Minutes later, her eyes were closed and she was relaxing in the water. Or trying to.
She could hear him banging around downstairs, slamming doors and getting ready for bed. Finally, silence descended, and she slowly began to feel the tension seep from her limbs.
The water was heavenly, washing away her anxiety and the smell of the airports, taxi-cabs, and stale smoke that had been around her all day.
Her mind froze and her relaxation fled as the door opened with a snap.
Her eyes popped open to find him in the doorway, his stance rigid, his expression clouded in anger.
"Why are you up here?"
Shock held Jenna silent for a moment as he stepped into the room and placed his hands on the edge of the tub, leaning over her. Her insides quivered when his eyes dropped to her body, showing clearly through the water. She crossed her arms over her exposed breasts as volatile emotions charged through her.
Anger that he was invading her privacy battled with her insecurities over the situation she found herself in. What had happened to her life in the last few days? How had it gone so badly off the rails? She blamed herself as well as him. She was deeply ashamed of the anger she had felt that had goaded her into accepting his indecent proposal.
She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry.
She did both.
Her eyes flooded with tears as she screamed at him. "I'm taking a bath. Get out!"
He didn't move an inch. "Why aren't you downstairs in my bathroom?" His voice was harsh.
"There's only a shower down there." She pierced him with her stare. "Get out."
He reached down and swiped a wrist and held it tightly. "Is that the only reason?"
She pulled on her wrist and felt a tear spill down her cheek. He held tightly. No, that wasn't the only reason, but she wasn't stupid enough to tell him that tonight. She didn't have the stamina to deal with any of this tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
She quit trying to get her wrist free and forced herself to relax in his hold. She wiped the tears with the back of her free hand and looked away from his intent scrutiny. "David, please, I just want a bath," she whispered.
He studied her a few seconds and then released her from his hold. He moved to the door. "Thirty minutes. If you're not downstairs in thirty minutes, Jenna, I'm coming back up here to get you."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Her bath ruined, her thoughts in turmoil, Jenna slowly climbed from the water and began to dry off. Not even twenty-four hours since he put the ring on her finger, and she was already questioning where her sanity had been when she agreed to this.
So what if he was a fantastic lover? So what if she had unreasonable debt? Where the hell was her brain when she had agreed to this madness? He would take over her life if she let him. He was already showing the signs of it. And did she want that? No. Absolutely not. He only wanted to use her for two years, get what he needed from her, and then throw her aside. What the hell had she been thinking?
She raged at herself as she rinsed her panties and bra out in the sink. Washing her things only got her more riled up. He didn't care about her comfort. He didn't care if she didn't have fresh things in the morning. All he cared about was himself. His reasons for needing a wife.
She was just an object to him. An object to be used. Already she could tell what kind of marriage this was going to be. A marriage of his convenience. Was it too late? Could she get out of it? Suddenly, the impact of him consummating the marriage so quickly blew through her brain. Had he anticipated her reaction? God, he was manipulative! But he hadn't paid her the hundred grand yet. They were supposed to take care of that on Monday when the banks were open. Tomorrow was Sunday. Or today was Sunday already. She yawned and climbed into her silk blouse. It barely covered the tops of her thighs. She felt naked and exposed without panties.
Her mind continued around and around. Maybe she shouldn't take the money. Maybe she should just run. Run for her life.
Castigating herself for being so melodramatic, she brushed out her hair, cut the light out and walked downstairs.
As she took the last step down, shock held her rigid as she saw him sitting in a large armchair in the living room, facing the stairway, waiting for her. His hair was damp from a shower, and he wore nothing except boxer briefs.
She swallowed hard and stalled her movements. His eyes were dark, intense, fastened on her completely. A river of both fear and arousal hit her in the stomach and coursed through her body as his intent stare penetrated her.
She lingered by the stairway as her heartbeat went into overdrive.
"You ready?" His question was salient, punctuated.
Chapter Eight
She stood without answering him, her hand on the banister for support.
He pushed to his feet and stalked toward her, one purpose radiating from him.
