Billionaire Bachelor_Vitali

by Eve Black

He cocked his head, his gaze raking over her features. “Is that a problem?” he asked, wondering if her nervousness had finally made its appearance. What a damn fine time for coyness.

  She shook her head. “No, not really—at least…not for me…”

  Understanding dawned. A smile slowly spread over his face. “You’re worried that I will find you…lacking in the bedroom.”

  She squared her shoulders, tipping her chin up in a show of daring. “As I said,” she began, her voice sharp, “it isn’t a problem for me. I am well aware of my inexperience—not that I am unwilling to learn, on the contrary, I believe that I can be an apt pupil…given the right…incentives.” Mariana dropped her voice to a low, sultry purr, and he about shook off his restraint to show her just how good a teacher he was.

  He cleared his throat, offering her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “Good.”

  She raised a sculpted eyebrow, clearly disbelieving his acceptance. “You don’t mind my lack of sexual experience?”

  He shook his head and leaned forward, placing his large hand over the two in her lap. “Not at all, Mariana. As a matter of fact, it is incredibly arousing to know that you are untouched by any other man, that your flesh is mine to tease…” He reached out, sliding his knuckles up her arm. Goosebumps left a trail in his wake. “And that every sensation you experience, will be something that only I have awakened in you. It’s heady…intoxicating. I cannot wait for our lessons to begin.” He knew he was being intense, that the very air around him was thrumming with the power of his desire and his need for her, but he couldn’t stop it. He’d been holding back for two years—too damn long—and she was right there… She wanted him; he could see it in her eyes, could taste it on her lips, and in the thrusts of her tongue. He could seduce her, make her as desperate for him as he was for her. All he had to do was kiss her again…

  As if hearing his thoughts, she pulled away, her gorgeous face set in a hard mask.

  “Before we begin your lessons, I require that we fulfil the terms of the contract first. There will be a wedding ceremony,” she said—the lawyer returning with a vengeance.

  He smirked, admiring her all the more.

  “Agreed,” he intoned, just before the suite phone rang—again. Having expected this call, he wasn’t angry, more like excited.

  Rising from the couch, Vitali strode the phone, answering it.

  At the voice on the other line, he smiled into the receiver… It was almost like the heavens were smiling on him, too.

  7

  Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!

  That kiss rocked her world, tilted its axis, and threw her orbit into the heart of the unknown universe. Still in shock, she raised a trembling hand to press her fingers against her lips. They were swollen…from his kiss. A tingle of awareness zapped through her, trailing electric fingers up her spine. Mariana gazed across the room to the man who had literally taken her breath away, and her body responded to the sight of him alone. Unlike last time, when he’d stood with his back to her, this time, he stood, staring at her, his eyes lit with an emerald flame—burning so hot she could feel it where she sat. Moisture gathered between her thighs, not a wholly surprising occurrence, the man had basically fucked her with his mouth.

  What will it feel like to truly be fucked by this man?

  Just then, his words sank in through the haze of wantonness… “I couldn’t stand the thought of some other man having what I’d been slavering over for nearly two years…” The man had set a trap for her—and she really couldn’t be mad about it. Yes, some women would look at his actions as creepy, stalker-like even, but she’d never once felt the ominous fear that usually came with being watched by a malevolent person. And, he hadn’t actually said he’d been watching her, only that he’d been slavering after her—for two years! Dear God! That man—the one who looked like sex incarnate—had seen her and wanted her, had even chased her and captured her. All because of one moment in a courtroom.

  If that wasn’t flattering, she couldn’t think of anything that was.

  She’d never been deluded about herself; she knew she wasn’t what most men wanted. She wasn’t a size 6 with a tiny waist, a thigh gap, and a manageable set of tits. She was extra in all the wrong places, and had—for years—hidden behind loose-fitting clothes, bulky jackets, and a snarky attitude. It wasn’t until she’d entered law school and seen the plethora of professional women—all shapes, sizes, and colors—making a killing in the courtroom that she’d realized her true potential. Her confidence had taken a 90-degree upturn, and she’d started buying the fitted skirts, the cleavage bearing tops, and the flirty shoes. Despite that, she hadn’t allowed herself to believe that any man would find her attractive enough to want to have sex with her.

