The CEO Hired a Size 20 Fake Wife, Then Couldn't Keep His Hands Off Her novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Sunday Dinner

Eleanor questions the new wife at a family dinner where Winnie answers a snub in front of everyone, then takes Declan to bed with the lights on.

"Grandmother," Declan said from the doorway behind me.

He was in a towel low on his hips and his hair was wet.

"You didn't call," he said.

"I'm eighty-one," said the old woman. "I don't call. I arrive."

She tapped her cane once on the marble.

"Sit down, girl, before you fall over. You've got your husband's shirt on and a face like a stolen cake."

I sat.

Declan poured coffee and put one cup in front of me, then stood behind my chair with his hand resting on my shoulder.

His thumb moved a little on my collarbone.

Eleanor saw it.

She saw everything.

"What do you do?" she asked me.

"I run the front desk at a dental office."

"Do you like it?"

"I like the patients. I hate the ceiling music."

"Where are your people?"

"My mother cooks for a school cafeteria. My father died when I was twenty."

"Who fell first?" she asked, and I nearly dropped the cup.

"We got married yesterday," Declan said.

"I know when. I'm asking who fell first."

"Nobody fell," I said. "It's a marriage."

Eleanor stared at me for a long beat.

Then she laughed, one dry bark.

"Good answer," she said. "Dinner tomorrow at six. Chestnut Hill. Wear what you like."

She stood, took her cane and left.

I looked up at Declan.

"Did I pass?"

"I think so," he said. "She's never said 'good answer' to anyone."

Chestnut Hill was a stone house with a lawn and twelve people at a table set for twenty.

Terrence sat at Eleanor's right with his twin boys, who were five and sticky.

His wife Claire sat across from me.

She wore a cream suit and a smile she'd bought at a boutique.

"Winnie," she said, passing me the bread. "I'd have the salad, dear. The lamb is so rich."

The table went quiet.

She hadn't looked at my body once.

She hadn't needed to.

I took the lamb off the platter, and I took the potatoes, and I took the biggest piece of Eleanor's rosemary bread, and I buttered it slowly.

"I'll have the lamb," I said. "I grew up cooking for a family of nine. I know when something's good."

One of the twins giggled.

"And if it's too rich," I said, "I'll let you know."

Declan's hand found my knee under the table.

He squeezed, hard, and left it there.

At the head of the table, Eleanor lifted her wine glass an inch toward me.

Claire stabbed a green bean.

That night, in his room, he shut the door and leaned his back against it.

"You were magnificent."

"I was terrified."

"I know. You ate three helpings anyway."

"Your cousin's wife thinks I'm a hippo."

"My cousin's wife is a coward," he said. "Come here."

I went.

He held my face in both hands.

"I want you," he said. "I've wanted you since you laughed at my bed joke. Tell me if you want this too."

"I told you yesterday."

"Tell me again."

"I want you, Declan."

He undressed me by the lamp, taking the dress up and off, then the bra, and he stopped when my breasts came free.

"Christ," he said softly.

He cupped them, heavy in his big palms, and ran his thumbs over my nipples until they went hard.

"Look at these," he said. "Look what you carry. I could kiss them all night."

He did, with his mouth hot and wet, one and then the other, his teeth scraping lightly.

I reached for his belt.

His cock sprang into my hand, thick and hard and heavier than I expected, and I gasped.

"Winnie."

"Get on the bed," I said.

He looked startled, and then he grinned.

He lay back, and I took off my panties and straddled him.

"Leave the light on," I said.

"I wasn't going to turn it off."

I rose up on my knees and held his cock steady at my entrance.

I lowered myself slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch of him made me whimper.

He gripped my hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh there.

"There you go," he said. "Take it. Take all of me."

When I was seated on him fully, with my thighs wide and my stomach soft against his abs, I felt him pulse inside me.

He stared up at me with his mouth open.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said. "I can't look away."

I started to move.

I rolled my hips slowly at first, grinding, and then rode him harder, my breasts bouncing, my curls falling in my face.

He pushed the hair back.

"Don't hide," he said. "Let me see you take me."

"Declan."

"Louder."

"God, Declan, you feel so good."

He thrust up into me from below, matching me stroke for stroke, and his hands dragged over my hips, my waist, my ass.

I came with a shout, clenching hard around him.

He cursed and followed, spilling deep inside me with a groan that shook the bed.

I collapsed on his chest.

His heart was pounding under my ear.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

"I'm scared," I said into his skin.

"Of what?"

"That this is the job. That you're being so good at it."

His arms tightened around me.

"Winnie, look at me."

I lifted my head.

"The contract ends in December," he said. "This isn't in it."

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

An unknown number.

A photograph.

It was me, three weeks ago, at the Hearth and Ring office, signing the intake form.

Under it, one line.

"Does Mr. Brennan know what you're charging?"

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