He was unzipping his jeans, his potent erection beguiling her.
‘I won’t last,’ he warned, and it didn’t matter a scrap because neither would she, yet still he made her wait. Her eyes were wide with arousal as he stroked himself against her, teasing her with the delicious prospects on offer.
‘Marry me, Lily.’
He wasn’t asking her, he was telling her. A flash of silver told her he was close had her breath bursting in her hot lungs. She wanted him inside her, wanted him beside her—wanted every last thing he could provide.
‘Yes.’
She wept the word as he stabbed inside her, her orgasm hitting before he’d even entered, a frantic urgent coupling that had them both dizzy, the sweet, sweet sensation of him spilling inside her as once again Hunter got his wicked way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE cool feeling of the gold as he pushed the ring on her finger confused her.
Her signature on a piece of paper was such a paltry summing up of what was taking place and she wanted to call an urgent halt, to tell the magistrate that he didn’t love her, but as she took the pen Lily knew it didn’t matter a scrap.
Legally they were husband and wife.
He kissed her over and over, kissed her for the sake of her family, who were enthralled by the romance of it all, for the press that were duly gathered and for the duties in life that were ever present, confusion building with each sip of champagne, each offer of congratulations. Hunter was so absolutely convincing, so elegant and charming that at times Lily almost felt as if it were real, almost relaxed and enjoyed herself, but it only compounded her misery when reality hit.
Arranging a hasty wedding was absolutely no problem when you had an open chequebook and Hunter Myles was the groom. The formalities had been followed by the most tasteful of receptions at an exclusive five-star hotel and the whole day had run so smoothly it was as if the wedding had been months in the making. Every detail had been taken care of, from the stunning white-gold diamond solitaire on her finger right down to Emma playing the violin for them as the bride and groom took to the floor, the strains of music so emotive, so beautiful that as Hunter held her close, as she leant her exhausted head against his chest and closed her eyes, inhaled his scent as he gracefully led, it was so easy to lose herself to the fantasy that everyone believed, that love had raced in and swept them to this moment.
‘You look amazing.’ Hunter pulled her closer, lowered his head so that his mouth was by her ear, his breath caressing her as he spoke. ‘You feel amazing.’ She didn’t answer, just let his words sweep over her, wished that Emma would play on for ever, that somehow this dance would never end. ‘Today’s been perfect, I’m so proud…’
‘Don’t.’ Her eyes snapped open, stiffening in his arms. Losing the rhythm of the music, she tripped slightly, but Hunter steadied her, held her tighter as she struggled to keep up, the fantasy, the moment doused because he’d taken it too far, spoken to her with the tenderness of a real groom on his wedding day. ‘Don’t pretend that it’s real.’
‘But it is, Lily’ His deep voice was back in her ear, lulling her back to the rhythm again. ‘You are beautiful and I am proud to be here with you, so stop fighting it.’ His lips were grazing her cheek as her eyes fluttered closed until softly his mouth found hers—kissing her back to safety, quelling her protests, her fears before releasing her from the haven of his arms. And Hunter was right. It was easier to stop fighting it, to be beautiful and proud for as long as it could last, so for the rest of dance she gave in, allowed herself the luxury of the moment that was theirs.
As the music finished the dancers stopped to applaud and Lily stared in awe at his sister, full of admiration for her talent because, quite simply, she’d never heard anything so beautiful—or seen someone shine so much as they played—the violin was almost an extension of Emma, the emotion coursing through her and out through the instrument. ‘She plays beautifully,’ Lily commented, but Hunter wasn’t listening, a frown on his darkening face as he peered across the room.
‘Who’s that lech talking to her?’ Hunter’s voice had a very proprietorial ring to it but Lily laughed as she followed his gaze and saw who Emma was talking to.
‘That’s my cousin, Jim, and he’s certainly not a lech—he’s delightful.’
‘He’s all over her.’ Hunter’s voice was clipped. ‘What the hell’s he doing?’
‘Talking to her,’ Lily said calmly. ‘It looks as if he’s bought her a drink and now he’s talking to her.’