Claiming His Wedding Night

by Louise Fuller

  ‘Are you shivering or quivering?’

  His voice broke into her thoughts and, turning, she scowled at him.

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘I was going to offer you my jacket.’

  Her heart seemed to dissolve in her chest and a shivering heat crawled over her skin. ‘Well, I’m not cold,’ she said shortly. ‘So you don’t need to worry.’

  ‘In that case you must be quivering.’ He smiled. ‘Dare I hope that it has anything to do with me?’

  She knew he was teasing her but that didn’t stop the sense of nervous unease she felt at his words. The sense that, despite her efforts to be poised and in control, she was making it transparently clear that her body still responded to him as it had always done.

  Ignoring the burning in her cheeks, she lifted her chin. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Malachi, but it’s been a long time since I was susceptible to your charms,’ she said bitingly.

  He tilted his head, his eyes skimming over her skin, sending ripples of heat in overlapping circles so that she was suddenly struggling to swallow.

  ‘It’s okay to admit it, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘I know you want me as desperately as I want you.’

  Shoulders stiffening, she glared at him. Had he already forgotten his despicable and offensive proposal that she be his mistress? Probably. But knowing Malachi, he thought it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. She knew from painful personal experience that he was happy to exploit everything and everyone—even...especially...his own wife—for his own ends. Five years ago he’d used her image. Now he wanted to use her body.

  The thought made her skin smart as though he’d slapped her.

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. Right now I’m just desperate to get out of this car and away from you.’

  Tipping his head back, Malachi laughed.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re stuck with me.’

  ‘Only for as long as it takes your driver to get me home,’ she snapped.

  There was a short, pulsing silence, and through the rawness of her nerves she felt a drop of quicksilver shoot up her spine as he stared at her assessingly.

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Her body was suddenly stiff and hollow and she felt a crack of fear open inside her.

  ‘No, we will not! This is a one-off, Malachi.’

  He shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders shifting against the fabric of his jacket.

  ‘I see it more as a starting point.’

  She shook her head slowly, her stomach lurching.

  ‘For what? You paying me for sex.’ Anger was flaring inside her once more.

  ‘I just thought we could talk.’

  ‘Look, Malachi, just because I accepted a lift from you, it doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.’ Fury rose up inside her. He was so insensitive. ‘Why would I? After what you said in the restaurant?’ She shook her head, the memory of his words making her hands ball in her lap. ‘You insulted me!’

  He stared at her in silence. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, asking her to be his mistress. Watching her walk towards him, the sight of her gorgeous body pressing against his eyeballs like a hot knife against butter, he’d made up his mind: he had to have her.

  From nowhere, the idea had popped into his head, fully formed. But even now he wasn’t completely sure why he’d actually gone ahead and suggested it to her.

  Shifting in his seat, he gritted his teeth. Of course lust had obviously played a part. But there was more to his decision than just simple biology. When Addie had pitched into his life five years ago he’d seen her as an opportunity, a chance to have what he’d previously discounted as untenable, impossible. Before meeting her he’d never even wanted a wife—only she had been like an itch that wouldn’t stop.

  And then, realising how good she was for his image, it had been easy to persuade himself that she would make the perfect wife, her role in the local charity sector the yin to his yang as a ruthless, self-serving entrepreneur. Crucially, their partnership would help ensure a more positive reception for his new casino in downtown Miami.

  His face stilled. But in the space of six months she’d turned his life inside out: she’d taken his heart and his name and discarded both. Worse, his failed marriage had unleashed a sense of disquiet and doubt that he’d never quite managed to shift, and her defection had left him smarting.

  Now seeing her again, his body was aching with feverish sexual frustration. Persuading her to be his mistress had felt like the perfect solution, for it would solve his hunger and erase the feeling of powerlessness that was the legacy of their doomed relationship.

  His mouth twisted. It was a feeling he loathed more than any other. A grim, painful reminder of a childhood dominated by the dark chaos of his parents’ lives. Addie had seemed like the perfect riposte to their world. Bright, smart, independent—and sexy, of course. Only despite that he’d given her his name, and access to a world of wealth and power, she’d turned out to be just as needy as his parents, only instead of disorder, she brought doubts and accusations.

  Remembering how it had felt when she’d left him—the shock, the humiliation—his mouth tightened. It was a bitter reminder of what happened when he let lust not logic make his decisions. But it wasn’t too late; he could still walk away. Only walking away would feel like cashing in his chips. His eyes narrowed. Besides, her impassioned refusal had simply sharpened his determination to change her mind.

  Only it wasn’t going quite as smoothly as he would like...

  He breathed out slowly. ‘I want you, Addie, and I’m willing to pay to have you.’

  Their eyes met and heat crawled over the skin at the back of her neck. She should have been outraged, and part of her was, for his statement was shocking in its almost carnal brutality. Only she couldn’t deny that another, greater part was trembling with raw, feverish longing.

  It didn’t seem to matter that she was no longer in love with him. He could still make her hands shake and her head spin.

  She lifted her chin. So could a waltzer at a funfair! The difference was that when the ride ended, her heart and her pride would still be intact.

