For someone who was rumored to have gone through a mental struggle caused by a woman, Dwain was physically fit and in good shape, not the ramshackle mess, tossed around by infinite problems that my subconscious mind skillfully painted with intricate details.
He possessed a remarkable set of dazzling eyes, free of wrinkles, a rough jawline, and clean-shaven stubble which would halt most ladies in their tracks, and usher their thoughts to a street inhabited by sin as they stare at his beautiful gaze with an intense dose of lust
I wasn't proud of the shiver that ran past my spine down to my toes.
If self-control didn't tie a knot in my stomach, I would have skipped onto my feet at the threat in his husky voice, thrown my anxious arms around his neck, and squeezed every hard-earned breath out of his lungs till he reciprocated the hug.
Dwain stood on his feet, in shiny-black loafers, with a sturdy and composed demeanor.
"You keep staring." His brows didn't give off anything as he clicked his tongue. "You have been warned."
One could hardly believe that he was fronting a marital crisis with a peek at how he elegantly presented himself in a dark business suit and red tie, standing upright like someone ready to take a bold step on the red carpet for an international peace prize.
I wanted to dig my nails into his skin and rip off the grin on his lips.
"Arrgh..."
His face was flawless.
My lips moved, my mouth drooled and stuttered a bunch of words that didn't make sense while Dwain's chest protruded beneath his tight buttoned-down white shirt.
I was a mess, tied to his looks.
He snapped his fingers and raised two of them to his face. "My eyes are up here."
He must have caught me eyeballing his chest which was more muscular, firm, and unreasonably broad than how it should have been.
His workouts tailored muscles that fit him like a glove.
He was perfect to be touched in all inappropriate places.
I couldn't get enough of his accent, it hinted at dynamism.
"Let your focus not wander around unnecessarily."
"Should I also stop breathing because you are around, Mr. Horton?"
"Look at who is back!"
Brielle pushed past the quilt on the couch, jumped to the bright rug, and stalked toward Dwain's torso.
She was impatient.
Her braided hair whipped over her shoulders and flew down to her back as she snuggled deep into his arms.
"I've been up all day waiting for your call."
He let out a throaty groan. "You should have sent me a text message or an email. I'm busy you know."
His voice was docile and soft. "It would be nice if others cared about my well-being as you do, but too bad, they are concerned with getting me upset."
"If you are upset, why don't you address the matter directly?" I snapped my fingers together such that it echoed in the mansion. "Have you questioned yourself as to why others want to upset you, found a solution, and then, negotiated peace with a common understanding?"
He contributed to his demise by joking around with Elisabeth's feelings, yet he went out of character to play the victim.
Even though I didn't know his side of the story, I tried to sympathize with him, but he made matters worse by putting up an act in front of Brielle with his nasty arrogance.
"I haven't." He cleared his throat and his voice was a raspy melody to the ears. "Some people are hard nuts to crack. You try to understand them even though you can't, fend for them even though they won't let you ask where you went wrong, but they give you an attitude. What is the need?"
"Let go of your ego, so you won't hurt."
Brielle peeked at his wicked scorn from beneath her lashes.
She was a distraction. "Didn't you fake that business trip to run away from family drama? What happened? Wasn't it a two weeks vacation?"
His knuckles swept a few braids out of her face and tossed them behind her ears.
"If it was a made-up story just to get an excuse to escape family responsibilities...then, I won't have worked overtime, pulling all-nighters to draft projects and prepare PowerPoint presentations for our business partners abroad."
"Arrgh, you are so much convincing." She smacked his arm. "You could have at least taken Elisabeth along. You know, some alone time, somewhere alone, and all . . . maybe it would have been fruitful."
His lips twitched with a silent smirk.
"Stop messing with me." He shortened the steps between them and secured his hands around her back. "Your imagination doesn't stop running wild, does it?"
"Why won't it run wild?" She played with the brink of his collars. "You should get acquainted with the wonders of a rich imagination, it not only enhances artistic creativity, but it can walk you to very meaningful places."
Why did they ignore me?
I burned with an ache to throw a fist at Dwain and punch his gut.
Why didn't Dwain make me his priority, tonight?
"Let him go, he can't breathe."
I looked forward to screaming back at Brielle but those words won't get out, they stuck in my throat.
