’t a customer. “My name is Edward.”

Chapter Two His name was Edward Michael Prichard. Delilah knew very well who this man was. He looked very much like his nephew David, her little angel of mercy. She supposed it would be more correct to say David looked like his uncle. She’d known it would only be a matter of time before a member of David’s very rich, very influential family came to investigate where he was spending so much time and money. She hadn’t expected a game, though, and that was exactly what Edward was doing: playing a game. Had the bastard just been honest and asked her, she would’ve told him the truth about herself and David. That would be too easy, she guessed. Instead the man had bought her time, for what end she didn’t know. No matter what, she wasn’t about to tip her hand and let him know she knew very well who he was. She’d go along with this farce and see where it led. No doubt sooner or later he would try to talk her into more than just a dance. Men like him always thought it was only a matter of price to get her to spread her legs for them like a bitch in heat. To be completely honest, so many of the “dancers” would gladly give a customer whatever they wanted for a price. This was a whorehouse masquerading as a strip club, after all. Delilah couldn’t, wouldn’t go down that road. It was something she absolutely refused to do. The only thing saving her job was that for some reason, her regulars were all big spenders. Each and every one of them thought they would be the one to change her mind. Eventually they all moved on to other women who would do a little extra for more money. It had worked to Delilah’s advantage so far because she kept bringing in fresh meat. Sooner or later, however, she was going to have to make a critical choice. As far as she was concerned, she’d lost enough of her soul; if forced to take that final step, she’d lose herself completely. It was hard enough to look in the mirror as it was. She had to get out. Age was creeping up on her; life was passing by without her really ever living it. How she’d gotten to this place was clear enough. It was the getting out that was murky, which brought her to the problem in front of her now—David’s uncle.

Well, it made sense that Edward Prichard would be the one to show up and “deal” with her. The rest of the esteemed Prichard clan consisted of women: David’s mother, one maternal aunt, one paternal grandmother, two sisters, and a scattering of female cousins. Delilah knew each and every one of them by name and face. David did like to share his familial woes with someone outside his societal structure. She’d always enjoyed listening, and now she was very, very glad she did. “All right then, Eddie.” Compliance to a customer’s wishes up to a point was a lesson she’d spent years learning, perfecting, living. She knew exactly how to make a man feel at ease enough to loosen the hold he had on his wallet. She couldn’t give in completely to this customer, however. It just pissed her off too much that he was here in the first place. “I’ll put on the music and we can begin.” Edward didn’t want to be here; Delilah could read it in every move he made. That made two of them. But she refused to be in intimidated just because he was a man of considerable means. Let him be uncomfortable, he deserved to be. Instead of putting on anything with a heavy beat that made pole dancing easy, Delilah chose her own private mix. Music that was slower, more sensual, it was her personal wish mix full of songs people didn’t generally associate with stripping. Fuck Mr. High and Mighty Prichard; she would be dancing for herself. Usually Delilah would never allow anyone to see her dancing in any way other than what they paid for. Becoming a dancer had once been a dream, the one she ran away from home to pursue only to end up here. Part of what made her so popular with the men who came here was her ability to connect with them. Some strippers allowed their minds to drift, especially in one-on-one sessions. Delilah never wanted to forget where she was, what she was doing or why. Once, a long time ago, she’d allowed herself the luxury of pretending she wasn’t here shaking her ass for money, only to wake up on the wrong side of twenty-five with nothing to show for her troubles but a pair of stripper boots and a beat-up car. That was when she’d come to her own personal crossroads. Hiding from the truth was a luxury she didn’t have. Since then she came to work every night with eyes

wide open. She started to save what money she could instead of blowing it on whims. Until tonight, she was careful to keep eye contact with each and every guy she danced for. It was easier to gage what they liked, what they didn’t. Most important, it never ever allowed her to pretend this was anything other than what it was. Tonight she began with her back turned, and not just to show off her best asset either. She couldn’t care less whether Mr. Prichard watched or not, if he enjoyed the show or not. This dance was for her. The moves were for herself, the music wrapping her in the emotion of the song. Yes, Delilah understood the danger of what she was doing, but for the first time in a very long time, she allowed herself to get lost in the fantasy. Nothing mattered anymore. The shit she’d allowed her life to become disappeared. The man sitting there watching no longer existed. It was just the song, the beat that moved her hips to their swaying rhythm. She swiveled, twirled. Did tricks on the pole she hadn’t done in years when she thought it really mattered. In this place and time she was merely an instrument added to the song, a natural extension of the haunting melodies that filled the room. Songs blended together; Delilah lost track of time as she danced, working her muscles, stretching her limbs, bending and twisting. She even forgot to hate the man she finally faced as the songs eased her inhibitions, creeping down into her bones and setting her free. It didn’t matter that the simple minds of men like him believed women like herself belonged in one place, in one role. The oppression of small minds that thought women like her belonged on their backs because it was all they could do couldn’t hold her down tonight. She allowed herself to forget men like Edward would keep her trapped forever in this dead-end life she was trying so hard to escape. The music moved her, and nothing else could touch her. It moved her off the pole, down the platform, directly in front of Edward Prichard, and finally onto his lap. She truly hadn’t meant to do it. The arms that wrapped around him weren’t hers; they belonged to the melody. It wasn’t her hips grinding down in the enemy’s lap. She wasn’t the one ignoring the stronger, masculine arms that pulled her closer. And she

was definitely not suddenly fascinated by the surprisingly full, tantalizing lips so very close. It was the music, the dance that ran its large, warm hands up and down her back, over her arms, tangling in her hair. The music tightened its grip on her hair, fingers digging deep into the weaved strands, and she didn’t care to stop it. She allowed the music to tug her face closer. The lips that met her own weren’t that of a man, certainly not of a man she hated. It was the music’s kiss that was the perfect combination of sweet and spicy, stealing her breath and melting her body. Ah, the music’s lips moved against hers in a gentle caress, coaxing her to open. Delilah moaned, allowing the music’s tongue access. Contact deepened, intensifying as the kiss grew in aggression, becoming absolute possession. The tug on her hair became a sting, the pain adding to the pleasure that made her body heat almost unbearably. Delilah fell. The dance ceased to be a dance as her body strained against the stronger, harder, larger one beneath her. She forgot all her carefully crafted rules of survival, her standards of work conduct. When Edward’s hands began to remove her skimpy costume, she allowed it, was even grateful for it. Her clothes were choking her skin. Her own hands were busy doing her own tugging and unwrapping. She couldn’t stand the feel of linen, cotton and wool against her, between them. Oh Lord, no stick-in-the-mud egghead should have a body like this! And she should be able to resist. This was the very last thing she needed to be doing. Edward was the enemy. Wait, no—it was the music. That made it all right, made what she couldn’t deny to save her life acceptable. Therefore it was perfectly reasonable the body under the stodgy clothes looked more like that of a ripped, lean boxer. Holy hell, there was even a tattoo on his left pec. A black design of some kind lined lightly in red. Her lyrical lover groaned as Delilah ran her fingernails over the design. The response spurred her to duck her head and run her tongue lightly over it, and then her teeth. The hand in her hair pushed her harder against the hot, tangy skin. So she bit down.

“Fuck!” The music rose, a tower of strength and virility lifting her with him, allowing her fuller contact with the glorious erection nestled in his crotch. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” Delilah expected him to walk over to the bed. She wanted him to, needed him to. He didn’t. Because she’d torn his pants down in a feverish rush, they fell to his feet as soon as he stood. Relinquishing the hold he’d had on her hair, both hands cupped her ass, helping as she frantically rode the ridge of his shaft. Oh God, that felt so good. Too good. She was so wet, so primed, she shamelessly rocked against him, smashing her clit against the throbbing cock. Her nails dug into his shoulders, literally trying to climb him, trying to work the head close to her opening. She almost managed it, so very close…until a palm left her behind, only to return in a sharp SMACK! “Shit!” Stars exploded under closed lids. Her body shook as an orgasm slammed though her. “Don’t you dare stop.” Edward’s deep voice—no, no, no…the music’s deep voice gruffly ordered while smacking her other butt cheek. “Come for me again.” No way; she couldn’t. The burn in her ass spread straight to her pussy, igniting another round of fireworks. Now it was Delilah’s turn to bury her fingers in his hair, pulling for all she was worth—so fucking good, so very hot. Sex had never felt as good, and this was just foreplay. She wanted more, needed more, and it had to be now. “I need you inside me, Eddie. Please, now!” He actually growled at her. A dark, throaty warning that just sounded delicious to her. Somehow he stalked to the bed without stumbling; he must’ve kicked off his shoes and pants, because he had no problem moving fluidly as if she weighed nothing at all. Dropping her on her back on the bed, he grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the edge. It was done forcefully, with absolute authority, but Delilah couldn’t really claim he was manhandling her in any way. In fact, it felt wickedly good to be overwhelmed without being overpowered. Dominance without threat. With the same kind of command, he opened her legs, thrusting inside her hard and deep.

Edward wasn’t making love to her, yet he wasn’t fucking her either. She couldn’t even say they were having sex. This was a possession, pure and simple. Thrust by thrust, he invaded her completely. She could feel him inside her womb, inside her mind; he was saturating every part of her being, and she loved it. “Yes, Eddie, please! Don’t stop!” Was she babbling? She wasn’t sure her mouth was forming the correct words; she just wanted more and more. “So tight, so wet.” Lord, but his voice was sexy. Sonorous, hypnotic, it washed over her. “I can feel you milking me, Delilah. I feel you coming all around me.” Yes, oh fuck yes. Her body seemed to be completely in his control. She bucked, clawed, ground against him. Anything to get him closer. “That’s it, baby. Show me you like it. Show me how good it is to you.” Delilah canted her hips upward, desperately seeking fuller contact. The world was spiraling dangerously out of control, and there was no way to stop it. All she could do was scream and clutch the bed, trying to just hang on. Edward was relentless, his movements completely without mercy. She could feel the ridges of his cock as he powered into her, forcing her higher and higher. A hand left the bed and clawed at his chest. There were trails of red in ragged lines down his chest. So good, so damn good. Even though she knew he hadn’t orgasmed as she had, he stopped. Their hips remained locked, his hard, hot dick throbbing inside her. His gray eyes were bright, searing her with their unblinking scrutiny. She wanted him to come; it was fast becoming a moral imperative. Then it hit her. Oh God, he’d called her Delilah. He knew her real name!

Chapter Three Damn it! Edward never meant for this to happen. Honestly, his plan hadn’t proceeded farther than making sure Delilah was occupied with a new regular customer who could pay far more than his nephew would dare. It would cause David to move on without things getting messy. The young were notoriously fickle in their affections; Edward was certain this would blow over soon enough. Come into my web, said the spider to the fly… He knew the moment she stepped up on the small platform and began to dance, she’d completely shut him out of her consciousness. None of the performance she gave was for him. It was pissing him off, but not for any reason that made rational sense. It wasn’t that he had paid for this farce, because that was what it was. She wasn’t really providing the so-called customer with a damn thing—she danced for herself. He hadn’t really paid for a stripper; he’d paid a woman who was far better than her circumstances in order to monopolize her time. That she was blocking him out, pretending he didn’t exist, had grated on Edward’s nerve. He wanted her to know that he was there, that he was watching. Not as some horny wastrel looking for a cheap thrill, but as a man appreciates a woman on a level deeper than the visceral. She spun, their eyes clashing. He willed with all his being for her to descend those damn steps and come to him. Never in a million years did he think such a thing would actually work. The clash, the chemistry knocked the breath from his lungs. A combination of blazing white-hot heat and a magnetic electrical pull he wouldn’t have believed existed before that exact moment. As she had moved down the steps of the platform, moving in more of a mesmerizing slither than a walk, Edward had become hotter, harder. What followed was a natural as breathing, without thought or hesitation. As soon as they touched, her scantily clad body against his overly dressed one, he knew. Whatever she’d been doing with David, it wasn’t this. This wasn’t some groping act of illicit sex. This was a mating on a level he had never known could really happen. She definitely hadn’t laid one slim finger on a co-ed much more a boy than a man. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to ask.

To do so would imply distrust, and for a man who gave his trust to no one, he found he trusted this woman beyond reason. He slid out of her slowly, never once looking away from her face. She was exquisite underneath all that makeup; almond-shaped eyes flashed from the amber he’d first seen to a deeper copper. Eyes that were beginning to clear from the sensual haze that had washed over them so recently. Couldn’t have that. He wasn’t ready to give up this particular dream, not yet. Moving unhurriedly, he pinned her arms above her head and took her mouth once more with his own. Sparks flew immediately, as he’d known they would. There was something combustible about the two of them together. Was she even aware of how sweetly she yielded to him, her body melting into his as he spread across her like a warm blanket? Careful to keep the majority of his weight off of hers, Edward gave in to the need to let his lips travel down to explore more of her rich, dark skin. God, she smelled so good, like an exotic flower. He let her hands go, touching her everywhere he could. Her breasts were naturally full and plentiful, filling his hand to overflowing. Her long, hard blackberry nipples seemed to beg him for his attention. He swirled his tongue around each erect nub, loving their unique texture under his tongue. The reaction he received was even better than the taste. She moaned oh so sweetly, tugging at his hair, urging him closer. “Please, please, harder.” The gasping plea wrapped around his brain, triggering something he’d believed had died long ago. Just to experiment, he bit down just a little. It was so hard to hold back, so hard not to let go completely. The action caused her to cry out, her back arching off the bed. “Harder!” Edward couldn’t keep his elemental self bottled up any longer. Using one hand, he pinned her hands above her head once more. He bit down harder, receiving a gasping moan this time, her body shaking under him. Keeping a firm grip with one hand, he allowed his other to roam free, sliding down her smooth skin until he reached her core. So wet, so hot. He ran a single finger down the seam of her labia, groaning

with her as he found just how wet she really was. He hadn’t come from the first time, so he knew it was all her. Juices flowing freely, just waiting for him to take her again. Not wanting to rush, he had to grind his own crotch against the mattress in a useless effort to relieve his aching dick. He was throbbing so hard, wanting so badly to be buried deep inside her. It was too soon for that. He would only come, leaving so much undone. The need to be with her as long as he could ran strong. The need to explore was even stronger. As impractical as it was, Edward wanted all else but the two of them, this second, this interlude, to disappear completely. He wanted the world outside the two of them to fade away like it never existed. As a man who relied on empirical evidence, he didn’t believe in anything that couldn’t be proven. However, this attraction between them was very real; tangible, even. There was no getting enough of her. Holding her down, alternating between sharp little bites and gentle sucks on her breasts, allowing his fingers to thrust inside her drenched pussy, hard, purposely stroking her g-spot until she was nearly incoherent was not enough. He wanted more, more reaction, more of her. “That’s it, baby,” he crooned against her flesh as she rode his fingers. “Don’t stop. Take what you want.” She looked so damn perfect writhing in a dance to the music he created, not the soft strains of sound playing in the background. The same thought echoed in his brain over and over again. This is where she belongs, in my arms—always. No, this was far from practical, but Edward didn’t want to question it. “Omigawd, Edward! Please, please, please.” Every single time she orgasmed, her eyes flew open wide, staring at him as if she didn’t understand what was happening to her own body, before heavy lids drifted closed. She did things to him, all by a simple look. “Good, baby, I don’t want you to stop.” He wanted her wild, crazy, out of her mind with him—only him. Moving between her legs, he let go of her hands again, trailing nibbling kisses down her hot skin, stopping once he was at her core. The first swipe of his tongue

against the wet, pink folds of her quim tasted like nirvana. Working his tongue deep inside her, he pinched her clit, then rotated it between his forefinger and thumb. Delilah was so responsive, so honest in her pleasure. He loved that; he fed off the way her body jerked, her cries growing sharper. She tugged, pulled, damn near ripped his hair out, and he loved every second. The feel of her nails digging into the skin of his back, the sting of the welts she left behind were like trophies, proof positive of a job well done. It turned him on more than he thought possible. Glorious, he thought as he finally rose. Most of the heavy makeup had been sweated off. Her face glowed in the aftermath of deep satisfaction; eyes at half mast, lips swollen, she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. His chest expanded knowing he’d done this to her. And he wanted to do it again—over and over until she couldn’t remember her own name. Getting to his knees, he lifted her hips, slamming inside her to the hilt. She was so unbelievably snug, clamping down around him so tight he thought he would lose it right then. He waited a moment, willing the tightness in his balls away before starting to move in a measured glide in and out. Watching the myriad of expressions cross her face was priceless. It was good, so damn good. With a certainty he would’ve called foolish from anyone else, Edward knew this wasn’t something Delilah did at “work.” Whatever went on here, she wasn’t a part of the seedier side of things. It wasn’t just that she fit so tightly around him, though Lord knows she exquisitely did so. It wasn’t that her reactions were so honest, so open. It wasn’t even the way she looked at him as if he was the only man in the universe. There was something else he couldn’t name, a feeling deep down that reassured Edward no matter what she did for a living, no matter what road she’d walked that led her here, she was pure at heart. She’d been wounded, but not broken. More than anything, she was his. The coming together of their bodies was deeper than physical. It was more than sex, not as simple or innocent as making love. They moved together in perfect unison. Perfect rhythm, giving and receiving, a welcome home of sorts. He wanted it to last

forever, wanted to stay buried deep inside her. But her pussy was milking him, vibrating against the too-sensitive flesh of his cock. He thrust faster and faster, unable to help himself, unable to resist her pleas for more, deeper, harder. It wasn’t nearly enough, he had hardly scratched the surface of his growing need for her, but his balls had drawn up impossibly tight. He was going to come; there was no way to stop it. All he could do was make damn sure she came with him. He angled his torso away from hers reluctantly, though he kept their sexes firmly attached. Reaching down between them, he pinched her clit as he powered into her. The cries from her lisp fueled his own passion. It was music more melodious than anything she had danced to before. Slowly the cries increased in volume and depth until his own hoarse cry mingled with her scream of sublime satisfaction. He felt the rush of release from the tip of his toes, washing through his entire body. Wave after wave surged through him until he was empty, his essence hers now, completely. Oh God, what had he done? He’d only planned on monopolizing Delilah’s time; his only goal was to turn David’s attention elsewhere, and only because David’s mother had begged him. The very last thing he’d expected was to end up in bed with Delilah. This was not exactly the kind of establishment he frequented. Although he knew down to the bottom of his soul Delilah didn’t sleep with her customers, this club was little more than a modern-day bordello. Against everything he was, everything he believed, he had taken her right here and enjoyed every second of it. He had no regrets, though he knew he should. The only thing off was a tingling in the back of his mind that he had forgotten something, something essential. His body and mind were too sated, swimming in more gratification than he’d ever felt. Or perhaps the truth was he had never really been satisfied before. Whatever it was, his brain was foggy, not allowing him to think straight just yet. “Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” Edward blinked down at the woman beneath him. Get off her? Was she kidding? Although he had come harder than he’d ever done before, he was still rock hard and aching for her. Her vaginal walls were still holding on to his dick so tight he could feel

