He had to keep his distance, something much easier to do when she was busy sharpening her claws on him. Cynicism would stand him in good stead for once, providing the wall around his wanderlust that he was unable to maintain with his fragmented self-control.
“If I need your opinion, I’ll give it to you, Whitney. Until then, just keep out of my way.”
“You’ll give me an opinion?” Whitney screeched, unable to believe even Christian could be so callously chauvinistic. “How dare you talk to me like that! Here, I’ve got something to give you too!”
Christian dodged the plate as it flew past his head but the fruit it had held rained down upon his head and shoulders. As calmly as if he were picking lint off the sleeve of a coat, Christian deliberately removed each piece and laid it on his napkin. The fact that he was not yelling back at her caused Whitney some small degree of misgivings but she shoved them aside, much too angry at his caviler attitude to want to analyze his reaction, or lack of it. Later, she would realize that was the point at which she made her fatal mistake.
The air grew unbearably tense as the minutes ticked by. Whitney was unable to tear herself from her seat until she confronted the reaction that would undeniably be unleashed toward her. She wasn’t wrong.
“Come here, Whitney.” Christian’s low, ominous command impaled Whitney to her chair more completely than her own will had been able to do. He wasn’t even looking at her but she could sense the contemptuous fury hidden below the surface of his deceptively soft words. She had crossed the line this time and she knew it.
“Whitney, I said to come here,” he repeated still staring down at the table in front of him, refusing to let her see the depth of his rage. When she steadfastly refused to move at his command he finally allowed his temper to explode and brought his clenched fist crashing down on the table, spilling water everywhere and sending the service ware flying. “Now!”
Whitney flinched at the outburst and sent the chair spilling to the floor in her haste to escape the room. She had tried to convince herself that she could handle Christian Dade but this time she knew he wouldn’t let her go. He meant to punish her for her outburst, even though he had provoked it and instinctively she knew that he wouldn’t stop with just a few kisses meant to remind her that she was and always would be, of the weaker sex. He wanted to humiliate her, just as she had done to him, she had seen the steely determination of his intent flash in those dangerously dark eyes of his. It wasn’t a question of who was right and who was wrong. He was reacting with pure, animalistic instinct to an unwelcome threat, using the one method that would ensure he would emerge the victor.
She had fear giving flight to her racing limbs but Christian was quicker. He scrambled over the top of the table between them instantly, tackling her about the waist and dragging her to the floor. He rolled so that he broke her fall, catching her weight with his own but never once loosening his hold on her. Before she could recover, he expertly flipped on top of her, straddling her hips with his knees and holding her hands in one of his own above her head. As disadvantaged as she was, Whitney still refused to show him how scared she was.
“You’ve not kept any other promise you’ve ever made to me, so what’s it to be now, husband? Rape?”
“Rape? I don’t think that will be necessary, do you? Most sane individuals find that after angering me once, it is not wise to repeat the mistake. You, however, don’t seem to have any sense of self-preservation. You plunge ahead, knowing full well that if you provoke me enough I’ll have no recourse but to employ my most effective weapon against you and we both know what that is, don’t we? That razor-sharp tongue should really be put to better uses, sweet,” Christian told her in a husky voice, dipping his face to within a hairsbreadth of Whitney’s. His warm breath mingled with her own and desire, hot and molten erupted deep within her, much to Whitney’s mortification. How could she possibly hunger so feverishly for a man she hated so deeply? Even when he made no pretense that he was determined to degrade her, her body betrayed her, thrilling to each point of contact his massive frame made with her own.
“And perhaps it will but not with the likes of you,” she spat, trying not to focus on the part of him pressed so intimately against her. “You swore never to take anything from me again against my will, remember? Or were your words as worthless as your intentions?”
