His Virgin Acquisition

by Maisey Yates

  Now that she’d discovered sex, she wondered how in the world people got anything done. That was why, she reasoned, people were so obnoxiously cheerful and scatterbrained at the beginning of an affair. Because good sex scrambled your thoughts and plastered a goofy grin on your face you couldn’t erase.

  She looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror that was positioned across the room. She definitely had the goofy grin. Her skin was red from the scrape of his whiskers against her delicate face and throat. She knew that if she examined her inner thighs she’d find the same sort of burns. That made her blush to the roots of her hair.

  She slipped out of the bed and contemplated taking a chance on going to the bathroom to find her suitcase. She hadn’t unpacked yesterday. She’d been resigned to sleeping on the couch, and the idea of hanging her clothing in the same closet as Marco’s had seemed like an intimacy too far. Which was just about laughable at this point, since there weren’t any physical intimacies left—not any that she knew about—that she hadn’t shared with Marco the night before.

  Marco walked back into the room at that moment, shirtless and carrying a tray laden with pastries, fruit and meat. He was every woman’s fantasy.

  She leaned over and snatched up the sheet in a belated attempt to cover herself.

  He laughed and shook his head before setting the tray down on the foot of the bed. He gripped the edge of the sheet and unwound it, leaving her exposed again. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips that left her knees weak.

  “No need for you to cover up. I much prefer you naked.” He brushed a swath of blond hair out of her face. “You look so much softer.”

  She looked pointedly at the hard cut of the muscles on his torso. “I can’t say the same.”

  “Yes, but that’s one of the many wonderful things that are different about men and women. Our differences complement each other.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips. “I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”

  “Hungry?” he asked, sitting on the bed and gesturing to the tray.

  “Starving.” She joined him on the bed, still undressed, wondering where the fleeting moment of sanity she’d had when she’d woken up had gone off to. She felt that silly grin spread across her face again as she looked at the handsome face of her lover. Her lover. The grin widened and she knew she looked like the cat that had gotten into the cream and licked the bowl clean. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Guava, French toast and fresh fruit. And I think that’s Spam.” He gestured to the pink square slices of meat that were fanned out on the silver tray.

  “You’re kidding?”

  “It’s a local favorite.”

  “I’ll pass.” She reached over and picked up a slice of mango.

  It felt ridiculously decadent, sitting on the bed with him and sharing a tray, eating with their fingers. When he slipped a bite of guava between her lips and lapped up the juices that dribbled down her chin, the entire breakfast, and any resolve she might have hoped to claim, disintegrated.

  After they’d made love they went to separate showers to prepare for the day. Marco had tried to cajole her into his, but she knew that she would give in to the temptation of his naked body and they would end up cloistered in the villa all day. Her body was more than willing to take that option, but she felt she needed to get a grip on the situation, and she wouldn’t be doing that if she kept allowing Marco to turn her brain to mush with his expert hands and mouth.

  She rummaged through her suitcase and found a pair of white linen shorts and a spring green halter-top made of a slithery, silky material that felt decadent against her bare skin. She had never been so aware of her body before last night, before Marco had shown her what it meant to be a woman. She found she didn’t want to blend in with the boys anymore. She wanted to celebrate her femininity, embrace the power of it.

  Giddiness fizzed in her veins as she quickly tied back her wavy hair and walked out into the main living area of the villa. “So, what’s on the agenda?” she asked.

  Marco looked up, and was momentarily frozen by the pang of lust that hit him square in the gut and the swelling of emotion that tightened his chest. She looked so young, so vibrantly beautiful. All of her haughty, don’t-touch-me demeanor had faded, giving way to a soft, well-loved expression. She looked like a thoroughly satisfied woman, and he couldn’t help but glory like a caveman over the fact that he’d been the man, the only man, to make her feel that way. He had brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure and caught her as she fell. He had been the only man to kiss her lush breasts, to join his body to hers. The novelty of it was extraordinary. No, he wouldn’t even call it a novelty; it was much more than that.

  He still had no idea what her game was—if there was a game. For the first time he considered that she might be everything she claimed to be. That she wanted her father’s company out of a sense of pride and fairness—that she’d entered into their marriage with all her cards laid out on the table. That she had slept with him because she desired him. It hardly made sense, but then it had never mattered one way or the other to him if he understood the inner workings of his mistress’s minds. He enjoyed their bodies, but as for their shallow dreams and desires he couldn’t have cared less.

  Elaine should be no different. She was his wife—that was different—but the marriage was nothing more than a business contract. Their proposed affair was an entirely different matter. It was strictly physical, and if Elaine had designs on making the arrangement permanent, or on scamming him out of his vast fortune, she was sadly out of luck. He wasn’t the type of man to be bewitched by sex, even if it was fantastic sex. His emotions and his mind always stayed separate. There was absolutely no way Elaine could ensnare him.

  “Business.” He flashed her a grin and was gratified to see her cheeks turn rosy pink. She still blushed like an innocent, and in spite of himself he found he enjoyed it fully. “I have a meeting with James to discuss my business plan for the resort.”