  And now she knew…this one did. This drop dead sexy man wanted her—had wanted her since seeing her the first time. The thought sent tremors of excitement into her core.

  As he spoke in monosyllabic mumbles, he watched her, his gaze roving over her, and her body felt his invisible touch. With a final word in Russian, he hung up the phone, still not looking away from her.

  “Well,” he began, “it appears my ability to anticipate my woman’s needs has only gotten better.” A wolfish, sexy smile lifted one corner of his mouth, and her heart thudded at the picture he presented—hungry animal, preparing to appease his appetite.

  And I’ll get to appease mine as well.

  Straightening, she unclasped her hands and leaned back into the couch, crossing her legs in a manner she knew would tease him; her skirt rode up her thighs, showing glimpses of her caramel skin.

  “And…how have you anticipated my needs? How do you even know what I need?” she asked, her voice a throaty murmur. God, what am I doing teasing him? She was totally out of her element. She would need years of expertise to handle this man. And she only had from now until their wedding in what, two, three days?

  “One look at you and I knew I couldn’t wait to marry you,” he drawled, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

  Anxiety and excitement crashed into her chest, making her breath catch. “What do you mean?” Why did she sound so sleep-rumpled?

  He stopped, just in front of the couch, his shins brushing against her knees. She looked up at him, not allowing herself to be cowed by how much she wanted him, and he looked right back, unblinking.

  “I had Gregor call the priest. He is on his way up.” His smile lit up the room, and subsequently lit her up, too. “We will be married within the next half hour.”

  Half. Hour. Half hour. Half hour! Omigod, omigod, omigod! Madre di Dios, Madre di Dios—Hell, the man has me swearing in Spanish! Unable to wrap her mind around what he’d just said, so easily, like he’d just told her he ordered the chicken instead of the fish, she shot to her feet. She needed to be doing something other than sitting; she needed to be moving, ridding herself of the nervous and sexual energies that were pumping through her.

  Before she could settle her mind and slow her heart, the elevator dinged, and she stopped breathing. A man of about eighty stepped from the car, followed by the dour-faced Gregor. The man, apparently the priest, was wearing a black suit coat, a white button down, and a collar.

  Vitali turned away from her to greet the newcomer.

  “Father Itszack, welcome,” he said warmly. “I am so glad you could come at such short notice.”

  The short yet reed-thin man beamed a warm smile in return. “Anything for you, my son. To think, Vitali Pavlovich finally settling down…” Father Itszack’s bright brown gaze landed on Mariana. And instead of feeling uncomfortable at the prospect of him performing her wedding to a near stranger, she was strangely comforted. Like if this man could trust Vitali, so could Mariana. It bolstered her decision to go through with the ceremony—rushed as it was.

  I hope my trust isn’t misplaced… The slinking, slithering voice of doubt whispered in her mind.

  Vitali grinned at Father Itszack. “Believe me, Father, I am not
settling,” he drawled, turning to pour heat into Mariana, the green of his eyes burning with an unholy fire. She fought off a full-body tremble, and forcing herself to turn from Vitali, she offered the older man a smile. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, patting it like any old priest would. How adorable.

  “I can see what you mean, Vitali. She is breathtaking,” Father Itszack announced, and Vitali grunted.

  “You’re damn right she is,” Vitali replied and, unthinkingly, Mariana turned and slapped Vitali on the arm, shocked at his language in front of a man of God. Too late, she realized what she’d done; she’d struck her fiancé. As her stomach bottomed out, she peered up at Vitali from beneath her lashes, terror mixing with trepidation writhing within her. But in a flash, they were replaced with chagrin.

  Vitali was grinning at her, that lopsided sexy as hell grin that sent her heart spinning, turning her panties into liquid cotton.

