The Billionaire's Bride of Innocence

by Miranda Lee

  Megan was rather relieved that she had a denim jacket to go over everything. Though it wouldn’t hide the cleavage part. Besides, the jacket would have to come off once she got on the plane. Or, at the very latest, when they disembarked in Cairns. Their destination had an average temperature of twenty-eight degrees, even at this time of the year, along with high humidity.

  Her holiday wardrobe catered for the heat, consisting of several skimpy tops and shorts, a few skimpy sundresses, and two very skimpy swimming costumes: a red bikini, which had an outrageous bottom half—it was just a thong—and a colourful one-piece which had looked deceptively modest on the rack, but wasn’t really.

  Despite having the figure to wear such clothes now, Megan still didn’t feel comfortable with flaunting her body. She’d been talked into most of her purchases by Nicole, who was extremely persuasive. No wonder that girl was doing well in real estate.

  I do look good, Megan decided. That beauty salon really knew its stuff. It was just that the girl gazing back at her in the mirror didn’t quite look like her. That girl was way too fashionable, and funky. And yes, sexy.

  There was that word again. Sexy.

  Suddenly she thought of the painting which she’d finished last night and which was hidden away in the cupboard, along with the other one. Both were good. Very good. Her best work.

  Would she ever dare show either of them to James?

  Megan doubted it very much.

  At last, James thought as he hurried towards the pool-room door.

  In a few hours, they would be in Cairns. Then, after a short helicopter flight, on Dream Island, where they’d be alone in the exclusive resort’s most luxurious—and most expensive—private villa.

  He could hardly wait!

  This past week had been one of the longest weeks in his life. He’d managed to distract himself somewhat from his ongoing frustration by working long hours in the office, after which he’d worked out in the gym till he was tired enough to sleep. But the time had still dragged. It might have helped if he’d been able to play golf at some stage. Golf always distracted and relaxed him. But Hugh was away on his honeymoon and Russell was snowed under with making more millions selling houses, courtesy of Nicole spending most of the week with Megan.

  James wasn’t into playing golf by himself.

  He’d woken this morning feeling both excited and relieved. Now he just felt excited.

  He didn’t bother to knock. He just barged right in. At which point he stopped dead in his tracks.

  ‘My God!’ he exclaimed.

  If nothing else, following Nicole’s advice had been worth this moment, Megan thought with a wild rush of pleasure.

  The look in James’s eyes might not be love, but it was the next best thing. His gaze fairly sizzled as it raked over her from top to toe, his mouth remaining open with shock.

  Finally it snapped shut, and he smiled. It was a super-sexy smile.

  ‘Wow!’ he said.

  That one word went a long way to restoring the confidence she’d once felt around the man she loved.

  Megan returned his smile. ‘Nicole said it was time for Megan the mouse to be dispensed with.’

  James looked taken aback. ‘What an awful thing for her to say!’

  ‘Not at all. I agreed with her completely. It was time for a change. So what do you think of the new me?’ She twirled in a complete circle, her newly layered and much brighter hair swishing back and forth across her shoulders.

  ‘I think,’ he said, his dark eyes glittering, ‘that if we don’t get out of here right now, we might miss that plane. So point me to your luggage, O gorgeous one, and let’s go!’

  An elated Megan did just that before sweeping up her fitted denim jacket and her new pewter holdall, popping on her new designer sunglasses then heading for the door.

  James kept staring at her all the way to the airport, his expression ranging from a wry amusement to open admiration. He didn’t seem quite as amused during their walk through the terminal, however, when other men started staring at her as well. One even whistled as she walked past.

  ‘Lecherous bastard,’ James muttered under his breath.

  Megan wasn’t sure if she liked the attention or not. It felt strange. She wasn’t used to being ogled. But she liked her husband’s jealousy. Still, she was glad when they were finally settled on board and it was just him and her together, in the business-class section of the plane.

  Flaunting her breasts in public wasn’t really her style.

  But I might get used to it, came the unexpected thought.

  ‘I can see,’ James said after they’d stowed their things and snapped on their seat belts, ‘that I’ll have to polish up my black belt in karate.’

  ‘What? What for?’

  ‘To fight off all the other guys.’

  Megan blushed with pleasure. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I’m not. Honest to goodness, Megan. I hardly recognised you this morning. You look so sexy it’s sinful.’

  Megan decided not to take offence. Because he was right: she did look different and, yes, sexy.

  ‘I was at the beauty salon all day yesterday,’ she told him, ‘so I should warn you before the credit-card bill comes in that looking like this costs a small fortune.’ For which exorbitant price, however, they’d given her the works. Her teeth had been whitened, her long brown hair cut, styled and colour-enhanced, her eyebrows plucked, her lips plumped, all her nails painted. She’d been waxed, buffed and polished, till every inch of her skin was as silky-smooth as a surfboard. Every inch.

  Oh, dear…She’d forgotten about that for a moment. Megan swallowed nervously. Should she mention it now, or leave it for all to be revealed later?

  In the end, she stayed silent on the subject. There was nothing to be gained by saying anything prematurely. What was done was done.