  The look of undisguised longing in her eyes—not when she looked at him, but when he mentioned a business meeting—nearly made him laugh. “Would you like to join us, Elaine?”

  A sparkle caught in her blue eyes, and he tried to ignore the surge of satisfaction her happiness gave him. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “It’s in the bag,” Elaine said confidently as they left James’s office later that afternoon.

  Marco took in her confident smirk with great amusement. “You think so?”

  She nodded vigorously, freeing tendrils of hair from her ponytail and bringing them down to frame her face. “Your figures were astounding, not to mention accurate. From what you said in the meeting I can see that your plans will up the revenue by thirteen percent in just two years.”

  “That’s a more generous figure than I had calculated.”

  “Oh, good—then you hadn’t thought of this,” she said, almost gleefully. “The very new upscale nightclub you’re planning to build on the property can bring in profit from patrons of other hotels and resorts. You don’t have to open it to everyone, but making it more inclusive will certainly help it pay for the expense of building it and then some.”

  “It’s definitely a thought.”

  “It’s a good one.”

  She leaned into him, and the intoxicating scent of her assaulted his senses. He’d had her this morning but his body still felt deprived of her softness, of the fulfillment he’d experienced with her.

  “You’re very certain of yourself.” He leaned in too, and pressed a kiss to her neck, enjoying the little shiver that racked her body.

  “You should know that confidence is the key to success,” she said breathlessly.

  “I thought it was image.”

  A tortured groan escaped her lips. “I can’t remember with you touching me like that!”

  “Like this?” He kissed the curve of her neck again.

  “Yes. Like that.”

  “I think it’s time to go back to the villa.�
�

  “I agree.”

  The next few days passed in a kind of sensual haze. The sale of the resort was nearly finalized, and James had commanded that Marco take the weekend to romance his wife. In Elaine’s opinion, he’d done a pretty good job of it. Breakfast in bed, intimate candlelit dinners, and of course amazing sex. She wouldn’t let herself think of it as making love. It was too dangerous. Almost as dangerous as when Marco held her hand during a walk on the beach, or when he held her tenderly against his chest while they were in bed, his arms cradling her close to his body.

  Monday morning she expected Marco would be back to business as usual, so it was a surprise when he exited the bathroom wearing a pair of shorts and a threadbare T-shirt. “I thought we would spend the day together,” he said. “Did my PA happen to buy you a pair of hiking boots?”

  She tried, and failed, to quash the giddy sensations that were fluttering through her. For all she knew his taking time out of his busy schedule to spend with his mistresses was perfectly normal.

  The term brought her up short. Was she his mistress? No. She most certainly wasn’t. They were equals in their relationship. She wasn’t dependent on him, and she certainly wasn’t expecting to be a kept woman. She had a job, and her ambitions extended far beyond that.

  “I don’t think I have hiking boots. I have a pair of tennis shoes, though.”

  “That should be good enough. You don’t get seasick, do you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  His teeth flashed bright white against his tan skin and she felt her limbs go slack. “You’re going to find out today.”

  A slim stream of white sand backed by thick foliage came into view. Elaine leaned over the railing of the small yacht to try and get a better view of their destination.

  She inhaled the salt air and was thankful, again, that she apparently didn’t suffer from seasickness. The yacht cut through the water like a hot knife through butter, the waves parting and giving deference to the bulk of the sleek ship, which virtually eliminated the feeling of being on water.

  Marco walked up behind her and cocooned her in his firm embrace. “This is the island of Kapu. It means forbidden, or taboo.” The wicked words sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s for sale, and I’m considering purchasing it and building a luxury villa on the grounds. It’s the ultimate vacation rental. A private island.”

  “You’re going to buy an island?” There was simply no pretending to be nonchalant over this extravagant show of wealth.

  “It’s a lovers’ paradise. The fantasy of being the only two people on earth realized, with all of the modern luxuries you could ever want.”

  She could imagine it all too easily. She and Marco marooned on an island, with nothing more pressing to do than give each other pleasure. She bit back a moan. “So you’re thinking of it as an extension of the resort?”

  “In a sense. But it will be kept separate, in that only staff and invited guests will be allowed on it when it’s in use.”

  “That sounds…decadent.”

  He chuckled—his hot breath warming her down to her toes, the sound of his laugh rumbling through her body.

  “That’s the idea.”

  It didn’t take long for Marco and the small crew to bring the ship into the floating marina. He moved like a man who had been born at sea, his movements sure and swift, his deft fingers tying knots with ease.

  “Did your family sail often?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the shifting muscles in his forearms as he worked.

  He stopped and straightened, a shadow passing over his handsome face. “No.” He crossed the deck and climbed up onto the ship’s railing before dropping down onto the dock.

  She moved to follow him and he stretched his arms up, preventing her from hitting the wooden planks with the force that he had done. “You just seem like a seasoned pro.”