I coughed. "Both of you are making my neck turn. Kindly take your discussion somewhere else, please, would you?"
My focus shifted to a distant star outside the closed windows.
It was lonely, shining above the night sky.
Dwain puffed out a breath, frowned, and gestured towards the staircases which lead to the rooms upstairs.
"You might as well leave if our discussion is inappropriate." He deepened his baritone. "Is someone withholding you?"
I craved his touch but he gave me a sour treatment.
My heart was empty, emotionally assaulted, and deprived of attention.
It thumped bitterly to the rhythm of his absurd narcissism.
Each heartbeat bored a hole in my chest.
His attitude drove me crazy.
I was fed up.
My brows furrowed. "So I'm the third wheel?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Is this what we have become, rivals? You don't give a damn about my feelings, do you? I'm an illusion, a Christmas ghost in your presence."
"Elisabeth, calm down. It's not a fight." Brielle murmured over her shoulder, outstretched her free hand to me, and waved.
Her fingers bopped in the air. "Come join us, there is enough cuddling space in his arms."
I regarded Dwain with hostility. "I don't want to cuddle, I want to strangle."
His eyes were a blank canvas, not giving away whatever stuff went wrong at the back of his mind.
I hissed between clenched teeth. "He doesn't even shake a leg to acknowledge my presence, why should we cuddle?"
"Did you care about me while I was gone?" He grimaced and rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. "You asked me to get out of your life. Suddenly you want me to acknowledge your presence? Pathetic, get yourself a psychiatrist."
Maybe my reaction was over the top, was it?
Goosebumps spread from my arms to my legs, settling at the soles of my feet.
I couldn't pinpoint what haunted me, but the sight of him being overly affectionate towards Brielle was a bitter fragrance against my tongue.
Something disastrous clenched my knuckles.
I hungered with haste to tear both of them apart...like just back off and stay in different lanes, but I couldn't, they were siblings, and Brielle wasn't a menace to our relationship.
Waging a fight would have given the wrong impression about me.
Dang, it!
Why couldn't I get these evil thoughts out of my head?
I stayed calm. "Fine, don't acknowledge my presence. It won't stop me from acknowledging yours and don't ask me to stop. I won't."
"Is that so?"
I nodded. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, Mr. Horton?"
"I want to hate you."
His hands fisted, relaxed, and slumped at either side of his thighs.
It was an active volcano at the peak of the eruption. "I want to forget human values, act out of character, and take out grieve on you, but I can't."
I tugged my hair and twisted it around my fingers. "Why?"
"I'm scared of hurting you, again."
Elisabeth was already hurt. "Why not apologize and get over it?"
"You don't deserve an apology."
He was full of pride, horrible. "Why?"
"You turn me off with that attitude."
I hissed. "Neither do you deserve an apology!"
"Easy, please don't snitch on Elisabeth like that, okay?" Brielle poked a finger against Dwain's enraged chest.
His breathing was uneven.
"You need rest, some alone time far from work, away from people and drama."
He placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Frankly speaking, a holiday, all to myself, away from certain eyes which secretly plot my funeral might do me enormous good."
"Plot your funeral?"
She barked out a laugh, threw her head back, and cupped his cheeks in her palms.
Her eyes were buried in his. "How long will you keep up this dog and catfight with Elisabeth? She's your dutifully wedded wife...your wife."
I heaved a sigh. "You shouldn't be getting excited over a grumpy mogul who thinks he is free to walk in here and threaten residents with empty words as if the world revolves around him and his ugly suit."
"My wife, you say?" He arched a brow, slipped a hand to Brielle's waist, and lowered her onto the tiles. "She doesn't let me flirt with her because according to that little nutshell, everything must be taken personally. To her, my words are a threat, and being nice is a beautiful scam."
I snapped my fingers. "If you can't tear apart a flirt from a threat, then, sorry you need to go back to English class. Your correlation is off the charts."
My hands met my hips. "Do you even reason before you speak? You speak rubbish and cross your fingers for a decent outcome. How is that supposed to work?"
"If you search her drawers, don't be shocked to find a loaded rifle." He gave my question a deaf ear, smiled, and clapped Brielle's shoulders. "She can't wait to blow out my brain with a bullet."
Brielle shook her head. "You need a hot cup of chocolate." She pushed her fist through the air to bump her free palm, moved her weight from one foot to the other, and strolled towards the kitchen. "I can't watch you battering. It's frustrating."
