“Determination,” Camille said simply. At my questioning glance, she continued, “You asked what drives Marcel. It’s his determination.”
She took her bottled water and drank from it before replacing the cap. “The reason we don’t know whether his parents are still living is because when Marcel was a kid, he’d been abused by them—mentally, emotionally, and physically. They did horrible things to him. Left him alone for days at a time, tried to sell him for drug money, and beat him nearly within an inch of his life.” She cringed, the thought of someone torturing the man she loved like that no doubt affecting her, but she shook it off. “Luckily for Marcel, someone tipped off Child Protective Services and he was finally rescued. They removed him from the home and put him in the system.”
My chest tightened with the visual that had embedded itself in my mind. As a mother, I couldn’t fathom bringing any sort of harm to Abe. Intentional or not.
“Though the foster homes he was in weren’t much better. He suffered more beatings and emotional detachment from some who were only taking in kids to collect the state funds,” she said with a disgust I completely understood. “I think he was somewhere around eight before he was eventually placed with Allen and Lynn.
“They were my neighbors, and some of the sweetest, most God-fearing people I’ve ever met. Lynn couldn’t have any children of her own, and Marcel can be quite the charmer, so they eventually adopted him. They knew about everything Marcel had been through, but they were devoted to making sure he’d never feel like a victim again. They gave Marcel something he hadn’t ever had before…a home where he could feel safe with a family who genuinely loved him. But they didn’t try to erase his past. Instead, they encouraged him to use it as a tool, to take all the bad and turn it into something good.” She paused, watching her husband with a pride that was palpable. “And he did. So to answer your question, Marcel wins because he’s been beaten so much that he refuses to be beaten again.”
Suddenly, the issues I thought I’d had with Shaw didn’t seem all that important. “Wow. If anything is going to make someone put their own life and problems into perspective, that’ll do it.”
“Maybe one day they’ll make a Lifetime movie about him,” she said, making light of what had to be a hard thing to talk about. “There aren’t too many people who know his story.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“No, no, no,” she said, attempting to make me feel better. “Marcel isn’t ashamed of where he came from. Not many people know the story because not many have cared enough to ask.”
“Oh. And what about you?” I asked, shifting gears. “It’s got to be hard being the wife of a superstar athlete. Do you worry about what his fame will do to your marriage?”
Camille’s laugh was confident. “Not in the least. I’ve watched girls throw themselves at him time after time. Girls who I know are much prettier than me. Marcel has never even given them a second glance. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love anything more than to rip their fake lashes, fake hair, fake nails, and fake tits off their bodies, though.”
I nearly choked on the gulp of water I’d just taken. “Oh, wow!” I laughed, knowing exactly how she felt.
“Hey, I might be a God-fearing woman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get tested from time to time. And believe me, these women test me…,” she trailed off in a singsong voice.
“Oh, I feel ya,” I said, remembering all the times I’d witnessed complete strangers bat their lashes a little too hard at Shaw when we’d been out and about. “So you’re not worried he’ll cheat on you. How about the time it’ll take from you and Vale? Have you thought about that?”
Camille sat up, straightening her arms behind her. The breeze off the ocean blew her straight locks, one strand stubbornly sticking to her glossy lip before she pulled it away. She looked out over the water, eyes squinting against the sun. “I’ve thought about that, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to let Marcel do his thing, find his own way. He’s done a pretty good job of it on his own so far, so I have no reason to believe it won’t all work out in the end. He has to become the man he’s supposed to be, and there’s nothing I can say or do that will alter the course he’s meant to follow. Given his start in life, it might take him a little more time to get there, but I’m prepared to wait. Because I know he’s worth it—I know our family is worth it. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you love someone, right?”
“I’m sorry, how old are you again?” I asked, drawing a laugh from her. I couldn’t believe how incredibly strong and mature this young wife and mother was. I could definitely take a cue or two from her.
While I was caught up in my awe of this fledgling couple who had defeated the odds stacked so high against them, Shaw and Marcel waded through the surf washing onto the beach. I watched as they each stabbed their boards into the sand, Shaw reaching down to unclasp the ankle strap and then sweep up his baby boy as he’d barreled toward him. Marcel did the same with his sweet baby girl. Dual giggles abounded as the fathers tossed their little ones into the air, and then Marcel swung Vale around in a circle to bring her back to his chest and carry her bridal-style. Shaw lifted Abe and ducked his head to perch our son on his shoulders. Abe’s chunky little hands fisted his father’s wet hair as Shaw clamped a hold on his legs to secure him in place.
My cheeks hurt from the smile pushing at them, and I allowed myself a moment to absorb the view before me. From Shaw’s golden tanned legs with muscular calves bulging, up to those delectable obliques that disappeared beneath the band of his trunks and the rippling abdominals with that glorious trail of dark hair, and higher still to those flat, dusky nipples haloed by a smattering of curly fuzz. He was God’s gift to women. No, not to women. To me. But his sexiest asset of all was the pristine white of his teeth that showed through the smile he wore from ear to ear while looking up at his son. Our son.
“Down you go, little man,” he said despite the groaning protest from Abe as he lifted him once again and put his shoe–clad feet back onto the sand.