  Gritting her teeth, she conjured up a memory of herself, face puffy with crying, slumped on her sofa beneath a duvet. Remember that, she told herself sternly. No amount of money or sexual gratification was worth those consequences.

  Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, she raised her chin. ‘But you can’t have me, Malachi!’

  She turned and glanced out of the window.

  ‘This probably wasn’t the best idea, so thank you for the lift but perhaps it might be better if you dropped me off here,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can look after myself.’

  Malachi met her gaze. ‘Is that why you’re sitting all that way over there on your own?’

  Watching her bite into her soft lower lip, he felt his groin harden. He could see the conflict in her eyes, could almost feel the nervous jolt of her pulse. She wanted what he wanted, but she couldn’t admit it to herself—let alone him. Maybe it was time to switch tactics.

  He let the silence between them lengthen again and then, shifting round, the better to watch her reaction, he said softly, ‘So, are you demonstrating your independence? Or am I making you nervous?’

  He had chosen his words intentionally, guessing that she would find it impossible not to rise to the implication that somehow he had got under her skin. His assumption was quickly and gratifyingly confirmed as she turned and glared at him, her narrowed gaze two slits of hostile blue.

  ‘Nervous! Why would I be nervous?’

  He shrugged, watching the slow rise of colour in her cheeks and the darkening of her eyes.

  ‘Being here with me...’ he murmured. ‘Alone... There was a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off of one another—’

  He could hear her breathing, short and sharp and shallow, and felt a shivering rush of triumph dart over his skin. She was more than nervous. She was aroused.

&nbs
p; ‘That was a long time ago,’ she said stiffly. ‘A lot’s changed.’

  ‘And a lot hasn’t...’ He paused, feeling his body respond to the provocation in her eyes and the pulse jerking erratically at the base of her throat. ‘Like this...’ And, reaching out, he stretched his arm along the back of the seat and lightly touched her hair. ‘This hasn’t changed one bit. It’s still just as wild and beautiful.’ Pulling loose a gleaming curl, he wound the hair round his finger.

  Heart pounding, Addie shook his hand off. ‘Actually, I’ve been thinking about going blonde. And short. Really short.’

  With considerable difficulty, she tore her eyes away from his dark, shimmering gaze. Did he seriously think that one touch was all it would take? That just stroking her hair would be enough for her to melt into his arms and forget all about his appalling attempt to blackmail her? She caught her breath. Probably. He was so used to women throwing themselves at him. And, judging by the way her whole body was vibrating like a tuning fork, it appeared that she agreed with him. Or at least her stupid, treacherous body did.

  ‘I could walk from here,’ she said quickly, glancing out of the window at the rain-spattered pavement. ‘It doesn’t look that bad any more.’

  She turned to face him and instantly wished she hadn’t. Lounging negligently, his grey gaze seemed to hold her captive, so that even if she’d wanted to yank open the door and run as fast as possible from the dangerous, swirling undercurrents in the car, she would not have been able to do so.

  ‘What?’ she said hoarsely. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ Slowly, with almost cat-like laziness, he leaned forward and picked up her hand, playing gently with her fingers.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t know or care, but somehow the words stayed stubbornly in her throat. Her mouth was dry and she could feel her pulse hammering in her wrists so hard that her hands seemed like living creatures. Drawing back, she pressed her spine into the upholstery of the seat.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. None of this is real.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s like you said. It’s just us being alone together again.’

  He was holding her softly, but his voice was softer still. ‘Maybe. Only you seem pretty damn real to me—and so does how I’m feeling right now.’

  Her blood felt as though it were thinning, growing lighter. If only she could fly, she thought desperately, fly far away. But neither fight nor flight was possible. Even thinking appeared to be a struggle.

  Threads of heat were trickling slowly over her skin like warm syrup off a spoon and she stared at him helplessly, hypnotised by the languorous glow of his gaze. She wanted to lie back and close her eyes and breathe in his warm, masculine scent and believe what he was saying was true. How could it not be? When he said it in that voice...

  For a moment she lingered over his words, repeating them inside her head: How I’m feeling right now...

  And slowly she pulled her fingers away from his. It sounded true because it was true. Probably Malachi did feel like that ‘right now’. But it would pass. No matter how beautiful and enticing it sounded, it was as transient as a winter sunset.

  She shrank back inside her skin. ‘But that doesn’t make it right,’ she said quietly.

  She felt his gaze, fierce and fixed, on the side of her face.

  ‘It makes it better than right. It makes it perfect. This time, this way, it’ll be good between us. There’s no expectation. No promises or pressure.’

  He made it sound so simple, so perfect. She could feel herself wavering.

  Beside her, he inched closer, and looking up into the focus of his eyes, she saw a heat and intensity that seemed to melt her breath. She felt a rush of panic for those eyes told her what she already knew: that he still owned her sexually and now he was claiming her back.

  ‘Stop it!’ She lifted her hand and held it up. ‘Stop saying these things. And don’t come any nearer. I don’t want you to.’

  ‘Only because you don’t trust yourself.’

  Holding up his hand, he pressed his palm against hers, and the longing inside her seemed to split her apart.