  ‘My wardrobe cost a bomb as well,’ she confessed instead, using one of Nicole’s pet phrases. It did seem, however, that the kind of beauty which turned men’s heads cost one heck of a lot of money.

  But there was only one man whose head she wanted to turn.

  ‘My money is your money, darling,’ that man said smilingly, and leant over to pick up her right hand.

  James knew immediately that he shouldn’t have touched her. Not here, not now. But it was too late…

  He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and arousal as he ran his tongue lightly over the tips of her fingers, then quite deliberately drew her middle finger into his mouth.

  The old Megan would have been shocked. What would this new Megan do?

  He saw the surprise in her eyes slowly change to something else. Her pupils dilated, her eyelids grew heavy. When he sucked on her finger, her mouth fell open with a small gasp. Not with shock but with pleasure; sheer sensual pleasure.

  James had always known Megan was a responsive and passionate creature, only her shyness—and her lack of experience—stopping him from taking their lovemaking along more adventurous lines. He hadn’t wanted to upset her with demands she might find repulsive, or disgusting.

  He could see, however, that this new Megan might just be ready to expand her horizons. It excited him to think of her doing to him what he was doing to her finger. Excited him to a point where he knew he would soon have to stop.

  Seeing the flight attendant approaching down the aisle with a trolley of drinks forced him to take Megan’s finger out of his mouth and return her hand to her arm rest. It was gratifying, however, to hear her soft moan of protest. Clearly she was as turned on as he was, maybe even more so. There was a glazed look in her eyes which suggested she’d totally surrendered herself to what he was doing, possibly even becoming unaware of her surroundings. Intense sexual arousal could do that at times.

  James realised that their second honeymoon was going to be even better than he’d hoped.

  ‘Would you and the lady like a drink, sir?’ the steward asked.

  James turned his head towards Megan, who was still loo
king dazed. ‘Champagne for you, darling?’

  She blinked, then nodded.

  ‘Champagne for the lady and a double Scotch for me,’ he ordered. ‘No ice.’

  Megan positively gulped the champagne whilst he sipped his whisky very slowly, all the while savouring deliciously erotic thoughts of what lay ahead. This new Megan didn’t stand a chance, not now that he knew she was ripe and ready. Neither would their lovemaking be confined to the bedroom. His wife was going to be his in ways she hadn’t been before. Making her a mother was suddenly not James’s main priority. First, he aimed to fix the frustration he’d been living with for over three months now.

  The steward stopped on his way back down the aisle and offered top-ups for them both.

  Megan stared down at the glass in her hands, shocked to see that it was empty.

  ‘No, not right now,’ she said, and handed the steward the glass. She could already feel the effect of the alcohol on her empty stomach, her head spinning a little.

  Though that might not be the champagne. She’d been lightheaded ever since James had done what he’d done. Her hands gripped the arm rests at the memory of how it had felt when he’d sucked on her finger. She hadn’t wanted him to stop. Hadn’t given a thought to where they were, or that other people on the plane might see them.

  When he’d withdrawn his finger she’d even cried out in protest.

  Recalling that brought a sudden wave of embarrassment. What must James think of her?

  ‘Don’t,’ he said quietly beside her.

  Her head turned his way. ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’

  ‘How did…?’ She broke off once she realised her face must have gone red. It still felt hot. ‘You must think me very silly,’ she said, all her earlier elation dissolving into dismay. Nicole’s project of making her over into a bolder, sexier woman had been doomed to failure from the start. She just didn’t have that kind of confidence. She never had had, even before her miscarriage.

  ‘I don’t think you’re silly at all,’ James said. ‘I admire that you’ve made some changes to your appearance this past week. You do look incredible. But that’s not the same as changing the person you are inside. You’re basically shy, Megan. You could never be an exhibitionist, for which I’m grateful. I wouldn’t have married a girl who liked my making love to her in public.’

  ‘But that’s what you just did!’ she protested. ‘And I did like it. Sort of…’

  His smile confused her.

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but that’s because you were so turned on you forgot you were in public.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Trust me. I know.’

  She just stared at him.

  ‘I’m a lot older than you, Megan. And a lot more experienced. I recognised the signs. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to do what I did. I was just so turned on by the new you that I lost control for a moment.’

  ‘You did?’ She found the concept amazing. That her super-cool husband could ever lose control. She didn’t think it was possible. Not with her, anyway. Maybe he did desire her for real. Maybe his passion wasn’t pretend.

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised. Do you have any idea how frustrated I’ve been these past few months? Some nights I’ve been climbing the walls.’

  Aah…So it wasn’t desire for her so much which had made him lose control, just the desire for sex.

  Megan should have realised that. For a moment dismay threatened. But she fought it off by addressing the situation with some common-sense logic. There was no use pining for the moon. She’d known the score when she came on this second honeymoon. He didn’t love her and that was that. It seemed, however, that he hadn’t been unfaithful to her. Be thankful for small mercies, girl. And take full advantage of his frustration.