  Marco never talked about his family, and up until that point she’d thought it might have been an oversight. She should have realized that Marco didn’t commit oversights. His avoidance of the subject was very purposeful, and if he didn’t want to share the reasons there would be no persuading him. She had been right when she’d guessed that he wasn’t a pillow-talker. He wasn’t that much of a talker full-stop—not about anything personal—which had suited her fine since she didn’t exactly want to rehash her disaster of a childhood either. But now it didn’t seem enough to limit conversation to the weather and the stock market. She wanted more. And that was very, very dangerous.

  “I bought my first boat when I was nineteen. Sailed it from Puerto Vallarta to San Diego and then had it transported across the country. Money was no object,” he said ruefully. “I enjoyed it very much.”

  She could just imagine him on board a sleek white yacht, with women in scanty bikinis draped across the deck…and across Marco. Unbidden, a flame lit in the pit of her stomach. She knew Marco had an unfathomable amount of experience compared to her, and generally she could let it go, but she would be a liar if she claimed it didn’t bother her. The thought of other women touching him made her stomach churn.

  “I sold it a few years ago,” he continued, “because I no longer had the time to take extended boating excursions.”

  “Cut into your social life?” she snapped, the image of beach beauties pawing at him still at the forefront of her mind.

  He gave her a withering glare. “I don’t sleep with every woman I’m photographed with.”

  She tried to look casual at his admission. “Oh?”

  “I think you are jealous, cara mia.” He looked very entertained by the notion. And, worse still, he was right.

  “And my being with other men wouldn’t bother you?”

  He stepped nearer to her and claimed her mouth in a fiery kiss. When they parted their breathing was labored, their heartbeats erratic and audible in the near silence that surrounded them. “They would not live to taste your sweet lips. I would not allow it.”

  She tried to think of a tart comeback, something pertaining to his origins in the Neolithic era, but every fiber of her being was too busy basking in the pure pleasure of knowing that Marco wanted her and wanted no one else to have her, that he felt possessive of her in the same way she felt possessive of him.

  Forsaking all others.

  She quickly shook off the remembered snippet of her wedding vows and followed Marco from the dock to the pristine white sand beach. There were no footprints to mar its natural beauty, only gentle, sloping waves caused by the coastal winds.

  “I’m told that back in the jungle there’s a natural waterfall, if you’re up for a walk.”

  “Most definitely,” she said, keeping pace with him as he walked into the thick trees.

  To think that only a week ago she’d been sitting in her gray cubicle, crunching numbers. It seemed another lifetime away. She could hardly reconcile the two points of her existence, and yet they were both real.

  They moved through the sun-dappled undergrowth, vines reaching out and grabbing them around the ankles every so often. “We need a machete,” she grumbled as she tripped over a wayward root.

  He turned and quirked a grin at her. “Just a little bit farther. I can hear the water running.”

  They followed the sound until the treeline ended and they were standing in a grassy clearing. A waterfall was spilling down a lava rock formation and into a clear pool of deep water.

  Marco came to stand beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist, the heat of his body seeping through her clothes, warming her from the inside out.

  “This almost doesn’t seem real,” she breathed. “It’s like a fantasy.” And she didn’t only mean the scene; the man was included as well.

  “Do you think it will appeal to those seeking a romantic hideaway?”

  “I’d say it’s absolutely perfect.”

  “Want to test the water out?”

  She eyed him skeptically. “I thought we were here for business.”

  Marco felt himself grow hard as he t
hought about getting her in the water, her body slick, her nipples beaded tight from the coolness of the natural pool.

  “We’re here to test out the facilities,” he said sagely. “I never buy a car without test driving it first. I’m not going to buy an island without sampling some of its attractions.”

  An impish grin lit her face and she untied the flimsy strings of her halter-top. The close-fitting top had been tormenting him all morning. She pulled the silky shirt over her head and revealed a skimpy electric-blue bikini that barely concealed the fullness of her curves. Her nipples were hard and pressing tightly against the Lycra. He ached to touch her, taste her, to lave his tongue over the small raspberry buds until she cried out for fulfillment.

  “See something you like?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Keep going.”

  She rolled her eyes at him and pushed the khaki shorts she was wearing down her long, shapely legs. The bottom to the bikini was just as tiny and insubstantial as the top, the tight blue fabric hugging the round curve of her bottom and revealing hints of peachy flesh.

  Her irises expanded, obscuring the color in her eyes, as her body responded to his blatant appraisal of her. “Your turn,” she said, her voice taking on the husky quality that he knew signaled her arousal.

  She watched as he stripped down to his swim-trunks, her eyes roaming over him with unconcealed desire. She was an anomaly when compared to any of the other women he’d known. She didn’t lower her lashes coyly, but neither was her look one of bold invitation. There was nothing contrived in her response. She had such total honesty in her desire. She wanted him, and she did nothing to hide that fact from him, but neither did she strut around like a cat in heat to try and gain his attention.

  The pure need in her soft blue eyes was his undoing every time. He hooked his arm around her waist and drew her into his body. Shy excitement lit her face. It amazed him every time she blushed. A surge of emotion caught him off guard, and despite being on solid ground he had the strangest sensation of being unsteady.