His Virgin Acquisition

by Maisey Yates

  Marco shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t care what happened. Whether or not you slept with your boss is wholly irrelevant to me. But I must warn you that while some men might be easily blinded by generous curves, I’m not. You can’t use your body to get to my heart or my bank account.”

  She clenched her teeth. “My body isn’t on offer.”

  “Really?”

  She was angry, he could see that, and it was genuine. At being called out or at being falsely accused, he wasn’t certain. He knew she was calculating—he had known it before she’d walked into his office. But it was no matter to him. He was hardly going to become a victim of her machinations like her foolish supervisor had supposedly been. He wasn’t going to be swayed by her tempting mouth and her lush curves. He was far too jaded for that.

  Of course she was welcome to try. It would make the next twelve months interesting.

  “Really,” she stated emphatically. “For what it’s worth, I have too much pride to seduce my boss into promoting me.”

  He studied the haughty tilt of her chin. It was very possible that she did have too much pride to do anything like that—now. She had been very young after all.

  “It’s no matter to me one way or the other.”

  She scoffed. “Not worried that I’ll take advantage of you?”

  “Not in the least.” He had infinite experience with conniving women. “Although you’re welcome to try.”

  Angry color suffused her milk-pale skin. “I don’t think that will happen. We have a deal. I already have what I want,” she said stiffly.

  He moved his hand to her soft cheek, letting his finger drift along her silken skin. He felt a sharp tug in his midsection and his shaft hardened. What was it about this woman that made her such a temptation? “But what if you could get more? Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

  She blew out a breath, its heat fanning across his hand. “No. I only want what I earn.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “That could be taken many different ways, cara mia.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said tightly.

  The limo pulled up at the curb in front of her small, shabby apartment building. Neither of them moved.

  She parted her lips and slicked her tongue across their surface. She was pure temptation. And he wasn’t used to resisting.

  He leaned in, half expecting her to draw back. But she met him in the middle, her soft lips clinging, her mouth molding to his, her tongue testing him almost shyly. He cupped the back of her head and crushed her to him, delving deep inside her mouth, tasting her.

  She pulled back abruptly, shoving hard at his chest, her blue eyes rounded, her lips pinched. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It was only a kiss,” he growled, knowing he sounded as frustrated as he felt. But he had been ready to take her in the back seat of his car, with only the privacy shield and tinted glass between them and the world.

  “And it shouldn’t have happened,” she insisted.

  She ran her hands over her tightly knotted hair. Even after their passionate interlude there wasn’t a lock out of place, he noticed with wry humor.

  She drew in a sharp breath and thrust her chin high, her prim façade firmly back in its place. “I would invite you in,” she said tartly, “but I don’t want to.”

  “You want me to come in. You’re just afraid of what might happen if I do.”

  She looked thoughtful. “You’re right. This might be the perfect opportunity to seduce you out of your millions. But, darn it all, I have a headache.”

  He laughed. At least she was amusing. “I guess even temptresses need a night off now and then.”

  She gave him a humorless smile and stepped out of the car.

  “Elaine?”

  She paused, her expression cautious.

  “Next time I see you you’ll be wearing a white dress.”

  Chapter Five

  THE wedding had become sort of much-anticipated society event, despite how little time had passed between the announcement and the actual ceremony—or maybe because of that reason. Elaine couldn’t help but think that the haste of the marriage was part of what made it interesting.

  She felt half the eyes in the historic church examining her flat stomach speculatively as she walked down the long aisle.

  The air was heavy with the perfume of flowers, compliments of her overzealous wedding planner, and the lateafternoon sun streamed through a round stained glass window, throwing squares of blue light onto the stone floor. It was a beautiful wedding. But it was someone else’s wedding. None of it was to her taste except for her simple dress. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was what would happen twelve months from this moment. When the company she had worked so hard for would be hers.

  She raised her eyes and looked at her groom, waiting for her at the head of the aisle. She had never seen him look so handsome. His tuxedo was black and well fitted, showing off broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He was in fantastic shape, but hours in the gym weren’t the biggest contributing factor to his immense appeal. He was handsome, criminally so, his chiseled features the perfect blend of masculinity and beauty. But it was his charisma, his raw confidence, his power that made people gravitate to him. He wasn’t like any man, any person, she’d ever met. And she was about to marry him.

  She swallowed. Her throat felt like the inside of a pincushion.

  This is nothing but a business deal. Nothing but another contract.

  She shifted her bouquet and took her groom’s hand.

  Elaine had no idea how she’d managed to make it through the ceremony, the receiving line, and four hours of the reception. Her feet hurt from wearing her extremely impractical shoes, and her face hurt from all the overly cheerful smiling. And dancing with Marco, clinging to his arm, trying to pretend that she wasn’t melting from the heat he was making her feel, had been as taxing as it had been torturous.

  She sank into the limo with a sigh, and rested her head on the back of the seat. “That was exhausting.”

  “New brides usually say that after the honeymoon.”

