Call Me Casanova, Book Three: The Better Man Page 3

  “I didn't say that.” Cassandra rose to her feet. “Stop putting words in my mouth, Gregory.”

  “If not words”—a dry smile dragged across his lips but didn't make it to his eyes—“then what?” The sudden suggestive tone to his voice caught her off guard. “What would you have me put in your mouth?”

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  What are you doing, dumb ass? She's trying to talk to you for real. Why are you being a fucking pig?

  But the sudden compassion in her words, her tone—it scared the fuck out of him. He didn't know how to handle a woman on this level. Sex was his defense mechanism. If he could keep the conversation on a sexually suggestive level, then he knew exactly what to do, what to say, how to react. He was confident and in control when dealing strictly with the carnal relationship.

  But this? How was he supposed to respond? The emotions she sparked in him, the way she caused his heart to beat like a frenzied bird in his chest, the want to be with her out of bed as well as in—what the fuck was he supposed to do with all that? She was marrying his brother, for fuck's sake! She had nothing for him. It all belonged to Preston. Just as everything had always belonged to Preston! Gregory had no reason to think he would ever receive anything but shit in this life.

  “Don't do that, Gregory,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “Start talking that way.” Cassandra stared at him, the compassion still lingering in her eyes, highlighted by the moonlight.

  Don't look at me like that. Just keep seeing me as someone to fuck and nothing more. Keep it simple. But hadn't that been why he was angry before? Because he was sure that was exactly how she saw him? And now that she seemed to view him differently he was getting pissed about that too?

  “It's who I am, darling,” he replied with a smirk he had to force onto his lips. “I thought you were aware of that by now. Don't get it in your head that you can save me from myself. I'm perfectly fine with who I am. So why don't you just run along.” His eyes swept down her body then crawled back up slowly. “Unless, of course you had other things on your mind?”

  She seemed taken aback by his remark. “We both know what you’re trying to do, Gregory.”

  “And we both know how good I am at it.” He reached out and traced his fingertips down her cheek then along her neck. She trembled beneath his touch, and he knew he could convince her to give him whatever he wanted, right here, right now, if he so chose.

  Now he was back in control.

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  How did he do it? How could he render her helpless with just one touch?

  His fingers rubbed down her throat, and she swallowed hard, her breath staggering. She fought to keep her hand from gripping his.

  “Sure you don't want one more taste before you sign your life over to my brother?”

  She did. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she so fucking wanted another taste. Another meal. But she couldn't, not this time. Something happened every time he touched her, and she couldn't deny it. If she went to his bed even one more time, it would push her the rest of the way over the edge. And she didn't want to fall into that abyss where she was helpless to love one man while obligated to marry another.

  “No.” The lie slipped out on a whisper and drifted away into the evening air. She drew away from his touch and thought she saw a flicker of hurt—or was it merely disappointment—pass behind his eyes. “No, Gregory, I don't want just one more taste.” I want so much more than just one.

  He cocked his head. “Suit yourself.” His nonchalant tone was heavy and filled with an emotion she was certain he hadn't intended to reveal. “Don't come crying to me when you find yourself crawling into a cold marriage bed every night.” He turned away. “Don't come to me at all.” He walked away, deeper into the garden, fading into the shadows.

  Go after him! Beg him to run away with you, right now, tonight!

  She entertained the thought for a wonderful fleeting moment before pulling herself back to reality. She had her obligations, and she wouldn't fail in them.

  Chapter Five: Unwelcome Bedfellow

  When Preston failed to show within a reasonable amount of time, Cassandra had begun to hope that he had changed his mind. She didn't want this tonight. Not with Preston. She lay on her side and hugged her pillow, staring at the digital clock glowing in the dark of the bedroom. Her body was tense, listening for footsteps, both Preston's and Gregory's. Gregory had yet to return to his room.