then pulsating around him. No matter how angry she might have been, she still wanted him; at least her body did. Outside of this place, in his normal life, Edward would’ve apologized profusely and gotten off of her immediately. But that was all before he’d met her. That world seemed far away now, like a dream he’d walked through, never touching anyone or anything. Stretching over her, he leaned down until they were nose to nose. He flexed his hips, causing his erection to thrust deeper inside her. He watched her eyes widen, capturing the soft groan in a kiss. “Are you sure you want me to stop, Delilah?” Two more thrusts were followed by a roll of his hips. As he expected, she moved with him, opening herself to him. “You want me to get the fuck off you, baby? You want me to stop?” Edward didn’t know who this man was, this lover of Delilah’s. She made him primitive, his base self. There was no stopping the deep, methodical thrusts. “Answer me, Delilah. Do you want me to stop?” Had she said yes, he would have, no matter how much he wanted to do otherwise. But she didn’t. “No, please.” It was barely a moan, but it would do. “Faster, harder, Eddie, please.” It was unimaginable to do anything less than comply. Gathering her close, he moved faster. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Move with me just like that. Give it all to me, Delilah.” Her nails dug into him as she arched against him, doing exactly as he ordered. “Oh God, I’m coming! Please, please don’t stop!” Her teeth nipped his ear and tugged as her cunt spasmed around him. “Yes, Eddie! Gawd, yes!” She clamped down on him a little too snuggly. With a roar he followed right behind her, pumping his seed deep inside her. It was heaven, it was so right. Without

thought Edward rolled over, taking Delilah with him. All he was thinking was he didn’t want to break the connection between them, at least not yet. “I promise to stop seeing David if you swear to never come back here again.” That was the last thing he expected to hear. She knew who he was; he should’ve suspected that before now. What was worse, she knew why he was here. “Delilah—” What the hell could he say” He was sorry? He wasn’t. “I want to see you again, I need to see you again, and I will see you again.” It was as simple a statement as he could make it. This would be happening again and again as long as he drew breath. Never had he felt so alive, so human. It wasn’t a fluke; there was a real, tangible connection between them. “I’m not a whore, no matter what you may think.” To her credit, she didn’t try to get up or move away. Her body was relaxed, half sprawled on his. Edward just didn’t like the sound of her voice. She sounded defeated, and that pissed him off. He wasn’t angry at her—he was angry for her. And this was his fault. Shit, he hadn’t meant to do this, to break her down. “I know you’re not.” He really did, but there was very little he could say to get her to believe it. She snorted, rolling on her side to face away from him. “You have two hours left. Would you like that massage now, sugar?” That again—a way to push him away, as if he’d gotten close in a way that left her vulnerable. And he had, he supposed. What had happened between them had been real, not some sordid backroom fuck, certainly not a transaction of any kind. He needed to make sure she understood that. His brain kick-started, running a mile a second. “This will stay between us. That is to say, it wasn’t business—I know that.” Well that was a good way to bungle it. He sounded guilty as hell. Delilah let out a laugh lacking any real mirth. “You worried about the bill, sugar? Too late for that. This particular room is wired for sight and sound. Your credit card has already been charged. Twice.”

Edward sat up slowly, a strange sense of calm settling over him. She was hurt, badly. Whatever it was, this went deeper than his fuckup tonight. He probably couldn’t fix it. Not right away, anyway, but he could make damn sure it didn’t go any deeper. “Get dressed.” Climbing to his feet, he gathered his clothes and began dressing himself. Casting a look over his shoulder, he noted Delilah hadn’t moved. There was a single tear trailing down her cheek. It tore him up inside, worse than he’d thought possible. “Delilah, get dressed.” He needed to get her out of here. “Now.” She moved slowly, methodically like a robot, slowly making her way to what he guessed was a restroom. Running water confirmed that guess. She returned a little while later, dressed in the barely concealing costume. That wasn’t going to do. “Where are your real clothes?” She looked up, confused. Good. He didn’t need her questioning just yet. “In the locker room. Why?” “We’re going to get them.” There were privileges to being a Prichard. Surprisingly, one of them was to walk into a stripper’s locker room with a dazed dancer—no, former dancer—on his arm. He waited while she changed, refusing to look away. No one said a word. As soon as she gathered her things, he guided her back out into a dark hallway. “How did you get to work?” If she drove, her car would have to stay here. She was incredibly vulnerable right now, in shock over what had transpired. Edward knew he had a very small window of time to get her out of here without her fighting him on it. His name wouldn’t do him a bit of good then. “I got a ride—my car needs some work.” Good. That was excellent. She allowed him to escort her to his car and bundle her inside. She wasn’t coming back here if he could help it. And he could. It was all too tempting to have the damn place razed and burnt to ash. “There’s something you should probably know, Eddie.” Delilah was now sounding detached, as if she had no part in their little drama. “I’m not on the pill. It’s a

deterrent from ever doing anything stupid—like I did tonight—and you, Professor Prichard, didn’t wear a condom.”

Chapter Four Delilah had no idea where she was. She cracked open one eye, trying to survey her surroundings without moving. The last thing she wanted was to let him know she was awake. All that was clearly visible was an antique-looking chair sitting next to what she guessed were floor-to-ceiling windows, due to the heavy brocade curtains that reached as far. They happened to be drawn shut so she couldn’t make out a thing outside, but it certainly didn’t sound as if they were in the city anymore. Of course, this could be the Garden District, or some other part of town she had no reason to ever be in. David had mentioned his uncle had a place there, but then his uncle had more than one home. As hard as she tried to recall details from the night before, she couldn’t really see anything in her mind’s eye. After the initial euphoria wore off, everything seemed to be moving in a haze. It had shocked her, allowing herself to get swept up like she had. The moment she’d come to her senses and seen those gray eyes staring down at her had crystallized every mistake, ever misstep she had ever made in her life. She clearly saw the path that had led to her working as a stripper, employed by two buffoons who wanted to bring back the days of the infamous Storyville. Delilah had fallen apart. There was some money saved, but not a lot. To move away now and start over would be pushing the very limits of her savings. Her only hope was that management didn’t know what had happened in the club last night. The room she’d used was one of the few without hidden cameras, unlike what she’d told Edward. If either Bull or Red, the owners of that and several other clubs, found out what she’d done, there would be no turning back for her. They would force her to turn tricks now, and Bull especially wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was fucked, and all because—well, she really didn’t have any idea why she’d allowed herself to get swept up with David’s uncle. The lie she’d told herself last night didn’t bear up in the cold light of day. The music made her do it her ass.

Sure she’d been pissed about Edward showing up at the club as if he had no idea who she was. He could’ve just come out with the real reason why he was there. He may have run the risk of her laughing in his face, but he had money and power, while she had none. A man in his position had a hell of a lot more options than she’d ever had. Instead of using some more upfront way to stop his nephew from spending his precious trust fund on a stripper, he’d come in as if he were an average customer. Why, she still couldn’t figure it out. Maybe it was to see what kind of woman David was spending so much time with. Maybe it was to affirm his own suspicions. She’d been pissed, understandably so, but that didn’t really explain sleeping with him. Maybe in some perverse way she’d wanted to confirm his worst suspicions about her. It was twisted as hell, but for the life of her Delilah couldn’t think of any other excuse. Sure, she’d been attracted to him, there weren’t may red blooded women who wouldn’t be. Edward Prichard didn’t look like the average silver spoon academic. He was taller than most, much like his nephew. However, whereas David was gangly and more than a little awkward, Edward was all filled out. Whipcord lean and hard with well-defined muscles, the older man moved with the confidence of a man who knew his place in the world—on the top. His gray eyes were damn near hypnotic, especially because his gaze was direct and unflinching. The light eyes were accompanied by light blond hair, worn longish without being the least bit feminine. With a face that looked almost cruel in its beauty, Edward was the ideal man in every way. Delilah was no spring chicken. Life had taught her the hard way not to fall for a fine body, a handsome face, or a big wallet. Edward may be magnetic, but he was trouble. The man was so far beyond a normal hot guy it wasn’t even funny. She had no experience dealing with men like him; they weren’t the kind who frequented her place of employment. Why had he brought her here? Better yet, where was here? What did this man really want with her? Bringing her to God knows where couldn’t be his way of keeping her away from his nephew, could it? Oh, right, then there was the condom thing. She could kick herself a thousand times for telling him that, no matter how true it was.

“Good morning.” Delilah jumped, completely forgetting she was supposed to be faking still being asleep. Why did his voice have to be so sexy? The Prichards weren’t original Louisiana stock, having moved here after The Purchase of 1803, quickly marrying into the French elite. Edward had that lazy, French/Southern accent unique to Louisiana and some small parts of Eastern Texas. A native herself, Delilah never learned to be immune to a man who could use that languid drawl. The deep, seductive sound of a man born and bred in Louisiana could be a dangerous weapon. “I should be going home.” The sentence sounded odd to her own ears, but she didn’t have a clue what else to say. She certainly didn’t want to look in his direction. Having just woken up, her face free of her war paint, there was very little to hide behind. There was no way she could stand up to his raw, sensual beauty right now. “You must be hungry.” There was movement behind her, and the mattress sprang up where he’d been lying. Delilah held her breath, hoping he’d leave the room so she could search for a bathroom. She needed to get herself together. The last thing she wanted to think about was how cold she felt after he got out of the bed. It was like her body craved his heat. Oh God, she had to get out of here. She waited, listening to the movements he made around the room. It was hard to discern what he was doing, and she refused to look. For a second she thought he was gone when she heard the distinct sound of a door opening. Unfortunately, she could hear soft footsteps approaching the bed not long after. “Here, this will do until we get something for you to wear.” Unbelievably, the man stood next to her stark raving naked, holding out a thick terry cloth robe. She really shouldn’t have opened her eyes. In the dark club last night Edward had been devastatingly handsome. This morning he looked like hard, lean, muscled sin. “Are you going to put something on?”

Something flickered in his eyes, not really anger, not annoyance, not desire. It was more along the lines of determination. Determination to do what? He’d unwittingly forced her to come to a crossroads she knew she would have to face one day, but was trying to avoid. There was no question she’d have to find another line of work, and soon. The thought of being forced to have sex with the pathetic customers that stumble into a strip club turned her stomach. Sleeping with this man should’ve done the same. Why was it that even now, just looking at him made her stomach quiver? Why couldn’t she look away from those stormy eyes? Edward turned, finally releasing her from his captive direct gaze. The power one look had over her was disturbing on so many levels. Delilah had worked as a dancer off and on for the majority of eleven years; she was a professional, so to speak. Never, ever had she ever allowed herself to be attracted to a customer—not since she was a freshfaced eighteen-year-old newbie. A dancer learned quickly, customers didn’t see you as “a woman,” not really. You were a fantasy for them, a plaything. Twice she had found out the hard way her so-called boyfriends were very married, once she had gotten caught up with a dangerous wannabe gangster who was as free with his fists as he was with his money, and once an especially smooth customer turned out to be a pimp. Never again, she’d promised herself. With Edward, she had flown past attraction and plunged headfirst into captivation. And he hadn’t done a thing to lure her. One look and Delilah felt more exposed than standing in the middle of a bunch of drunk clubgoers in full costume. Yet she still wanted to give in. She wanted to get swept away in him. Everything she had learned about life taught her she should run in the other direction, but she had an urge to never leave this bed. Trying to gather her scattered thoughts, she grabbed the offered robe, putting it on under the covers. Thank God he’d taken her to the locker room before they left last night. That much she did remember. He simply cast a wry grin in her direction before slipping into a pair of jeans she hadn’t noticed he was carrying. No underwear, just the jeans.

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.” When she looked up she found he had his hand extended, looking pointedly at where the robe gapped open. She wasn’t about to snatch the top part closed to show she was unnerved by his obvious interest. Besides, her hands were shaking too much to bother. She did place a hand in his and allow him to help her to her feet. Wasn’t it just a kick in the pants that the hand encased in his warm embrace stopped shaking. “You know what? I’m not hungry.” Inhaling deep, Delilah faced him squarely. If there was one thing she’d excelled at over the years, it was faking bravery when she felt none. “I want to know where I am and why.” Why? Because she’d wigged out completely last night—no way that confession would ever be forthcoming. There was a hell of a lot more she wanted to know, but this much would be a good start. Edward didn’t move. Delilah couldn’t say she was surprised. David had always said his uncle was a man of few words. The younger man had often groused that his uncle had zero interpersonal skills, being only interested in books, research and the continued study of anthropology. She had no idea what anthropology was exactly, but she could see where David had gotten that mistaken impression. It would be more true to say Edward didn’t talk much because he found it unnecessary. She could read what he was saying in his stance. Why she was so certain this man was nothing like his nephew portrayed him to be, she couldn’t put into words. There was just a certain knowledge lurking in those granite eyes of his, a knowledge far too intense to be unaffected by the human condition. Edward saw and felt a hell of a lot more David ever dreamed. “You will eat.” The words were as startling as they were abrupt. But then he seemed to pull back, as if he knew it had come out all wrong. “But perhaps you’d like to freshen up first?” This time she didn’t argue. Following him into the bathroom, she had to smile. He really did have no clue how to say what he wanted to, but at least he was thinking twice about it. She stopped smiling as soon as she took a look around her. The

bathroom was obscenely large, flooded with a lot of natural light. The air was fresher and cleaner than any bathroom she’d ever been in before. Not even her mother’s Lysol and Comet-scented bathroom appeared so pristinely clean. The welcoming quality was weird coming from a place she’s always equated more with necessity than anything else. There were even glossy green real plants scattered about throughout the area. Opening a cabinet, Edward handed her a toothbrush, one of those expensive electric kinds, brand new and still in the package. Who the hell kept electric toothbrushes on hand just in case? It was hard not to feel uncomfortable in the face of such careless wealth. “I have unused brushes and combs, but we’ll have to send out for any hair products you may need.” Wow, that was both astute and kind of cute. But seriously, send out for hair products? Was that even possible? “Later, we will sit down and make a list of the things you need,” Edward continued as if he were discussing nothing more serious than something he saw on television once. He made it sound as if everything he was saying was ordinary, and it implied an extended stay, which would not be happening. “Exactly how long were you planning on keeping me here?” It was really hard not to panic. He didn’t have to do a damn thing he didn’t want to. As before, he didn’t answer. Instead he walked to the far end of the counter, which held another sink. Dual sinks? Did he bring women home that regularly? Without looking in her direction he began brushing his teeth, casting occasional glances in her direction. Not knowing what else to do, she brushed her own, then washed her face with the soft, fluffy washcloth and cleanser he silently placed beside her. After brushing out her hair with a brush he also provided, she did feel a great deal better. More focused, able to deal with the task of getting the hell away from a man she couldn’t resist. “This way.”

The whole imperial way he had of speaking was really starting to wear thin. Gritting her teeth, she followed, counting backwards in her head to try to calm her fastrising temper. Too much of her time was spent being a victim of her own bad choices; the last seven years she had worked to break a lot of the habits that led her to where she was now. The fact that she was in this position in the first place was maddening. So what if Edward hadn’t forced her here? She was here, and that was enough to make her anger extend to him. However, once they stepped outside the bedroom she’d barely glanced at, her anger was forgotten as if it had never been. Her frustration, her silent reflection all left in the face of the magnitude of the rest of the house. Not even on television had she seen a place like this. Edward walked down a marbled hall as if it were nothing special to walk on floors more expensive that the majority of the homes in the state. Twice she almost stumbled down the wide curved staircase, but each time, Edward was right there. The first time he placed his arm around her shoulder to steady her, the second he just plucked her off her feet as if she weighed nothing at all. He didn’t set her back down until they entered the kitchen, yet another cavernous room full of natural light from ample windows all looking out at manicured lawn for as far as the eyes could see. Delilah would’ve sworn a man in his position wouldn’t know the first thing about cooking for himself. This was the kind of house that took an army of staff to keep it in the shape it was in. She was dead wrong. He moved around the kitchen with the same confidence he did everything. Even with her patience stretched thin and her very future unsure, she meekly allowed him to sit her down at what she assumed was a table meant for the staff. She allowed him to place an omelet in front of her and ate it without complaint. There was little else she could do while he refused to talk. The omelet was fluffy, full of her favorites, ham and veggies, and of course, it was delicious. Was there anything this man couldn’t do? “You won’t be going back.” Delilah’s head snapped up at the calmly uttered proclamation. He’d waited until she’d eaten every bite and drank the orange juice he’d

poured for her. She stared at him silently willing him to clarify, which he did. “Not to the club, not the hovel you called a home… You won’t be going back to any of it.” Shock would have been nice, but it didn’t come. Anger would’ve been welcome, but that didn’t show up either, even if she did take exception to the hovel part. Something far more frightening blossomed deep in her breast, something she wanted so badly to beat down as soon as it reared its ugly head. Hope—that bitch of an emotion guaranteed to let her down—took hold and refused to be dislodged. That was something Delilah could not accept, could not have. She refused to recognize it. That way it couldn’t take over and make her stupid. “You know, had you asked, I would’ve left David alone. There’s more than one tutor in New Orleans. This is taking things a bit far, don’t you think?”