“I believe my exact words were that I’d never force myself on you. I never said anything about what was freely offered.” Christian slowly rocked his hips against hers as he spoke, grinding the hard bulge of his manhood against the sensitive center of her while all the time maintaining his grip on her wrists to still her weak struggles. He dredged up every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep his hands from roaming the tempting curves and valleys of her body, regardless of his promise to her, or the one to himself. He only wanted to scare her, remind her that he would brook no interference with his decisions. To actually succumb to his body’s cry for release would be to admit his need for Whitney was greater than his need for the home he loved so dearly. Nothing was more important than building upon his father’s reputation and memory. Nothing and no one!
The building storm of emotions within Whitney surpassed the blinding, swirling storm outside, pulling her into the pulsing vortex. She strained against Christian, trying to dislodge him from where he held her locked tightly between his powerful legs but she only succeeded in causing herself more mortification as her own soft flesh reacted to the thrusts by becoming warm and moist, swelling in anticipation of joining with her husband.
A soft moan escaped her as her eyes fluttered shut and she lost herself in the all-devouring need Christian had lit with her. Even fully clothed and without laying a hand on her he was able to make love to her and her pleasure rose with each slow, tortuous thrust and within moments she lay writhing beneath him, panting erratically, her eyes glazed over with yearning passion. She was powerless to fight any longer the intense attraction she had for the handsome man who had made her his wife. It was too overwhelming, too penetratingly piercing to withstand and she gave in to it, allowing her struggles to turn to answering movements, meeting each driving plunge with searing abandonment.
Christian glanced, startled, into Whitney’s upturned face and knew instantly that he had allowed things to progress much too far. Seeing that her cheeks were flushed with passion and her lips had parted in invitation to his kiss, he realized that she was no longer receiving punishment but inflicting it instead. He had to stop before it was too late.
Abruptly, he released her and rolled to his feet. Towering above her and looking at the confusion on her beautiful features he knew it would be the hardest thing he had ever done, short of burying his parents, to walk away from her at that moment. But he had to. If he consummated the marriage, he would be tied to her for the rest of his life, forsaking his independence, his freedom, his will. Regardless of what he had told her, he took vows made to the Almighty as sacred and would never be unfaithful or embarrass someone who bore his name. Right now, he had to return their relationship to the safety of shared animosity.
“If there’s a next time, you won’t walk away untouched if you get my meaning, sweetheart.” Christian flung the words at Whitney as she struggled to her knees. “You’ll become Mrs. Christian Dade in every sense of the word if you aren’t careful.”
With that he turned and sauntered out of the dining room, leaving Whitney furious, frustrated and feeling wretchedly foolish to have thought that she could trust him to keep his hands off her.
He hadn’t needed to use his hands.
She had conveniently played along and given a fine performance of the outraged virgin turned sex-starved vixen for him hadn’t she? He hadn’t even needed to undress her. She felt a sudden urge to wash away the feelings of degradation and humiliation she had helped place on her shoulders by soaking in the hot tub. No one else was there and she seriously doubted that she would see Christian again for the duration of their forced coexistence. She wouldn
’t if she had anything to say about it anyway.
Within fifteen minutes she had changed into her bikini and donned a fluffy white dressing robe. After piling her shining curls on top of her head she tucked her headphones in a large pocket, stepped into thick warm slippers and hurried out to the gazebo where the hot tub stood, steaming and inviting. As always, she felt the solitude begin to erase the stresses of her life. Had she actually been ready to give herself to the black-eyed devil who was now her husband?
Stripping off the robe she eased herself into the swirling waters, delighting in the languorous feeling. She had always said that she would save her virginity for her husband but she had meant a husband she could love, not an irresponsible, domineering, argumentative tyrant. Was she ready to commit her heart to such a man? If only he would show her some measure of kindness, of humanity, instead of always provoking the worst in her. Why couldn’t he do that?
