Page 62 of Release Me
Being here with Rian’s family is like starring in a fairytale. They’re all so lovely, so welcoming, so funny, and natural around each other.
I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease, and that’s even with them joking about us in the hot tub. Adultery is not a laughing matter, and it’s not something that I’m committing lightly, but given my husband’s been at it for years, I don’t feel nearly as guilty as I should.
He’s had plenty of happy endings along the way.
I’m going to grab mine with both hands.
One more night, then I’ll go back to being the respectable banker’s wife, keeping my head down and my nose clean.
Finally, Mrs Beckett rises from the head of the table,smoothing the satin of her midnight-blue gown. ‘Let’s take a digestive through to the drawing room. The fire should be perfect by now. Champagne or brandy, everyone?’
‘Champagne, please,’ Scarlett and Avery chime together.
‘Whiskey, please,’ Ivy says.
‘Your wife has exceptional taste.’ Rian’s father beams at Caelon. Alexander’s father, Rian’s grandfather, was the original founder of Beckett’s Whiskey. Rian told me all about it on Christmas Day night.
‘I’d have to agree,’ Caelon says, smoothing a hand suavely over the front of his tuxedo. A titter of laughter follows as chairs scrape back and the Becketts rise. Rian pushes his own chair out and waits until I’ve gathered the folds of my dress before leaning close.
‘Fancy a quick tour of the house first?’ His voice is low, pitched with promise. ‘The others will be busy debating brandy measures for at least an hour.’
My pulse gives an unhelpful lurch. ‘Sure. A tour sounds… good.’ My tone is way too breezy, but somehow I manage not to squeak.
He offers an arm. I slip my hand through before I can overthink it. We leave the hum of voices behind, stepping into the wide corridor beyond the dining room. Candlelight gleams along the polished panels, catching on the ornate gilt frames and old family portraits.
‘This place is unreal,’ I murmur, taking in the sweep of the staircase and the glow of sconces against dark wood.
‘My father bought it years ago to escape the city. Claims the mountains keep him honest.’ He leads me along a passage lined with large windows. A crescent moon hangs low in the sky. The snow is still falling outside, soft flakes lining the window frames and dancing over the glass. I catch our reflection—his tux, my dress, we make quite the couple—in a parallel universe at least.
‘Let’s start with the library, given your love of literature.’ He pauses at a pair of dark wooden double doors, carved with curling ivy leaves. With a firm push, they swing inward.
I suck in a breath. Rows of shelves climb from floor to ceiling, crammed with leather spines in jewel colours. A rolling ladder glides along one wall. An enormous hearth anchors the far end, flames throwing honeyed light across claret-coloured armchairs and a deep piled rug. The scent of polished oak, leather, and old paper wraps around me like a spell.
I wander in, fingertips grazing the nearest shelf. ‘Wow.’ My voice comes out as a whisper. ‘This is straight-up Beauty and the Beast.’
Rian smiles, slow and wicked, but there’s softness there too. ‘No need to ask who is who in this scenario.’ He closes the doors behind us with an easy click, the noise muffled by velvet curtains.
‘I don’t know.’ I twist to face him. ‘You’re devastatingly beautiful, in that raw, masculine way.’
‘Is that right?’ He inches closer until his lips are millimetres from mine. The only sounds are my shaky breathing and the crackle of the open fire at the far side of the room.
‘Yes, though I hate giving you a big head, Baby Beckett.’
‘How about you let me give the head around here?’ His dark eyes catch the firelight, reflecting the same hunger that no amount of food will ever satiate.
I sweep my lips over his, unable to stop myself. ‘I thought I told you, you come in my mouth tonight.’
The corner of his mouth lifts, daring and inviting all at once. ‘On the rug. Now.’ It isn’t up for debate. Heat pools in my panties. This man. He might just be the death of me.
I stalk towards it with more confidence than I feel. If we’re really going to do what he suggested earlier, I have no idea how that works. On our sides maybe?
I slow to a stop when I feel the plush carpet beneath my feet. I turn to him uncertainly, ‘I’m not sure…’ I trail off.
‘It’s okay, baby. Let me show you.’ He drops to his knees on the floor in front of me and hitches up the layers of my dress. ‘So fucking perfect,’ he murmurs as his mouth runs over my thigh.
‘This wasn’t the deal,’ I remind him as his face drifts further between my legs.
‘Fine.’ He rocks back to a sitting position, then slowly lowers himself onto his back on the rug. The firelight throws shadows over his wicked smile. ‘Come, sit on my face.’