  Her eyes grew heavy, and she began to fade in and out of sleep. When the bed moved, depressed as someone knelt on the edge, she shifted in her shallow sleep. Lips touched her face, and she moaned softly, “Casanova . . .”

  When the lips withdrew, almost dejectedly, her eyes opened as her pulse quickened. Preston. She turned over slowly. Enough moonlight permeated the darkness for her to determine the hardness in his face.

  “Casanova?” he asked low.

  “I was,” she faltered, “just dreaming.” She realized he was under the sheets, his body touching hers. He was naked. His arousal was fierce, and she knew there would be no denying him.

  Without a word, his hands began peeling away her sparse garment. There was no sensuality to his touch but rather a rigidness that let her know he wanted just one thing and it was his right to take it without formality.

  Once stripped, his mouth found her breast, his teeth biting her nipple. She gasped but not with the enjoyment Gregory had incited but rather actual pain. There was no gentleness as there had been with Gregory. Tears burned, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing him to just get it over with.

  The weight of his body was suddenly on top of her, his hips pushing almost aggressively between her thighs. Hot breath puffed against her lips as his mouth grabbed hers in a dominant kiss that demanded her to kiss him back. A faint nausea welled up in her, but she gave him what he wanted. A sharp breath suddenly caught in her throat when his cock shoved inside her. A grunt escaped him then he was moving against her, his thrusts hard, and demanding as his kiss.

  Cassandra gripped his body and forced down the sob crawling up her throat as she tried to fall into rhythm with him, but they seemed out of sync, his movements quick, erratic, no fluidity to them, no smoothness as it was with Gregory. With him it had been like an erotic dance.

  He grunted and panted, sweat dripping from his face onto Cassandra's skin, his body growing slick beneath her hands. His pace quickened, his cock slamming into her pussy, stealing her breath.

  “Cum,” he groaned, his mouth on hers again. “I want you to cum, Eleonore.”

  Was he serious? Just because he said so? “I can't just cum on demand,” she breathed unsteadily.

  Her response seemed to annoy him, and he fucked her harder, his pelvis crushing hers. She bit her lip as she began to feel bruised. She tried to focus, to draw the orgasm up, but she wasn't feeling it. Fake it. He won't know the difference. Cassandra sank her nails into his back, arched her body, and let the sharp cries fall from her lips.

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  His hand raked through his hair, eyes heavy with the need for sleep, as Gregory climbed the staircase slowly, his body feeling weighted. He willed morning to hurry and arrive. He needed to get away from here, should have just left as soon as Preston and his father had arrived. Why had he stayed?

  You know why. No point in denying it.

  A hard sighed pushed out. He felt like a prick for the way he had ruined his and Cassandra's conversation. What if there was something there? Did he really want to spend the rest of his life circulating one woman after another through his bed, never allowing himself to feel anything of substance? Cassandra had forced him to feel it, whether he had wanted to or not. And it was becoming more and more difficult to deny that he was losing himself in her.

  Just talk to her. At least apologize for being a jerk.

  When he approached her room, he stepped over to the door, raised his hand to knock lightly, then froze. His jaw tightened and a hard frow
n clenched his brow as he was suddenly assaulted by the sounds of Cassandra's cries of ecstasy and Preston's loud grunts and groans as he fucked her to orgasm.

  Gregory backed away, shaking, his legs feeling as if they would give out. His eyes burned hot, and he wiped at them with an unsteady hand, smearing tears across his cheek. Jealousy and rage exploded through him, and he had to fight to keep himself from kicking down the fucking door and ripping Preston off her. But she wasn't fucking him against her will. And clearly was getting as much out of it as Preston was.

  Apparently it didn't matter who was giving her cock as long as she was getting some.

  He knew his anger was unjustified. They were to be married. She had every right to be with the man. It was Gregory she'd had no right to be with.

  Does this work for you, moron? Can you forget about her now and be done with all this bullshit?

  His throat knotted closed, and he moved on to his room, slamming his door hard enough to rattle the windows and send fissures webbing through his heart.

