The Mate Mistake(The Woolven Secret 3)(3)
He didn’t feel poor. In fact, he felt very rich. “Hmm? Why’s that?”
“My name is Belle.”
“Mmhmm. Yes. Belle Vaug—fuck.” He shot up like a cannon ball and crashed back down to the floor just as heavy—weighted with both his hangover and the knowledge he’d really stepped in shit. “You’re not Maribella DeVaughn of the Vegas DeVaughns?”
Please laugh. Please laugh. Please laugh…
She laughed, but it wasn’t what he’d hoped for. It wasn’t a funny ha-ha laugh. It was a it-sucks-to-be-you laugh.
“No, sweetheart. I’m just plain ol’ Belle Vaughn. Waitress at The Greasy Lamb.”
“Now you’re just fucking with me.” His stomach rolled in protest.
“Nope. Not at all. It’s the worst restaurant in Vegas. The owner is Greek and wanted to do a take on American “greasy spoon food.” So. Yeah.” She shrugged.
“If you could never say those words together again, that would be great.”
“What? Greek?” She cocked her head to the side.
“You have a mean streak a mile wide.”
“Yes, I do. But you liked it last night.”
His eyes were drawn down to her breasts again. “I like it right now, too.”
“Listen, if we’re going to fix this sham marriage thing, we probably shouldn’t be thinking lusty thoughts about each other.”
“I hate to break it to you, Belle, but I’ll be thinking lusty thoughts about you until I die. It’d be great if I had some real memories to take with me. Come on. Whatdya’ say?”
“I don’t know, Parker. I’m pretty sure that if I take my hands off of your face to engage other parts of you, your sins from last night will keep us from committing any more today.”
“Damn it.” He sighed. She was being awfully levelheaded about all of this and didn’t seem the least bit surprised that her touch kept his hangover at bay. “Are you a witch?”
“What? No!”
“Then what are you?” She didn’t smell like a witch. Or a werewolf. Or anything he’d ever known. Horrible thought: what if she was human? Wouldn’t that just suck an ugly dick? She didn’t smell human though either. If a quiet winter evening could have a scent it would be Belle.
She seemed startled by the question. “I… Belle. I’m Belle.”
She backed away from him and this time, he was okay. The good feeling stayed with him, thank the goddess.
“Look, we need to get this figured out. The sooner you get all that out of your system, the sooner you can get dressed and the sooner we can undo this travesty.”
“Yeah, I think I’m good now.” He eyed her and his predator brain was suddenly at the forefront.
He was more than good. He was ready to take her down and devour her in the best way.
“None of that.” She shook her head slowly. “We really can’t.”
“Hmm, no. It’s not that we can’t.” He was on his feet, advancing toward her. “It’s that we shouldn’t. And Gorgeous, that’s no reason not to.”
She bit her lip and backed away slowly until she was pressed against the wall. “How about if I just say no?”
“Well, that would most definitely be a loss. For both of us.”
Belle laughed again. “Parker Woolven, I’m sure that your real bride-to-be would be very—”
The pulse at her throat quickened. He could scent her desire. So he advanced and pressed his lips to that pulse in her throat.
She gave a little gasp and entwined her fingers with his—he drew her hands up over her head.
“My real bride-to-be is probably just as thrilled at our impending nuptials as I was. That is to say, not really. We do what we do for family. But this… if she has her own moment like this, I wouldn’t take that from her.”
“You’re just saying that because we’re naked.”
“Nope.” He nuzzled at her neck some more and she turned her face to the side, giving him more access as she hooked one leg around his waist. “I mean it.”
He meant it, unless of course Maribella DeVaughn happened to be The One. His true mate. But that was as likely as Belle Vaughn being The One. Maybe even less.
“Parker.”
He’d begun kissing her neck, grazing his teeth over her tender flesh. “Hmm? Busy, can’t talk now.”
“There’s a…” Her sentence turned into a small moan. “Mmm. Parker?”
“What?” He pulled away so that he could focus on what she was trying to say.
“There’s a man outside our window.”
Parker turned to see not just one man, but an entire mob of press and tabloid photographers hanging from the window cleaner’s scaffolding like a bunch of gawkers at a zoo watching the bonobos having sex.