Chapter Five Edward wished he could’ve been shocked that Delilah not only knew who he was, but what had brought him to the strip club. The truth was he’d seen the truth in her eyes, known it by the small way she’d tried to bait him in the beginning. He’d also known that whatever David was to her, his nephew wasn’t this woman’s client, not for anything beyond a dance. This woman was far from a whore, and what had happened in the club last night had broken something vital inside her. That was his fault, and he would make amends somehow. But that wasn’t the reason he had autocratically stated she wouldn’t be returning to the life she’d lived before now. That he didn’t really have a valid reason for. He had spoken out of pure instinct. Then there was also the little matter of unprotected sex, more than once. The simple declaration by Delilah that she wasn’t currently on any form of birth control shouldn’t have made his cock swell like it had. It shouldn’t have produced the primal need to take this woman and claim her as his own. He was a civilized educator; he was not subject to primal emotions. However, the slightest chance that she might have conceived made his chest swell just thinking about it. As long as she stayed in his home, there would be more than just a chance—it would happen with certainty. Sometime during the night as he’d watched her sleep, the idea had planted firmly into his brain and refused to be dislodged. Most people, especially his family, considered him cold, lacking in basic human emotions. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t have the same feelings as everyone else; he just didn’t always know how to express how he was feeling, and therefore he didn’t show anything at all. Sentiments felt awkward on his tongue and made his limbs stiff moving, as if they were not his own. Hugs and other forms of physical affection made him uncomfortable at the best of times. It was so much easier to bottle up things like pain, remorse, and empathy and keep a stiff upper lip. None of that held true with a stripper who called herself Cinnamon. God, that moniker grated as much as her profession. Looking at the woman across from him now,

he couldn’t place Delilah in that life. Without makeup and the cheap costume, she looked fresh, like some kind of ancient pagan Spring maiden. Without the paint and glitter, she seemed years younger than her twenty-nine years. Even though his robe completely swallowed her figure, she was far sexier this morning with bits of glowing sienna skin showing here and there than she’d been in a string and pasties. He needed her. He wanted her. He was keeping her. Oh, he was well aware men didn’t go about seizing the woman they wanted in this modern world, yet that was exactly what he was planning on doing in a roundabout way. Nothing as tawdry as a hidden mistress on the side or some kind of neo-sex slave or without her consent—Edward was determined to marry Delilah. He could tell himself it would be to save her from the life in which she currently lived, but he wasn’t into bullshitting himself. In a weird way, it was Delilah who would be saving him, should she accept him. In less than twenty-four hours she had moved him to touch, to feel, to revel in contact of the most intimate nature that went far beyond just sex. In this woman’s presence, he didn’t feel as if he must keep it all together. There was no such thing as being in firm control; a shift of limbs or a sideways look could make him lose it completely. Already he was hard again just sitting here watching her playing with the crumb on her plate with her fork. “David was tutoring you? That’s why he was coming to see you so often?” For crying out loud, he was jealous of his own nephew. It was a feeling so completely alien to him he was shocked. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? I won’t be seeing him again.” There was sadness in her voice; that too grated. Still, there wasn’t that wistfulness in her eyes as if she’d lost a lover. There was disappointment, yes, but not the kind that would’ve made him want to throttle David. He tried changing subjects just to chase her sadness away. “If you have conceived—”

“If I have conceived? All by myself?” Delilah sliced through his carefully neutral tone with acid. Was it twisted that he was getting even harder faced with the fire of her anger? “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I wouldn’t dare to presume I have permission to bear your bastard.” Well, now she had that exactly right, though for none of the reasons she assumed. The degree to which Delilah pregnant with his child appealed to him was as shocking as his immediate, uncontrollable attraction to her. In his mind, her former profession, and it was former, was simply the avenue in which she was brought into his life. When he looked at her, he saw a rare, priceless gem that had thankfully been overlooked until now. All he wanted to do was provide the setting to showcase her soul-deep beauty. “I am aware you won’t be bearing my bastard, Delilah.” Funny, he had never had problems before now keeping his voice devoid of emotion. “You will be my wife.” The silence in the cavernous kitchen stretched for several moments, tension so thick in the air Edward felt that he may have said too much way too soon. For a man who had spent his entire life surrounded by the lack of sound, he found it unsettling at the moment. How was it that Delilah had managed to change something inside him so quickly, without wanting or meaning to? He felt himself expanding, seeking, reaching out for contact. It was a curious sensation, a thing he couldn’t research, dissect or put under a metaphorical microscope. He was a historical anthropologist with a specialty in the evolution of human societies. Not just how they lived, but cultural and social norms, taboos, wants, needs. Human relationships may have baffled him, but they had always fascinated him—just never touched him. Coming from a family that was born to wealth, Edward never really knew his parents. They were mere figureheads he saw whenever his nanny or tutors presented him as a child. As an adult they’d been polite strangers, more like allies forged together by DNA and surname than a true family. His sisters and their children were responsibilities. The only people he’d truly felt any sort of kinship toward were his now-deceased brother and his brother’s son, David. Unlike Edward, his brother had

been an emotionally high-strung person. For some reason, David Prichard, Sr. was unable to deal with his life of privilege without purpose. While the world believed David, Sr. died of cancer, the ugly truth was he’d killed himself, leaving a babbling note about the nothingness of it all. Edward had cleaned up the mess, paid off the right people and made sure no one ever knew, especially not the dead man’s wife and son. David, Sr.’s death had saddened Edward, as had his life. Before now, his nephew was the only living human being to inspire his affection, even if he didn’t know how to show it, and therefore didn’t. That was partially what had driven him to the strip club in the first place. Strictly from an academic point of view, he understood how an alluring temptress could lead to the downfall of a naïve young man. Being that his nephew was much more the Marcus Antonius type than a Caesar, he’d been concerned he might’ve met his Cleopatra. Seeing as how young David was in no way experienced enough to deal with that kind of woman, Edward had given in to his sister-in-law’s pleas and had investigated the matter before deciding to take care of it himself. Delilah was no Cleopatra, though she easily could’ve been. She was much more an inexplicable mixture of Lilith and Eve before the temptation. Without understanding her full draw, she seemed to embrace her womanhood unlike so many other women her age. She was the type of woman who got under a man’s skin, dug deep into his psyche. Unlike so many of the other dancers he’d witnessed at the club, she was neither blatant nor overblown. Whether she knew it or not, she had chosen him. Pure instinct as old as the history of man had brought them together. Marriage may seem a bit extreme to the average Joe, but Edward knew something priceless when he saw it. He didn’t want to possess her as so many would. Hell, to be honest, he couldn’t put what he wanted into words. “Do you think I’m stupid?” At least she didn’t sound as harsh as he’d expected. Confused, certainly, but it was laced with anger. “Quite the contrary.” The emotions that crossed her face were riveting. He’d thrown her for a loop, good.

God, she really was wondrous. Not what people would call traditionally beautiful, her attraction was more ethereal and yet earthly as the same time. She had that thing that other women scoffed at, never understanding why men tripped all over themselves just to look. Those almond-shaped eyes watched him warily, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She had no idea how good she looked at the moment, and he was hanging on by a quickly thinning thread. “I will stop seeing your nephew; I told you that already.” She spoke evenly, with great care, as if he couldn’t understand her words. Did she even realize her voice had gotten a little huskier? Probably not. His dick was already hard, but now it started to jump, straining against his jeans. “There is no need for some elaborate game on your part. I swear to you I have no designs on him or his money.” “I know.” He gave her no more than that. It wouldn’t have mattered because she wouldn’t have believed him. She’d work through his possible motives on her own. “We can wait and see about the pregnancy thing. It isn’t the right time of the month anyway. No need to jump the gun.” “We could, but I’d rather not.” Sitting there as if he had all the calm and patience of some kind of Abrahamic/Job hybrid was excruciating. The fact she was nude underneath his robe was all too present in his mind. She should be swathed in him, not terry cloth. Fuck, he had it bad. “Your family would never accept it. Your peers would sneer behind your back.” Yet he saw the moment the idea caught fire and hooked into her brain. “It isn’t just that you’re talking about an interracial marriage, something people of your class rarely do; we are in the deep South. And exactly how long do you think you can hide the fact I’m a stripper at a club that’s nothing more than a whorehouse?” Delilah shook her head as if she was trying to convince herself. “Men like you come in the club all the time. Men of wealth and privilege, not exactly Prichard quality but close enough. I will be recognized, and whispers will turn into a full roar. Then where will you and your precious name be? Please, you can hardly be serious.”

Well that was certainly eloquent. Had she been running for office of any sort, Edward would’ve not only voted for her, he would’ve probably funded her campaign. Everything she said was undeniably true; there was a very real possibility he could lose his “position” in society. That was, if he gave a damn about that kind of thing. As far as he was concerned, social status was all an elaborate illusion to make those insecure creatures who, by accident of birth or luck, had managed to gain a fortune feel as if they were entitled to the life they lived. Those soulless, vapid creatures who moved in the world into which he was born tended to look down on anyone not of their sphere. The argument about his coworkers could have been valid, only he had tenure. That and he funded a great deal of his own research, and offered scholarships to over three dozen students in his department. His family had built dormitories, funded libraries, and built quite a bit of the university itself. Short of committing some major felony, he was in no danger of losing his position as the Assistant Dean of the School of Anthropology no matter whom he married. The majority of his colleagues secretly despised him anyway. Edward was among the top anthropologists in the world; he was widely published, and his books were required reading in several countries. His coworkers could go hang if they didn’t like whom he married. Her final point, his family, was more valid then the rest. He and David were the only males left. Females tended to be far more vicious than males, in his opinion. Knowing his sisters and their gaggle of females, they would be appalled. The more distant the relation, the more horrified they’d be. Only there wouldn’t be a damn thing they could do other than complain and lie around with cool cloths over their eyes. Edward happened to be the sole manager of the family trust. All financial decisions came through him, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. They would suck it up and get over it after he pointed out a few pertinent facts. “All very intriguing arguments.” He was a firm believer in giving credit where credit was due. She had done one hell of a job pointing out all the ways he couldn’t possibly be serious. Edward rose, unable to stand being apart from her for another moment. “In most cases they would probably be true. “

“But not with you?” She didn’t move as he stood over her, but she did start to breathe a little faster. The pulse at the base of her neck sped up. “Why would you be any different than any other man?” “Because I simply don’t care. I am fortunate to be rich enough that none of that would ever matter.” All he had to do was hold out his hand, and she took it. Without argument, without hesitation, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. “If you’re done eating, perhaps you’d care for a bath?”

Chapter Six It was like he hadn’t heard a word she said. However, Delilah had observed the way his eyes moved during the prolonged silence after she stated her case. His eyes had first lightened before deepening to the gray of an overcast sky right before a thunderstorm. A slight curve to his lips was the only clue to the direction his thoughts may have been going; if only she knew how to interpret it. As it stood, she didn’t have a clue what he’d thought of what she said, if he thought anything at all. Oh this was such bullshit! Like he’d been serious about marriage in the first place! She wasn’t going to sit around just waiting to be used and abused by some asshole—with more money than some small countries—who thought he wanted to teach her a lesson. That was what this was all about; she was certain of it. “David helped me get my GED and was helping me with the tests I need to get into junior college.” God, that was a hard admission. It sucked out all her pride and left her exposed. Confessing her educational shortcomings to a brilliant professor made her feel like twice the dumbass. Just a stereotypical stripper, not bothering to finish high school. Never mind there’d been reasons why she left home, reasons why finishing school just hadn’t been possible. She may have made a mess out of her life since walking away from an untenable position, but it had been a good decision. The only one she could’ve made. “I gave him back most of the money he paid for private dances, since he was really only tutoring me.” Not nearly enough, she knew, but it was what she could do. She didn’t have a clue what David was getting out of the deal, but he hadn’t wanted the money back. Edward stared at her like one might gawk at a roadside accident. In a way it was where she’d driven her life, but damn it, she was only trying to turn that around. Still she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Some sense of self-preservation wouldn’t allow her to witness that shocked expression slowly turn into disgust.

“Do not look away from me, Delilah.” The absolute steel in the command surprised her enough to make her head snap up. The last thing she’d expected from him was anger. Weirdly, she knew without a doubt he wasn’t angry at her. “And did my nephew take the money you offered?” “Why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t there to be entertained. It isn’t like he got anything out of it.” Was she supposed to charge the kid for dances he never got? Trying to understand Edward’s point was like trying to understand cold fusion if you’d never taken a science course. “The first time he came to your club he was there to be entertained, was he not?” He had her there, but that was besides the point, wasn’t it? The entire conversation was confusing the hell out of her. When she didn’t reply to Edward’s question, he looked away. There was a tick working seriously in his clenched jaw, though Delilah still had no idea why he was so irate. “Look, don’t be mad at him for that. He probably would’ve never come back so often if he hadn’t been helping me.” Not knowing what else to do, Delilah placed her hand on top of the hand he had resting on the table, giving it a squeeze. Surprisingly, he let her; his hand twisted to capture hers and didn’t let go. It wasn’t an action she would’ve expected out of him. “He wasn’t very comfortable being there. He was there with friends looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. That’s how we met. I felt sorry for him, so I started just talking to him. I think he really appreciated it.” She shrugged. “We came up with this idea so I could go to a local junior college or maybe a school online and eventually get a better job.” Letting it all hang out like that was making her more and more uncomfortable. Shifting in her chair, she looked everywhere but in Edward’s direction, though he didn’t let go of her hand. The odds of finding any job that paid as well as stripping on a couple of good nights a week with little more than an Associate’s Degree were slim. The point was that she was just making enough to support herself in a decent way. “He’ll give you back every red fucking cent you returned to him. He went there for a purpose; what it was doesn’t matter. He can damn well pay for the pleasure of

being in your presence.” Edward Prichard was just a little too much. She was floored, not knowing what to do with his proclamation. “I’ll help you get through college, and not some junior college either.” “Look, you don’t have to do any of that. Just let me go home and that will be that.” Please, please accept that and take me home. She could’ve just insisted, but she didn’t want to; didn’t have the strength of will to want to leave. “I swear if he ever comes back to the club, I will have nothing to do with him.” “And if you’re carrying my child?” Back to that. And he’d said “my child,” not a good sign. He was claiming a possibility, a sign he was already fixated on the possibility. “Probably won’t happen. Wrong time of the month.” If only that was true. Actually, it was exactly the right time of the month. Shit. What had she been thinking? “There’s always the morning-after pill.” Yes! Perfect solution! Why hadn’t she thought about that earlier? A wave of relief washed over her. Soon this whole fiasco would be over with. “If I can get a ride to the nearest pharmacy, we can pretend none of this ever happened.” And she could find out where the hell she was. Right now all Delilah wanted was a long, hot shower and about thirty-six hours in her own lumpy bed with the covers pulled up over her head. She could get a lukewarm shower at home with about five hours to sleep before she had to be back at work. “I’m afraid the nearest pharmacy is a couple of hours away from here, and I’ve sent the driver on an errand.” It was quite obvious he was lying; he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Delilah didn’t even feel like arguing. “Come.” Edward stood, keeping a steady grip on her hand so that she rose too. He hadn’t touched any of her arguments, hadn’t even referred to it at all. That had to mean his socalled proposal was bullshit, didn’t it? The possibility didn’t just piss her off, it enraged her. The asshole knew she had no recourse against him. He held all the power. What exactly was he trying to prove?

“I already told you I would give all of David’s money back—every dime. Why do you insist on fucking with me?” Before she could even blink, she found herself pressed up against Edward’s very bare chest. The man was nothing like one would expect if going by reputation alone. As a tenured professor, a man at the very top of his field born to the world of old money, he shouldn’t have been as tall, as cut, or nearly as virile as he was. If one were to just read the description of Edward Prichard, they would expect a frail-looking shrimp of a man with bug eyes behind thick glasses and pale, pasty skin. The reality of Edward was just too much. This man was the type only seen on movie screens or in the pages of a romance, wrapping her in an embrace that was tight without hurting her. A woman would have to be made of pure ice not to be affected by him. No matter how much she may wish otherwise, Delilah wasn’t made of ice. The robe had gaped open enough so their skin touched, her chest to his lower torso. It was hard to say whose skin was heated the most. The warmth was an irresistible draw; she wanted to rub herself all over him, feeling the heat seep into her very bones. She craved the feel of the light scattering of chest hair against her breasts. They felt heavy and tight at the thought, her nipples beading painful against the press of his skin. It was hard not to think about the way they seemed to meld together so perfectly, the way their breaths became one, the way their lips met and clung, reluctant to ever part. Heaven help her, she wanted him so bad she could climb him right there—she had to fight not to do just that. “I have no interest in fucking with you.” The deep purr of that accent made her shiver, her sex moistening in anticipation of their joining. “But I have every intention of fucking you.” His face was close, bending down so that they were eye-to-eye. Her heart thumped loudly, racing as she struggled not to close the gap and kiss the sensual lips that taunted her. “Often and well. Tell me you don’t want it. Tell me you don’t want me and I will take you home right now.” There was a whole lot he wasn’t saying. His eyes promised her a hell of a lot more than his words had. Trying to force the lie past her lips that she wanted nothing to

do with him was impossible. No amount of forcing them worked. The infuriating man had the audacity to actually smirk at her attempts. “Thought so. Come.” They were out of the kitchen and halfway up the staircase before it occurred to her befuddled mind he’d issued the one-word command not once, but at least three times this morning. No matter how she might’ve originally protested, she’d acquiesced every single time. “I am not a damn dog.” Concentrating all of her energy on her anger helped take her mind off the sizzling chemistry between them. “You don’t get to snap your fingers and command me to heel.” One immaculate masculine brow lifted, kissable lips turned up ever so slightly. God, the man was really too sexy for words. “I don’t recall telling you—excuse me, commanding you to heel.” Delilah noted that Louisiana drawl got especially pronounced, his body going statue still as if he were some very big, very dangerous animal posed to pounce. Well, she could lift a brow with the best of them. Lifting her chin, she mimicked him, giving him his own imperial stare right back. “Come.” She would’ve snatched her hand away from his had he relaxed his grip the least little bit, which he didn’t. “Forgive me, Delilah.” Tugging with just enough strength, he made sure their bodies were once again meshed together. Lord help her, she loved it; loved the way he manhandled her without being overly forceful. Standing just one step above her added to his already formidable height advantage. It made her feel ultra-feminine, petite, even; a thing she hadn’t experienced in far too long. “I tend to get a bit imperious at times. Please never hesitate to correct me.” All the anger reserves she’d been carefully building deflated in a whoosh of exhaled air. When a man looked at a woman like that, not offering a sorry-assed excuse but being direct and seemingly sincere, what woman wouldn’t melt? She’d love to know how she was supposed to resist, especially being so securely wrapped in his arms, his head bending ever closer.

His lips sealed the deal as they settled over hers. This time they weren’t so demanding. Edward gently coaxed, seducing her mouth in a slow, deep caress. His tongue swiped her lower lip until she was desperate to capture it, to suck it into her own mouth. Delilah’s entire being contracted then expanded, her skin zinging with every brush of his hand moving against her cheek, moving up her arms under the massive terry-cloth robe, going up to stroke her collarbone. She forgot to care who he was or what his real purpose might be. Not wanting to want him was nothing in the face of the way her body yearned for him. Straining upward against him, she buried her fingers in the silky strands of his hair, yanking him down closer. Or trying to, anyway— he wouldn’t allow it. In fact he lifted his head just a fraction, just enough to barely sever their connection. It was so wrong. A tiny mewl of protest cut through the heavy breathing, surrounding them both before gradually dissipating. “Slow down, sugar. We have all the time in the world.” That had to be a joke. Slow down? He’d deliberately started a fire, and now he was refusing to put it out? Delilah went up on the balls of her feet to reach that teasing mouth. She needed it, had to have it. Damn him, he wasn’t giving in! He actually laughed, a low rumble of sound while moving back just out of her reach. Smacking him was definitely an option, only he pulled her hair back, the little sting increasing the churning lust that was eating away all of her control. “Please.” It wasn’t something she said easily or lightly. In her world begging implied weakness. She didn’t want to be weak where Edward was concerned. Oddly, she didn’t feel weak now either. She felt as if he were stronger, as if he were in control, but not in any way did she feel less. Maybe he saw that. Perhaps all the conflicting emotions she felt were reflected on her face. For whatever reason, he gave in, his mouth crashing on hers, all pretense of playing with her gone. His urgency matched hers as soon as their tongues twined. He lifted her right off her feet and carried her up the remaining stairs. Almost weeping with relief, she clung to him, the robe falling off her body and left somewhere on the

floor. The skin-on-skin contact was exactly what she’d hungered for. Pushing out her chest, she rubbed against him like a cat, her hands moving to the closure of his jeans to free his heavy erection. “Hang on, baby.” Oh, hell, and she’d thought the lazy drawl did wicked things to her eardrums. The sonorous rasp of Edward all hot and ready was lethal. “I’ll give you what you need. Wrap your legs around my waist.” Just inside the bedroom door, Delilah found herself pinned to the wall as if she weighed nothing. He even managed to shimmy out of his jeans without letting her go. She was panting at the feel of him against her, unable to move to her liking, unable to think about anything more than getting him inside of her. With one hand Edward managed to pull her arms over her head, keeping them there. “Is this what you wanted, Delilah?” One deep, hard thrust and he was inside her. She felt him everywhere; his thick cock set off all the nerve endings in her core, moving throughout her body. Her eyes closed, her head leaned back against the wall. “Answer me!” Her eyes snapped open, her body shaking not only from his invading organ but from his masculinity. He was taking control over her entire body. “Yes. Please, God yes.” How soft and feminine she sounded. Not the fake, silky purr she used on her customers, but very real, very female. Exposed and raw, she had nothing left to hide from this man. “Do you need this, baby? You need me to show you how good we fit?” The sensual assault was ruthless, his hips slamming into her over and over again, robbing her will to do anything more than feel him. So fucking good, so beyond sweet. “Tell me you need me inside of you. Tell me we’re not so damn good together.” Her cunt clenched, her body vibrating at his words. “Yes, I need you. I need you to show me.” There were other words, ones she absolutely refused to say slipping between them, taunting them both with their very existence, however unsaid.

