The Irresistible Curves Collection

by Christa Wick

  I shook my head and shut my eyes. Hearing his specification that it was real for me, I just couldn’t look at him.

  “You did, Pippa.” He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his hold on me gentling, his hands running up and down my back in soft persuasion. “You gave yourself to me fully, without hesitation, without regret. You came harder than you have for any other man, clinging to me and crying my name the entire time, then whispering my name to yourself as you slipped into sleep. You can pretend all of that wasn’t real for you, but we both know you’d be lying to me. And to yourself.”

  It was all true.

  I couldn’t deny that I’d lost control those times. Just like I couldn’t admit that I’d lost my heart somewhere along the way as well.

  There would be nothing left if I acknowledged that latter fact. Nothing to rebuild from. Nothing to give another man. I had to have some piece of me left when this was over.

  But I couldn’t tell him any of that.

  …And the burst of noise from the house as Michelle hollered out my name, with half my staff pouring out of the door behind her, meant I didn’t have to.

  SIXTEEN

  - Pippa -

  Blake didn’t follow me after the girls carted me away, didn’t come track me down in the morning to make sure I was getting dressed and actually showing up for the ceremony.

  But show up, I did.

  I went through each motion with every intention of avoiding his gaze the entire ceremony, but failing miserably. His eyes locked on mine the moment I took my first step down that aisle…and never let up once.

  Before I knew it, we were exchanging vows.

  Like the setting around us, I’m sure it was beautiful.

  And like the light through the stained glass window, a wave of soft laughter filtered through the chapel Sunday afternoon.

  I replayed the words I’d just recited as directed and tried to place the source of my friends’ amusement. They had laughed at the end of the pastor’s last sentence. Retracing it, I flushed when I realized what I’d just vowed in holy matrimony.

  To love, honor and obey—with a minimum of pushback.

  If I’d heard that vow in any other ceremony, I would’ve been laughing, too.

  But here today, it wasn’t funny.

  I knew the exact moment Blake figured out that I’d recited our vows without really registering the words fully. His jaw clenched, his eyes hardened, his grip tightened on my hand as if he thought I was going to let go and run.

  The pastor spoke a few more words that I was sure neither of us were hearing.

  All I could do was watch as Blake closed his eyes, breaking the connection he’d had me tethered to since the start of the ceremony. I could see him forcibly trying to relax then take a deep breath.

  When he opened his eyes again, I saw…

  I had no idea how to describe what I was looking at—the raw emotions he was baring to my gaze was nothing I could name.

  Then just like that, the pastor pronounced us married.

  Blake pulled me to him, his mouth covering mine before the pastor told him to do so. And the audience laughed again, this time in adoration.

  My knees immediately started to give until soon, the strength of Blake’s arms was the only thing keeping me upright. My soft curves giving way to his hard planes to the chorus of huzzahs erupted from the audience as Blake molded me to him and deepened the kiss even more, sealing this agreement between us in more ways than the exchanged vows had.

  I needed oxygen, wasn’t getting any.

  Even when he broke the kiss—I couldn’t remember to breathe.

  I leaned against him, numb as he whisked me to the newlywed limo that would take us to the small reception. The driver took the scenic route as arranged, giving everyone else time to arrive before us. And the entire ride, Blake simply held me close, let me feel what I was feeling, without saying a word.

  By the time we were announced as Mr. and Mrs. Cross at our reception, I found a way to breathe again, found a way not to flinch every time someone called him my husband or me his wife.

  The reception was quicker than most, maybe an hour, if that. The food was already being served, followed quickly by the cutting of the cake and our first dance as a couple before everyone took their turn dancing with us. The entire time, no matter who either of us were dancing with, Blake’s eyes never left me. I felt his gaze on me the entire reception.

  And others noticed, too.

  Parting from her dance with Blake, Clare gave me a wicked smile and whispered in my ear. “Looks like a certain CEO is just itching to get back to the honeymoon suite. I’m so happy for you, P.J.”

  I mustered up a smile but could feel the blood drain from my face.

  Chuckling, Clara lifted a brow at me. “Honey, you look nervous.”

  “That’s because she knows I’m back to step on her toes again.” Returning for a second dance, Kevin started to squeeze between Clara and me, no doubt because his best friend spidey senses were tingling.

  Blake blocked his path and took my hand before Kevin could. “The limo is ready, love. Time to start our honeymoon.”

  With a tremor running through my arm, I curled my fingers around his palm. He drew me close, tucking me against him as we made our way past Abigail, Carson, and all my friends.

  I stayed mute the short ride to the estate he had rented for the weekend. Aside from the security guard at the front gate and another in a small outbuilding near the beach, we were completely alone.

  Candles had been lit and spaced out on the path to the bedroom we would share that night. White and pink roses carpeted the ground. Above the pounding of my pulse, I heard the soft strains of music playing in the library. Recognizing the dueling sopranos in Strauss’ Presentation of the Rose, I closed my eyes and let Blake lead me the rest of the way into the bedroom.

