Not the Marrying Kind(28)
She slipped her shoes back on, feeling like a princess when he opened her door and took hold of her hand to help her out. Another thing that impressed: impeccable manners.
He led her along a paved path toward the front door, which he unlocked with a fancy keycard. “I’m not around much, so state of the art security.”
He folded his arms, shoulders rigid, waiting for her to pass. No prizes for guessing he was still uptight after discussing his past in the car. Time to lighten the mood a little.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Does this look like a threshold to you?” She air-drew the outline of the door with her finger.
A spark of amusement lit his eyes. “So?”
“Hello?” She gestured at her dress, snagged her veil and waved it in his face. “New bride alert?”
Incredulous, he swatted her veil away. “You don’t seriously expect me to carry you inside?”
“You don’t seriously expect me to behave like a bride if you don’t treat me like one.”
He laughed, a genuine joyous sound that made her feel like hugging him so tight it hurt. “Never would’ve picked you as a stickler for tradition.” He swept her into his arms. “Not with these shoes.”
“What’s wrong with my shoes?” She kicked a heel in the air, he dipped her, and she let out a squeal.
“If you’re aiming for the come-get-me signal, they’re working perfectly.”
She couldn’t think of a single smart-ass retort as his gaze swept upward from her shoes, lingered on her lips, and finally met her stare.
“So do you?” Her words came out as a whisper.
He inched closer until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. “What?”
“Want to come get me?”
“What do you think?” He stepped over the threshold so damn fast her head spun. As he lowered her he kicked the door shut and backed her against the nearest wall. “Time to move on to the next tradition.”
His fingers delved into her hair, fiddled with the tiara before removing it, leaving little prickles of hyper-awareness where his fingertips had brushed her scalp. Having him carry her, touch her, flirt with her, had been in good fun, but now, with a potent sexual attraction smoldering between them, it wasn’t so funny.
“What’s the next tradition?”
“The wedding night.” His hands spanned her waist and lifted her slightly so she came in contact with evidence of how excited he was to consummate this marriage.
“But it’s still morning.”
His lips grazed her ear. “Good. Gives me a chance to see you better when I…”
She whimpered as he whispered in erotic detail what he wanted to do.
Right here.
Right now.
She throbbed with anticipation, every inch of her straining toward him.
She wanted him to lick her and tease her and touch her until she came.
She wanted him to hoist her up against the wall and drive into her until she saw stars.
She wanted him to make her forget her own name.
But a small part of her didn’t want to set precedence. That this powerful guy could snap his fingers and get anything he wanted.
It wouldn’t be good.
She may have compromised her morals in marrying a guy she hardly knew and certainly didn’t love. No way she would sell her soul for the sake of fabulous sex.
And it would be fabulous, she had no doubt.
If the guy could kiss like that and turn her on to the extent she would willingly strip in broad daylight, the sex would be freaking sensational. Stupid thing was, she wasn’t into one-night stands—she didn’t like the cool, impersonal aspect—and that’s exactly what sex with her new husband would be: frantic, quickie sex with a stranger.
If she slept with him, she wanted it to mean something. Corny, for a gal who didn’t believe in romance or marriage, but she couldn’t change now. She’d compromised enough by agreeing to his marriage terms—not too difficult, considering the five hundred grand.
His lips stilled against her neck. “What’s wrong?”
“We should head back to Vegas. Get ready for the reception.” Lame, but she knew how important it was to him to schmooze his investors and apparently they’d all be there, carefully assessing if the bad boy had made good.
“Screw the reception,” he muttered, pulling away slowly.
Her body instantly regretted her holier-than-thou decision, clamoring for him to get up close and personal again. Thankfully, her head ruled. “You said it was important.”
“It is.” He braced his hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her, and she couldn’t fathom his tortured expression. Unless he was worried about the convincing performance she’d have to give.