And he knew it as much as she did. Delilah could see it in the fierce determination on his face. He wanted the words she denied them; she sensed it in his expression. He powered into her welcoming body, stroke after stroke as if he were some hell-bent miner who’d glimpsed something precious just beneath the surface. Even though every slow drag of his broad cock against her vaginal walls sent wave after wave of electric sensation pounding through her veins, the words he were after just wouldn’t come. For just this moment, she wanted more than anything to be able to say what Edward wanted to hear and believe it too. But life had taught her all too well no matter how crazy he made her, no matter how hot and intense making love to him was, to say the things he wanted to hear would place her at a severe disadvantage. It could hurt her far more than if she kept the words bottled up inside. There was just something ingrained in her that kept her feelings behind walls too thick to be breached. “Ah, hell,” he muttered, giving up his unspoken quest, she supposed. His lips swept down on hers after his groaned surrender. Despite her resolve, Delilah felt no joy in the small victory of not saying something she couldn’t take back. Instead there was a vague sense of loss. He didn’t allow her to dwell on that, or much of anything else. His tongue was demanding, tangling with her own. He dropped the hold he’d had on her wrists and grasped her buttocks, pulling her into each powerful drive forward. She pulled at his hair, clawed at his back, certain that each action would only urge him on. And it did. He completely invaded her, possessing every corner of her body. Using a carnal onslaught, he conquered all but a little sliver of her resistance, and made her love every second of it. In fact, she welcomed it. Her first climax slammed into her with a vengeance, shaking her limbs as a hoarse cry erupted from deep within her belly. “Edward! God, please yes! Don’t stop!” She couldn’t help but beg. Being the man that he was, Edward complied, his movements increasing in intensity and tempo.

“Never, baby. I will never stop. Come for me again.” Another orgasm tore through her, shook her while wringing her out. Just when she could’ve sworn she couldn’t take any more of the pure erotic bliss without losing her sanity, yet another ripped through her body, converging with the previous one. He took it all, everything she offered him, and made it his own. “I’m coming, Delilah.” She knew his words weren’t really a warning of an impending orgasm. “I’m going to come deep inside you. I’m going to mark you as mine.” Why did that make her shiver? The sounds of his own erotic torment sunk deep, impaling her with intense pleasure every bit as much as his dick did. “Oh God, yes!” She felt it. As soon as he uttered the words, she felt his seed flood her, sparking a volcanic eruption like nothing else could. Her being splintered and broke, particles of herself settling on the man she should hate.

Chapter Seven “Here are some books on basic science, math study guides, and college literature and composition.” Delilah took the study books, not sure what else to do. Thumbing through them, she saw they looked a bit more advanced than the ones she’d been going over with David. She wasn’t about to tell Edward that. “Do at least three lessons from each. We’ll go over them when I get home.” She wasn’t sure if he was expecting a thank you, but one wouldn’t be coming from her any time soon. Unsure whether to foster the indignation she felt by his casual orders or be touched that he took her quest to further her education seriously, she just sat at the table, finally dressed in the comfortable sweats that she’d worn to work Friday evening. Part of the problem was it was very hard to be mad at Edward when he was so close. Memories of the past two days intruded whenever she looked in his general direction. The way she let go of all of her inhibitions haunted her, the way he so easily made her scream with complete abandon teased her, the way his touch made her feel mocked her. Two whole days, and this was the first time they had been fully dressed. At first, Delilah really believed she would be going home after Edward worked her out of his system. He claimed that he believed there was nothing going on between her and David. If that were true, he’d have no reason to get back at her, punish her or whatever he’d set out to do originally. Maybe it was some kind of sexual fetish thing that made him think he could keep her. Perhaps he’d never been with a black woman before and liked the novelty of it. It was completely possible he thought to make her his new mistress, thereby making damn sure his nephew stayed away from her. Not for a single moment did she believe the offer of marriage was in any way real. If it were none of those things, then she was at a complete loss as to his motives. “When can I leave?” Delilah hadn’t mentioned going home since Saturday morning, when he’d shown her all too clearly what he could do to her resolve. Besides, so far he hadn’t brought up the ridiculous proposal. The very subject scared the shit out of her because she knew it wasn’t real. It seemed downright cruel in a way.

Edward fixed one of his infamous long, silent stares on her face. At least his eyes weren’t icy as they sometimes could be. The look no longer intimidated her; she had started meeting him stare for stare, sometimes raising an eyebrow for good measure. Oddly, after several tense minutes, he’d break into a wide grin as if he were proud of her, like he did now. “You don’t like the house?” The voice was bland, as if her reply didn’t really matter. She knew nothing could be farther from the truth. Just as she was beginning to read his mood by the things he didn’t say, she knew how to read between the lines of what he did say. Her reply was important to him, though she couldn’t say why or in what way. His body was vibrating with tension as he waited to see what she’d say. “Your home is lovely.” She’d heard someone say that on television once. There’d never been an occasion to say it herself before now. As was becoming a habit with him, Edward heard everything she didn’t say. “But you’re not comfortable here, are you?” That was putting it lightly. The entire house was like a palace, and she had only seen a few rooms. It was difficult to feel comfortable when she was scared of touching anything. Hell, even the bedspread looked as if it cost a small fortune. “Not exactly,” she conceded, looking down at her rapidly cooling breakfast. “I’d like to go home.” Locked in her tiny apartment, she was able to fully let go, decompress. The walls may need paint, the water took forever to heat, and her sheets and comforter came in a bag from a discount store and cost about thirty bucks, but she could be herself there— just Delilah, former runaway dealing with her own personal demons in her own unique way. Cinnamon never made an appearance in her mirrors; all traces of the stripper were left at the club. It was the home she worked damn hard to create for herself. Maybe it wasn’t filled with things that were hard to pronounce and impossible for a regular person to afford, but it was all hers. More importantly, it reflected how she felt. A little sad, a lot lost, but determined to be the best it could be. “We’ll move.”

Like it meant nothing at all to just pack up and move. Delilah stared at Edward, certain now he’d lost his mind. That was not something someone did either as a practical joke or some elaborate lesson of some sort. It was even less normal to up and move for a fling, or whatever the hell he believed this to be. “Or I could just go home.” “Is that what you really want, Delilah?” His voice dropped as he asked her the question she didn’t really want to answer. No, she didn’t really want to, but if she didn’t she would lose herself completely. “How can you lose yourself when you’re not even sure of who you are?” Edward’s words made her mouth drop open in horror. Oh God, had she really said it out loud? Of course she had; it was written all over his face. There was that harsh determination she was coming to recognize in those gray orbs, a stubborn set to his usually full lips. He wasn’t about to let her go now. Oh, she could lie all she wanted, tell him she wanted nothing to do with him, that she wasn’t the least bit confused about who she was and where she was going. The truth was she’d lost Delilah a long time ago. For a while she had really started to be Cinnamon, but that had only brought pain and emptiness. All she was doing now was trying to find a way back to square one so she could begin to dream again. “Don’t bother to answer that. I’d prefer you never lie to me.” Edward stood, looking down at her until she began to squirm in her seat. This time she didn’t stare back. She couldn’t. “We can start looking at places this afternoon. I’ll put in for some vacation time and we’ll look until we find a place you approve of.” “Just like that? You’d walk away from this place just because I’m uncomfortable?” What was with him? Didn’t he understand how bizarre the very notion was? “I’m afraid the estate is part of the family trust, so I wouldn’t be walking away. However, I don’t have to live here.” It made sense in a weird Edward kind of way. The man was literal, yet so twisted it boggled the mind. What was worse was that after a mere weekend she’d begun to

understand at least part of his thought process. A hand cupped her chin, gently pulling her face upward. Delilah expected more “Edward logic;” she wasn’t prepared for the soft, gentle kiss that clung for a bittersweet moment before he slowly pulled away. “I’ll be back early,” he promised as if they were already wed. “Use my study if you like. We’ll go over the lesson plan when I get back.” A stroke of his hand against her face and he was gone. Delilah stayed where she was, staring down at the breakfast Edward had cooked for her. He’d cooked every meal they’d had over the weekend. It shocked her that he knew his way around the kitchen so well. Silly thought, but it was so much better than focusing on what she should be doing or saying to get him to take her home. It was easier than admitting there was no place else she’d rather be. So where did that leave her now? She looked down at the books he’d given her. It was Monday morning; she’d confessed what she’d been doing with David Saturday morning. So when had he gotten the books, and from where? He was a professor, so it was plausible he’d had them lying around. Running her fingers over the small pile, she had to dismiss that theory if she were to be rational. These were brand new, plus Edward only taught graduate students. He’d either ordered them or had someone pick them up sometime between Saturday and now. There was no other way—he hadn’t left her side, at least not while she was awake. To be more exact, they hadn’t left the bedroom much, just to eat. She sat at the table long after Edward left, trying to make some kind of sense out of the weird turn her life had taken. “Cinnamon? What are you doing here? Where is Uncle Edward?” Great, just great. The very last person she wanted to deal with was David Prichard, Jr. He really was a sweet kid, earnest and giving. Today Delilah had neither the energy nor interest in making some rich kid feel better about his life. As much as David had helped her with studying, she had listened and encouraged him, offering him an ear and a shoulder. As far as her being at his uncle’s table, sitting in front of a by

now ice-cold breakfast wearing worn sweats, well, she was a little too worn out to feel embarrassed. “Hello, David. You missed your uncle by about an hour or so.” She might as well have been talking of the weather. How strange her life was becoming. “I’m sure you can catch him on his cell or at his office.” Dear Lord, she sounded downright domestic. Obviously David found it just as weird, judging by the open-mouthed gawk he was throwing in her direction. Damn, she wished she’d drunk the coffee while it was hot. She was groggy from lack of sleep and battles with Edward she couldn’t win. Run, you need to run away now! She had to get away from this insanity before she became unable to. As it stood, she was already dangerously close to that line. “David, do you think you can drop me off at my apartment?” If he wanted her to expound on that, he was going to be sorely disappointed. He didn’t need to know the whys of what brought her here or why she wanted to leave. “Uh, well, yeah. That’s no problem.” At twenty-two, David still hadn’t grown into his gangly body quite yet. He was too thin for his six-foot-three-inch frame, just a shade under his uncle’s height. As he stood there his face turned several shades of red, though she had no clue what he felt so embarrassed about. “What, uh, why are you here? I mean, at my uncle’s house?” “Long story, I really don’t feel up to talking about it.” And as she expected he would, he let the subject drop rather than press her on it. One day he’d learn the value of just being who he was. The shyness would be replaced with a sense of his place in the world. She only hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be like so many of his friends who often visited the club; a prickish rich asshole with more money than manners and common sense. “Okay, sure.” One thing Delilah really appreciated about David was the fact that he wasn’t the pushy sort. “I, um, went to the club Saturday for our session. They told me you quit.”

“What?!” Shit! That was so not good. As long as the bosses didn’t know what had happened with Edward, she needed her job. She couldn’t lose her only source of income. At her age, she’d been lucky to find another place to dance in today’s youthobsessed culture. Nobody would hire a stripper close to thirty years old. Not a halfdecent club anyway. “I need to leave now.” Maybe she could sweet talk Manny or Victor, two of the club’s nicest managers, into giving her job back without Red or Bull being aware she was gone all weekend. Shit, she needed to come up with one hell of a story, and she was probably going to have to buy her way back in. Tell them someone offered her a nice paycheck for a private party. It would devastate her savings, but the amount had to be substantial; she’d stopped doing private parties years ago. “Well, are you going to take me home or what?”

Chapter Eight Edward took a deep breath as he maneuvered his car into his designated parking spot and sat there, fighting the urge to turn the car around and go back out to the country estate. He’d looked at himself in the rearview mirror a dozen times this morning. There was nothing physically different, but he didn’t expect there to be. Yet he looked anyway, trying to find signs he wasn’t the same man he’d been when he left campus on Friday afternoon hell bent on disentangling his nephew from what could’ve been a disastrous situation. Friday he’d been a tiny mind masquerading as a sophisticated man of the world. He may have traveled to every continent on the globe, but until he’d come face to face with Delilah, he’d never really lived. Before now he’d been an outside observer of life, a ghost, watching but never partaking, and then came—Delilah Thomas. The physical attraction had been immediate and intense, completely overwhelming them both. Not touching hadn’t been a choice either could make. Even more than the magnetism, there was something deeper Edward was hard pressed to put a name to. Something inside him drove the urge to claim her, mark her, make her his in every conceivable way. Frankly, what Delilah brought to life inside him scared the shit out of him. How did one deal with their own primordial side that they had no hope of controlling? One look brought out longing Edward had never known he harbored. More than an urge, more than a need, being with her had become imperative, and he couldn’t explain why, even to himself. Edward had never really attempted having a traditional relationship with a woman. An introvert at heart, there had never been a female to tempt him beyond the physical, so he shut himself off. Interactions on a social level were done at a minimum and only when absolutely necessary. Like the biblical temptress, Delilah called to everything male in him and dared him to take her. If for one second he thought the attraction was all one-sided, then he’d… No, the truth was he still wouldn’t let her go. More like he would start a long, slow siege until he won her.

As it turned out, she was more than attracted to him. When he held her, when he kissed her, she didn’t just yield. Soft, sweet submission was his reward, and damned if he could ever live without it now that he’d tasted what it really meant. Over the weekend Edward had watched Delilah carefully, really gotten to know her in the most intimate ways possible. Strangely, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d gotten to know her more than she allowed anyone else. There was more than a kindred spirit between them. Much like him, she had no close friends, tended to keep to herself. Edward got the feeling that unlike him, it wasn’t because she hadn’t tried to get close to anyone. That bothered him a hell of a lot more than he cared to admit. The intoxicating thing was the way she read him right back. She loved to push him, dare him, knowing on some level it would drive him crazy. He was walking a dangerous line, and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Lord love her, Delilah didn’t seem inclined to stop him either. How many times had he offered to take her home if that was what she really wanted? Yes, he had made damn sure he’d been touching her in some way every time he said it. Almost as if he was afraid of allowing her to think without putting her through some kind of sexual torment. Ah, but the way she surrendered to him, gave him everything he demanded and more, shook him to the core. Try as he might to shake off thoughts about the woman he’d left at his home, his mind returned to her over and over again. Walking into the Anthropology building, he barely acknowledged greetings from colleagues or students; his mind remained on the woman he was determined to make his, permanently. End-of-the-year tasks were done by rote; he moved like an automaton, thinking of nothing more than getting shit done so he could return home—an unusual reversal of his normal day. The university office used to be a refuge. Work, research and related duties had always been a blessed relief from the emptiness that waited at the end of the day, ready to shroud him in a vast cloak of nothingness. Had Edward not known better, he might’ve suspected his fascination with Delilah stemmed from a sense of severe loneliness, only he’d never felt so alone until he

saw her in that club. Eyes of a world-weary woman who’d seen too much, lost too many dreams, reflected the pain of missing something vital from his life. Only, there was also an undeniable innocence, something wounded that entreated him to fix what was broken. As an academic, he knew it was pure foolishness on his part, but he supposed he was long overdue for a little foolishness. “Uncle Edward, I need to talk to you.” Ah, the young David. Honestly Edward had been expecting his nephew, though he had hoped the boy would’ve slunk home after finding Delilah missing from the club. It was almost three in the afternoon now. One could hope he hadn’t gone to the country estate, though Edward suspected that he had. “Did you take her back to that dilapidated apartment building she calls home?” Edward was careful not to look up at his nephew. David was young and more than a little careless. He didn’t want to lose his temper. “I- I- She wanted to go.” The stutter spoke volumes. Realization came late to most young men. It was lamentable but not totally unexpected. “We weren’t doing anything. If you’d asked I would’ve told you my mother worried needlessly. I haven’t spent all that much at that place, uh, club—” Edward cut off David’s spate of righteous indignation before he could work up a full head of steam. “I didn’t ask because I had no interest in your answer.” Which was true in a way. “What I want to know is if you got a good look at where you dropped her off at?” This time Edward did look up in time to see David blush to his blond roots. “I d-d-did. But, it’s where she’s always lived.” Beads of sweat popped out on David’s brow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “The apartment complex is where she’s from, isn’t it?” Edward raised an imperious brow as he stared his nephew down. “No, David. She is from Lafitte, a preacher’s daughter, actually. Didn’t you know?” David made more noncommittal stuttering sounds before plopping down in a chair in front of Edward’s desk as if his legs could no longer bear his weight.

“All of those Saturday night tutoring sessions, and you never thought to ask her real name, or where she was from?” Though his voice may have sounded incredulous, Edward was far from it. This was completely expected; it didn’t make him any less furious, but he wasn’t surprised. “I didn’t give you leave to sit. Stand up.” “You know what we were really doing?” David squeaked, jumping to his feet. The panic in his voice confirmed what Edward already knew. “Tutoring Delilah? Yes, I know that’s what she believed was going on. But that wasn’t the whole of it, was it, David? Your money paid for more than the illusion of private dances, and you will tell me what it was.” “Delilah? No, I was tutoring a stripper named Cinnamon.” The boy looked genuinely confused, but Edward refused to enlighten him. He waited instead, steepling his fingers until David put two and two together. “Oh! Her name’s Delilah?” Again Edward refused to answer, waiting for his nephew to get around to answering his own question. “Cinn—ah, Delilah— ” That would be Miss Thomas to you,” Edward cut in. Miss Thomas for now, anyway. “Why would I…” His nephew’s voice trailed off in a way that let Edward know he’d lost his legendary poker face. Whatever David saw in his expression gave him pause, which was a damn good thing. Edward had never felt so violent; he was in real danger of losing his infamous cool. “Well, um, it’s well known Miss Thomas won’t, uh, do what other strippers do in that club.” David paused as if that explanation was enough. Edward simply retreated to silence once more, earnestly trying not to give in to the urge to slap the boy across the face. “Well, we had to use one of the upper rooms so no one knew what we were really doing. The guys, my friends, assumed that because she would only see me when we went there, they, uh, assumed…” David looked vaguely ill, but there was no way Edward was helping him out. “I- I- may have led them to believe I’d gotten her to… to, um…. I intimated she was sleeping with me.”