"Grab a few croissants on your way here." He loosened the tie around his neck, adjusted his collars, and fiddled with his cufflinks while his orifices held the power of a chainsaw, ready to cut open my skull. "Tell me what is on your mind, Mrs. Horton, but please, let's not fight tonight."
Did he say please?
Hypocrite!
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "You are foulmouthed." He made a nasty face. "Sorry, there's nothing on my mind for you to feast on at the moment, maybe you should try again later?"
"You are cute when you frown."
His forbidden apple bobbed up and down.
I wished to pinch his cheeks. "You are awful when you smile."
"Oh really, why is there a sudden bump on your face?"
He was teasing my patience. "No idea, go on, tell me."
"Whoa!" He pointed a finger at me. "It looks like a love pimple."
I touched my forehead. "It's a love pimple, love for money."
"Get rid of that stupid grin." He drew in a breath, folded his designer jacket over his forearm, and lifted his head. "Shallow folds across your forehead, tongue pushed against your cheek, and maquillage makes you impeccable."
I puffed my cheeks. "Keep your opinion to yourself, Mr. Horton."
"When you were with me, we watched the stars and forgot about the world."
He got under my skin.
"It's not fair for you to look at me with those piercing emerald eyes. It's like I am a precious possession whereas you are setting up a show to manipulate my state of mind."
I couldn't help the blush that appeared on my cheeks as an image of us holding hands and dancing to the symphony of a late-night breeze strutted to the back of my mind in a very short red gown.
It would be nice to make such memories with him maybe someday when the obstacles between us must have become history.
"When you look at me with those eyes, I don't know what to think. I get carried away. It's like I am the only man in this world, the only man who is right for you, the only man with whom you should cuddle."
I didn't blink.
His presence shoved my sanity out of the window, took away my breath, and kept me speechless.
He knew to what extent his good looks affected me, how badly I desired his touch and would use every fine detail about me to his advantage.
Even though he wrapped me around his fingers, I didn't want to let him win.
He drew his lips between his teeth.
"When you blush, and get excited whenever I am around, I begin to miss our days...days when everything was okay and you were head-over-heels for me. I want to hold you in my arms."
He was playing a game of seduction wherein his cards were reversed to make me fall.
Did he think playing dirty would let him score points?
He ought to forget the false impression he may or might not have concocted about me.
He had to lose.
It wasn't an easy catch.
"I want to pull you close to my chest, such that we become one, and kiss you till you are out of breath, surrendering to my charms with a cry for more just before you pass out."
I was slowly falling for his words.
Why?
How did he get into my head?
I feared there would be no one to save me.
"May I kiss you?"
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
"Shut up! Do you think I would let you kiss me?" I lifted my chin at him, chuckled, and fought the urge to either rub my neck or fidget with my wrist under his scrutiny. "You look a lot like an assassin, someone whose ass will get dragged to court for murder."
"Mrs. Horton, there is a need in your eyes." His dark-blue eyes, those wicked flames which burned with a dangerous passion, stared right back at me from across the living room. "You want to kiss me. Don't fight it. You know you can't fight it, don't you?"
I gulped. "Stop bluffing."
If he flirted with me a minute longer, I would have lost my mind.
Coupled with the lack of emotion on his face, he reached for the doorknob.
An aura of dominance surrounded him as he twisted his knuckles around the metal and banged the door against the wall.
"If I'm trailed for murder, you would be my victim, probably because you refused to kiss me."
I sighed. "Why would you kiss your victim? Is it your kink?"
He stormed past the couch, briefcase in hand and suit jacket laid-back over his shoulder.
His cologne was cherry. "What are you up to?"
"I asked about your kink."
I shouldn't have started this conversation.
It was a very bad move and trouble could brew to the surface at any moment.
"Do you derive pleasure from inflicting pain on others, your victims shouting for help while you murder them with a kiss?"
He froze, then, orbited to catch a glimpse of my face. "It depends on who is my victim."
His eyes wore sin. "Would you derive gratification from shouting in pain while I choke you with a kiss?"
"It depends on if you know how to kiss."
Words slurred out of my mouth with a sexy accent.
I brushed a thumb against my lips.
"You can't choke me if you don't kiss properly . . . simple logic."