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  Preston's orgasm was fierce and seemingly endless. Cassandra resisted the urge to shove him off her and run to the shower, flush his seed from her body, terrified it might take root. Though she was on the verge of marrying the man, the thought of being forever linked to him through a child hollowed out her heart, not only for herself but the child as well. She could only imagine what kind of life a child would have with Preston as its father.

  Gregory would make a better father than Preston. The sudden thought rattled her as Preston released a static breath and lifted off her, dropping onto his back on the bed. She heard the smugness in his voice when he murmured breathlessly, “Guess Gregory wasn't none too happy about this.”

  A deeper nausea wound up her insides; she had heard Gregory's bedroom door slam hard. How could he have not heard her and Preston?

  She rolled onto her side, turning her back to Preston. Her body throbbed, feeling as if she'd just been mildly assaulted. Go away. You got what you came for. Get out of my bed. He felt like a stranger who didn't belong there, who she didn't want there.

  How am I going to live my life with this man? Gregory had been right, about all of it. He knew exactly how her marriage with Preston would be. She had insisted that marriage wasn't just about romance and sex, but without the passion, where was the relationship?

  “We will have the wedding of the century.” Preston spoke up, his breath still quick, uneven. “Even the royals will be envious.”

  Cassandra closed her eyes, but the tears pushed out beneath her lashes, trickling down the bridge of her nose. She realized painfully too late that she would rather have a small, country church wedding with Gregory as her groom than the extravaganza Preston would surely create.

  I'm sorry, Gregory. She didn't know why she was apologizing to the man, but on some level it felt as if she'd done him wrong, pulled open a part of his heart he hadn't wanted exposed, and then just left him to bleed out.

  Chapter Six: Diamonds And Pearls

  Exhaustion had set in, cutting short any talk of the marriage and the wedding, and soon after, Preston had left her bed and returned to his room. Though relieved for him to be gone, Cassandra had then been left alone with her thoughts. It was almost as bad as having Preston there. Almost.

  She fell in and out of sleep, longing to go to Gregory, let the warmth of his body vanquish the chill left behind by Preston. But she refused herself her one desire. She had to get used to refusing it.

  Her first time with Gregory, she had wondered if there had been a living, breathing human being under the layer of arrogance. Well, she had finally gotten her answer. Despite all her preconceived ideas of what the man was or wasn't, she had discovered a diamond in the rough.

  When the light of dawn began to press through, Cassandra left her bed and went to the shower. Her body ached from her session with Preston. What he had done to her couldn't be described as lovemaking. There had been no love in it, as there should have been with the man she intended to marry. Yet it was the one who was supposed to have been the one-night stand, strictly sex and nothing more, that filled her with warmth and belonging when she was in his arms.

  Stop thinking about him. He will be gone soon. Let him take his memory with him when he goes.

  She dressed numbly and simply finger-combed her wet hair before leaving the bathroom. Gregory's door was slightly ajar, and she hesitated outside, listening for movement, sounds. But all was silent. Tentatively, she pressed her hand to the door and opened it a few inches. “Gregory? Are you awake?”

  The heavy drapes were pulled across the window, and a heavy gloom hung over the room. She stood for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust, then realized his bed was empty and made up.

  A quiet fear pierced her heart; had he already gone? After overhearing her and Preston last night, would he have just left as soon as possible this morning? Surely he would have at least stopped by her father's room and told him goodbye.

  Cassandra backed out of the room and walked down to her father's door, knocking softly. “Daddy?” she opened the door quietly. “Daddy, are you awake?”

  “Come in, darling.”

  Cassandra slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Her father was sitting up on the edge of the bed. He shook a couple pills from a prescription bottle, then swallowed them with a small glass of water. Fatigue strained his eyes as he looked at her.

  “Do you . . . feel okay, Daddy?” Anxiety tightened her voice.