“Hey, you want a snack?” I asked my baby boy, wiping the sand from his chunky legs as best I could. He nodded, excited for his apples and caramel dip, I was sure. “How about you, Vale? Abe packed the snack all by himself. Didn’t you, Abe?”
Abe’s little chest swelled with pride. “Uh-huh. A’cause we’re boyfwiend girlfwiend like my mommy and daddy.”
He was so his father’s son. As cute as it was, I felt a pang of embarrassment that he couldn’t say husband and wife. Because his daddy and mommy weren’t and probably never would be.
“Yeah? She’s your girlfriend?” Marcel hiked a fatherly brow. “You don’t think she’s a little too old for you?”
Abe shook his head, his beige bucket hat flapping in the breeze as he handed the Baggie of green apple slices to a giggling Vale.
Shaw clapped Marcel on the back. “What can I say, man? My boy’s into older women.”
“He’s not allowed to be into any women,” I said pointedly, handing the opened container of caramel dipping sauce to Abe. Abe smiled slyly and then he and Vale ran, hand in hand, back toward their sand castle in progress, which looked more like a village of ant mounds.
“Hey!” Marcel called toward them. “I’m keeping my eye on you, boy! That’s my little girl!”
Shaw, Camille, and I had a laugh at his expense. He ignored us, taking the spot before Camille with his back to the rest of us and bending his knees toward his chest so he could watch the kids play.
“Marcel, they’re not playing doctor. They’re playing princess.” Camille tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face.
“Got my little man whipped already.” Shaw shook his head in disbelief and then took a bottle of water from the cooler before claiming the corner of blanket in front of me. Easing back on his right forearm, he stretched one long leg out and raised the knee of the other. “So Marcel, how’d you like to meet Denver Rockford while you’re
in town?”
Marcel’s eyes lit up as he turned away from the kids. I guessed that was one way of getting his attention. “Ah, man! Are you kidding me? I’d love to!” And then suddenly, that light was extinguished. “Damn, I can’t.”
Swallowing his gulp and then recapping the bottle, Shaw said, “What are you talking about? Of course you can.”
“Actually, we can’t,” Camille added.
Marcel’s shoulders sagged. “We’re heading back home tomorrow.”
“So stay longer,” Shaw said as if it were a simple answer.
Camille snorted. “Right. Because hanging out in California is so inexpensive.”
I knew what Shaw was going to say and do before he ever got it out. “If it’s a question of money, I’ve got it covered.” And cue winning smile…
Marcel shook his head. “Nah, man. I can’t let you do that. I pay my own way.”
“Marcel, buddy…Really, it’s no big deal. My company sets money aside for just such an occasion. It’s not going to cost me a thing.”
Shaw wasn’t feeding him a line of crap. One of the very first things he’d done when he’d stepped in as a partner at Striker was increase the expense account for wining and dining the major players. I supposed he figured no one else should have to sacrifice the way he had in the name of the company.
Marcel raised a questioning brow at his wife.
“I don’t know, Papi,” she said, her gaze wandering toward Vale. “I’ve got work and Vale’s got to get ready for school….”
“What are you talking about? School doesn’t start for months. We have the whole summer to get her ready.”
“Well, I’ve still got work.”
Marcel’s head drew back. “Babe, if all goes well, you’ll never have to work again. Come on. A little longer?”
Camille gave a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. We’ll stay a little longer,” she said.
I wanted to be happy for them, and I wanted to be happy for Shaw, but I couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for the momentum he and I had started to gain toward rebuilding our relationship. I supposed as Camille had said, I had to let Shaw do his thing and hope it all worked out in the end.
Marcel cupped her neck and pulled her in for a loud smack on the lips, much the same way Shaw had done with me earlier. Maybe these two men had more in common than either of them realized.
“Hey, can we do a group selfie?” Marcel asked, that excitement lighting his eyes again. “Your family and mine. I won’t post it on social media or anything. I’d just like to have it for myself.”
Shaw grinned victoriously, and I already knew what he was thinking. “You should definitely post it. It’ll give the media something to speculate and gossip about, and that’s always a good thing for your career.”
CHAPTER 9
Cassidy
Letting my baby, my three-year-old baby, leave my side to go a million miles away for an undetermined amount of time was not an easy thing to do, but I’d done it. With the help of Abby, anyway. Shaw and I had paid for her to fly in so she could fly right back out with Abe in tow because no way was I going to trust a total stranger with my unaccompanied minor. I’d felt bad about the long trip for Abby, knowing she had to have been exhausted, but she’d looked fresh as a dew-drenched daisy on a spring morning once we’d finally met up with her. We’d only been able to spend half a day and one night with her before she and Abe left for the return trip this morning.
Abe hadn’t even shed a tear over leaving his mommy. Mommy had cried buckets.
So there Shaw and I were, sitting at a private booth in a quaint little bistro. We had two nights before our next session with Katya, and I was very anxious to see if Shaw would be able to find out the trick to her assignment. I already had, of course, and not because I’d cheated. I’d known because, quite frankly, it had been a fantasy of mine, something I’d gotten myself off to on more than a few occasions.