  Because, let’s face it, he wasn’t the only one who’d been climbing the walls this past week.

  She set surprisingly steady eyes upon him. ‘How many girls have you had over the years?’ she asked.

  ‘What a question! I’ve got no idea.’

  ‘That many…’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about any of them, if I were you. They were all banished from my mind the moment you came along.’

  Well, of course they had, she thought with a degree of cynicism which surprised her. I was chosen to be the mother of your children.

  ‘Why me?’ she suddenly asked, despite knowing that she was treading on thin ice.

  ‘Because you were perfect,’ came his smoothly delivered reply.

  Oh, he was good, he was very good.

  Megan decided to steer the conversation on to a safer topic.

  ‘Did you mind that I was a virgin?’

  He looked startled. ‘Mind? Why would I have minded?’

  She shrugged. ‘Because I was inexperienced. I dare say, after a while, you found me rather boring in bed.’

  ‘I never found you boring in bed.’

  ‘Oh, come, now, James. If we’re going to start again, we should at least be honest about things in the bedroom.’

  James realised the situation could get sticky here very quickly. ‘Megan, darling. I am being honest. I never thought you boring in bed. At the same time, that doesn’t mean that I would not have, one day, moved our love life in a more…imaginative direction. I get the impression you wouldn’t object if I did that during our second honeymoon. If I have got the wrong message, however, I would suggest you say so now.’

  ‘What do you mean by a more…imaginative direction?’

  ‘I don’t think this is the time or the place to go into detail. If you trust me, however, as the more experienced partner, I will show you when we get to Dream Island.’ His eyes caressed hers in the most seductive fashion. ‘I promise I won’t do anything you might find too…um—er—much.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  He shrugged. ‘Such as tying you to the bed,’ he said rather flippantly. Then immediately wished he hadn’t.

  Her eyes flared wide. But he didn’t spot any alarm in their depths, only surprise. And perhaps a flicker of excitement.

  James put mild bondage down as a possibility. It stirred his flesh unbearably to think of Megan lying naked on a bed, her arms stretched up above her head, her wrists secured to the bed head. He suspected Megan might enjoy the experience as well. She could surrender her will to his, as she had when he’d sucked her finger just now. She would be powerless to stop him from going down on her. She would enjoy that, once he got her past her shyness. He was sure of it.

  ‘Of course, I might,’ he continued recklessly, ‘but only if you ask me to…’ When he held her dilated eyes with effortless ease, he knew she was going to do everything he wanted.

  The steward chose that precise moment to interrupt with their lunch. James noted Megan’s furious blush as her tray was handed over to her. No doubt she was worried that the man might have overheard what they’d said. Or possibly it was the heat of arousal which was flaming her cheeks.

  James hoped it was the latter. But that was probably because his own flesh was appallingly excited.

  It was a pity that they were still a couple of hours from landing in Cairns, and possibly another hour before they were ensconced in total privacy on Dream Island. He really would have to stop having this kind of provocative conversation. It wouldn’t do for him to be too turned on. He had no intention of rushing things with Megan.

  James exercised some ruthless control over his mind—and his body—during lunch, after which he put back his seat and told Megan that he was going to have a nap.

  ‘Wake me when we get there, darling,’ he said, and closed his eyes…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DREAM ISLAND was not a large island. Neither was it very far from the mainland. But it had everything that a romantic getaway required: lots of beautiful little beaches with the whitest of white sand, a variety of restaurants staffed by some of the best chefs in the world and an array of five-star accommodation
to suit every taste, from the swish hotel situated right next to the main beach to individual villas dotted around the extensive tropical gardens and totally self-contained bures positioned in the more remote parts of the island, all of which had either their own private pool, or their own private beach.

  The two-bedroomed villa James had secured for their second honeymoon was the only one on the island which had both a private beach and a pool. It was outrageously expensive and was often occupied by royalty and rock stars, or so he’d been told, as well as the odd Australian billionaire who was prepared to spend anything to impress and impregnate his second wife.

  Not that James was thinking about babies by the time their plane arrived in Cairns and they finally made it by helicopter over to Dream Island. He was, however, very definitely thinking about making love to Megan, his resolve to keep his mind off that subject having disappeared the moment they landed.

  The extra time that it took for them to be further transported by beach buggy through a dense tropical forest to their accommodation irritated the death out of him. But any frustration was waylaid once he saw what the two-thousand-dollar-a-day price tag provided.

  Not only was their Bali-style villa suitably luxurious, but it was also extremely well-equipped for the kind of erotic interludes James had begun planning on the plane. There was a massive master bedroom complete with a king-sized bed, and an opulently decked-out en suite bathroom which had a double shower and a sunken spa bath. The living room was equally accommodating, with a selection of large, comfy sofas, a couple of hedonistic-looking rugs and a massive plasma television set.

  Add to that total privacy—security along the only road which led to their villa was visibly tight—and you had the perfect conditions for what James was thinking of.

  But first he had to get rid of the eager-beaver escort who’d brought them here, and who’d been showing them around and going through his well-practised spiel for the last ten minutes.