"I don't believe it." His brows pulled together and kneaded mischief.
"It's a fact."
He ought to have dazed at a hundred erotic scenarios twirling down his eyes straight to his slacks.
He gritted his teeth and boned. "Why is that, Mrs. Horton? You don't doubt my expertise, do you?"
A bubble of fear mixed with subtle lust swelled and hatched within my sweaty palms at the sight of his stern foremost demeanor. "Is that a fact?"
Sweat beaded the veins on his forehead, trickled like droplets of rain, and accompanied the dark shadows in his mysterious eyes.
"Of cause, who would doubt a veteran?" His devilish thick eyebrows cruised like Goliath's spear and stabbed focus on my pouty lips. "If I were in your shoes, I would back out before it is late. Kiss or defeat?"
Why did Brielle waste so much time in the kitchen?
I needed to save my ass. "Suppose I pick the kiss."
The smug smile on his jawline was my addiction.
My façade sat tight, legs crossed at my knees. "What do I claim for my win?"
He steered a stubborn lock of hair out of his face, secretly laughed, and caressed his chin.
"What's the winner's price?"
He sauntered towards me, halted, and briskly leaned forward.
My back bumped against the couch.
"Well anything, be it a request, a gift, or a wish, as long as it's doable or within reach."
"You will accept being my slave for a week, right?"
Heat thickened underneath his nose.
My lashes swept over his biceps.
I nudged his chest with my index finger. "I can't wait to shout in victory. It comes to me easily."
He reduced the distance between us.
"Well, I will be blown." His breath fanned my neck and nibbled my ear. "If I win, you won't be able to walk for a whole week, deal?"
"You are kidding." My mouth popped open but stayed wordless.
"Not kidding." He sniffed my neck. "I like the way you are relaxed in my clothes."
My heartbeat rose to a thousand miles per second.
His touch was a burning furnace against my skin.
I hated the way my body responded to his tricks.
It made me vulnerable, and sensitive and a moan escaped my lips.
I whispered. "Stop talking and kiss me."
"Hello, did anyone miss me?"
Brielle emerged from the kitchen with a food tray and a gush of relief roared in my throat.
I puffed out a victorious breath, happier than ever.
Her dress was stained with chocolate.
"Two hot cups of chocolate for the most problematic couple...shit! Get a room two of you."
Dwain's arms tensed up against my back. "Wrong timing, get out."
Brielle made a face, a pout fading effortlessly across her lips.
She walked to the coffee table, dropped the tray, and shut her eyes. "I didn't see anything."
She sneaked a peek at us. "Public display of affection is disgusting, grow up."
"Why don't you run to your room?"
Dwain let go of my back, turned his head, and spared Brielle a glance.
His glare could strike a man dead.
"You should be in bed snoring not prying into people's business."
She squeezed her lips. "Your business is my business."
"Fine, do as you wish." Dwain propped against the couch then rolled away from my body and took a step backward to grab a cup of chocolate.
He was indifferent, silent, and reserved, but a vein pulsated at his throat.
Brielle gave him a toothed grin. "Of cause, it is a pleasure."
Her shoulders squared.
She marched to the couch and occupied the leftover space. "One second you are poking fun at each other and the next minute you are fooling around, trying to make out?"
"Shut up." I smacked her arm, picked up a quilt behind her back, and flung it to her face. "You are annoying, nosey."
She surrendered her arms in defeat. "I was just pulling your leg."
"What else?" I tossed a cushion at her. "C'mon, get going."
"If you can't avoid a situation, then welcome the things you must face with open hands, and take it easy on each other, okay?"
I nodded, "Understood."
She disappeared in record time, allowing us to suffocate in a stomach-turning silence.
How would I dodge Dwain's kiss?
I bit down on my bottom lip, got distracted with my nails, and sought a solution, but a severe headache made my head pound.
I couldn't stand the ache.
"Let's talk." Dwain sipped from his cup of chocolate.
I ogled at the determination on his face. "What do you want us to talk about?"
He reached for the next cup of chocolate on the coffee table and thrust it into my palms.
"I wasted so much time being angry at what was lost when I had so much to cherish, but I didn't."
"What do you mean?"
He jerked his head. "I need you."
With fingers wrapped around my cup, I hesitated. "Make me understand."
"I don't deserve you, but I can't move on without you."