  Heat flooded her face. Her treacherous mind was all too willing to offer up possible ways Marco could tire her out. She did not need this. Not now, and not with this relic from the Dark Ages.

  The limo, which had been decorated with over-the-top script writing that said “Mr. and Mrs. Marco De Luca” pulled up to the curb in front of Marco’s penthouse. She didn’t wait for him to open the door for her. She got out and waited for him by the entrance of the building.

  He caught up to her and passed her by, his long legs taking strides much faster than her own legs could carry her. She’d changed after the reception into a white silk pencil skirt and a green sweater, but she was still wearing the ridiculous stilettos, which made walking fast a little tricky.

  She trailed after him down the long marble corridor. This was the sort of love den she’d expected a man like him to own. His women probably fawned over it. Then over him.

  Her stomach lurched at the thought of him bringing other women back here. How many had there been? More importantly, how many would she have to see during their marriage? Would she be able to hear them as she lay in her own bedroom trying to sleep?

  “This is my elevator.”

  “You have your own personal elevator?” All those little tarts he paraded though here probably loved that.

  “Yes, it acts as the main door to my house. It would be a security risk if everyone could use it.” He spoke to her as if she might be a small child.

  “Does everyone have their own elevator?”

  “No, just me.” He offered a smug grin at that.

  He entered a key code into the number pad that was on the lift and the doors opened. The ride up was a long one; he was on the top floor, naturally—what penthouse wasn’t? When the ping signaled that they had reached their destination, the doors opened and revealed a bright, airy living room. It didn’t match with the rest of the building at all. No
thing tacky or overdone about it. No gold filigree on the windows. No champagne glass hot tub dominating the room.

  Far from any of the glittering garishness she’d imagined, it was a contemporary design with clean, sleek lines that didn’t suffer from the impersonal, cold feeling of some modern décor.

  White walls and vaulted ceilings added to the feeling of openness, along with floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a fantastic view of the sparkling Manhattan skyline.

  The kitchen and living room flowed into one another seamlessly. The countertops in the kitchen were granite, and the appliances were top-of-the-line stainless steel. It was a modern luxury Mecca. The kind of home she’d always imagined setting up for herself. Of course her overcrowded one-bedroom apartment with its mismatched secondhand furniture could hardly compete with Marco’s spacious, state-of-the-art penthouse. She just didn’t have the cash to own such high-end things. Loath as she was to admit it, living here wasn’t going to be a trial.

  “You like it?” Marco asked. His husky, sexy voice sent a tremor through her body, and she had to tamp down the wave of longing that threatened to rise up and swamp her. No, it was going to be a trial, all right. Just a luxurious one.

  “I do. It’s very tastefully decorated, and the view is amazing. Although the windows don’t offer much privacy, do they?”

  “Will we be needing privacy?” He raised his eyebrows, his expression one of keen interest.

  Her face went hot. “No! I just meant…I mean because people could see in.”

  “They can’t. It’s one way glass. But I’ll make a mental note that you intend to do things in my living room that require privacy.” He gave her a look that was so hot it nearly melted the soles of her ridiculous shoes. “I’ll make it a point to work from my home office more often.”

  It was at times like this that she really wished she could come up with some witty, off-the-cuff remark, but his casual innuendos always left her a mess.

  She cleared her throat and tried to salvage some dignity. “Where is my room?” Anything to escape.

  “Down the hall, last door. You have your very own en suite bathroom, so you’ll have all the privacy you need. I’ll be in my office; I have some work to do.” She didn’t watch to see which direction he went—didn’t even try to. She just headed down the hall, the promise of a hot bath keeping her going.

  Her bedroom was white, like the rest of the house, and she was pleased to see that she had a view of the city skyline out of her window as well. It certainly beat the view from her own apartment, which consisted of a brick wall and her neighbor’s bedroom window.

  All of her worldly possessions, except for her furniture, had been brought over by movers earlier today, and most everything was still packed away in boxes and stacked neatly in the corner. She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t going to be unpacking tonight. All she wanted tonight was her bath and then bed. An image of Marco, his chest bare, his skin tan against her white sheets, flashed in her mind.

  Alone. She would be going to bed alone.

  She padded into the bathroom and her heart nearly stopped. There was a separate shower and jet tub, all tiled with caramel-colored Italian marble. The tub was so deep it looked as if she could sink in up to her neck and lose herself completely.

  She went back into her bedroom and rummaged around until she found her iPod, then gave a casual scan for the bag she’d packed her clothes in. She didn’t see it, and decided to forego searching for pajamas until after she’d had a chance to let the warm water work the knots out of her muscles.

  It took a while to fill up the massive tub, but it was worth the wait. Elaine submerged herself in the warm water and felt the tension slowly recede from her tightened muscles. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting the events of the day slip from her cluttered mind.

  Her quiet moment was shattered by a rush of cold air. She jerked her head up and scrambled to cover anything that might be showing when she saw Marco standing in the doorway.