“Sleeping with you?” Edward wanted the full, ugly confession from David’s own lips. He wanted his nephew to be damned by his own words. “I told them I was sleeping, er, having sex with her.” David looked ready to pass out, but not from the reason he should. But that was something Edward intended to rectify. “For money?” He pushed. “You told your harebrained friends you had sex with Delilah for money?” “I – I- I- yes.” David really did think that was the worst of it. The poor, young fool. Edward felt no pity for him. Quite frankly he was incensed. Why were the young so damned careless with the lives of others? “And what the hell do you think will happen to her now that a bunch of immature frat boys—spoiled, selfish idiots not unlike yourself—think that she will be willing to do for the right price because of your words?” The more he spoke, the angrier he got. “What happens when one of them, believing your lies, refuses to take no for an answer? Who do you suppose will pay attention to her screams after some overprivileged child pays the sharks she works for to do whatever he feels is his right? Who do you suppose will care about a stripper who has been painted as a whore by you?” Edward was yelling by the time he finished, standing toe-to-toe with the now-cowering young man who was only beginning to understand the magnitude of what he’d done. David cowered, his eyes wide as saucers as the implications finally sank home. “I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t think…” “No, you didn’t think, did you? You just took her back to a disreputable neighborhood, never thinking why I would leave her at the estate house. You honestly believed you were doing some good deed, didn’t you? Saving her from my nefarious plans or some such bullshit.” Edward took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he really did punch his nephew. It took effort. The anger simply wouldn’t go away. “Next time I hope you put some thought into your actions so no one else has to suffer from your supreme stupidity”

What to do? There was really nothing he could do without David’s consent. As much as he hated to admit it, the boy was legally an adult and not subject to Edward’s authority. With a weary sigh, he waved the boy away. He’d run out of patience, and it was getting late. Something told him Delilah would try to salvage her job, as unwise as that was. That was something he couldn’t allow to happen under any circumstance. Not waiting to see if David left or not, Edward set about preparing for a prolonged absence from work. The exams were written; he didn’t need to be present to administer them. Given that he only gave exams in essay format, he could grade them from home and enter grades from a personal computer. Accrued vacation and sick time helped tremendously; he had too many days on the books as it stood. “Uncle Edward, I swear, I didn’t mean any harm.” He was shocked to see David hadn’t left. Edward had dismissed him so thoroughly he hadn’t realized the boy was still in his office. Admittedly he was relieved to see David possessed some amount of basic human decency and enough of a conscience to understand he’d fucked up royally. That was something at least. Still, there was nothing he could say to the boy at the moment. David didn’t deserve to be coddled from the cruel realities of life; he was supposed to be a man. A man had to consider his actions and how they affected those around him. “I swear, I will try to find a way to make it right.” With those words David finally left, tail tucked firmly between his legs. David may be his flesh and blood, but God help that kid if anything happened to Delilah.

Chapter Nine “Where the fuck have you been, Cinnamon?” Bull blocked Delilah’s entrance into the locker room, cornering her in an especially dim part of the already darkened hallway. Other dancers rushed by as if afraid to catch Bull’s notice, and Delilah could honestly say she didn’t blame them in the least. Bull was a huge, hard Cajun bayou-bred guy, all beefy and heartless. Those huge meaty fists weren’t strangers to a female’s face. “Edward Prichard more or less demands my company for the weekend, and you expect me to say no?” God, she hadn’t wanted to do that. If there had been anything else to say she would’ve. Unfortunately for her, Bull was primed and ready for the least bit of resistance. He’d caged her in completely so she couldn’t run. She counted herself lucky he hadn’t swung his fist. “How much?” His greedy little eyes lit up, saliva forming at the corner of his mouth at the thought of his cut. He was little better that a pimp; actually, in a way that was exactly what he was. Sweat glistened on his bald head at the thought of more money—like he needed more. Shit, shit and more shit. As a precaution, Delilah had brought as much as she dared with her, and it wasn’t all that much. There was no way she was giving up all she’d managed to save to this asshole. Not to mention she was going to have to use everything she had to disappear. That was very obvious now. Her act of complete stupidity was nothing but a green light for Bull to push her to have sex with whoever paid Bull enough. How idiotic to think for a second he would’ve taken some half-assed sick excuse. As soon as she’d seen his ruddy face, she’d known that wasn’t going to fly. There was no way she could work here any longer, and coming in tonight had been a huge mistake. Damn it, she had to get out of here. “The kid and his Daddy Warbucks uncle?” Bull flashed his disgusting but expensive grill in a sneer than made her want to throw up. A big-ass white dude with a

mouth full of gold looked all kinds of wrong; but then what mouth looked right with that amount of gold caps? And what the hell did he mean by the kid? Not once had she ever even pretended her sessions with David were sexual. She’d made damn sure she’d only charged him for private dances. “Damn, girl, you get around.” Bull pressed in closer, and Delilah could swear the air was being sucked out of the immediate area. It was hard not to choke with his panting breath in her face. “The kid came in looking for you, but I got some VIPs coming in. They’ve been eyeing that sweet ass for a while.” Delilah felt a wave of panic threatening to paralyze her. There was no way she could do it. Her skin crawled in absolute horror. If she didn’t, there was no telling what Bull would do to her, and who would care? Why had she come back here? No amount of money was worth it. Tears burned her eyes as she searched her mind for something, anything she could say or do. If she said Edward wanted her back tonight, Bull would want his number, he’d want to negotiate a price. The humiliation she could get over if it would get her out of this mess; the thing was she didn’t have Edward’s number. She couldn’t find her way back to the sprawling country home if she tried. There was simply no way she could contact him. She had no doubt he would help her if he could, if she hadn’t run home. She had no idea where the certainty came from. The whole marriage thing had been insanity, but she really couldn’t believe Edward would hurt her. Not intentionally. “Bull! Edward Prichard’s here for Cinnamon!” Delilah’s knees almost buckled at Red’s sudden appearance. Red was Bull’s partner in crime, literally. He called himself a Creole; however, Delilah had her doubts. “Tell him she’s busy.” One thing about Bull was no one could call him bright. “Edward-Freaking-Prichard, man.” Red stepped up to the hulking Cajun with no fear. He was probably one of the very few men who could do so. “Ain’t no amount of money worth the trouble he can bring down on us.”

Bull wavered, narrowing his eyes on her face. Delilah didn’t blink, didn’t move. Any show of weakness, fear or caring and Bull would break her. He could smell mutiny, as many females who had once worked here found out. More than one dancer thought she’d found a sugar daddy, only to find the guy didn’t want her after Bull got done with her. “Come on, man,” Red pressed. “Let him have her until he’s tired of her. He paid ten large for this weekend. Handed over the cash like it wasn’t shit.” Ten large? So he was paying for it after all. Suddenly her relief turned to something dark and ugly. Something inside her died. He thought she was nothing more than a whore. “He takes you out of the club, it better take your ass two days to get back here with my money.” With that Bull shoved her in Red’s direction, not waiting or caring if she fell from the force of the push. She didn’t feel anything as Red more or less dragged her out to the floor of the club. Curious stares on a chick without makeup and dressed in sweats didn’t faze her at all. She was numb. So what if she’d never stepped foot in the area that held customers without her full body armor, the heavy makeup and gaudy costume she’d come to hide behind. She didn’t even lift her head, concentrating on her feet until Red stopped in front of a pair of very posh-looking leather loafers. “Money upfront this time.” Red didn’t even bother to lower his voice. God, now everyone would think she was for sale. She was going to have to get out of New Orleans altogether. “How much?” Lord, that arrogant voice still had the power to make her stomach flutter. Seemed like she wasn’t much of a whore—they weren’t supposed to feel anything for the men who paid for their time. Pain so deep it cut like a knife warred with intense, immediate attraction just from hearing the sound of his voice. She should hate Edward Prichard with every fiber of her being; and he was here to buy her. “Oh shit, man, you and your uncle are sharing the same whore?”

Delilah’s head did snap up in horror now. David was standing not far away with two of the guys he usually came in with. While David had the grace to look horrified, his friends sneered openly at her. “Damn, David, that’s kinky as shit.” It happened so fast, she wasn’t sure if what was unfolding in front of her eyes was real. David spun as soon as the second friend spoke, his fist smashing soundly against the man’s face before his body was even fully turned. There was a sickening crunch, blood gushing though she couldn’t see where it was coming from. Before she could process the punch fully, there was another connection of David’s closed fist to the same face. This direct hit lifted the smartass completely off his feet. Not even a full second after the first punch, Edward had spun, his arm shooting straight out. There was no fist; Edward’s hand wasn’t balled, just folded at the knuckles. It hit the guy who’d spoken first in the throat, dropping him to his knees. That was when Edward’s now balled fist connected just under the chin. There wasn’t even a whimper; the younger man just fell over, his eyes rolling up in the back of his head. “You will clean up your fucking mess,” Edward growled low at his nephew with such vehemence Delilah shuddered. “And I don’t want to see you darken my door until I invite you to. Is that clear, David?” He didn’t wait for a reply, simply grasped Delilah by the arm and turn to leave. “Wait! The money!” Red called after them. Yes, there was that. The shock over what had just happened slowly faded into the dread briefly forgotten by the interesting scene of two very wealthy men fighting dirty in a strip club. “Money?” Edward appeared baffled, but Delilah knew better. “For what?” “For the girl.” Red approached them with his hand going behind his back. “I don’t care who you are, ain’t no tail from this establishment free.” “Are you seriously suggesting I pay you to escort my fiancée out of this questionable establishment?”

Crazy it may be, but Delilah’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t going to pay for her. He really was there to take her away from this hell. It didn’t make him any less insane, but it was better than being paid for her services. “Fiancée? Man, are you crazy? What the hell was the ten grand for earlier? This isn’t a game—you want to spend time with our ladies, even you have to pay.” Despite his bravado, Red looked confused and unsure of himself. Bull was nowhere to be seen, so he didn’t have backup. Bouncers were smart enough to know what the Prichard name meant. None of them were even looking in their direction. “The money I gave this establishment was for the damage my nephew is currently causing right now.” Sure enough, there were loud crashes as if on cue. Delilah could only see enough to know another of David’s friends had appeared and apparently had said something to which David took offense. “You paid for damages before they happened? You expect me to believe that?” However, Red was backing up. Unlike Bull, he was able to weigh options before acting. If he pissed Edward off, he could find the club closed permanently and he and Bull up on any charges the police chose to throw at them. There were a lot of things going on in a number of private rooms that could get him very real time. “Call me psychic,” Edward sneered before turning. “Come on, Delilah.” Hesitation wasn’t something she was interested in. Shaking with relief, she allowed Edward to steer her out of the club. It wasn’t until she was seated in the passenger seat of his car, Edward behind the wheel and driving away from the place like a bat out of hell, that she finally felt safe—relatively, anyway. Bull and Red knew where she lived. “You doubted me, didn’t you?” He didn’t look in her direction as he drove. There was neither anger nor disappointment in his voice. Just a sad resignation. It wasn’t fair, damn it; she had nothing to feel guilty about. Try as she might, she still felt culpable in some way. Swallowing the lump in her throat didn’t help bring forth an answer.

“You left because you thought I was crazy. That or I had some kind of punishment planed for you, for David.” “Can you blame me? I mean, how many filthy rich men do you know who just up and marry a stripper after knowing her for all of two days?” The car swerved into an empty parking lot so fast Delilah had to grab the side of the seat. Edward put the car in park, though he kept the motor running and turned to face her. “You really want me to answer that question?” Gray eyes gleamed at her in the moonlight. He really was a stunning man. “Yes.” No, not really. She wanted so much for this insanity to be real, but this wasn’t a fairy tale or a movie. Things like this just didn’t happen. “None. I will be the first.” Of course he would be brutally honest. “Does insanity run in your family? Because nothing you’re saying makes sense. You don’t propose to some woman you barely know.” A wolfish grin flashed perfect white teeth. “Now that happens far more often than you’d think. People do it all the time, marry without really knowing the other person. But I do know you, Delilah. Better than you know yourself, perhaps. As for genetic insanity, I wouldn’t know. It’s not something that was discussed.” God, he was serious. This really wasn’t some game to him. What was it like to live like this man? He really thought he could do whatever the hell he pleased without any major consequences. As soon as Bull found out what just happened, he would be out for blood, and Red might not be able to talk him down. “Delilah, do you really want to be free of me?” As hard as it was to look at him, it was twice as hard to look away. She found that she couldn’t, nor could she force the lie that she wanted to be far away from him past her lips. It would tear her to shreds to give him up forever, despite what she knew to be the natural order of life. “No.” The whisper was wrenched from her very soul. “And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Then marry me.” It was so softly spoken, so earnestly said; there was no denying the silent plea in his eyes. “I could ask you to just stay with me if that would make you happier or feel better. But you would always assume what I feel for you is purely sexual. You would constantly expect me to walk away.” It was Edward who broke eye contact, looking away to stare off into the night. “I want to give you everything—the protection of my name, tools to forge your own destiny, but most of all I want to give you all of me. The one thing I can’t do is give you up, not when I know you want me too. This thing between us is too real for me, too potent. I’m not able to walk away, and I don’t give a shit what anyone has to say about it.” The stark need in his gaze stole her breath when he turned back to her. “I don’t even want to try. You make me—human.” The confession was the most she’d ever heard him speak. She had a feeling it was probably the most he’d ever said by way of anything personal to anyone outside a lecture hall. It had cost him, too. Tension made his body tight, his fists clutching the steering wheel. Without thought she reached out to place her hand over his, leaning toward him as if drawn to him by an irresistible force. Kissing the side of his face seemed like such a natural thing to do. Edward seemed shocked at first, before turning his head to capture her lips with his own. Within a heartbeat he’d taken full control. His hand winding in her hair forced her head back to allow him fuller access. Delilah welcomed it, surrendering to his unspoken demand for submission. Her body was half sprawled over the middle console in an attempt to get closer. Confusion melted into need, the tangling of tongues fueling the growing hunger for full skin-to-skin contact. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Edward,” she whispered against his lips. It was insanity, but she couldn’t deny him any more than she could deny herself. With a growl he lifted her out of the passenger seat and placed her on his lap while reclining his seat in a single motion. “Good, because I don’t ever want to live without you, baby.”

Chapter Ten Letting Delilah climb back into the passenger seat was pure hell. Edward’s hands gripped the wheel in an effort not to pull her back to him. The loss of her touch left him cold despite the humidity of the muggy summer night. There was no way he had the patience to drive out to the estate tonight; besides, she didn’t like it there. Instead he opted to go to the home he kept in the Garden District. The fifteen minutes it took to get there was too long. By the time he made it into the garage, he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore. He carried her inside, allowing her to tuck her head against his shoulder. Edward understood without being told she wouldn’t want to face any of the sparse staff he kept here. He’d hope they wouldn’t run into anyone; not that he could be bothered to explain his actions. Delilah would be uncomfortable. That was all that mattered. Eventually she would grow used to it; this was now her home. Unfortunately his housekeeper, Mrs. Kelley, was at the base of the stairs as he entered, Delilah in his arms. The older woman stared in open-jawed shock as he strode past her with the briefest acknowledgements of her existence. He was a man on a mission; he couldn’t think very clearly, much less make any kind of suitable introductions. “We don’t wish to be disturbed,” he threw over his shoulder, proceeding at a steady clip toward the master bedroom. The disapproving frown was caught and noted before she carefully schooled all expression from her face. Wise move, but a bit too late. He would have to have a talk with her in the morning. “Will you require breakfast? Perhaps a separate room prepared for…later?” Edward wasn’t in the habit of quarrelling with staff or explaining his actions to them, and he wasn’t about to start now. The one thing he would never tolerate was disrespect to the woman he had every intention of marrying, however subtle that disrespect may be. Stopping, he turned slowly to look down at Mrs. Kelley, his displeasure clear on his face while Delilah buried her face against his chest.

“You may leave now.” Pointed and direct, the statement didn’t give the woman any opportunity to press. Her face colored as she scurried off, hopefully to reconsider her actions. “Eddie—” Delilah’s voice was muffled, but he could hear the complaint about to happen. “Shhh, baby, we’ll worry about it tomorrow.” Insolence toward her would never, ever be tolerated in their home. The past few days had been something of a whirlwind, and she needed time to adjust. Just not tonight. All the issues that would inevitably come could wait. Despite his seemingly glib attitude toward Delilah’s reasons against marriage, he was aware of the challenges ahead. This was real life, and he was nothing if not the consummate realist. Marriage wouldn’t be simplistic, but it was worth it. He didn’t need to date for a while, live together for a while longer to know Delilah was the woman for him. She was his future, his salvation. He’d known at first touch. Delilah was a precious gift he had no intention of letting slip through his hands. The magnitude of it all finally descended, making his hands shake as he set her down on her feet inside his bedroom—their bedroom. Dressed in short cropped sweatpants and a tank top, she was light years more attractive than the other women she’d formerly worked with at the strip club in full regalia. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face free of makeup she looked like an intoxicating mixture of fresh innocence and tempting worldliness. Watching her breath quicken, her nipples stretching the fabric of her top as they pebbled into hard rocks was quite a sight. But it was her eyes, deep, soulful amber that stared up at him with equal parts trust and desire and something more he didn’t dare put a name to—it was too much to resist. “Undress for me.” Temptation to reach out and do it himself was almost overwhelming, but he dared not touch her just yet. Taking a step back as if to place her out of reach, he waited, praying for the strength not to rush it. Delilah didn’t rely on her profession—former profession—to disrobe. From his vantage point it seemed as if she was a little nervous,

but excited. God, he prayed she was half as excited as he was. His body hummed with anxious anticipation as tantalizing areas of dark skin came into full view. His mouth watering, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides to keep from reaching out. “Will you be undressing too?” A fresh wave of pure, red-hot need washed over Edward at the sound of her velvety voice, slightly deepened with the need he saw on her face “No.” He couldn’t. It would be over in minutes if he dared removed a single stitch. Although the first time they came together tonight would hardly be the last, he wanted the moment to last. He had every intention of making love to her until the sky turned pink with the coming dawn, and that would begin with very slow, deliberate passion. Thankfully she didn’t press the issue, just stood trembling after the last article of clothing fell to the floor. Still he didn’t touch, just circled around her, loving the way she reacted even though he hadn’t done a thing yet. How was it possible men came and went from her life, night after night, looking but never seeing the precious, rare diamond right in front of them—fools and idiots, surely. “Diamond? Maybe I should change my stage name then.” Her soft teasing reply gave him a jolt. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Words sharper than he would’ve liked snapped in a response that was immediate, without any thought. “You’re never going back.” He would die first. Possessiveness took up every corner of his person. As if to reinforce the claim, he took her mouth in a harsh, branding kiss. His clothing was a godsend. When Delilah’s lush form melted against his larger, harder frame, Edward lost any tether he had on his civilized self. He knew his lips were demanding, his tongue twining with hers in an ultimate quest to overpower, dominate, and demand more. Small hands grasped at his shirt, tugging just enough to let him know what she wanted but not enough to be insistent.

