The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby(15)

He bent and picked up Deedee. "We'd better get back to our guests. They'll be waiting for cake."



Though the day and the room were plenty warm, Luc realized that Hattie's   fingers were cold when he put his hand over hers and pressed down   firmly with the knife. Hattie had insisted, in private, that having a   photographer document their faux wedding was unnecessary. So at the   official cake cutting, only Sherman's digital camera was available to   record the moment.

Hattie's smile toward Luc was apologetic as she picked up a small square   and pressed it into his mouth. He wasn't sure which he wanted to eat   more: the almond-flavored dessert, or her slender, frosting-covered   fingertips.

He returned the favor, being careful not to mess up Hattie's makeup or   dress. He fed her a tiny piece of cake and then deliberately lifted her   hand and licked each of her fingers clean. The guests and servers   signaled their approval with a cheer, and Hattie's red-faced   embarrassment was worth every penny Luc had spent to make his bride's   day special.

Ana stepped forward with a smile. "Shall I help you change clothes, Mrs. Cavallo?"

Luc put an arm around Hattie's waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her   cheek. "I think we can handle that," he said, his voice low and   suggestive.

Once in the bedroom, an irate Hattie rounded on him. "What was that show   about? Ana and Sherman know the truth. You embarrassed me."

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets to keep from stripping the   deliberately tantalizing dress from her in short order. "The waitstaff   and the drivers are outsiders. They may talk, and if they do … I want them   to believe that you and I are so much in love we can't keep our hands   off each other. Any gossip will help us, not hurt us if they think  we're  a normal bride and groom."

Hattie stood in the middle of the room, her expression troubled.

He lost his temper. "Oh, for God's sake. I'm not going to jump you when   your back is turned. Take off that damned dress and put some clothes   on."

She blanched. He felt like a heel. Sexual frustration was riding him   hard, and he wondered with bleak mirth what in hell had possessed him to   insist on a honeymoon. If his brand-new bride didn't soon admit she   wanted him the way he wanted her, he'd be a raving, slobbering lunatic   by the time they got back home.

But he couldn't let her think he was affected by the day and the   ceremony. The softer, gentler Luc she had known back in college was a   phantom. The real Luc was cynical to a fault. What he was feeling was   lust, pure and simple. Hattie would be in his bed. Soon. But he wouldn't   be weak. Never again. He had his emotions on lockdown.

He turned his back on her and looked out the window blindly, the ocean   nothing but a blur. All of his senses were attuned to Hattie's   movements. Even when he heard the bathroom door shut, he remained where   he was. It was impossible not to imagine her nudity as she stepped out   of her bridal attire.

His hands were clammy, and his gut churned.

The bathroom door opened again, and he sighed inwardly. But still he   didn't turn around. It was only when Hattie appeared at his elbow that   he finally spoke. "Are you ready to go?"

He turned and inhaled sharply. The tiara was gone, her hair was down, but she was still dressed.

She raised a shoulder, her face rueful. "I'm sorry. I can't unzip it. Will you help me?"

God in heaven. She turned her back to him with innocent trust. His hands   shook. Inch by inch, as he lowered the zipper, the dress gaped,   revealing a sexy piece of fantasy-fueling lingerie. He cleared his   throat. "Do you … uh … "

Hattie nodded. "Yeah. The bustier, too."

A million tiny buttons held the confection in place. God knows how long   it took him, but he finally succeeded in revealing the pale skin and   delicate spine he remembered with such painful clarity. He also   remembered running his tongue down that very spine, not stopping until   he reached the curve of her ass. And sometimes not even then.

The exercise in torture lasted for what seemed like hours rather than minutes. At last he was finished.

Hattie held the dress to her front with a death grip.

He made himself step back. "All done," he croaked.                       
       
           



       

She nodded jerkily and scooted toward safety. But just as she reached   the bathroom, her toe caught on a scatter rug, she stumbled, and Luc   grabbed for her instinctively. His arms went around her from behind and   his hands landed in dangerous territory.

Lush, soft breasts. Pert nipp**les begging to be stroked. He sucked in a   breath, sucker punched by the slug of hunger. Hattie froze on the spot   like an animal hoping not to be noticed by a hunter.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck. "Your skin is so soft," he muttered. He   squeezed gently, cupping the mounds of flesh that he remembered in his   dreams.

Her head fell back against his shoulder. "Luc … "

That was all. Just his name. But the single word fraught with what he   hoped like hell was longing made him hard as stone and ready for action.   He tugged the dress and undergarment from her deathlike grasp and   tossed them aside. He couldn't see her face, and he didn't want to.

He continued to play with her brea**sts slowly. "Tell me you want me, Hattie."

"I want you, Luc … but … "

The last word made him frown. He slid one hand down her belly, between her legs. Hattie gasped audibly.

He bit gently at her earlobe. "But?"

"I don't think we're ready." Her whispered protest barely registered on his consciousness.

He pressed his aching erection against her, her beautiful round butt   covered in less than nothing. "Oh, I'm ready, Hattie. Trust me."

The choked laugh she managed made him smile.

At that precise moment, when he felt paradise within his grasp, a loud   shout of nearby laughter shattered the moment. They weren't alone. And   they had guests waiting.

He cursed in frustration and released her abruptly, wanting to howl at the moon. His timing sucked. "Damn it … . I'm sorry."

Hattie didn't even turn around. He suspected her face was one huge   blush. He reached for the discarded clothing and handed it to her. "Go,"   he said curtly. "We'll deal with this later."



Hattie huddled in the bathroom, her blood running hot and cold in   dizzying, equal measure. She had come within inches of shoving her new   husband onto the bed and pouncing on him. Feeling his hands on her bare   skin had been more arousing than anything she had experienced in the   last ten years.

She hadn't been celibate. But still … holy cow.

It took her three tries to button her lavender silk blouse. The cream   linen trousers she stepped into were part of the outrageously expensive   new wardrobe that now filled two large Louis Vuitton suitcases and a   garment bag.

She looked in the mirror, wincing at her crazy tousled hair. Nothing to   do but to put it up again. Ana had promised to collect the wedding   finery and make sure it got back to the house. So all that was left for   Hattie to do was to slip into low-heeled, gold leather sandals and wash   her face.

She added fresh lip gloss, took the shine off her nose with a dash of   powder, and spritzed her favorite perfume at her throat. What had Luc   been thinking as he undressed her? Did he have any feelings left for her   at all? Or was it only sex? What if she had turned in his arms and   kissed him? Would she have been able to read his face?

He might feel the tug of attraction, but he was no green kid unable to   control his body. Hell would probably freeze over before Luc would ever   think about having a real relationship with Hattie, whether he saw her   naked or not. He liked having her at his mercy. She had invited that   with her artless marriage proposal. But Luc was thinking about sex … not a   wistful reunion      of lovers.

Luc had gained a heck of a lot of sexual experience since they parted. Hattie was old news.

Thinking of the women Luc had probably invited into his bed over the   years was a bad thing to do on her wedding day. It only increased her   misery. She'd had her chance. And being with Luc again made her rethink   her youthful decision for the umpteenth time. Luc's money gave him   power. No doubt about it. But from the perspective of ten years down the   road, she admitted ruefully that he wouldn't have used the inequality   in their bank accounts to control her, no matter what her mother said.

Her mother's take on life had always been hard-edged. Early   disappointments had made her suspicious of people and their motives.   Hattie had tried not to follow suit. But perhaps unconsciously that   inherent attitude of distrust had been largely to blame for Hattie's   breakup with Luc.