A Million Dirty Secrets (Million Dollar Duet 1)

“I feel fine,” I mumbled as he tugged me along.

“Funny, seems to me like you’ve lost your goddamn mind,” he barked.

I didn’t argue, because quite frankly, he was probably right. But I wasn’t done with him, either. He was pissed. I was pissed. And that was when he and I were at our best. We got angry and then we fucked and made up. That was how we did things.

We made it through the labyrinth of halls without being noticed by any of the other partygoers, a miracle in and of itself, and then we were outside. I stopped short because it was storming like crazy—lightning, thunder, torrential downpour, the whole bit. Samuel was there with an umbrella to shield us from the rain and Noah dragged me into the back of the limo. The same limo, mind you, where he had fucked me as I looked on at all the other people living their mundane lives like they were the caged ones being gawked at by the one who was actually living freely. The same limo where he had told me that he was there for my pleasure, just as I was for his. The same limo where he had told me that he loved a woman who knew what she wanted.

He sat opposite me and lit up another one of those pornographic cigarettes, and I’d had enough.

“Look at me,” I said authoritatively. He ignored me.

“I said, look at me!” I demanded. He exhaled a puff of smoke but never turned my way.

I reached across, took the cigarette from between his lips, and threw the thing out the window. Then I lifted my skirts, straddled him and grabbed two handfuls of his hair, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t ignore me. I don’t like to be ignored.”

“Then stop acting like a bitch,” he said with zero emotion. I should have smacked him, would have smacked him, except he was right. I was acting like a bitch. But again, that was how we did things.

“Fuck me.”

“No.”

“Because I’m not her?”

“No. Because I don’t want to fuck you anymore.”

It felt like whatever had been holding my godforsaken heart in place had just let go and allowed it to fall into the pit of my stomach, like a thrill seeker taking the plunge over the Royal Gorge Bridge without a bungee cord to yank them back to safety. Only I wasn’t buying it.

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you,” I said, and then I forced a kiss on him. I could taste the tobacco that he had just smoked seconds earlier and the champagne that he had drunk before everything had gotten so out of control. I wanted him to want me, not her. I wanted him to fuck me, not her. I wanted him to love me, not her.

I … was delusional. And he … didn’t kiss me back.

I pulled back to look at him, beyond confused because that wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Get off me.” His voice was eerily calm, unruffled, like he’d given up and had no fight left in him.

The car came to a stop and I kept looking at him. Then the door opened and Samuel was there with the umbrella again, getting soaked while he waited for us to make a move.

“Are you going to get out or not?” Noah asked me.

I finally got off his lap to step out, pushing past Samuel because I didn’t want the damn umbrella. I wanted to feel the rain against my skin, because at least then I’d be feeling something. I stalked toward the front door and barged inside the dark house with Noah following.

I had one more card to play, a bona fide ace up my sleeve. And if it didn’t work, there was nothing left to do.

“You might not want to fuck me,” I said, climbing the staircase in my ruined gown, “but there were at least a half dozen other men back at that party who did. In fact, one in particular springs to mind.”

That was all it took.

Noah’s hand shot forward in time with the clap of thunder that resonated through the night sky, and he grabbed me by the ankle, causing me to trip and lose my balance. He caught me before I could hit my head and laid me down on the stairs beneath him, hovering menacingly over my body. His face was hidden in shadow, the only light in the house coming from the lightning that spilled in through the massive windows.

“You want to fuck?” His voice was cold and rough as he yanked my skirt up and around my waist. “I’ll fuck you.” It took half a second for his pants to be undone and his cock exposed, but I was too focused on the hard lines of his face to pay much attention. In one swift, unforgiving motion, he entered me.

There was nothing gentle about what he did, nothing slow, nothing sensual. But it was everything I’d wanted because although there was no pleasure in it for me, he wasn’t ignoring me anymore.

Noah pounded into me fast and furious, and I hung on for dear life, digging my nails into his back and taking anything he would give me because at least it was something. He buried his face against my shoulder and relentlessly pumped into me, not giving me the satisfaction of seeing his expression or the dignity of looking into my eyes. There was no way to know what he was thinking, but I knew whom I didn’t want to be on his mind.

“Don’t think about her!” My voice cracked, but I held him to me. “Don’t you dare think about her while you’re inside me!”

His reply was nothing more than an occasional grunt and heavy breathing. He fucked me hard and with savage anger. A bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, followed closely by a loud boom of thunder that rattled the glass. The brief flash of white light cast shadows of our entwined bodies across the walls, and I realized we were those shadows. Just as empty, merely creating the illusion of a happy couple who were passionately in love when nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

That wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted this to be real, a tangible thing I could touch, something that wouldn’t disappear when we were suddenly shrouded in darkness and out of the spotlight.

Noah came, his whole body seizing up as he spilled his seed inside me with a strangled growl. I clung to him, not wanting to let him go because I knew I’d crossed the line and forced him to do something he hadn’t really wanted to do. All I felt in that moment was Noah’s heated body and his weight on top of me. It wasn’t the furious pulse of my blood, not the edges of the stairs digging into my back, and it most certainly was not the cold that had seeped its way into my heart and threatened to spring tears to my eyes.

He was going to send me away. I was sure.

When he was done, he broke free of my hold and then stood to put his clothes back in order. His movements were calculated and mechanical. I remained unmoving and numb, but I refused to take my eyes off him.