Jenna felt helpless as he wrapped a brawny arm around her middle, lifted her torso into him, and went for her mouth like a starving animal.
She hung in his grasp as once again, he began to dominate her physically, sexually.
He was blatantly male, his erection pushing against her, the need to mate consuming him in a way that left no room for anything else.
It was too much. It was too soon. She fought back.
She began pushing against the hands that held her, driving her arms between them, trying to wedge herself away from him. She squirmed against him in an attempt to get free, she ripped her mouth from his and turned her face away. "No."
He growled low in his throat and pulled her mouth back around to his.
She sealed her lips tightly together and stiffened her body in negation.
"Why?" His voice was guttural, a raspy noise low in his throat.
Jenna's body went limp in his arms as suddenly, she lost all energy, all will to fight. She sagged against him and answered him softly. "I can't deal with anymore tonight. I'm so tired. I want to go home. I shouldn't have done this, shouldn't have agreed to this marriage."
David's mind reeled as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her. His need for sex was intense. His need for her total acquiescence was more so.
He heard a small sob in his shoulder and was pissed at himself for making her cry. He reached down and lifting her in his arms, he shouldered the door open and walked into the master suite. Putting her in the middle of the bed, he switched off the light and gathered her in his arms.
She went stiff against him, but he soothed her with small sounds. He ran his hands over her in gentle movements, trying to calm her.
She sobbed softly again, and he kissed her hair gently.
"Shh, shh. Don't cry, baby. It'll be okay."
"I want to go home."
His body went rigid and his voice roughened. "No. It's too late. Just go to sleep." He kissed her brow and smoothed his hands over her stomach. "I'll leave you alone so you can sleep."
His intentions were noble but her scent was driving him crazy.
She turned her face toward him and began to try to reason with him in a small whisper. "This isn't going to work. I can't take the money."
She watched him in the dark, trying to make out his features. She was lying on her back, and he was on his side, hanging over her. It was too dark to see anything more than the outline of his face and the width of his shoulders. She waited in silence, her announcement in the air between them.
She gasped out loud when she felt his hand fall unerringly on the softness between her thighs. He ignored what she said as if it held no importance and squeezed her mound in a statement of possession.
He shoved her blouse up until it was scrunched around her belly. His palm moved to her soft stomach and brushed against the feminine flesh under his hand. God, she was so tempting. So soft, so lush, her flesh and her scent inflaming him. Her argument was dismissed in his brain; he would handle her concerns tomorrow. She wasn't getting away from him, and for now, she either needed to go to sleep immediately, or get ready for what was about to happen.
He heard another small whimper, and mindful of her tears, set out to calm her down. He smoothed his hand over her stomach, down to the soft, sweet mound between her thighs. Her legs were closed, and he pushed against her pubic bone, swirled his hand up and away, and back again. She sucked in her breath. His mouth went to her ear and he began to whisper to her. "I want to touch you." At the same time, he put his hand between her knees and pushed her legs apart. His hand smoothed up her thigh and gripped the hot flesh that was driving him out of his mind. "You drive me crazy. I want to touch you, Jenna."
His finger went to her slit and he carefully, gently opened her. He heard her catch her breath and she trembled against him.
"N-no."
His finger moved to her clit and pressed. "Why not, baby?"
"We shouldn't have done this." Her voice was barely a whisper.
He ignored her statement and kissed her ear, swirling his tongue over the delicate lobe and gently tugging it between his teeth. His hand left her thighs and moved to her soft stomach, worshipping her flesh, sliding his hand up her torso until it fell on a firm breast. Her nipple was tight and stabbed at his palm. He rubbed it, tweaked it, moved his hand to its twin and did the same until she was softly undulating against him.
He left the heaven of her breasts and caressed his way back down to her feminine core, found the wet nirvana that awaited him, and sunk a long, thick finger into her.
He hissed in her ear. "I want to touch you. I want to make you come."
Her arms wrapped around his head, and her legs opened further, allowing him access. When he felt that small acknowledgement, his mind almost splintered completely and he had to viciously rein in control. He needed to woo her, make slow love to her, not hold her down and ram her like his body was screaming for him to do.