The Billionaire's Captive Bride(25)

"Tell me what you're thinking," he demanded.

She slowly lifted her gaze from Jack, her eyes a dark green tumultuous  sea of uncertainty. She took a deep breath, as though gathering up  courage, then blurted out, "Tell me you still want me, Peter. Not  because I'm Jack's mother. Me … the person I am. Everything you now know  about me."

It stunned him that she was in any doubt. Hadn't all his actions proved  how much he wanted her in his life? Yet clearly she was apprehensive  about his answer, tending almost frantically to their son, lifting him  up to her shoulder, rubbing his back until he burped, then transferring  him to her other breast. Only when Jack was resettled did she brave  another look at him.

His mouth curved into a self-mocking smile as the strength of his  feelings for her tore at his chest. "You asked me once if I was a  jealous man. I said I wasn't but I find myself jealous of my own son,  wanting to be as close to you as he is."

Another wave of heat scorched her cheeks.

If it was embarrassment, he didn't care.

He was laying out the truth, being straight with her.

"Even after you walked away from me, I couldn't stop wanting you, Erin.  My mother said you had to have a beautiful mind to have written the  books she'd read. It drove me into buying them, reading all of them. And  I agreed with her. It made me want you all the more. I set up the movie  deal in the hope that it would win you around to wanting me again."

He heaved a sigh to relieve the tightness in his chest. Her gaze was  clinging to his. No anguish in her eyes now. More an urgent intensity,  begging for more.

"Then there was Jack. Which completely threw me. You'd so decisively  shut me out, even when I had the right to know we'd made a child." He  leaned forward, forearms on his knees, hands gesturing futility as he  shook his head. "I won't even try to explain what I felt then. I know I  shamelessly used Jack to get you, and right then I didn't care if you  wanted me or not. I was going to have both of you and I would have done  anything to force that end."

"I'm glad you did, Peter," she inserted with startling vehemence.

"Glad that I invaded your life and carried you off?" he queried.

"Yes. I didn't want to be alone. I just didn't know how to … how to fix  things between us. I got it all wrong. I know I did. These past two  months … everything you've done … I was such a fool for giving you the kind  of ego that ended up blighting other relationships I've had. You're not  like that at all. The day in the park … I thought you were a big man in  every sense, and I should have trusted my instincts. You are. And your  family … your family has been a revelation to me. They're interested, they  care … I like being part of it."

The relief at hearing her speak her mind and heart so openly was mountainous. "Then I haven't done wrong by you."

"No." Her eyes glowed with eloquent appeal as a rather tentative, shy  little smile softened her face. "You are my prince, Peter."

It took an extreme act of will to remain in the chair. Jack was still  feeding. He had to hold himself in check for a while yet. But he could  spill out what he felt in words.

"Remember that first night out on the balcony of my apartment?"

"Vividly."

The intense emotion in her voice encouraged him to reveal his own. "You  wove a spell around me that I can't break, Erin. I want you so badly I  can barely sit here and wait for our son to be satisfied. I want to hold  you, kiss you, touch you, make mad violent love to you, but I also want  to feel the same passionate response that you gave me in the past."         

     



 

She stared at him, as though caught in a spell herself. Her lips parted,  releasing a rush of breath. Then life returned to her eyes-a brilliant  sparkling life, as though a volcano of joy had erupted inside her.

"Press the call-button for the nanny, Peter," she said, detaching Jack from her breast and lifting him to her shoulder.

"He's had enough?"

"Enough for now."

There was no wail of protest from their son and Peter was not about to  query Erin's decision. If it meant what he thought it meant … he moved  swiftly from his chair, pressed the call-button, watched Erin rise from  the rocker and head straight to the cot where she had left her veil and  bra. He strode to the nursery door, opening it for the nanny to enter as  fast as possible, waiting beside it. His heart was pummelling his  chest. His hands clenched. The fight for control was so close to being a  losing battle.

