Extra Scene: The Dumont Diaries

He greets me with an easy smile, tossing a folder of documents onto the side table and sweeping me into his arms. His hand gathers my hair, tenderly gripping it as his mouth takes my own, his free arm curving around and pulling me tightly into him.

I push gently against his chest, the hand holding the check squished between our bodies. “Nathan, can we talk?”

His eyes turn suddenly serious, his hand stilling on my hair. “What’s wrong? Is it your father?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just need to speak to you.”

He tilts his head, a question in his eyes, and smiles warily. “Okay. Let’s go to the couch.”

He settles into brown leather, looking at me expectantly. I sit on the ottoman before him, my hand gripping the folded check tightly. “There’s something I haven’t been honest about. Something I did a long time ago.” I hold out the check and he takes it, unfolding it slowly, his eyes scanning the paper’s surface before he looks up at me. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to explain. “I … When I found out about the money, the Bahamas … I thought you might leave me.” I pause, nervously tucking my hair behind my ear. “I thought you’d leave once you got the money, once I fulfilled my purpose. With my father, with his medical bills … I took some of the money. As a safety net. From Jennifer’s account.”

He glances down at the check. “A four and a half million dollar safety net?” His voice is quiet, scarily so, devoid of any emotion, no clues in his tone.

I shrug weakly, my eyes on his. “I’m sorry Nathan. I just couldn’t imagine Cecile not coming back. And I saw how much you loved her. I knew that I would lose that battle—that you would leave me and choose her. I could afford to disappoint myself, but I couldn’t re-abandon my father.”

He leans forward and gently holds my chin, keeping my nervous eyes on his. “I didn’t love her,” he says firmly. “I thought I did. But what we have? It makes that emotion I had weak and misdirected. Now, I know love. I didn’t know what it was until I fell for you.” He holds my gaze until I nod, then releases me, sitting back and looking at the check, his face tight. “Your father’s situation doesn’t excuse what you did.” I swallow hard, my heart rate increasing. I expected Nathan to be angry, had prepared myself for an argument, a practiced apology ready. But I didn’t expect, hadn’t prepared myself for any serious consequences. Not from the man who had proven day after day, moment after moment of the last year, that he was head over heels in love with me. But now, looking at his tight face and hearing the stone in his words, the gravity of this situation hits me full force. I had stolen from him. Millions of dollars. Kept a secret of enormous magnitude through a year’s worth of “I love yous” and early morning cuddles. This is a sin that could cause our demise. I had flippantly expected forgiveness, never thinking of the horrific alternative. “But neither did my situation excuse my behavior.” I blink at him, trying to understand his statement, my mind shuttering back and piecing his sentences together.

He leans forward, pulling me until I am on his lap and cradled in his arms, my head in the crook of his arm, looking up and into that gorgeous, impossibly perfect face. He furrows his brow, his finger tracing the line of my mouth as he speaks. “I did a lot of things during our first few months that I am ashamed of. You had every reason to hate me during that time. We, despite what was on paper, were not husband and wife. I was in no way, shape, or form, worthy of being called your husband. I wouldn’t blame you for anything you did during that time, especially if it brought you peace of mind or security.” He bends down, brushing his lips over mine, the soft gesture tugging at my heart. Then he pulls away, a smile tugging at his lips. He taps the check gently on my chest. “This? This money?” He drops the paper, letting it fall gently on my shirt. “I always knew, Candy. Jennifer’s statements have come to this address since the day I opened that account for her. I’ve known the balance of that account to the penny and watched it grow for four years.”

My mouth falls open. “What? You’ve known? This whole time?”

He grins, sliding his hand under the bottom hem of my shirt, his warm palm tickling my skin as he gently rubs his thumb over the planes of my stomach. “Yes, my devious, sexy wife. I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say something? Weren’t you mad?” He slides his hand downward, the tips of his fingers slipping under my shorts and trailing the lace of my panties. His expression sobers, his eyes locking on mine. “At the time, I thought it was a good sign—proof that you wouldn’t take it all and run. Proof that you would follow through and help me out.”

I frown, my mind traveling back over the events of our parting. “Then why—why’d you pay for my father? When Cecile told you not to?”

“It was ego. I couldn’t bear you thinking that you were right—that I was an asshole who would abandon you as soon as my ex-girlfriend showed up.” His playful grin drops, intensity coming into his eyes. “The Bahamas was the first time you looked at me as if you cared. As if I was worth more than sex. I … that look stuck with me. I was holding out hope that I might see it again.”

Relief floods me, stress leaving my body at his words. I close my eyes as he undoes my shorts, his hand stealing deeper, further into the lace boundary of my sex. “So … I am forgiven?” I mumble, catching my breath when his fingers climb deftly lower, his hand cupping my sex as his fingers push the fabric of my panties against and slightly inside of my wet core.

His mouth moves to mine. “If you can forgive the ass that I was, I can forgive anything and everything you choose to torture me with over the next lifetime.”

“Torture, huh?” I smile against his mouth, pulling away from his kiss long enough to stand, sliding my shorts over my hips and dropping them to the floor.

“You have something in mind?” he growls.

“Sit back, Mr. Dumont.” I kneel before him, running my hands firmly up the thighs of his suit and over the outline of his cock, unbuckling his belt and tugging on the zipper. “Torture is an art I have mastered.”

He inhales when I slide my hands inside, his hard skin hot against my palm. “God, I love you.”

And then, our relationship continues the way it began, with me on my knees, his hard cock in my hand. But other than the wetness between my thighs, and the dominating sexuality of his too-gorgeous-for-words presence, everything else has changed. I got my happily ever after. Blue-Eyes was my golden ticket to the good life, and—much more importantly—true love and genuine happiness. If I weren’t throat-deep in delicious cock, I would pinch myself.

I, Candace Tapers, take Nathan Dumont, as my husband. To have and to hold, till death do us part. Though, this love? This combustible heat between the two of us? It’s not stopping at death. I plan on stalking this beautiful hunk of man well into the afterlife. He is my Blue-Eyes. Forever and always.