  “Good—glad to see you’re making yourself at home.”

  “Get out!” She had never been naked in front of a man before. She very likely hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since she’d been in diapers. She was the type to avoid public locker rooms and showers.

  “Spare me your maidenly modesty.”

  He had no idea how apt a description that was.

  “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, and often.”

  Her ears burned at his casual reference to his love-life.

  “I had hoped that we could put this off for a day or two, but I’m needed in Hawaii to close a very important deal,” he went on.

  “Can we have this conversation when I’m not naked and dripping wet, please?”

  Marco clenched his teeth. The images that statement evoked were so erotic he nearly hauled her slippery body out of the tub so he could show her just what he could accomplish while she was naked and dripping wet.

  He had thought that by walking in on her bath he could remove the mystery, and in so doing remove some of her allure. But far from it. The hints of peachy skin he could see beneath the water had him hard and wanting her with a ferocity that shocked him.

  Her attempts to cover herself had pushed her cleavage higher above the surface of the water, and he was having trouble tearing his eyes away so that he could look at her face when she talked. He’d seen plenty of naked women—plenty of beautiful, naked women. Why should this one be special? She shouldn’t be. But she was.

  “Fine, I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

  As soon as he left the room, Elaine scrabbled out of the tub. She wrapped a towel around herself and cautiously peeked into her room. After she’d verified that a certain arrogant, pain-in-the-butt hunk wasn’t in there she set about looking for something more substantial than the towel that was currently the only thing separating her from total exposure.

  Privacy? Ha! They were apparently using different dictionaries.

  She opened the closet for the first time, and almost choked on her tongue. There wasn’t a black or navy blue suit in sight. The closet was filled with clothes that she was certain bore designer labels, and every last one of them was as far removed from her general uniform as possible. This whole arrangement just got better and better. He was still playing dress-up with her.

  She rifled through the clothes. Cashmeres, silks and cottons. Reds, golds and blues. The small girlish part of her that generally lay dormant was delighted by the selection. It was like shopping in her own home.

  It’s like being bought.

  And she wasn’t going to accept that. But she wasn’t going out to talk to him in a towel either.

  She heard Marco pacing the hardwood floor in the living room. She fingered a beautiful silk dress that hung on one of the hangers. It bothered her immensely that she was thinking about wearing it, thinking about what Marco’s reaction might be to it.

  She shoved the dress and the clothes next to it aside fiercely, banishing the thought of Marco’s touch burning her through thin silk.

  Everything in the closet was extremely feminine, and extremely flimsy. She selected a dress made of a stretch cotton, by far the sturdiest piece of clothing available, and folded it over her arm as she went to look in the dresser for underwear. It wasn’t a big surprise that the same man who’d most likely hidden her sensible wardrobe approved of her lingerie.

  Her face heated at the thought of his hands on her lacy bras and panties. It seemed so intimate, so unbearably sensual. She picked a pair of red underwear and a matching lace bra. She let her fingers glide over the material. Had Marco touched them like this? Imagined her wearing them? She clenched her thighs together to try and quell the rapid pulse that was beating at their apex. Her nipples beaded shamelessly against the rough terrycloth of the towel that was still wrapped tightly around her.

  Elaine put a fierce stop to her runaway imagination. She put the offending underwear on hurriedly, before slipping the wrap dress on and tying t
he sash around her waist as tightly as possible. The neckline dipped low, and she was tempted to look for a safety pin to bring the edges of the v-neck together.

  “Elaine?” Marco’s rich voice floated down the hall and she hurriedly left the room. The prospect of him coming into her bedroom was a bit more than her abnormally alert hormones could bear.

  Marco turned when he heard Elaine enter the room. He’d hoped that he would have managed to get his rampaging lust under control by the time his new wife had dressed and come out to meet him. And he might have, had she not appeared in the living room looking like every man’s fantasy.

  The red wrap dress was held onto her luscious body with a bow, making her look like a present that had been wrapped up just for him. A present he wanted very much to unwrap.

  His fingers itched to pull the end of the bow and reveal the pearly skin that lay beneath the dress. He ached to see each gorgeous inch of her delectable body laid bare before his eyes, to touch her silken skin, to taste the hollow beneath her throat.

  The seam on his pants bit into his growing erection and he shifted, trying to disguise his reaction to her.

  “So, now that I’m decent, you were saying…?” She sat on the couch. Her breasts moved with her, their gentle bounce drawing his attention. If she was wearing a bra it was a flimsy lingerie piece, meant to showcase a woman’s breasts rather than conceal anything. He could see the perky outline of her nipples through the thin cotton. Would they be pale and pink like the rest of her? He gritted his teeth. She had to be doing this on purpose. No one could look that provocative by accident.

  She was even better than he’d given her credit for. The guise of straitlaced businesswoman had put him at ease, but she was slowly dropping the charade and showing glimpses of the real Elaine. She had acted embarrassed when he’d walked in on her during her bath, but he sincerely doubted that a woman so seductive would be put off by something like that.