  ‘Why are you fighting this? You want me as much as I want you, Addie. Tell me you don’t. Tell me I’m wrong.’ In the depths of his eyes something flickered like the flare of a match—a small, bright flame of desire.

  She knew she should speak, deny his claim. But she couldn’t find her voice—and even if she could have done she wouldn’t have been able to string her words together in any sensible order.

  Heat was spilling over her skin like milk boiling over in a pan. And suddenly she wanted it to overwhelm her. To stop fighting and sink beneath the liquid warmth. His fingers were wrapping around hers, tugging her inexorably towards him, and she knew that they were going to kiss and she was glad...because sometimes kisses were less complicated than words.

  Reaching up, she pressed her fingers against his lips, shivering as she saw his gaze darken with hunger. For a moment their eyes locked, and then she slid her hand up and over his jaw and into his dark silky hair, pulling his mouth feverishly onto hers.

  At the touch of his lips she felt an ache—blissful, voluptuous—spreading out low from her pelvis, and then her hands splayed apart, her head spinning dizzily as he deepened the kiss.

  Moaning, she arched her body towards him, her breath stuttering in her throat, a fissure opening up inside her as his tongue slid between her parted lips and his hands curved around her waist and thigh, pressing, probing.

  ‘Addie...’

  She heard him murmur her name, felt his hand slide inexorably up over the soft skin of her thigh and then higher, beneath the hem of her dress to the pulse beating insistently between her legs.

  Her skin felt hot and tight; inside she could feel herself melting. Gasping, she leaned against the hard muscles of his chest, the hot, salt scent of him coiling round her skin so that she was shaking with longing, her whole body clamouring for more. Shuddering, she pulled at his shirt, tugging at it where it was caught beneath his waistband, lost in the quickening of her breath and the lambent heat pooling low in her pelvis.

  He groaned softly. ‘Stop, sweetheart...’

  And then he said it more loudly, dragging his mouth from hers, lifting his hands away, and she stared up at him dazedly even as her disorientated brain began to absorb the full facts of the situation.

  Her eyes opened and, face flaming, she stared in horror at her reflection in the window. How could she have let that happen? Was she out of her mind?

  But blaming her mind for what had just happened was about as senseless as blaming the moon for turning the tide. However, any debate on the whys and wherefores of blame was going to have to wait.

  Taking a quick breath, she looked up at him reluctantly. ‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ she said slowly.

  Leaning back against the seat, he watched her smooth down the hem of dress. ‘And yet it did.’

  Her cheeks grew hotter. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘And we learn from our mistakes?’ he said idly, reaching out to take her hand.

  ‘I have,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve learned that I shouldn’t accept lifts from strangers.’

  She tried to twist her hand away from his but he tightened his grip, pulling her towards him so that her body was pressed against his.

  ‘But I’m not a stranger. I’m your husband.’

  And, lowering his head, he kissed her again. She felt the same pull as before, the same ache, only stronger, more fervent, and she moaned softly.

  ‘Come away with me, Addie.’ His eyes were dark and fierce and compelling. ‘There’s things we need to talk about alone. Just the two of us. Please—say yes.’

  She pressed her hand against her swimming head, staring at him helplessly, hazy with wanting him, with needing him, and then finally she nodded, for the sexual attraction between them was irrefutable, so why keep trying to suppress it?

  ‘Say it!’ His hands
captured her face. ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  She hesitated. If she half closed her eyes and her mind to the tiny, nagging voices in her head, she could almost absolve herself from any responsibility for her actions.

  Her breath tangled in her throat. But if she spoke, if she went into this now, agreed to this deal, then she would do so knowing that Malachi didn’t love her.

  She shifted in her seat. Maybe it would be easier that way. There would be no more broken hearts and shattered dreams. In fact dreams would come true for the children who learned to trust and hope and believe again through music. The charity she had founded, which had brought passion and pride back to her life, would grow and prosper. And maybe she needed to own this decision unlike last time when she’d been dazzled and docile and always one step behind.

  Determinedly, she lifted her chin. ‘Yes. I’ll come away with you.’ Her employee Carmen was always begging her to take a break. She would be happy to cover for her.

  She felt the car slow as he kissed her again, his hands stroking her hair. Then, breaking the kiss, he looked down at her, his face catching the light so that her breath caught in her throat at the absurdity of his perfect cheekbones.

  ‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’ Despite the teasing smile, his eyes were serious.

  Her heart gave a lurch and she almost laughed out loud. Of course it was too late. It had been too late ever since that letter had turned up in her in tray.

  Shaking her head, she lifted her chin. ‘No. You’re right—we do need to talk. Besides, I could do with a holiday.’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘You might need another one after we get back. This one could be quite...strenuous.’

  Before she could reply he leaned forward and tapped on the window. And she felt the car stop.

  Stepping onto the pavement, Addie looked up at the sky. The rain had stopped and a small, pale sun was edging out from behind the clouds.

  She turned to face him, feeling suddenly awkward. ‘So what happens now?’

  Reaching out, he pulled her against him, sliding his arms around her waist, and the touch of his strong hands made her heart slam against her ribs.