  He sighed and nodded. “Don't worry, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Your old man isn't checking out just yet.”

  “Not for a long, long time.” Cassandra insisted, smiling softly. “Promise me?”

  Abbott chuckled. “Well, I will certainly stick around for as long as possible, darling.”

  She walked to the window. His bedroom was on the same side of the house as hers and looked down on the pool. Images from two nights ago played through her mind. And yesterday, in the pool with Gregory, his touch, and kiss—even now it still burned her skin, her lips.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Abbott asked softly.

  Cassandra rubbed her eyes quick when she felt wetness. “Yes, daddy.” But her voice was thick, strained. She closed her eyes tight and sucked her lips between her teeth, forcing back the sobs fighting to get free. She felt like a little girl again, wanting to crawl into her father's lap and have him make everything okay.

  He stood slowly and came to her side. “Don't try to kid a kidder, Cassandra,” he said gently, resting his hand on her back.

  Her eyes opened, releasing the tears, and looked at him in mild shock. He had called her Cassandra.

  His warm eyes glistened. “Hiding from our pain only causes it to fester and swell.” Emotion strained his words. “I thought I could dull the loss of your mother by not speaking her name. But calling you by another name doesn't change the fact that I see her every time I look at you.”

  “Daddy . . .” Cassandra touched her hand to her mouth, tears refilling.

  “You're a special woman, just as she was.” He touched her cheek. “I wanted your first name to be Cassandra.” He smiled with sad wistfulness. “But she said you were too special, that you should have your own name and not have to share with her.”

  Cassandra ducked her head and cried softly into her hand.

  “But what she didn't realize was that it was the part of her that went into creating you that made you so special.” He drew her into his arms and held her tight. “You will always be my Cassandra.” He kissed her hair. “My beautiful daughter and the very essence of the love of my life.”

  Cassandra clung to her father, crying against his shoulder. He was her whole world, the one person she looked up to and admired above all others. If he needed her to marry Preston, if that's what it took to bring him peace of mind, she wouldn't hesitate.

  When he drew back, he cupped her face and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Tell me what's wrong, darling.�
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  She shook her head slowly. “Nothing, daddy. I guess I'm just having one of those girly emotional mornings.”

  “Well,” Abbott smiled. “All women are entitled to those.” He sighed. “But I think there's more to it. I told you—don't try to kid a kidder.”

  “Really, daddy.” She turned away and looked out the window again. “I'll be fine.”

  The man went silent a moment, then asked sincerely, “Do you want me to call everything off? The merger . . . the marriage?”

  Yes, daddy! Call it off! We don't need them.

  “No.” She looked at him, eyes glazed. “I know you're doing this for me. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, daddy. If this will give you peace of mind, then I'm in.”

  Abbott nodded slowly and gazed at the floor. “Did you speak to Gregory this morning?” he asked quietly.

  She wasn't expecting the question and flinched, her throat squeezing tighter. “No, he . . . he left before I woke up.” She glanced at her father tentatively. “Did you . . . see him before he left?”

  “Yes,” Abbott murmured. “He wanted me to extend to you again his best wishes. Said he hoped you found happiness with his brother.”

  Cassandra turned her face back to the window. Her hands slid up over her face, and she began to cry openly.

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  The study felt overcrowded though the only ones present were herself, her father, Preston and Nigel. Still, as soon as she stepped into the room with her father, the air seemed hard to breathe, her stomach knotting painfully.

  Preston's eyes caught hers and resonated satisfaction. She truly believed he took greater pleasure in knowing that he'd robbed Gregory of yet another treasure than in the merger of two billion-dollar enterprises.

  You are a pig, Preston Stanton, she thought with disgust, despising the man for his cruelty towards Gregory. Would it have been so hard for Preston and Nigel to embrace Gregory rather than shove him down and kick him every chance they got? You will never be the man Gregory is. He simply lost his way, but you—you're what you are because you want to be.