Damn it, he wanted her insistence. Winding her ponytail around his hand, he forced her head back, separating their lips as he stared down at her. Her mewl of protest made him smile just a bit. Yes, hunger for me. He needed her hunger, craved it. Disconnecting their bodies in any way seemed blasphemous, but he needed control more. “If you want something, baby girl, you’re going to have to ask for it.” His throbbing cock pushing adamantly against the crotch of his pants mocked his words. The bed was so close; it would be so easy to just pluck her off her feet and fall onto the mattress, taking what they both wanted. Yet something inside him wouldn’t let him do it, not until he had her complete surrender. Watching the way those doe eyes dilated with yearnings every bit as intense was making his knees weak. God, he needed to be inside her, he needed to mark her in the most intimate way a man could. But she had to want it. Need it, crave it every bit as much. Temporary acquiescence wasn’t enough. He needed to be a real part of her, because Lord knows the woman lived inside his bloodstream, possessed parts of him he didn’t know existed. “We could just cuddle if you prefer.” Fuck, it killed him to let her go, to take a step back. The Mr. Hyde in him slammed against the cages in his mind, demanding he take what was his, but he wasn’t going to do it. This was her choice, she had to make it. “No! No, please.” A deep russet flush burned across her cheeks as she cast a look down toward her feet. Small white teeth worried her bottom lip. Edward understood it took a lot for her to admit her feelings. After a lifetime of learning to hide what she felt, here he was demanding the unvarnished truth. There could be no hiding, not now. Not ever if he had his way, and he would. “Don’t ever hide what you want.” Pressing a finger under her chin, he forced her head up so she couldn’t escape his direct gaze. “I’m yours, Delilah. I swear it. All that I am, all I’ll ever be is yours for the taking. You just have to ask, baby.” Soft, supple curves pushed back against him, shivering under hands that just wouldn’t stay still, not with her so close. Heated flesh grew hotter still. Her desire pounded at his masculinity, commanding him to take care of the need he felt all too

keenly. He understood it, but he also knew she needed more than just physical release. More than anything else, Edward wanted to provide Delilah with the security to own her femininity, her sensuality; he wanted her set free to be herself in every way. “Tell me, sugar.” God, he needed this woman so damn bad, his stomach cramped from it. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll give it to you or die trying.” It may be pouring it on a bit thick, but that was sincerely the way he felt. This woman broke him down without lifting a finger. She’d moved the unmovable, brought life to the dead. All she had to do was look at him, and all the things he’d ever used to hide behind and keep others away were gone. It was as if he was the naked one standing there, bare in a way he hadn’t ever been before. “I want your hands all over my skin.” It started as whisper, gradually gaining steel and real presence behind the words as she went on. “I want to feel your kiss branding my body. I want nothing at all between us.” Edward’s heart stuttered as she looked up at him, nothing but honesty in her gaze. A moan escaped his best efforts to hold it back as he witnessed the tiny pink tongue dart out for a quick sweep of her lips. “I want you to take me, Edward. Make me yours.” Nothing could’ve stopped his arms from crushing her to him. This time the kiss wasn’t so much a conquest but a combination of pent-up passions finally released and a merging of two individual souls. No longer trying to hold back, he lifted her without breaking their connection. It wasn’t until she was on the bed that he allowed his mouth to travel, tasting her everywhere he could while wrestling to relieve himself of his own clothing. Unlike all the other times they’d come together, this time was different. Less frantic, less desperate, there was a combining on a level that had been just out of reach before. She yielded, this time completely without reservation as he explored her hills and valleys. He needed to kiss, caress, touch every inch…leaving nothing out. “Eddie, please take it all off. I want to feel you against me.”

He smiled against the softness of her skin, not bothered in the least by the nickname that he’d always detested. Coming from her lips, it wounded like Heaven. He’d paused in undressing, not able to stop loving her with his hands and mouth long enough to get the clothes off. “Not yet.” Just a little longer. He was harder than granite as he slid down her body. Her thighs opened immediately, allowing him full access. There was no subtlety as he dove in, thrusting his tongue deep inside her channel, probing, tasting, devouring. The way her hips rose and fell riding his face was only an incentive to probe deeper, drive her higher. Sharp tugs on his hair were encouragement to taste more, lap harder. “Oh God, Eddie, please! Yes, yes, please don’t stop!” No way was he going to. Using his thumb and forefinger, he rolled her clit while making love to her tight pussy until she shook around him, the sweet, tangy evidence of her release coating his tongue. A promising beginning, but they were a long way from the main event. Without missing a beat, he switched the positions of his mouth and fingers. His lips closed around the pearl of her clit while he slid two digits deep inside her sheath. Lord, she was so tight around only two of his fingers. Edward tried to shut his mind’s eyes against the memories of the way she fit around his cock. So fucking perfect, so fucking good. It was as if she’d been born to be his; a sure sign they were meant for one another—not that he hadn’t been convinced of that already. There was simply no getting enough of her, the way she moved, and the way she tasted. Her pleading cries, bucking hips, clutching hands had him damn near crying to cover her. Sheer determination led him to stay exactly where he was until he drove her over the edge twice more. Edward ripped the rest of his clothes off without a care. He was shaking badly by the time he drove his cock to the hilt, inside her welcoming warmth in one stroke. There was no stopping; he moved like a man possessed, which was exactly what he was. Like coming home after being away too long, her pussy opened for him,

welcoming him inside and embracing him so tightly he was sure he was going to lose his mind. They moved together, grinding, grasping, never breaking the union of souls. Edward swallowed all of Delilah’s cries of pleasure, drinking them into himself. He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t stop pouring all that he was into her. Here was that one thing that made life worth living. The most intimate bonding that had escaped him before now. And she thought he would let her go. That would never happen. He’d found his home, and he was never letting go.

Chapter Eleven This kind of passion would be the death of her. Edward filled her so completely, the broadness of his shaft stretching her, his length pushing deep into her womb. She wept for him, feeling so complete it was a wonder she’d ever lived without this. Her pussy ached, so wet with every stroke to ease his way. Over and over, he powered inside her, battering down all the protective walls she erected and reinforced with bitterness of a past that no longer mattered. The fantastic friction created between their sexes drove her insane while opening up new meaning to life. Arching into him, she lifted her hips to every downward thrust; it didn’t get them nearly close enough. She’d been an idiot to think she could ever walk away from this. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Edward rasped in her ear, his hands cupping her ass to assist her frenzied bucking. “I’ll never get enough.” Oh God, she prayed it was true. There was simply no will to leave him. She couldn’t speak; in reply she raked her nails down his back, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. He hissed above her, thrusting harder, groaning his approval that she marked him as surely as he was marking her. The heat threatened to engulf the bed in flames, but neither let up. It was too good, too real. “Come for me, Delilah. Let me feel you.” On command her body tightened. She detonated deep inside her core, sending aftershocks throughout every nerve ending. It was impossible to think, hard to breathe as she gave it all up to him, allowing him complete access to her very being. And she knew Edward wasn’t done with her, not yet, as he was so fond of saying. As soon as the tremors quieted just a little, he slowly slid out of her. “No!” Clutching him did no good. He was much stronger, moving out of her grip with ease, holding his hips just out of her reach. “Easy, sweetheart. There’ll be more, I promise.” “Now, Edward. Please?” Demanding, pleading, it didn’t matter as long as he was inside her again.

“Turn over.” Goosebumps broke out down her spine as she rolled onto her stomach, then lifted to her knees while pushing her backside upward. Three sharp smacks set the cheeks of her ass on fire, only adding to the nearly unbearable heat already bubbling like a cauldron at her core. “You ran from me, Delilah. You went back to the club after I distinctly told you not to.” One thick finger rubbed against the opening of her pussy. He didn’t push inside her, just fingered her opening, driving her wild. With his other hand Edward pushed the upper half of her body down lower. “Hold your hips higher and keep them there.” She didn’t even consider defying him. She wanted to do exactly as he told her. It seemed as if her entire being craved to obey here in bed. Fully dressed standing toe to toe would be another thing, but stripped of all but their elemental beings, she’d yield gracefully. She didn’t move, not even when the palm of his hand came down against her quim from behind. God it burned, hurting so good she was throbbing, wanting more with an absent-minded determination blind to all else. “Will you leave me again, Delilah?” He moved to kneel behind her as he spoke, grabbing both ass cheeks roughly. It felt so damn good it was surely illegal. This was the South, after all—this had to be at least ten kinds of sin. “No.” Not after tonight, not willingly. “No what?” Another smack against her pussy, followed by two sharp smacks against her ass. She was going to come if he did that one more time. “Tell me exactly what you’re saying no to.” He rubbed the broad mushroomed head against her labia without moving forward. He’d keep doing it too if she didn’t answer. “No, I won’t try to leave you.” It didn’t hurt her pride to say so. Funny, but with Edward there was no such thing as pride. “No, baby. You won’t.” There was no time to reply, not when the slow, steady slide of his dick deep into her pussy robbed her of all coherent thought. Her body trembled as she forced herself to stay perfectly still. If she moved like she wanted to, slamming her hips back to force

it all the way in, he’d only move out of her reach. It may be hellish, but the torment of teasing without satisfaction was much worse. “Eddie, please? I need you inside me so bad.” Pleading he wouldn’t mind. How easy it was to express exactly what she felt once she opened herself up to it. “And you’ll have me.” A push of inches and he was there, so deep she gasped. When he tugged her ponytail she lifted up and back, keeping her thighs apart so as not to lose one precious inch of his plundering shaft. God, his arms felt so right around her, his lips so good against the side of her neck. “I promise for as long as I live you’ll never be alone again. I am here for you always.” Tears sprang to her eyes as the words sank deep into her psyche—not words of a casual lover, not an empty promise of a careless man after only what he could take. She believed him. She believed in him, and it scared the shit out of her as much as it warmed her very soul. Obviously Edward didn’t expect an answer as he began to thrust in earnest. His grunts made her heart swell, her body quake. Proof of his pleasure turned her on as much as his actual actions. Her arms curled back around his neck, her hands burying in his hair. She was completely open, eager for his possession. It was so much more than the way he moved in her just right, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside her every time he pushed up. His fingers rolled her nipples, sending sparks of electricity to her toes. Delilah felt herself melding with him, truly becoming one. Lost inside each other, the meaning of oneness finally became clear. It was losing yourself inside another so you left a piece of yourself behind and accepted a piece of the other person to be a part of you. Edward had opened himself every bit as much as she had; she felt him give as much as she gave, leaving nothing behind. “I love you, Delilah. Against all odds, know I love you.” The words may have been panted rather than said, but she felt them. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard such words. Sometimes they’d been smoothly spoken,

accompanied by flowers and a smile. Sometimes they’d been carelessly thrown out in the throes of passion, or slyly uttered intending to break down a barrier. Never before had they been sincere, never had she felt them in her gut. He meant them, and she believed them. “Oh God, Edward.” How she wanted to reciprocate, but even now the words wouldn’t come. To her shame, she felt them, but they refused to be said. “One day, baby. I can wait.” Of course he would know. But then, he had known that first night far more than she’d ever wanted anyone to know about herself. “Come for me now, sugar. Show me now; you can tell me later.” Fireworks started deep inside, setting off a series of explosions. One after another, they just wouldn’t stop. She screamed, scratched, clawed. Edward held her upright against him, refusing to let her fall. “I can’t stop!” Climax rolled into climax; she could barely breathe, her vision blurring. “Oh God, Eddie, I can’t stop!” “Then don’t. Give it all to me and don’t ever stop.” It was the last thing she heard before she sank into unconsciousness. *** There had been a lot of dreams in Delilah’s past; some possible, some wishful thinking. A dream of a family of her own, full of love and acceptance, had been one of them once upon a time. Finding a man who would love her without sucking the life out of her had proven more difficult than her childhood dreams. Lying in Edward’s arms, the dream she’d given up on came rushing back with the force of a hurricane, and all he’d done was place the flat of his hand on her stomach. It felt so good there, so natural. No matter how hard she tried to tamp down the desire that she was ripening underneath his hand, visions of that large palm rubbing against a swelling belly kept popping up in her mind. “I want you to have my baby, Delilah. I want it bad.”

A knot formed in her throat from hearing the words that so clearly reflected her heart. This was crazy. They didn’t know each other well enough to freely talk about a child like this. The possibility that it’d already happened was too great to ignore. “I will get on the pill for now—” “No.” Shame on her for being thrilled by the curt denial, but she was. “You are probably already expecting.” “You know you’re not normal, right? Nothing about you makes sense. Men like you don’t fall in love with strippers, they don’t look like you, and they damn sure don’t talk like you. I don’t get it. Why me?” Once she allowed a little of her doubts and confusion to slip past her lips, the rest released in a torrent. “There is no reason you should care about me, no reason for this…this craziness between us to exist. I don’t understand any of it.” “Why does it have to make sense? Sometimes life doesn’t make any sense at all, it just is.” How matter-of-fact he sounded, as if nothing else mattered. Well, Delilah had seen enough to know it did matter. Women came and went from her profession for many different reasons. Most had made really bad decisions somewhere along the line. Some thought it was an easy way to make big money only to find the big bucks were a myth for most, or the price of making the thick rolls of cash was higher than they had ever anticipated. There were struggling single mothers, addicts of various sorts, the lost among the masses that had drifted in and out of the various clubs she’d worked. Those lucky enough to get into a high-quality establishment fared better than others, but the end was often not pretty. Delilah herself had lost good friends along the way. Beautiful young women chasing rainbows that never panned out. The last club she worked before ending up at Sailor’s Delight had been extremely high end on the outskirts of town. It was owned by a woman, though Delilah had never met her, couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name. With cash following hand over fist, she had been living high; the best clothes, the best shoes, playing the role. Back then she’d thought she’d had someone special, a steady boyfriend who loved the fact she was a stripper. Bragged about it to his friends.

She’d never known, never saw until it was too late he would always show up at the club to pick her up and take her out. They always went out of New Orleans to restaurants, or on little getaways. Never did she notice how there was a tan line around his ring finger. It was too late when she put together how he’d never taken her out in public in the city in which they both lived. And after all her little dreams of a happily-ever-after with the last in a long line of men who equated stripping to being a whore, her girls, the ones who were supposed to be there for her, all deserted her. Not all at once, but gradually, after the word got out she was easy. She lost her job because she’d been sleeping with a customer. Not a week later, one of her so-called best friends was fucking the same married man, albeit knowing he was married. Her other friends stopped calling when she couldn’t get a job in a club with higher clientele lists. She’d lost her nice apartment, her brand new car, her pride, and almost her hope. Sailor’s Delight had been her last stop before she knew she had to get out or drown in the cesspit waiting at the end of the rope. She really had thought she was on that road. And then, in walked Edward. Like some kind of fairy tale, just when things had reached critical mass, there he was offering something more, something better. That she would stay was a given. She hadn’t been lying when she’d promised not to leave. But what kind of ending would this have? It was that part that scared her the most. “Stop overthinking it, Delilah. I love you. I am here for you. The rest we’ll figure out.” Edward pulled her closer to his side, wrapping her in arms that felt so damn good it was all too easy to exhale and relax. Lying in bed with another person had never felt so good. “I hope we do,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “We will. Now go to sleep. We have a full day in front of us tomorrow.” She didn’t even want to know what that meant. The entire night had been emotionally exhausting, not to mention the many times they’d made love. The thought made her smile as she snuggled against his hard, lean body. It had been making love. If

nothing else was true, if it all blew up in her face later, she would walk away at least knowing what it really felt like to honestly make love.

Chapter Twelve Before getting involved with Aubrey, Katrina had no idea who Edward Prichard was, but she had heard the name. Who hadn’t? They were only slightly less known to the Chevaliers, and though not politically active, they owned enough of the state to effectively have a powerful influence in Baton Rouge. The fact that Edward lived a mere two houses down in the Garden District didn’t surprise her. His houseguest, however, did. Although Katrina had sold most of the clubs she’d formerly owned, she remembered the women who worked for her. Admittedly some more than others, but Cinnamon, as Delilah had once been known, she had never forgotten. There had been something about the young dancer that tugged at Katrina’s heartstrings. Unfortunately, it was right around the time she’d been running from Aubrey with all her might. By the time her life had gotten straightened out, Cinnamon had been long gone, dismissed by an overzealous manager and disappeared from every place of contact the club had on her. That had always bugged her. When she found out that Cinnamon got fired for falling victim to a well-known player, Katrina had been livid. At twenty-one, it was easy for strippers to fall for smooth-talking, married customers. Now here she was, sitting across from her at the dining table and looking all kinds of uncomfortable. Katrina wished she could take the other woman somewhere private and have a heartto-heart with her. More than perhaps anyone else could, Katrina knew what Delilah was going through. There were some differences, of course; Delilah didn’t have the money or friends to fall back on like Katrina had. Delilah had Edward Prichard, whom Aubrey had informed her was usually antisocial in the extreme and whom no one had apparently ever seen have an actual human emotion. Katrina had never met Edward before, so she couldn’t really say what he’d been like before the woman at his side came into his life. She could, however, see very clearly the antisocial professor was very much in love. Throughout dinner, and now while they

were just sitting and talking, Edward touched Delilah often. Nothing overtly sexual, just comforting pats and caresses here and there whenever Delilah looked like she might jump out of her skin. Gradually the woman relaxed as he lavished attention on her even while talking to Aubrey. It was kind of fascinating to observe. Casting sideways glances at Aubrey, Katrina noted her husband was less touched by the sweet display of affection. That could be explained by his gender; men were rather oblivious at times. It was the shock Aubrey was trying to hide that got Katrina’s attention. Oh, it wasn’t obvious, but she knew her man. That right there spoke volumes about the couple. She had to say, she was relieved. Silver spoon types were just strange. There was an overt conversation between the two professors about history, but underneath the niceties there was an entirely different conversation going on. One Katrina was sure was much, much deeper than she or Delilah could imagine. And the other woman had noticed as much as Katrina had. Another sure sign whatever was going on between the two was a good thing. Then Edward went ahead and said it out loud. “Delilah and I will be out of the country as of next week. I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on the house.” Right, as if they didn’t have staff and damn good security. But hell, she’d play along, since Aubrey didn’t appear to be willing to do so. “Oh? Are you going away for vacation?” Hell yes it was nosey, but she wanted to know. “We’re getting married in the Bahamas,”’ Edward announced proudly, while Delilah looked ready to crawl under the table. “Congratulations!” Katrina was genuinely pleased to hear it. Despite Delilah’s reluctance to talk much, she really liked her. But then, she had felt the connection six years ago. She just wished she would’ve made more of an effort back then instead of being so caught up in all she was going through. She would have delved headfirst into the subject, but Aubrey finally asked Edward to his study. Even better, now she had a chance to talk to Delilah alone. Aubrey

was damned lucky that was the case, though she was still going to have a serious discussion with the spouse. He couldn’t be expecting her to just befriend anybody. It took Edward much longer to climb to his feet and leave the two women alone. Katrina waited somewhat impatiently as he whispered something to Delilah, his hands giving her a reassuring squeeze here and there. She might’ve been offended if she wasn’t so anxious to talk to the woman—like she was scary or something. It was all very sweet, though, very touching and all that, but he needed to hurry it along. Tactfulness wasn’t one of Katrina’s strong points, so as it stood she was hanging on by a thread. As soon as the men left the room, words just seemed to stream out of her mouth in a rush. ”You used to work for me.” Okay, that didn’t come out the way she intended. But then, she wasn’t known for being anything less than blunt. “Lord, don’t look at me like that.” Now Delilah looked like a cornered mouse. It made Katrina feel all guilty, well, more than she already did where this woman was concerned. “I’ve been looking for you since that asshole fired you. Not right after, because I didn’t know, but I tried to find you when I found out. You just disappeared.” “You have me confused with someone else.” Delilah’s denial didn’t sound embarrassed. She probably didn’t understand what Katrina was talking about, which made sense seeing as how she’d failed to explain. “Aces—the strip club? I own it. And yeah, you worked for me. I fired that asshole of a manager, by the way.” “You owned Aces? But…” Now Delilah looked downright confused. Much better. They were on the right road. “But you’re married to a Chevalier.” The shock was genuine, but once again understandable. The Chevalier clan had most definitely had their share of scandals over the last six or seven years. However, the joint venture with Aubrey’s cousin, Thierry, had remained a secret. No one but the immediate family knew of the string of strip clubs, private BDSM clubs and swingers clubs Katrina used to own. All but a few clubs, the most exclusive clubs with highpowered clientele, had been sold years ago.