The nanny arrived.

Erin passed over Jack with the instruction, "He still needs to be  burped." As soon as her hands were free, she grabbed her veil and bra.  With her bodice still hanging down from her waist, she used the towel to  cover her naked breasts, flashed her glowing rainbow smile at Peter,  and said, "I'll get redressed in my suite."

Her suite.

Just along this hall, feet moving fast, Erin opening the door, flinging  the wedding finery on the floor, turning to face him. He kicked the door  shut. She was in his arms. He rubbed his cheek against the black silk  of her hair, breathed in the heady scent of her. Her arms wound around  his neck, pulling his head down. Their mouths met in a wild onslaught of  needy kisses.

A break to catch their breaths.

"You've got too many clothes on, Peter," she said, excited eyes teasing  his. "If you help me out of this wedding dress, I'll help you lose  them."

A joyous laughter bubbled from him. He whipped her around, pulled the  zipper down from her waist, pushed the skirt over her hips. She stepped  out of it, looking incredibly sexy wearing white lace French knickers  and a lacy garter belt attached to the fine silky stockings she wore.  For a moment, his eyes feasted on the graceful curves of her back, the  lush roundness of her bottom, her lovely long legs. Every muscle in his  body was taut, screaming to leap into action. He couldn't wait for her  to undress him.

His coat joined her clothes on the floor. His hands were tearing at his  tie when she came to him, undoing his shirt buttons, fingers moving  swiftly, unfastening his trousers. Neither of them cared about any  sensual finesse in getting naked. This was not a journey of discovery.  Urgency was uppermost. She wanted him. He wanted her. And the need to  come together was a driving force that could not be contained.

He carried her to the bed. They sprawled on it together. She wrapped her  legs around him, lifting herself in wanton invitation for him to plunge  straight into the sweet, warm depths of her.

He did.

"Yes-s-s-s," she cried out, the intensity of her pleasure coursing through him, making him wild to give her more.

They moved as one, rocking each other, pushing the excitement higher and  higher. It was glorious. It was bliss. His woman, wanting him, needing  him, loving him, giving herself with uninhibited passion and revelling  in taking all he could give her. He felt the convulsive spasms and the  gushing flow of her climax and plunged as deep as her arched body  allowed, holding himself there, loving the sense of her melting around  him.

Her hands stroked down his back, sliding over his buttocks, fingers  digging in. "Go on, Peter," she urged. "I want to feel you come inside  me."

He did.

Incredible ecstasy.

He kissed her, and her mouth was gentle and loving, her hands in his  hair, tenderly caressing. They stayed entwined, joined as one, even when  he rolled on his side, her head snuggled to the curve of his neck and  shoulder. How long they lay in this contented intimacy he didn't know.  Time was meaningless. He was happy simply to hold her, to know that she  was happy, too.

"I guess we should be getting back to the marquee," she said on a rueful sigh.

He'd forgotten their wedding party.

Did it matter that they would be missed, guests commenting on their absence?

No.

Yet he and Erin had the rest of their lives to be together. Tonight was  the night to show and share their happiness with everyone.

"Yes, we should," he decided. "I want to dance with you, Erin."

"I'd like that … our bridal dance."

He heard the smile in her voice.

It was okay to move.

They would be moving in unison again very soon.



The photograph released to the media the next day was of the bride and  groom dancing. They were gazing into each other's eyes, smiling. No-one  who looked at that photograph was in any doubt that Peter Ramsey and  Erin Lavelle were happy with their marriage.         

     



 





CHAPTER THIRTEEN




Los Angeles, fourteen months later …

THRONGS of fans waved and screamed from the roadside as the limousine  rolled slowly forward in the long queue of limousines delivering stars  of the big screen to the theatre where the Academy Awards ceremony was  to be held. Erin remembered the same intense excitement flowing from the  crowd of spectators who had turned up at the premiere of The Mythical  Horses of Mirrima, four months ago.