Every time she thought of how fast, how thrilling their new relationship was, nerves settled low in her belly. She was already getting too comfortable and she hadn't even put a dent in this six-month period.
Even though he'd given her control in the end, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd tire of her, physically, by then and if he'd be eager to get back to his old, playboy ways.
"I already had my chef prepare the food," he told her. "How soon can you be ready?"
"I'm just going to throw on some jeans and a tank."
Stefan rolled his eyes. "You are a fashion designer. You never ‘throw on' anything. You'll go to the closet and think about it, try something on, discard it and start over."
Offended that he'd hit the nail on the head, she folded her arms over her chest. "For your information, I know exactly what I'm going to wear."
He quirked a brow and tilted his head. "Really? Then I'll just wait."
In her mind she went through everything she'd brought from the States. She hadn't had all of her things shipped since they were returning to L.A. after the two-week honeymoon period was over, so her options were limited.
"You're just waiting to see me naked," she joked, heading to her walk-in closet.
"An added perk," he agreed. "But I want to see you get ready as fast as you claim you can. This will be a first."
Victoria eyed her selection. If they were riding a bike, she would need pants, so she grabbed her favorite pair of designer jeans. Her eyes roamed up to the top rack of clothes where she'd hung her shirts. A little sleeveless emerald-green wrap shirt caught her eye-perfect. Sexy, cool and comfortable. She glanced to the shoe rack at the end of the closet and grabbed her gold strappy sandals. Not bike material, but perfect for the picnic and beach.
"Voilà," she announced, holding her items up in the air as she came from the closet, then stopped.
The man was lying across the bed wearing nothing but tattoos and a grin. He'd taken off his hat, too, leaving his hair messy and those cobalt eyes, beneath heavy lids, staring across the room at her.
"You don't fight fair," she told him, trying to remain in place and not attack her husband like some overeager teenager.
"Fighting wasn't on my mind at all." He laced his hands behind his head, forcing his muscles to flex beautifully beneath his tats. "Looks like you still need to undress."
Check and mate. And by the smirk on his face, he knew he had her. He'd played this scene perfectly.
How could she turn down such a blatant invitation? Even with their short time frame looming in her mind, she couldn't deny herself giving and receiving his pleasure.
She tossed her items to the floor, not caring where they landed. In a slow, what she hoped was sexy, striptease, she loosened the ties on her shirt and flung it off to the side, as well.
"Since I'm being rushed, I may need some help," she told him, sliding her thumbs into her jeans and sending them to puddle at her feet. She stepped out and smiled when his eyes roamed over her body...twice. "You want the job?"
"Sure, I'll help by getting you out of these."
He came to stand, all six-foot-plus glorious inches of him. He was beautifully tanned, magnificent and, for now, he was hers.
"Being with you like this should be awkward." She reached out, tracing his family's crest he had tattooed over his heart. "But it's not. I'm amazed how comfortable I've been being intimate with you."
"You're not going to want to leave me at the end of this six months," he joked, sliding the strap of her bra down one arm.
She reached around, unhooking the unwanted garment, and smiled. "Maybe not. We may just like being married to each other. This is the best relationship I've ever been in."
"You're just saying that to get me into bed," he told her, his hands coming up to cup her breasts.
"Yes, because it is so hard to get you naked and horny." She laughed.
The corners of his mouth kicked up at the same time he scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced once before he was on her, pinning her hands above her head.
"I don't know why, but that smart mouth of yours has always been one of the things I love most about you."
She knew he loved her the way best friends loved each other, but when he said it like that, especially now that they were practically naked, the words sounded a bit more intimate and almost...awkward. She so did not want awkwardness to enter into this marriage or friendship. She enjoyed this friends-with-benefits arrangement they had. Her heart couldn't handle any more.
"You're thinking," he murmured, looking down. "None of that here. Work and everything else stays out of this bed."
She smiled, knowing he was the proverbial "fun guy," but he also knew when to be serious and when to work. The media had just caught him mostly in those "fun guy" moments.
But she knew the man beneath the playboy persona.
"Not thinking right now is perfect," she told him, looping her arms around his neck. "Marrying you was good for my creative mind."
He laughed. "Let me show you how creative I can be."
Six
Stefan's cell went off again. And again, he ignored it.
"Whoever is calling you must want you pretty bad," Victoria told him. "Why don't you just answer it?"
Because he wanted to ignore the fact that certain people did not believe this marriage was real and that he was officially off the market.
"Could be important," she went on as she slid her dainty feet back into her sandals and strapped them around her ankles.
After an intense bout of sex, a ride on his bike and a picnic at the beach, the last thing he wanted was an interruption to the day-especially by answering phone calls from past lovers. He had his best friend-turned-wife with him, and he was happier than he'd been in a long time. All of his goals were within his reach, and he didn't want anything to dampen his mood.
He'd promised Tori he'd be faithful, and he wasn't going back on his word. Never before had he promised to be exclusive, something he made sure his lovers knew up front, but with Tori warming his bed, he didn't mind at all. He kept waiting for that feeling of being trapped to overtake him, but so far he'd not felt anything but complete and utter happiness.
"They'll leave a message," he told her, not really caring if they did or not.
Victoria leaned her hands back in the sand, shook her head and allowed her hair to fall past her shoulders and cascade down her back. As her gaze settled on the emerald waters before them, he smiled. It wasn't every man who could say he married his best friend...a hot, sexy, centerfold-material friend. Damn, he'd lucked out. An open-ended marriage was absolutely the way to go. Once the crown was his in a few months, he'd seriously have everything: title of king and Victoria in his bed with no major commitment to marriage.
And hopefully he could also convince her brothers to work with him on a documentary to clear his father's name.
"I'm not jealous, you know," she said, her eyes still on the orange horizon as the sun set.
He eased closer to her, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on them. "Jealous of what?"
"The women calling you. I'm sure that's why your phone vibrates and rings every half hour."
Stefan laughed. Victoria had never been one to mince words or back away from any uncomfortable topic. She was also very confident, like most American women were. He found that quality extremely sexy. What had that jerk Alex been thinking? Stefan only hoped they didn't run into the guy once they were back in L.A. Or if they did, he hoped the media wasn't around. The last thing he needed was a picture of him popping the other guy in his pretty-boy face.
"Go ahead and laugh," she went on. "But I know that's your entourage calling."
"And how do you know this?" He chuckled again, now at her description.
"Because if it had been your brother, one of your staff or anyone else important, you would've answered it."
He shook his head. "Possibly."
With a wide, sinful smile, she turned to face him. "So you admit your harem has been calling?"
"Maybe, but with the way you can't keep your hands off my body, I don't have time for others."
Victoria's laugh washed over him. "Your ego is even bigger than your bank accounts. I think we both know who initiated the sex this afternoon."
"You were the one who insisted on changing clothes. In a man's mind, that's code for ‘I'm getting naked and you should join me.'"