“Yes I am, and I am the owner of Aces to this very day, along with a few other clubs. I’m a Chevalier by marriage, not birth. I had an interesting life before I met Aubrey.” Not many people knew anything about Katrina’s troubled past. It was yet another in a long line of infamous Chevalier secrets. Surprisingly, Katrina had no qualms about sharing her entire sordid story with Delilah. As a woman with severe trust issues, it occurred to her that what she was doing was not just highly unusual, it was downright shocking. With a mental shrug, Katrina pushed the thought away. A few short months ago, she’d gone through her whole trust deal with Didier’s new wife, Soleil, even though she hadn’t been his wife at the time. Soleil had been a godsend when Katrina was struggling with Aubrey’s insistence they finally tie the knot. But Soleil had also taught Katrina to go with her gut, not her fear. Her gut was telling her now Delilah needed to hear her story. “So there, that’s where I come from, where I’ve been and my background in a nutshell.” She wiped one hand against the other as if wiping away the past after she’d spoken it out loud. In a way, that was exactly what she was doing. God, it felt good to say it all and feel not the least bit ashamed or regret anything that happened since Fedor disappeared. “But what happened to your stepfather?” Delilah had leaned forward during the telling, her eyes open wide. Damn, Katrina could see what attracted Edward. The woman had that innocent vixen thing down to a tee, and she didn’t have a clue she was doing it. “How could those guys—your husband and his cousins—get away with…well, I mean, the guy went missing, right? No one asked questions?” Katrina didn’t blame the younger woman for being shocked. The sequence of events leaned toward the unbelievable. Truthfully, she’d never asked what happened to Fedor. Deep down, she knew. Aubrey may fool many with his whole mild-mannered professor routine, but Katrina knew him more than anyone else. Her husband could be a scary man if anyone were to threaten her. She didn’t put anything past him when it

came to her safety. Honestly, she didn’t want to know what happened. Fedor deserved whatever he’d gotten. “You know, I really can’t care what happened to him.” Great, now she sounded all Chevalier psycho. Damn crazy-ass men were seriously rubbing off on her. “And who would do the asking? Powerful people get away with more than you can imagine.” Watching Delilah shiver made her realize perhaps that was a bit ominous. Oops. “Do you think that’s why Eddie doesn’t want a pre-nup? Because he would keep his money no matter what?” Well shit. Katrina didn’t really know Professor Prichard all that well. She knew of him, and nothing she had ever heard was bad. Not really. The man just didn’t seem to like talking to people about anything not work related. She’d seen him at mixers and various social events involving the university. One thing Katrina could do with deadly accuracy was size up a man; Edward Prichard may be cold, but he was decent. The no pre-nup thing, however, was a shocker to even her. The Prichards in general were snobbish in the extreme; not so much Edward, but those bitter females in his family were. “He won’t get a pre-nup? Honey, that means he is seriously into you.” And then some. “And believe me, if he wasn’t serious about you, about marrying you, he wouldn’t have announced it, much less brought you here in the first place.” “How can you be so sure of that?” Oh God bless Delilah. Katrina had once been in this woman’s shoes. It really was hard to let go and just trust another person when the world had shown you nothing but hardship and pain. Maybe that was one of the reasons Delilah had touched something inside her in such a deeply profound way. More than what they had in common, however, was the fact Delilah was a good person down to her core. The tough breaks in her life hadn’t jaded her. That was a major feat, and an impressive one at that. And she had gone through her toughest times all alone. Katrina was the first one to be grateful that she’d had Angelique, Regina, and Jade. Who had Delilah had?

“I can be sure because I’ve been where you’re at. I see Edward, the way he is with you. He loves you. It’s in everything he does where you’re concerned. Plus, like I said before, you wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t very serious.” Delilah beamed, though she tried to hold it in. Sensing she may be embarrassing the woman a bit, Katrina quickly switched subjects. “So, what happened you after you left Aces? I asked your friends, but no one seemed to know much of anything.” Delilah first looked surprised, then angry. “Friends. Right.” She snorted, a familiar world-weary look replacing any lingering shock. “Before I met Edward, I worked at Sailor’s Delight.” Holy shit, that was bad. It certainly explained the derision in her voice. The place was little more than a sorry front for a brothel. No matter what it may appear, Katrina knew beyond a doubt that somehow Delilah hadn’t been turning tricks. She didn’t have that dead look in her eyes. Somehow Sailor’s Delight hadn’t managed to suck out her soul. Katrina knew the look of a prostitute. Delilah wasn’t it. “Seems like you met Edward just in time. How the hell did you manage to stop that rock-head Bull from forcing you to turn tricks? Don’t look so surprised, Delilah— my mother was a hooker. I know one when I see one, and you are far from it.” Crazy as it may seem, Katrina felt even guiltier for not reaching out to the younger woman earlier, like six years ago. “I am a good dancer, an even better listener.” Delilah shrugged, looking away. “I brought in earnest types with big pockets. Eventually they’d go to the others, but I was the hook. I have no idea what Eddie sees in me.” Eddie? Did she call him that to his face? Fascinating. “Bullshit!” Self-pity wasn’t allowed in the world according to Katrina. “You’re smart, spunky, and quite frankly too beautiful to be left alone with my husband ever. Wrap that up in a body like yours, and what halfway intelligent man wouldn’t want you? A good man knows a good thing when he sees it. Of course Edward wants to marry you. The fact that he’s a Prichard doesn’t even enter the equation as far as he’s concerned, and it shouldn’t matter to you either. I know it’s easier said than done, but

it’s nonetheless true. Stop letting it bother you.” Even as she said it, Katrina knew no amount of arguing was going to convince Delilah totally, but at least she could assuage some of the anxiety Delilah was feeling. That too she knew from experience. “Listen, why don’t I come by in a few days and we can spend the day shopping or whatnot. I have some friends I’d like you to meet.”

Chapter Thirteen Katrina Chevalier had certainly given Delilah a lot to think about. Even though she really hadn’t wanted to go visiting anyone in Edward’s circle of acquaintances, she was really glad she had met the other woman. Everyone knew that all of the Chevalier men, except maybe one of the older ones, married black women. Delilah had always assumed that the women were all like the first one, Angelique, women from rich, prominent families. Angelique Dubois was the former mayor’s daughter, old money Creole. Not exactly the same as marrying a stripper. Katrina was living proof that not all of them were, that men of prominence and wealth did marry women from shady backgrounds. Sometimes they married the daughter of a drugged-out prostitute. Delilah’s parents were über-religious and over-opinionated, but they hadn’t been abusive. Not in the way Katrina had described her childhood. As bad as her life had been in the past six years, it hadn’t even begun to get as bad as Katrina’s worse days. And Aubrey had stayed right there by her side through it all, even when Katrina tried to run from what the two of them had. Casting a sideways glance at Edward, she fought back a smile. He was watching her dress while pretending to read the morning paper. Despite her fears, he was really a good man. And yes, she loved him. Every time she tried to say it, the words just clogged in her throat. It had only been three weeks since he’d saved her from her own stupidity at Sailor’s Delight. Her life was so different it was stunning. It was sometimes hard to come to grips with the massive changes in her life. “You don’t have to go, you know. We can make our excuses and stay in.” God, it felt so good to have someone care about how she felt. To think a few weeks ago Delilah would have believed Edward was offering to stay in because he was ashamed of her. Now she knew beyond a doubt that wasn’t the case. When and why she’d begun trusting him, she couldn’t pin down with any degree of accuracy. Everything he did showed her that he cared; he never failed to make her feel loved,

cherished. Katrina had been very right about his feelings for her; Delilah had no interest in denying that any longer. “I want to go.” That too was new, willingness to meet new people and open herself up to the possibility of friendship. She was nervous about meeting Katrina’s friends, having a good idea who those friends were. “And thank you for introducing her to me.” Edward blushed, as was his habit whenever she expressed gratitude for something. It was one of the cute, enduring things about him. Delilah hadn’t told him about Aces or about Katrina remembering her from there. The past wasn’t important, and no one could go back and change what happened. Even though she was still scared, she was a lot more optimistic since having dinner at the Chevalier’s a few nights ago. “Here.” Edward stood, coming over to where she was staring critically at how she looked in the mirror. “I want you to use this.” A black American Express card. He was actually handing her the vaunted black credit card with her name twinkling in the midmorning sun as casually as if he were passing her a piece of paper. It stunned her so much she just stared at it, so stark against his paler skin. Katrina had told her to expect things like this, warned her it was coming. Delilah had thought she was prepared for Edward’s offer of money in whatever form it may come. She hadn’t really been expecting this. Unlimited spending at her fingertips; wasn’t she supposed to want this? Wasn’t this a woman’s dream? Although she knew Edward just wanted to provide for her, her initial reaction was a visceral one. Never, ever did she want to be seen as or known as a kept woman. Monetary things just brought to mind images of a mistress, a good-time girl. “Delilah, you’re going to be my wife.” His voice was carefully cautious, so much so Delilah got all soft in the middle. “All that I have is yours. It’s not charity; it’s not some kind of payment. It is simply my duty to provide, and that’s exactly what I will do as long as I live.” “That doesn’t include shopping.” Of course she already knew what his reply would be before he said it, but she found herself wanting to hear the words from him.

“It is if it makes you happy. That is my ultimate objective, my job of a lifetime--making you happy.” Now what woman wouldn’t want to hear something like that? She’d known in her gut he hadn’t been trying to buy her. He had to be the most earnest person she’d ever met. Feeling a little guilty about her first reaction, she reached out and took the card with a trembling hand. “Thank you. And you do make me happy.” She wasn’t planning on using the card. It would be the height of foolishness to say she’d never use it, especially if this marriage thing really, truly happened. The card simply wouldn’t be used today. There was still the money she’d had on her from the fateful night she’d returned to the club after spending the weekend with him. Added to the money she’d been saving, she could surely get through a day of shopping with Katrina and friends. She’d just feel better using her own money on today’s outing. “Use it, Delilah. Save your money. That way you will always have it just in case.” Edward really needed to stop reading her mind like that. Was it really that easy to do? He seemed to do so with deadly accuracy. “I’ll agree to use it if you agree to getting yourself a prenuptial agreement.” Most women would call her insane for actually wanting Edward to take the legal step to insure his money stayed his. To her, it was about pride. She wasn’t here because Edward was rich, though she knew things wouldn’t have worked out the way they had had Edward been some average guy. She didn’t want him for his money, though. She wanted the world to know that. It didn’t matter though because she already knew he wasn’t going to change his mind about it. “No.”” Edward turned and walked back to his chair, though he didn’t sit. “Use the card. Live a little.” “Hello, pot, it’s me, kettle.” Just as she’d intended, Edward let loose a low rumble of laughter. His deep voice sent a lower-sounding boom throughout the room. The rich sound hadn’t yet failed to make her feel all wrapped in warmth and love, putting a wide grin on her face.

“Really, baby, go and have fun. I want you to have a great time without having to worry about anything. Stop overthinking it. The card is simply so you don’t have to think about how much you’re spending or worry if you can afford something. It’s supposed to make you happy.” “I am happy.” More than she could’ve ever believed. For the first time in so very long, she had the kind of happiness that didn’t dissipate with the morning sun or come with strings attached. “And I want you to stay that way. Use the card. It would make me happy.” Oh, he was good. Edward was an attentive lover; red hot while also being loving and tender. Delilah’s nights were erotic beyond her fantasies. The days were filled with learning new things, studying for college entrance exams, and more laughter than she could ever remember having. Just like with her, she could sense a substantive change in Edward as well. There was no sign of the staid, unfeeling man David had described his uncle as being. She could see the type of sharing developing between the two of them was new to him. Contentment was so easy with him. She was bordering on blissfulness. When she didn’t reply, he pressed. “Promise you’ll have fun and use this.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her so reverently Delilah almost considered calling Katrina and giving the other woman her regrets. She couldn’t, though. This was going to be her life—being the wife of an important member of society wouldn’t be easy. She would need all the help she could get. “Okay, I promise.” She was rewarded with a sweet, lingering kiss for her response. The man certainly knew how to turn that steel core she’d always been so proud of into hot liquid. “And do not use your money. I mean it.” Delilah would’ve retorted, but as she opened her mouth there was a sharp rap on the heavy door, Mrs. Kelley’s voice sounding through the thick wood. “Mrs. Chevalier is here for Miss Thomas.”

No matter how many times she’d told the other woman to call her Delilah, Mrs. Kelley steadfastly refused to do so, calling her Miss Thomas at every turn. The housekeeper had seemed to have had an extreme change of heart about her. Delilah had sensed disdain, perhaps even downright dislike the first week she’d been here. Lately Mrs. Kelley had been treating her as if she were to the manor born, so to speak. Delilah couldn’t say what had brought on the drastic change, but it was nice. “Please show her in and let her know I will be right down.” Stepping away from Edward, she put the credit card away in her wallet. When she turned back, she gave him a quick peck before stepping out of his reach. “I do love you, Eddie. I’ll see you later.” With that she scurried out of the room, careful not to look back. ***** The words hit him in the gut, making the breath leave his lungs in an exhaled rush. Certainly not how he’d imagined she’d say it, but that hardly mattered. It wasn’t manly to be touched by such things—that was what he’d always been taught. Emotion of any kind had been frowned upon while growing up. While Edward himself had always embraced that, lived by it to the extreme, it had killed his younger brother, David, Sr. Now, years later, he found those three simple words made him feel as if he could take on the world—and win. It was extremely hard to get his feet to move after the softly spoken declaration followed by Delilah’s swift retreat. Her escape was regrettable, but he understood it. Saying “I love you” was a giant step for her. He’d longed to hear the words out loud, but he would never push her on it. Oh, he knew that was the way she felt. It was obvious in all she did, the way she treated him, the way she responded to him, and not just in a sexual manner either. Ah, but to finally hear the words out loud was a heady experience. One that had both his heart and dick jumping for joy. It felt even better than he’d imagined. There was no time to dwell and savor the moment, however. Didn’t matter that his brain replayed the sound of her voice or the way she looked down, so sweetly

embarrassed yet sincere, over and over again. He had serious business to take care of while Delilah was out and about today. Delilah’s passport had finally arrived this morning, which meant he was free to make plans for their wedding somewhere in the Caribbean. It didn’t matter which island as long as the resort was five stars and they were able to pull off a dream wedding for his bride in a week’s time. But first there was the matter of John-Paul “Bull” Gautier and Eugene “Red” Washington to take care of. Edward had hired a team of private investigators to find out everything about the two men, down to the time they were born. Knowledge of everything either man had ever done, legal and illegal alike, was now in his possession. They were a threat to Delilah; they had to be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. Now was the time to make his move. Picking up the phone, Edward dialed the Chief of Police directly. He would be very interested to know the officers who were being paid to protect Sailor’s Delight, and which officers Bull and Red regularly paid to get away with all manner of nasty business. It was a serious matter, one that he would personally see through. If only he could wipe that damn silly grin off his face.

Chapter Fourteen “There is no way. You used to dance? I don’t believe it.” Delilah’s fork dangled midair, bits of dark chocolate hanging on the end of the prongs as if in suspended animation. A noticeably pregnant Angelique Chevalier née Dubois sat as composed as ever, not a hair out of place, looking regal and above it all. There was no way she’d just said she used to be a stripper. “It was really more burlesque than anything else. I did it as a finger to my family; my father and former stepmother, anyway. Letting loose a little.” The other woman spoke in a hushed whisper, her gaze darting around the stylish bistro before she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You must never, ever mention it to Thierry. He refuses to acknowledge that is actually how we met. I think the thought of his cousins seeing me in that skimpy little costume gives him heart palpitations.” The assembled women all broke into girlish giggles, which was infectious. Delilah didn’t even know Thierry, but she could sense Angel was dead serious. It was hard to conceive, but Delilah found that she felt completely at ease with the three women she was with. Although Katrina had only brought Angelique and Regina with her, she felt as if she’d already met the others. All three women spoke of the missing Jade, Solange, Soleil, and even Tante Thérèse often and so easily she felt as if she knew them too. Each woman was so open and so easy to get along with, not to mention completely accepting of her. She would have never guessed it based on who and what they were. “I promise I’ll never bring it up,” Delilah vowed, wondering if Edward would react in a way similar to Angel’s husband. “Come on, finish up your dessert,” Katrina urged, bouncing in her seat in excitement. “We still have to get you a wedding dress.” Looking down, Delilah was vaguely surprised to see she’d mowed through most of her chocolate torte in record time. Man, the entire meal had been seriously delicious.