  How had he remembered it was my favorite opera? It had only come up my first month working on one of Blake’s PR campaigns. I’d missed the opening of Der Rosenkavalier. When he had discovered it was my favorite opera, he had asked me whether I believed in love at first sight while handing me tickets for a private box for the next showing.

  And now here we were—almost a year later—and he had it playing on the way to our bridal chamber.

  God help any woman Blake Cross actually set his heart on.

  Stopping at the foot of the bed, he tilted my chin up and waited for me to open my eyes.

  “Was the chapel okay, baby?”

  Drawing my lips in to stop their quiver, I nodded.

  “And the dress?”

  I nodded again, fighting to hold back tears as the final strains of the song faded. “Beautiful—too beautiful to waste on me.”

  “Say something like that again, Pippa, and I promise I’ll spank you.” His jaw tightened, his thumb and finger gently pinching my chin to keep me from looking away. “You’re so damned beautiful I could hardly breathe through the entire ceremony. He smoothed his hand down the side of my neck to trace the top of the bodice. “So beautiful I don’t know how I’m going to be able to control myself tonight.”

  Blake advanced on me. I tried to take a step back, the bed halting my progress. He captured my waist, one arm against the small of my back to trap me in his embrace. His free hand worked the zigzag of satin ribbon that kept me laced up tight within the dress.

  Unable to meet his gaze, I stared at his chest. “Can’t we just say we did?”

  “No, baby. No more lying, no more pretending. Let me love you.”

  SEVENTEEN

  - Pippa -

  He tugged at the back of my gown to loosen the ribbon holding it together, his lips skimming back and forth over my shoulders as if he just couldn’t help himself.

  When he pulled the last of the long white ribbon free from the silver eyelets, the bodice of my dress dropped straight to the floor, leaving me in just the ivory boned corset and matching lingerie set.

  Warm hands sliding down my sides, he gentl
y nudged me onto the mattress, eyes devouring me the entire time. Parting my thighs, a growl vibrated through him as his lips brushed up first one thigh, then the other, while he slowly peeled the lace garters down my legs.

  His gaze never leaving my face, Blake stood and pulled his tuxedo jacket off. It joined my dress on the floor, quickly followed by his shirt, shoes and socks. His pants still on, he sank to his knees again. His hands gripped my thighs, his thumbs stroking the flesh as his gaze roamed my body.

  I wanted to cover myself, but all I had were my hands. When I started to shield my sex, his eyes darkened, intense and forbidding as he slowly shook his head. Flipping his hands so that his knuckles brushed against my skin, he slid his fingers under my panties, lowering the front and side panels just enough that my pussy was exposed to him.

  I knew I was wet, had felt the cream pulsing from me. Now he could see how aroused I was as well.

  Blood rushing to my face, I dropped my head down to avoid his all-knowing gaze.

  “Look at me, P.J.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want the image of his lust branded in my memories, didn’t want to see the slow flutter of his eyelashes as his mouth dipped down to my pussy even while we both knew that he wanted another woman beneath his lips, along his tongue.

  “Baby, look at me and see how much I want you.”

  I denied the possibility with another shake of my head, harder and more desperate.

  His grip on the panties tightened, the fabric digging into my full hips.

  I brought my hands up, covered my face.

  Blake responded to my disobedience with another growl. I heard a rip, felt wispy fragments of the torn lace as they landed on my skin. Placing both hands on my mound, he exposed me further to devour me with first his eyes, then his mouth. Warm and wet, the tip of his tongue touched the base of my clit then stroked up to curl inside the hood. His top lip teased the exterior for a few heartbeats before he pulled away.

  More seconds passed, long enough for me to grow confused, and then he took another slow lick, stopping with the tip of his tongue pressed against the small pearl inside the hood. He sucked at it, his tongue lightly flicking, his thumbs softly attacking the opening to my pussy.

  My mutinous hips began to rock against him, a small cry escaping me at their treachery. One thumb pushed an inch into me, moving in a shallow circle.

  “So sweet.” He took a lick and then another. “I could spend a lifetime loving you like this.”

  I’d be lucky if I lasted another minute.

  The pulsing heat that had been squeezing at my womb since we entered the suite were growing stronger, more frequent, every touch, every lick driving me that much closer to the edge.

  His thumb pushed deeper, pressing up against the sensitive cluster of nerve endings just inside my gate as his mouth bore down on my clit.

  My hands flew down to my sides, fisting the bedspread as I fought my surrender.

  “Don’t fight it, love.”

  My release slammed into me before I could fend it off again, stealing my breath, my sanity. My hips crested, held position, then pushed higher as I cried his name. Blake kept stroking, pressing, sucking until I lost all control of my lower torso, my flesh sinking into the mattress with a series of jerks and twitches.

  Blake rose up, quickly stripping off his pants and underwear. I heard the heavy fabric hit the ground, felt its soft brush as he pushed the clothing tangled around his feet to the side. I waited for him to touch me again, my skin stinging with anticipation.

  More seconds passed, no sounds audible beyond the rush of blood against my ears. Opening my eyes, I looked past my heaving breasts to the man standing between my spread legs.