  “She has fire! I like her!” Father Itszack said, then chuckled, and Mariana’s cheeks burned with mortification.

  His eyes watching her every expression, Vitali chucked, too, the deep timbre of it rumbling through her chest—and straight to her pussy. She was wet and there was a priest there, for God’s sake! A new flush flew up her neck and into her face.

  Nearly groaning at the awkwardness of her predicament, she almost missed it when Vitali said, “We’re ready, aren’t we, Mariana…?”

  At the sound of her name, her brain stalled, but then kicked into high gear at the look of curious wisdom in the priest’s eyes.

  Not trusting her voice just yet, Mariana nodded, offering Vitali a strangled smile.

  “Good.” Father Itszack pulled a deep purple and white stole from his leather bag, looped it around his neck, and then retrieved a small black leather book.

  With a single nod to Gregor, Vitali summoned the man from the corner. He came forward holding a small Tiffany Blue box. Vitali took the box and turned to her, pulling the lid open to reveal a ring with the largest diamond she’d ever laid eyes on. The setting was a princess cut, and the band was encrusted with eight smaller diamonds. The diamond in the crown of the ring glittered and glinted as the lights from overhead hit it.

  She sucked in a breath, numbed by the sheer size of the ring. With a diamond that size, she’d be well and truly claimed by Vitali. As his wife. Like a carbon billboard on her finger.

  Mariana didn’t know how to feel about that. The man was certainly putting “a ring on it”.

  Vitali reached down and took her hand in his, gripping it tightly, the surprisingly rough skin of his palms seemed to caress the soft flesh of hers. Rough yet gentle. Strong yet soft.

  Mariana Sanchez, brassy, bold attorney, turned to living fire at his touch. Images of that same hot, strong hand, trailing, feather light, over her sensitized body nearly made her knees give out.

  “All right, then. Let’s get started…”

  Father Itszack’s voice disappeared behind the roar of emotions in her head. She listened to the words of the ceremony as if in a bubble, but when the priest turned to her, indicating she recite her vows, everything became clear. She was getting married. She was finally taking that step—the one step she thought impossible, sitting behind her big desk in her big office watching life flash by. It was her chance for a piece of happiness, and she was going to take it by the throat.

  Swallowing down the sudden rush of tears, she let the fear fall away. Smiling up into Vitali’s handsome face, she declared, “I, Mariana Louisa, take you Vitali…”

  8

  She was stunning…and she was his; the large and expensive wedding ring on her finger said that. Pride burst through his chest. His ring on her finger was a proclamation, a contract made of precious jewels. No man would ever have what he’d claimed as his own.

  Vitali sat across from Mrs. Pavlovich and watched as she talked with their companion, her hands flying with excitement, her eyes alight. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth often split into a cock-teasing grin, and her husky voice, when filled with passion, was like a death knell to his self-control. He had to get her alone.

  The ceremony had taken only ten minutes, but he’d invited Father Itszack to stay for dinner, which was a comfortable affair, with delicious food, fine wine, and brilliant conversation. The priest had asked Mariana about her life in Chicago, and the woman had glowed, pouring out her love for her career, her family, and her friends—it was truly beautiful. And she was his.

  “Gregor,” Vitali called to the man standing like a shadow beside the elevator door. “Please escort Father Itszack to the car.” Gregor nodded, Father Itszack shook Vitali’s hand, bid good evening—and good luck—to Mariana, and then left with a nearly silent whoosh of the elevator doors closing.

  And then they were alone.

  He and his wife.

  The room seemed to vibrate with the pounding of his heart against his ribs… He’d waited so long for her, and now…

  “My wife…” he held the last word out, savoring the sound of it on his tongue, and the sight of Mariana shuddering, her flushed skin inviting his hands to come touch. Her slightly parted lips beckoning him to come taste. The sparks of desire in her cocoa eyes begging him to make the first move… And so he would.