Regina’s husband, Remy, owned the place; it seemed like a miracle Regina was as trim as she was with a husband who cooked like this. “For a woman who tried to run screaming from her own wedding, you’re mighty anxious to get others hitched,” Regina commented drily. “You have to see Edward Prichard with this woman. He was all loving and…human.” Katrina shrugged, shaking her head. “If she could work the miracle of making him fall, we all need to get on board and make sure they marry as soon as possible.” Delilah wasn’t sure how she felt about the comment. According to everyone, including David, Edward was some sort of automaton person, but Delilah had never seen it. “Eddie has always been very affectionate in his way.” No way she couldn’t defend her man. An odd thought, but it was what it was. “Eddie?”Regina and Angel echoed in unison. “He lets you call him Eddie?” “See?” Katrina crowed, her chest puffed with pride as if she’d discovered some lost civilization. Oh shit, now she was starting to think like Edward. “Well I suppose I will need a dress.” She hadn’t even thought about it before now. Edward wanted to do the whole thing at a resort somewhere. The details were such that Delilah felt completely out of her depth, though she had to admit a tropical wedding was a dream come true, albeit one she’d never dared contemplate before. They went off lined arm-in-arm, another first for Delilah. The affection was so easy between them, as if they were all good friends, like she’d always been their friend. Women in her experience just weren’t this nice. But then, why wouldn’t they be? There was nothing she had that they didn’t. Love and security could change a multitude of things, she was fast learning. One day, maybe she would feel as they did. Oh God, she prayed it was true. Telling Edward she loved him and then running had been impulsive. When the words finally came, she just wasn’t ready to face them head on. She still didn’t really know why exactly. She felt them, had for a while, maybe even that first weekend

together. Saying them out loud had made her vulnerable. After being guarded for so long, she just didn’t know how to deal with the vulnerability. He wasn’t going to abuse her love and trust, not like some of the disastrous relationships she’s had in the past. But he held something none of the other men ever did: her whole heart. It just wasn’t possible to keep a part of herself in reserve around him. Sleepwalking through various stores as she tried on a multitude of dresses pressed into her hands, Delilah found herself both dreading and looking forward to going home. That she referred to the big house in the Garden District as home was huge, but not as huge as coming together with Edward and with her feelings laid out on the table. He’d been waiting for it. She’d been too much of a coward to witness his reaction, but she wouldn’t be able to escape it tonight. Would it be different? How could it not be? She was far too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice someone slinking behind her as she came out of the dressing room in yet another dress Katrina swore would compliment her figure perfectly. The pure white linen was gorgeous, clinging in all the right places, but she wasn’t so sure about it being an appropriate wedding dress. Just as she turned to view herself in the full-length three-way mirror just outside the dressing room, someone viciously grabbed her hair from behind, yanking her head back while another huge hand came up around her throat. Her eyes closed instinctively, tear leaking from the corners of the closed lids. She didn’t want to look; she already knew what she would see. The cloying cologne was one she doubted she’d ever forget. Bull. Oh God, how could she forget that he didn’t let a girl go, ever, without being paid in full what he felt was his due? “If you scream, bitch, I swear I will cut your throat right here.” His fetid breath was an affront to the senses. She had to gasp not to choke as the earth seemed to start spinning out of whack. “You think you can just walk away? And not pay me? That motherfucker you’re shacking up with is going to give me what I want if he ever wants to see you again. You’d better pray that pussy you’ve been so damn stingy with is worth it.”

He wasn’t yelling, keeping his voice low enough not to be heard by others milling around the smallish boutique. The mirrors just outside the dressing room was blocked from view from the rest of the store by racks of dresses, she supposed to give those coming in and out of the dressing room to view potential purchases privacy. Unfortunately the women she’d come here with were still milling about for the perfect dress, for her. The thought made her knees buckle, bile rushing from her stomach to her throat. She didn’t want any of them to see her like this. It was humiliating—a living embodiment from her past, thrust into the present to ruin her future. “I’m going to have some fun with your sweet ass,” Bull promised, moving backwards slowly toward the rear of the store. “That rich bastard won’t want you back when I’m through with you. But that’ll be our little secret until I get my money, no?” She was going to throw up. As it was she was fighting off fainting. If Bull managed to get her out of the store, it would all be over for her. She had to find a way out of his grasp, but how? The pressure on her throat wouldn’t let her utter more than weak, ineffectual grunts. She wasn’t in reach of anything that could be used as a weapon. Death seemed to be as sure as the solid muscle mass keeping her immobile. “Hey, Delilah, how did that dress… What the fuck?” Katrina. Delilah’s eyes fell open, her mouth working on the word run, but it didn’t come. Instead of shock, disgust or even sympathy coming from the other woman, Delilah saw anger. Anger and the mythical female retribution she’d heard about in jokes but never really seen in life. Right in front of her, Katrina Smith Chevalier changed from sophisticated lawyer and wife to something far baser, elemental, fucking frightening. She dropped the dresses that had been slung over her arms, and calmly pulled out a gun, taking time to set up and aim as if she were working on a still target instead of a man trying to drag dead weight back toward an exit. Delilah did her part; her mind working furiously, she went limp, remembering somewhat belated that it was harder to carry dead weight than a struggling person. Bull grunted, his grip around her throat and waist getting tighter. “You’re just as likely to hit her as me, you stupid cunt!” He was no longer trying to be quiet. There was

a hush in the store only interrupted by a tingling of the front entrance bell. No doubt people abandoning ship. Katrina smiled. It was cold and ruthless, without mercy, without reservation. “I have a very clear shot of your head.” Bull faltered, his grip on her throat and waist slipping just enough for Delilah to literally throw herself to the floor and roll. She had no idea what happened behind her, just heard a loud thump and Bull’s corresponding roar just before the “POP” of the gun went off. When she was able to scramble to her feet, Bull was on the ground, blood seeping from the knee area of his pants. Amazingly David was there, hovering over him raining punches down on Bull’s face. Where the hell had he come from? “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Angelique and Katrina were pushing her toward the door Bull had been trying to drag her through. “But the dress…Bull…David… ” It was all too much. Even outside, Delilah was having a hard time breathing. She barely made it to just behind a dumpster in the alley before the contents of breakfast and lunch reappeared. The world wouldn’t stop spinning. She gasped, struggling to hold on to consciousness, but she knew she was going to fail. “Here, eat this.” Angelique pressed a plain cracker in her hand. “It will make you feel better.” And it did. A little, anyway. Katrina ran off to get the car, while Angel stayed with her. How sad, a pregnant woman helping her stay on her feet. She’d never been so grateful as when she finally climbed into the cool interior of the backseat. “Regina?” It was too much effort to form complete sentences. Her throat was raw, her head pounding, and her stomach, though calmer, still seemed to be on a roller coaster. “She’ll stay and deal with the police,” Angelique informed her. “Katrina, please stop at the CVS. We need to get Delilah something for her stomach before heading home.” It was the last thing Delilah heard before slipping off into oblivion. *****

Edward rushed home as soon as Mrs. Kelley called him. The housekeeper was frantic; he’d never heard the woman so distraught, and she’d worked for the family since her late teens. Her worry for Katrina was real, scaring years off of him. If anything happened to her… “Where is she?” he barked as he rushed into the house. Mrs. Kelley looked up the staircase, enough for him. He vaulted up the steps, tearing into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Angelique and Katrina Chevalier were sitting next to the bed where Delilah lay, far too still for his liking. He would’ve rushed to her side, but he found himself blocked by a surprisingly strong Katrina. With a single hand to his chest, she stopped him midflight. “Outside,” she insisted in a soft voice. He didn’t want to go. Looking toward the bed again, he made to step around the woman only to be halted again. “She’s sleeping, she needs her rest. Please, Edward, outside.” Gritting his teeth, he complied, mentally giving the woman two minutes. Then he was going to check on Delilah himself. “She’s fine, I swear, she’s sleeping. There was a, uh, little run-in with Bull—” “Bull, as in Jean-Paul Gautier?” Damn it, he’d been too late, by hours. “Yes, that would be him.” Katrina looked impressed he knew, as if it mattered. All that mattered was Delilah. “Did he touch her?” If he’d laid one finger on Delilah, Edward wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t kill him. That he was going to suffer was a given; death would be too easy. Yet he wouldn’t be able to hold back. “I shot him, your nephew beat him down pretty good.” She shrugged. “The police took him away after Angel and I got her out of the store. As far as the official record is concerned, we were never there. Officially, he tried to abduct Regina for some unknown reason, and David happened by and saved her.” “What in the hell was David doing there?” He was going to have a long talk with his nephew, although he had to admit he was grateful as hell others had been around to help Delilah. It didn’t alleviate the guilt that he should have neutralized the threat to her long before now.

“Following Bull, it seems. He went into the store because he became concerned after Bull had been inside the store for too long. He didn’t know we were there.” “I need to see Delilah.” He had to make sure for himself she was all right. Katrina shot him a strange look, kind of a half-smile of a woman with a juicy secret. What the devil was that about? “Trust me, let her rest for now. I’m sure there are a few things you wish to take care of while she’s sleeping.” Damn it to hell and back, Katrina was right. Jaw clenched, he looked back toward the door. His heart hurt when he considered how close he came to losing her, how she’d almost gotten hurt because he hadn’t taken care of her the way he should have. “But, uh, you may want to take a little look in the bathroom before you go.” That was just strange, and perhaps even a little ominous. Edward was too frightened not to, by the way the woman was doing a weird smirking grin thing. He walked into the bathroom by a side door, knowing if he went back into the bedroom he wouldn’t leave. At first he didn’t see a thing out of place, but then a small obeliskshaped object caught his eye. It was starkly white against the bluish-gray marble counter, with dual tiny windows on the front. There was a dark pink line going through both windows. What on earth could… “Oh my God, she’s pregnant.” *** Edward simply had no patience for the bickering Chevalier men who all seemed to be arguing over the privilege of who would be confronting Bull in the only windowless, camera-less interrogation room without a two-way system in the precinct. He would, of course, but he had no intention of fighting over it. Instead he headed to the room where Red was being kept. The man had no clue why he had been brought in, but given his chosen lifestyle, the arrest couldn’t have been much of a shock. A single police officer accompanied Edward in the room as he sat as if he were entering a business meeting, arranging various folders in front of him.

“What the hell, man? Why the fuck are you here?” Although Red spoke with bravado, Edward noted his eyes darted to the uniformed officer and then to the door. His feet, however, were shackled to the floor even though his hands were free. Edward needed him to be able to sign documents. “Here I have a detailed list of most of your criminal activities for the past five years.”Edward kept his voice neutral, his face devoid of expression. Red hadn’t been with Bull this afternoon, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been aware of what his partner was doing. “We have extortion, bribery, prostitution, solicitation, grand theft, aggravated assault…” He spread out pictures and statements, some real, some not, on the table. “And attempted kidnapping of my fiancée.” Red’s face drained of color at the last statement. “I never attempted to kidnap your damn fiancée. I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” Despite the proclamation, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. “Delilah Thomas was attacked today while shopping. One Mr. Jean-Paul Gautier attempted to take her by force. I have detailed documentation showing that this man is your partner in enterprise both legal and illegal. Is this not true?” Red made a series of garbled grunts, but didn’t answer. He did begin to move in his seat as if agitated by some unseen force. “I see.” Edward looked back down at the papers in front of him, pretending to study them. “There would be enough here to at the very least make sure you never get out of prison.” “I swear I didn’t know anything about it. Bull, he doesn’t think things through sometimes.” The man swallowed. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything.” Red was sweating profusely now, his eyes almost as big as his entire head. “I rather thought you might.” Edward extracted the deed to Sailor’s Delight as well as three other strip clubs/brothels Red co-owned. “Sign these.” As he also expected, Red didn’t bother reading them. “Thank you.”

Edward rose from his chair, gathering up the papers and placing them back in his briefcase. When he turned to go, Red called out. “Wait a minute! What about me? Can I go?” A cold smile spread on his lips as he turned back to the shackled man. “The police have some questions for you involving a few other things I forgot to mention.” Maybe he hadn’t mentioned them to Red, but he had been instrumental in building a rock solid case against the man. “Rest assured our dealings are over, as long as you never even attempt to think about my future wife.” That, of course, wouldn’t be the end of it. For the years Delilah had to endure under the asshole, Edward would extract his pound of flesh. Eugene Washington was about to find federal prison a harsh, unforgiving place, much more than usual. He didn’t bother going back to the area where three Chevalier spouses could still be heard demanding to get in to see Jean-Paul. He had already cleared the way before the kidnapping; now he had even more motive to deal with the man on his own. Walking into the small room, he had the officer stand next to the door as he approached the man who called himself Bull. Jean-Paul wasn’t shackled; there was no furniture in the room. He didn’t move as Edward walked toward him, then stopped inches away. “I could knock your head off with one swing.” Jean-Paul wasn’t scared, but then he wasn’t as bright as his partner. “You think so?” Why was it that those who relied so heavily on brute strength oftentimes were so very, very dumb? Jean-Paul swung, slowly. It was a simple thing to duck, kicking out a leg to allow the oaf’s own momentum to send him crashing to the ground. Edward stood and waited patiently as the Cajun climbed to his feel, letting out a roar, and charged. At the last possible second, he moved aside and Jean-Paul crashed headfirst into the brick wall. He was slower to get up and turn around this time. Edward waited, briefcase in hand, watching the other man’s feet carefully. “I bet you think you’re so smart, don’t you? You can’t keep running, rich boy.”

This time when Jean-Paul swung, Edward blocked and dealt a blow to his kidneys. Jean-Paul dropped to his knees, and Edward landed a fist to the side of his temple. As Jean-Paul fell, he leaned down into the heavyset man’s face. “Perhaps you should learn how to fight before attacking?” A swift kick to the bandaged knee had Jean-Paul screaming. “I would gladly kill you, but there are three other gentlemen waiting to have a word.” “I’ll get out eventually, one way or another,” Jean-Paul groaned. “You and your bitch better watch your backs.” “No, Bull, you won’t be getting out, ever. In fact, this will be your last day on earth. But before you go, I would like to thank you for signing over your properties to Delilah. It is a really sweet wedding present.” Jean-Paul was too confused to put together what Edward was referring to, and he frankly saw no reason to enlighten him. It wasn’t as if he would be alive to see the forgeries and contest them. Nodding to the officer at the door, he left by the back entrance. The Chevalier men would have their fun time with the infamous Bull, and then he would suffer a horrible accident while being transferred to general lockup. The man had no family to protest or claim the body. No one would care enough to go looking into what really happened.

Epilogue “You’re so beautiful, baby,” Edward murmured, his hands snaking around her back to slowly unzip Delilah’s wedding dress.

It had really happened. She was really Mrs. Delilah Prichard, the wife of Edward Prichard. As of ten this morning, she was really, truly married. Now a mere hour after saying “I do,” they were about to consummate the vows they’d made to each other. Even if she didn’t quite believe it to be true, he certainly made her feel beautiful. He peeled the dress from her body slowly, stopping to kiss her shoulders, her neck, her lips. She wanted to scream out in frustration as the dress began to feel too heavy and suffocating. Her body ached to feel the cool breeze of the night air, to feel the touch of his wonderfully large hands. He was treating the process like he was unwrapping a precious gift and didn’t want to rip the wrapping paper; all she wanted to do was to rip the wrapping away and get closer to him. Every brush of his hand made her burn with need. She longed to rub her body against his bare skin like a cat. By the time he had her down to her underwear, she was a whimpering, quivering mass of nothing but nerve endings. “Oh, baby, is that all for me?” he moaned. A needy sob was her only reply. Edward settled himself between her legs and licked her; one languorous stroke over her bare pussy had her arching into his waiting mouth. Delilah felt as if she was surely going insane. Her hands clutched the sheets frantically as he licked, sucked, probed and then pulled back. If his goal had been to drive her crazy, he was succeeding beyond all expectations. “Please, oh God, Eddie please!” She knew she was begging, but she didn’t care; she needed him now! He took his own sweet time before finally sliding up her body. As soon as she felt his probing length searching for an opening she angled her hips to try to force him inside. “Oh, damn!” Edward exclaimed as his tip disappeared inside.

As he moved deep inside of her, he held her close, his arms pulling her against his searing skin. Delilah knew it was crazy, but she felt the connection deeper this time. As if they were truly bonding on a much more profound level “Baby, you are so tight, so perfect,” he murmured, kissing her everywhere he could reach with his lips. “You were made just for me, sweetheart. Oh, God, we fit together so good! Look at me, baby.” His eyes trapped her own as he moved in and out in languid strokes. Sex with Edward was always fantastic, but this time was special. She felt so complete, so right. As his movements became more urgent and less deliberate, she found herself moving with him, her hips rising to met his every down stroke. With every plunge he hit that special place deep inside her, setting off a series of minor explosions. “Yeah, baby, like that,” he encouraged, his gaze still holding her prisoner. “Take what you need.” Her fingers dug into his skin frantically as the dam burst, sending her flying into a million little pieces Much later Delilah lay in the circle of her husband’s arms, wondering what tomorrow would bring. God, she hoped and prayed she never let him down. “You’re thinking too hard.” Delilah hid her smile against Edward’s bare chest. It seemed as if she’d always been in his arms, like she belonged there. And just a mere week ago she’d feared she’d never see this day. When Bull had grabbed her in the boutique, she really did think she would die. She’d rather die than have the grotesque asshole’s hands on her. “No, I’m just grateful.” Bull was dead; he’d died in an accident during a jail transfer. Delilah didn’t know the details, but she had seen the body. Red was facing a multitude of charges that, if he was convicted, would send him away for the rest of his life. She’d gotten a strange letter from him stating how truly sorry he was, and how he would never be able to make up for the things he and Bull had done. It was especially odd given that until Edward, she’d stayed out of both men’s way most of the time. There were so many

other women out there who deserved that apology much more than she did. Weirdly, Bull and Red had signed over the strip clubs to her. She hadn’t had time to deal with it. The last week had just been a whirlwind of activity. When she got back home, she would try to find a way to turn both places into something positive and useful for the community. Angelique had a foundation dedicated to rebuilding devastated areas of New Orleans. She had promised to work with Delilah on it, after everything had died down a little. Not only had Katrina dragged her through preparing for the wedding, even going so far as to insist she and Aubrey come down as witnesses. The same day she was attacked, she found out she was pregnant. It really shouldn’t have come as a shock, but she honestly hadn’t been expecting it. At first, she’d worried that maybe Edward really wouldn’t be as accepting as he’d earlier claimed. Edward ran his hand lovingly over the area that housed their growing child. He’d treated her like she was spun glass since finding the pregnancy test in the bathroom. She had honestly never seen a man so happy to be expecting a baby. “You’ve made me so happy, baby. I love you so much.” The pronouncement gave her chills. She would never tire of hearing him say that. “And I love you too, Eddie.” Delilah didn’t even try to hide the smile this time. “How can I help it? You’re irresistible.”