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Control
Kayla Perrin
Also by Kayla Perrin
OBSESSION
GETTING SOME
GETTING EVEN
Look for Kayla’s next book
GETTING LUCKY
coming in 2011 from Spice Books.
For Helen and James I’m glad you both found each other, and I wish you a lifetime of happiness together!
Prologue
Oh, shit.
That was the first thought I had when my eyes met his hazel ones across the expanse of my shop. A man I had never seen before. He was the kind of man who sent a rush of heat through your body the moment you laid eyes on him. The kind of man who, with one look, made you think about getting naked.
The kind of man who inspired you to slip your left hand behind your back, hiding the visible sign to the world that you were married.
I had never done that before. Not once during the eight years that I’d been married.
He walked into my store on a Friday in late February. His tall frame—at least six foot two—was all muscle. Something about him oozed sex appeal, even though his eyes were dark and he looked as if he carried a burden on his wide shoulders. I could tell that something serious was going on in his world. He wasn’t in my shop to buy flowers for a happy occasion.
And he wasn’t interested in small talk, either.
He bought a ready-made bouquet with a Get Well Soon balloon. So I knew someone in his life was sick. And sick enough that he was very worried.
Then he left. There was nothing remarkable about our interaction, and yet I couldn’t forget him. I’d checked his left hand and found no wedding band there. That didn’t mean he wasn’t married, of course, or seriously involved with someone.
I didn’t know why I cared.
But I would come to think about him a lot over the next several weeks, to the point where I was disturbed by the unexpected direction of my thoughts.
Was it a sin to daydream about having sex with someone other than your husband? Not just a simple daydream, a quick flash of two naked bodies wrapped together. But a fully fledged, detailed fantasy about another man pleasing you in the way that only your husband should. Vividly picturing another man with his fingers and tongue all over your pussy, while you’re in the middle of fucking your husband. Imagining the moment you slide over a stranger’s cock and take him fully into your body.
Something about him awakened a sexual part of me that had been dormant for a long, long time. But it came roaring back to life that day, shocking me with its intensity.
What scared me was how easily thoughts about another man invaded my brain as a married woman. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my husband. And until that man walked into my floral shop, I never expected I would ever cross the line and fantasize about sex with a stranger. At least not to the point where it was no longer about the fantasy, but about the other man.
Seeing him and reacting to him were the beginning of a turning point for me, even though I didn’t know it that day. It wasn’t just lust that had been awakened in me, but something that my marriage had killed. I wouldn’t put all the pieces together until later, but when I did, I could look back on that day when the sexy stranger with the hazel eyes came into the store as the beginning of my rebirth.
The beginning of me reclaiming my life.
Chapter One
I gave myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror and smiled at my reflection. I looked good.
Sexy. Hot.
Hot enough that my husband wouldn’t be able to resist me.
I’d flat-ironed my hair, giving my shoulder-length ebony locks the razor-sharp straight look I didn’t wear often. Robert typically liked it softly curled. The straight hair, combined with the dress and dramatic makeup, gave me more of a high-fashion model or actress look. My hair had taken a good thirty minutes to perfect, but I was extremely pleased with the result.
I smoothed my hands over my black sheath dress. It was tight, hugging my curves. I’d put on a push-up bra to give me more cleavage, and the dress’s V-neck exposed a teasing amount of flesh. A little too much?
I shook my head. No, I didn’t think so.
I wasn’t trying to be subtle in my sex appeal, though I was trying to be tasteful. What I wanted was my husband thinking of getting me home—and naked—during every moment of our dinner.
We needed something to get us into baby-making mood.
“Elsie, what’s taking you so long?” I heard Robert call out to me. His voice was close, which meant he was in our bedroom. I’d left him downstairs watching CNN in the great room as I’d come to the master bathroom, locking the door so he couldn’t inadvertently see me before I wanted him to. This was the second time he’d come up to check on me.
“I’m almost—”
“We have a seven-o’clock reservation,” Robert said sternly. “It’s six-twenty.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said. “We’ll get there. We’ve got enough time.”
“We’re going to midtown.”
The doorknob rattled, but with the door locked, it didn’t budge. “Open up, Elsie.”
“Just give me a few more minutes.” I wanted my look to be a surprise. We were going to The Melting Pot, a popular fondue restaurant in midtown Charlotte that always got rave reviews, and I wanted to look chic and sexy as I walked in on Robert’s arm.
He knocked on the door now—fast, impatient. “Open the door, Elsie.”
He was irritated. I could tell by his tone. He probably thought I was going to take another twenty minutes to finish getting ready. “Okay, I’m coming.”
I applied my deep red lipstick, picked my LuLu clutch up off the vanity—and then spotted the necklace I’d forgotten to put on. Robert liked classic pearls, but they weren’t right for this look, so I had decided on a six-strand beaded black necklace that I rarely wore.
“Jesus, Elsie!”
“I’m just putting my necklace on.” I secured the clasp at the back of my neck. Then I slipped into my Jimmy Choo black patent shoes. Yes, I thought. Perfect.
“I’m coming,” I called, and hurried to the door. I hoped Robert’s tone was an indicator of his impatience, as opposed to a bad mood. I’d been looking forward to our first visit to The Melting Pot for ages, and I didn’t want anything to sour our romantic evening.
I swung open the door and spread my arms. “Ta-da.”
It took only a second for Robert’s eyes to widen in surprise. That I expected. This wasn’t my typical demure look. His gaze roamed over my face and hair first, then went lower, stopping at my breasts. “What are you wearing?”
My husband’s expression was far from appreciative—not the reaction I had expected. “You don’t like it?”
“I thought you were going to wear the red dress I bought you last week.”
“I preferred this one. We are going to that hip fondue restaurant.” And I want you thinking about getting me naked. Creating a baby inside me.
“Restaurant.