  “I hope the ceremony was to your liking. I know you want another, American, ceremony as well.” He walked toward her, slowly, allowing her gaze to flutter over him as he moved, the appreciation written in her expression made his balls ache. And when her gaze finally landed on the noticeable bulge in his pants, her eyes widened, but then narrowed, her nostrils flaring.

  Hmmm…his wife liked what she saw—his obvious desire for her in return.

  “Mariana,” he drawled, coming to stand before her, her eyes flying from his crotch to meet his gaze. “Are you pleased?” Her pleasure mattered more to him than he ever thought possible; pleasing her, in all ways, had suddenly become his mission. His obsession.

  Her black eyelashes fluttered, as if fanning the flames of the blush that pinkened her cheeks.

  How far does that blush go…will her pussy be just as pink?

  She cleared her throat, pushing herself to standing, and clasping her hands in front of herself demurely.

  “I was satisfied by the efficiency of the ceremony,” she said, her husky voice wreaking havoc on his blood.

  He cocked a grin, pouring every wicked intention into it. “That isn’t what I meant, tol’ko moya, and you know it.”

  “I know what you meant,” she retorted. “I just didn’t want to make it that easy for you.”

  At the flicker of challenge in her eyes, he let loose a chuckle. “Defiant, fiery… I like that,” he drawled, stepping closer to drag his finger from just below her ear, down her neck and collar bone, and right over the velvet soft globe of her left breast.

  “Exquisite,” he murmured, in awe of the silkiness and heat of her flesh.

  She trembled, her breath catching. “You have to stop doing that. I can’t think when you do that…”

  Raising a single eyebrow, he did it again, his own defiance coming to the fore. Fire against fire. This time, he dragged his finger from the top of one breast to the other, and watched as she watched his hand, her eyes heavy-lidded.

  She liked it, liked having her husband’s finger sliding over her inviting flesh. Flesh that was, even now, prickling with tiny goosebumps. Her body’s response to his focused attention was a revelation. He must have more.

  “No…I don’t think I will stop doing that. I think I will do much more…wife.” Again, the word on his tongue sent liquid fire through his blood. He couldn’t help but marvel at her—this amazing, sexy, fierce, compassionate, and intelligent woman was now his wife. His dusha...soul in human form. The one he would share the rest of his life with…

  One day at a time. One night at a time… This night. Their wedding night.

  Drawing her into his arms, he reveled in the feel of her curves against his hardness. Though she was petite and he was large, they fit t
ogether as if Fate had designed them, one for the other. Part of him—the cynical part that had been honed from years of scraping and clawing in the orphanage—said that he was being foolish, that Fate was a fickle bitch that cared nothing for him or Mariana. But…looking down at his wife now, feeling her against him, smelling the scent of roses wafting from that sensitive place, just below her ear, he wanted to believe in Fate.

  “What?” Mariana asked, her brows pinched. “What are you thinking about that has you looking so…pensive?”

  Perceptive. And ballsy. God she was going to be a fun package to unwrap.

  While she was good at perceiving his change in mood, he wasn’t quite ready to explain it. He could barely figure it out himself. When had he become a moon-eyed romantic fool? Slamming the door on those flowery thoughts of Fate and being made for one another, Vitali cupped Mariana’s face with his hands. Her eyes widened.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” To prove his point, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers—ever so slightly, like a feather along her mouth. “I would much rather talk about getting you out of that incredible skirt, pulling that sweater up over your head, and peeling your bra and panties from your body so I can see every inch of you. And once we’re done talking…we can start…not talking,” he drawled low, his voice husky with unspent lust.

  “That sounds amazing,” she purred, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “But—”

  He slid his thumbs over her mouth to silence her naysaying. “But nothing. I know you seem to think you will disappointment me, but there’s something you need to know, wife.”

  He moved his thumbs so she could speak. “What’s that?” she breathed.

  “I have been dreaming about this moment for two years—that’s 730 days—and the only way you could disappoint me is if you don’t kiss me right now.”

  He held his breath, his body tense with waiting, wanting, anticipating her response. Would she…?

  At the catch in her breathing, he smiled.