Rising Stars. Maisey Yates

thighs gripped his hips as he let her control the rhythm and speed. After months of bed play, his once-virgin secretary had become a fiery seductress. He thought having her on top would slow him down, make him last. But instead, as she pushed herself against him, he filled her harder and deeper than he ever had. Her heavy breasts swayed back and forth against his face as she rode him, going deeper with each thrust, until he closed his eyes, panting beneath the brutal onslaught of pleasure. Reaching his hands behind him, he gripped the headboard of the bed.

      Harder, deeper. And wet, so wet. As she slammed against him, her walls wrapped around him, tight, so tight, pulling him into an abyss of mindless pleasure. His eyes rolled back as he gripped her hips with his hands, his whole body shaking with the agony of need. He felt her quicken and pulse around him as she flung back her head and screamed with joy. Looking up at her, seeing her beautiful face filled with ecstasy, her eyes closed as if in prayer, he could no longer resist. With one last savage thrust he exploded inside her, riding the wave with her. His hoarse cry mingled with hers as he came and came and came, never looking away from her beautiful face.

      And Callie collapsed on top of him, clutching him to her hot, sweaty body, happiness pouring out of them both like radioactive light.

      Afterward, Eduardo held her. For the first time, he was grateful knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep beside her. He could hold her all night. He’d watch her gentle face slumber beneath the latticed moonlight. She felt so soft in his arms. So warm. So sweet. His eyelids became heavy as he held her. Closing his eyes, he kissed her temple, breathing in the vanilla and floral scent of her hair. He loved her so much he thought he could die of it. He would hold her all night long. He’d relish every hour. Every minute …

      Eduardo woke with a gasp.

      The pink light of morning poured in through the window as he realized that he’d slept beside his wife for the first time.

      In panic, he looked at her side of the bed.

      It was empty. For the first time, Callie had been the one to rise in the middle of the night. She’d been the one to leave. And as the first wave of anguish hit his body, he knew this was how he’d always known he would be.

      Alone.

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CALLIE sat at the kitchen table of her parents’ farmhouse and looked at the papers in her shaking hands. The words seem to swim in front of her eyes.

      Divorce papers.

      “It’ll be quick and painless,” her lawyer had assured her when he’d given her the file. “I marked each place for you to sign with a yellow tab. All the tough questions were already dealt with in the prenup. You’ll share custody, switching visitation each week, and with Mr. Cruz’s extremely generous level of alimony and child support you’ll be the richest woman in Fern County.” The lawyer gave her a sudden sharp grin. “Good thing every divorce case isn’t so quick and painless, or else I’d be bankrupt.”

      Quick. Painless. Callie heard a wheel squeak as her nine-month-old daughter crossed the floor in the antique walker used by three generations of Woodville babies. Marisol giggled at the sound, and her laughter was like music. Callie smiled at her daughter through her tears.

      “Pa-pa-pa?” Marisol said hopefully.

      Callie’s smile faded as she looked down at the papers. “Soon, sweetheart,” she said over the lump in her throat. “You’ll see him tomorrow.” Marisol would be flown back to New York for a week with Eduardo, and Callie would have to endure seven long, aching days without her child. Then the next week, they would switch, and it was Eduardo who would be alone.

      He’d been fair. More than fair, allowing Callie to live at such a distance, using his private jet to shuttle Marisol between North Dakota and New York. Callie had no idea what they’d do when it was time for Marisol to start school, but something would surely be worked out. Money, it seemed, could solve any problem.

      Except this.

      Callie didn’t want his money. She wanted him. She was still in love with him.

      But he’d let her go.

      She hadn’t seen Eduardo for two months, since she’d left Marrakech with her baby, Brandon and her family. Since then, their only point of contact had been through their lawyers. Even Marisol’s pickups and drop-offs each week were handled by Mrs. McAuliffe.

      Callie hadn’t seen him. But each night, she dreamed of him, of their last night together, when they’d kissed in the shadows by the fountain. When they’d made love so passionately and desperately the bed seemed to explode into fire. When he’d huskily spoken the words she still, against her will, held to her heart.

      I love you. I love you as I’ve never loved anyone. But I can’t love you without hurting you.

      Once, she would have given ten years of her life to hear Eduardo say he loved her. Now, the words were poison. She’d cried for weeks, till there were no tears left. But there was no other answer. She couldn’t live as his prisoner. And he couldn’t risk giving her his heart if she wasn’t.

      Two teardrops fell on the divorce papers spread out across her parents’ blue Formica table. When she’d come back home, part of her had hoped she might be pregnant, which would at least give her a reason to talk to her husband again. But even that hope had failed her.

      “Ma-ma?” Marisol’s dark eyes, exactly like her father’s, looked up at her mother with concern.

      “It’s all right,” Callie whispered, wiping her eyes and giving her daughter a tremulous smile. “Everything is fine.” All she had to do was sign the papers and her lawyer would file them. She’d be Callie Woodville again. Callie Cruz would disappear.

      Across the small kitchen, where it sat in a small woven basket, the gold and diamond double “CC” key chain flashed at her in the morning light. It seemed forlorn and out-of-place in the key basket, amid the clutter of pens, sticky notes and unpaid utility bills around the twenty-year-old phone. But even her keychain wasn’t as out-of-place as the shipment that had arrived at their rural North Dakota farm yesterday. Picking up her steaming mug of coffee, Callie went to the kitchen window and pushed aside the red gingham curtain.

      Outside, beside her father’s red, slightly rusted 1966 pickup truck, her sleek silver car was now parked in front of the barley field.

      Callie closed her eyes. She’d never thought she would have the strength to leave Eduardo.

      But then, she never thought he’d let her go.

      And he’d already moved on. She’d already seen pictures of Eduardo in a celebrity magazine, attending a charity gala in New York with the young Spanish duchess. Callie wondered if they’d marry, once his divorce to her was final. Her heart twisted with jagged pain at the thought, and for the first time, she truly understood what Eduardo must have felt when he’d thought she was in love with Brandon.

      How hard it was, to set the person free that you loved most on earth. But Eduardo had done it.

      Now so must she.

      Callie heard an engine coming up the long driveway. Looking back out the window, she smiled. About time. Taking another sip of her coffee, Callie watched Brandon and Sami leap out of the Jeep.

      Brandon’s heart hadn’t remained broken for long. Since their return from Morocco, now freed of his guilt and concern over Callie, he’d finally allowed himself to give his heart to the young woman who’d been his constant companion for nine months. Yesterday, he’d asked Sami to marry him.

      Their parents had been cautious at first, then ecstatic. News of the engagement had rapidly spread across Fern, and thanks to Jane’s eager posting, to all her internet friends, across the world. Callie swallowed, feeling a little misty-eyed. Engaged. Her best friend and little sister were planning to be married in September.

      As the two vagabonds traipsed through the door, Callie shook her head with a wry laugh. “Engaged or not, sis, Mom