“Are you thinking about Abe?” Shaw asked.
I shook my head, pushing the salad around on my plate. “I’ve come to terms with that, somewhat.”
“Then where were you just now? You seemed a million miles away.”
“Actually, I was just thinking about Katya’s assignment. Have you figured it out yet?”
The corner of Shaw’s mouth lifted into that signature smirk that always made me want to rip my panties off. Directing his attention to the steak before him, he plunged a fork into it and began to carve away a bite-sized piece. “Maybe. Anxious to find out?” The morsel disappeared into his mouth with a purposeful chew.
I met his smirk with one of my own. Hopefully, it was at least half as sexy. “Maybe.”
Shaw’s eyes did a slow perusal of my face, drifting down the line of my neck to hover over my exposed cleavage. He licked the juice from his lips, nearly accomplishing the feat Katya had given him on the spot.
“Katya. What did she whisper to you before we left?” Ah, so he’d been thinking about the same thing. I’d bet it was torture for the man who’d always found a way to get what he wanted to not be able to throw money at this one.
“I already told you the only part I could disclose.”
“Tell me again.”
Nice try. “The only thing I can tell you is that she told me I can’t tell you anything at all…until after you’ve succeeded.”
Shaw arched a brow. “Have you forgotten how persuasive I can be?”
“Not as persuasive as you used to be. Hence the reason we’re seeing Katya to begin with.” The words were out before I’d thought out the repercussions. Reminding Shaw of his shortcomings in our sexual relationship as of late wasn’t exactly conducive to getting him to play along.
Removing the napkin from his lap, he placed it on the table and then took the wallet from his back pocket to pull out some cash and tossed it on top of the napkin. “Let’s go,” he said, standing and holding out his hand for me.
“Shaw, I didn’t mean to—”
“I have a point to prove, and I don’t think either you or Katya mean for me to do it right here, so let’s go.”
I took his hand, also standing before tucking my clutch under my arm. “You’re not mad?”
Shaw pulled my body flush to his and I gasped when I felt the hard line of his thick cock pressed against my hip. “Does it feel like I’m mad?”
Actually, it did. Anger and frustration toward me had always acted as a sort of aphrodisiac for Shaw. If he was hard now—and he most certainly was—that only meant one thing: I was about to be punished in the most sinfully delightful way.
Seeing a devastating orgasm in my future, I took the lead, yanking on his arm to drag him along behind me as I made a beeline for the door. And yes, I ignored his knowing chuckle.
Dear God, please don’t let there be any traffic.
Shaw
For the whole drive home, I’d become increasingly frustrated about the insinuation that I didn’t know how to bring my woman pleasure. Even more so about the fact that it seemed to be true because I hadn’t in a very long time. I still didn’t know the key to unlocking Katya’s riddle, and my balls were aching in need of release even as the strained cock in my pants taunted me like it knew the answer my stupid brain couldn’t come up with. Which only proved the saying about a man thinking with the head inside his pants instead of the one on his shoulders wasn’t true. I’d have given anything to let my little buddy take over since he had been faster on the draw than me on this one.
Once inside our bedroom, I closed the door and turned to find Cassidy confronting me with all that goddamn challenge and expectation in every nuance of her posture and countenance.
“What now?” she asked me with a smug air about her.
She already knew the answer. That much was clear. And she was still clothed, which would never do if I was going to get her off. But I couldn’t touch her either, so…
It came to me then, the resolution to the brainteaser having apparently traveled from my crotch to my brain
via the supercharged blood pumping through my veins.
Oh, Dr. Minkov, you are a wonderfully genius bit of minxy trickery, but I’ve figured out your game.
“Get undressed,” was my direct order.
Cassidy’s movements stuttered with confusion. “You want me to—”
“I want you to take off your fucking clothes. Do it. Now.” There was nothing nice about my demeanor. By design.
Trembling fingers worked the top buttons of her blouse, slowly revealing the tempting bit of cleavage created by those mounds of flesh that pushed up from the white lace bra she wore beneath. My palm shoved down the length of the anxious appendage throbbing beneath the jeans I wore.
Cassidy noticed and stilled all movement. “Did you forget Katya’s rule, Shaw? You’re not allowed to make yourself come.”
Wrenching my hand away at the reminder, I growled low. This was about her, not me. Damn, but I was going to be in some serious blue ball discomfort by morning, and that wasn’t going to bode well for the agreement we’d made with Katya.
“Hurry up.” It occurred to me that this little exercise might not have been so much about my being able to pleasure Cassidy as it was about torturing me because I’d been so selfish as of late.
Cassidy looked around the room, stalling and testing my very fragile patience. “Um, will you turn off the light?”
“No. I want to see you.” I couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fully naked in front of me. Christ, no wonder she thought I wasn’t attracted to her anymore.
“Fine.” She kicked off her sensible shoes and then her pants were the next to go.
When her fingers got back to work on her shirt, I stopped her. “Slow down.”
Cassidy’s shoulders slumped in frustration. “Which is it, Shaw? Do you want me to hurry up or slow down?”