“My God. Did she hire the assassin?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Harper
“Could my mother do something like that?” I ask, scooting to the edge of the bed to stare up at Eric. “Could she hire a killer, could she put a hit out on your father? On her own husband?”
“No.” He eases me to my feet. “That didn’t happen. What motivation would your mother have to hire the assassin?”
“Aside from your father being a bad person? Money.”
“Who she’s madly in love with, remember?”
“What if she’s not? Or what if he cheated on her and she found out?” My fingers curl on his chest. “God, I’m not her. I don’t want your money. I don’t want—”
He grips my shoulders. “Easy, baby. You’re letting your fears spin out of control.”
“My mother is involved. We both know she’s involved.” He links the fingers of one of his hands with mine and leads me to the chair by the window, sitting me down before he goes down on a knee in front of me and hands me the Rubik’s cube. “Solve the puzzle.”
“What?”
“Force yourself to focus on the puzzle. Don’t think about anything else.”
“I can never solve these puzzles. This isn’t going to help.”
“It’ll keep your mind occupied if you let it. Meanwhile, I’ll order dinner and pour us some wine.”
He starts to get up and I grab his hand and press the cube inside it. “You need this. You’re the one who can think us out of a puzzle.”
“Your mother is coming here for a reason. She wants to tell you what’s going on. And she’s not going to be here until the middle of the night. She’ll crash in her hotel and you’ll talk to her tomorrow. We’ll talk tonight and play out every way that could go and what you want to do. Or we can just fuck again, and then order dinner, drink wine, and game plan.”
“I can’t have sex right now. I can’t figure out the cube right now. My mother has my full attention.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
His hands settle on my knees and he begins to caress a path up my legs. I grab his wrists. “Eric, I’m—”
“About to forget all of this. You need to breathe. You need to calm down. And, baby, you do that for me. I know you already know that. Now, I’m going to do it for you.”
“You do. You know you do, but—”
He slides his T-shirt all the way up my thighs, his shoulders inching my legs wide. His tongue is suddenly licking my clit. I suck in air and my body arches against him. “Should I continue?” he teases. “Or would you rather fret?”
“I can’t just—”
He leans in and licks me again, and while I’m recovering from the jolt of sensations, he pulls me forward, forcing me to my back and then he’s between my legs, licking, kissing, teasing, pleasing—and for right now, there is nothing but his mouth, his fingers, my pleasure. He owns me and I don’t even care. I have never wanted to be owned the way I do with this man.
I shatter with a quickness that is almost embarrassing and when I collapse, Eric kisses my belly, my nipples, and then actually stands up and takes me with him. “Food and wine time,” he says. “How about pizza?”
“That’s it? What about you?”
He strokes my hair. “Sometimes it’s all about you, princess, and that’s a good thing. It’s a damn good thing.” He kisses my hand and the way he called me princess with utter tenderness, washes away every negative undertone it’s ever held.
I eagerly head downstairs with him and settle on to the couch where we drink wine while waiting on a pizza order. “Have you looked closely at the will?” I ask. “Does she inherit?”
“I read enough to know that yes, she does. I need to read the entire document in more detail.” He pulls out his phone. “I’m sending it to you, too.” He opens his MacBook on the coffee table. “But