  He was magnificent. Candlelight flickered along his muscled abs. Lean hips descended to powerful thighs, the muscles rolling as he flexed. And there, center view, the broad tip of his thick shaft guiding him forward, was the most beautiful cock I could imagine.

  Centering one knee between my thighs, Blake pushed his hands under me and lifted. He slid forward, pushing me up the bed until my head was against the pillows. He kept his gaze fixed on mine, the flame of the candles reflecting a burnished bronze.

  Leaning on one elbow, he ran his free hand along the front of the corset to expose the flesh beneath one hook at a time. He smoothed the fabric to the side before cupping one breast, lifting it as his head dipped down. He tongued my nipple then drew it into his mouth. His hips gave a little roll, his shaft sliding along the split of my lower lips. Slick with my cream, it glided without friction. His ass lifted. The heavy crown butted against my plump labia before his shaft angled downward.

  He was going to enter me, no condom, just skin on skin.

  “Blake—”

  He buried my protest beneath a ruthless kiss and then he was in me, his cock thick and stretching my walls. He pulled back, the broadly flared head hooking inside me. In again, deeper, my pussy knotting around him, the pleasure so exquisite it became an ache.

  “God, you feel so perfect, baby.” Another thrust, all the way in to hit against my cervix. “I love sinking into you. So soft and receptive.”

  He pulled out, his cock sliding over my clit and back down—into me, slowly sinking balls deep. He kissed my throat, licking and sucking as his hips took up a slow grinding rotation.

  Rocking back on his knees, Blake pulled me with him. He wrapped my legs around his hips, his hungry gaze grazing over my heavy breasts and down to where he was speared into me. Taking half strokes, he kept the head of his erection pressed inside me, at just the right spot to keep me on the edge.

  He ran his tongue over the pad of his thumb then lowered his hand to my pussy. He swirled around my clit until he built me up to a frenzy before settling atop it in a slow, penetrating massage. His thumb dipped down, gathered more of my slick cream to swipe it along the length of my clit. He tugged and teased, his cock concentrated on that small swelling inside me the whole time.

  “Do you have any idea how perfect you are?” His gaze hooded, his eyes roamed my body, returning at last to my clutching, rolling center. “All swollen and pink and glistening. And finally mine. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you like this.”

  When he looked at me like that, talked to me like this, his voice rough and breaking, I believed him. For the moment, for each pleasured second that he was in me, consuming my heat and stoking the flames higher, I believed that Blake truly loved and desired me enough to last a lifetime.

  He rocked forward, sinking deep into me and claiming my mouth. His thrusts lost their even measure, matching instead the wild pace of my heart as I lifted to meet him.

  “Yes, baby, come with me.” His hands gripped my hips, yanking me hard onto his cock before pushing me away. Another tug, deep center as my sheath molded around him, squeezing and rippling along his length.

  We tensed in unison, both of us desperately sucking in one last breath before we exploded together.

  He buried his face against my throat and whispered all the words I felt in my heart.

  Bliss surrendered to sleep before my heart could process it all.

  EIGHTEEN

  - Pippa -

  Opening my eyes, I found Blake watching me.

  I quickly closed them again, not ready to have this particularly monumental morning-after talk.

  He brushed his thumb across my lips before stroking my cheek. “Baby, don’t shut me out.”

  I couldn’t help but.

  He repeated that one request a few more times that day—over brunch as we made small talk about how beautiful the islands were, then again at the airport after we bid our guests farewell, and finally when we arrived at the penthouse that I would call home for however long Anna’s lawsuit would carry on.

  Desperate to protect myself, I kept myself at a distance the entire time, and continued to do so after we settled into our first days as husband and wife.

  He slept beside me in bed from that first night, but the wall my heart
had built between us was impenetrable enough that Blake never once attempted to breach it.

  The next day, I was back at work. I stayed in the office till late that night and the following night as well.

  My plans to do the same for the rest of the week were dashed, however, when Blake called me at my office on Thursday afternoon.

  “When will you be home, baby?”

  As late as I can was the answer that rose in my mind.

  “I don’t know,” I answered softly instead. “There’s a lot of paperwork I need to get through with all the IRS matters.”

  “I’m paying my team a lot of money to take care of all that paperwork. You can’t hide at your office forever, P.J.” He paused, his frustration with me evident from the sound of his fingers strumming along his desk. “Carson has been instructed to make a scene at your office if necessary when he comes to pick you up. Be ready to leave by eight. No later. We have something to discuss.”

  He hung up before I could argue, not that I was planning to. He was right; we needed to talk. Neither of us could keep going on like this.

  I entered the penthouse at eight on the dot to the low rumble of male voices. I followed the voices to his home office and found him standing in the doorway waiting for me, his private attorney, Michael Stein, sitting right behind him with our prenup paperwork in hand.

  Though Blake looked pleased to see me at home before midnight, Michael was clearly not thrilled to see me at all.

  Given that damning evidence, and seeing as how I hadn’t heard anything more about Anna’s lawsuit, I had to assume there was a settlement in the works. Which meant the charade would soon be unnecessary.

  As would our marriage.

  I took a step toward Michael, fully prepared to keep a smile on my face while the last fragments of my heart shattered to pieces.