Christian wondered the same thing as he stood watching his auburn-haired angel relaxing in the misty waters of the sunken tub. He had come to escape the temptations he knew the house held and found that a higher power found it amusing to keep placing his fiery temptress directly in his path. With her eyes closed and her head thrown back exposing the supple column of her neck, it was hard to remember why he was trying to keep his distance. It would be so easy to sweep her into his arms and kiss all their animosity away. She had invaded every part of his life—his business, his home, his heart. He hadn’t wanted her in any of them but she stubbornly refused to leave. For all his attempts to push her away, she had steadfastly remained where she had always been, her presence burned into his soul despite his wishes.
Would it be so terrible to make their marriage real? Would taking her for his true wife be such a burden? Watching the gentle rise and fall of her swelling breasts, Christian couldn’t formulate one credible reason not to do just that. He had wanted this woman from the moment he had met her, all shy and flustered that day in the restaurant. Each time he had held her, touched her, dreamed of her, his determination to purge himself of her presence had weakened and now he was left defenseless before her innocent allure. He could no longer deny himself the sweetness her body promised, the tantalizing treasures he had so often thought of. He knew she wanted him, her body had answered that question time and time again despite the hateful words she threw at him in the heat of anger. He wanted her too. It was time.
Whitney was so lost in thought as she listened to the music floating through the headphones that she didn’t realize that Christian had slid silently into the water with her. The warm water, the quiet song, the surreal silent, snow-filled setting had all combined to have the desired effect she had been searching for and she found she was very near to drifting off to sleep. She was completely relaxed and had managed to finally, temporarily, forget the overriding humiliation of responding to Christian’s continued mastery over her senses. But through the hazy darkness of her thoughts she felt a silken caress whispering along her upper thigh, the soft touch of a lover gliding up over her taut belly. It was heavenly and she never wanted it to stop, wanting to believe Christian could be the sensitive, masterful mate of her dreams if only this once.
She knew it was no dream as she felt herself being wrapped in a pair of strong arms, lifted weightlessly against a broad chest. Christian’s springy chest hair rubbing against her sensitive skin. She could stop this right now. With just a word. By simply opening her eyes. But if she did, would she ever be able to stop imaging the clean, musky scent as she pressed her face against his shoulder, clinging to him in the midst of the building storms both inside and out? Would it be so terrible to have this one memory to assuage her loneliness in the years to come?
She couldn’t think as a firm hand moved to the string that held her top up and in one smooth, fluid motion she felt it fall free, leaving her swelling breasts visible to Christian’s smoldering eyes, vulnerable to his burning kiss. With her eyes still closed, she cried out as his dark head lowered and he flicked one crested nipple with the hot tip of his tongue. Her fingers wound themselves through the dark mane of his hair, drawing him closer, silently begging him for more.
And he gave her more. His tongue lavishly painted each breast in turn, creating spiraling, white-hot flames of yearning far within the depths of her core. Whitney writhed in his arms beneath the onslaught of the sensual sucking, the tender kneading, tiny whimpers escaping her as he found more and more ways to bring her pleasure.
He raised his head and swiftly captured her lips in a demanding kiss of such soul-searching intensity that Whitney began to wonder if she would ever have the strength to deny herself such pleasure in the days and weeks to come. The dark, swirling mists of sensuality he spun were such blissful agony that she wanted to remain where she was forever. His plunging, exploring tongue drove her mindless with desire, slipping and darting in and out between her lips, nibbling and softly sucking on her pouting lower lip. He covered her body with his massive frame, cradling her back against the hard edge of the hot tub. Whitney could feel his need, hard and throbbing, against the waiting delta between her legs.
“Whitney,” his deep voice whispered into her ear, “ask me to stop now while I still can.”
Stop? Why would she want him to do that?
“Ummmm,” Whitney murmured, “I want you to stop talking.”
“Whitney.” Christian’s voice sounded strained. But why should it? He had started this, made her want it too. “I’m going to make love to you now, unless you ask me not to. I’m going to take you and you’ll truly become my wife, is that what you want?”
Not hearing the reference to her position as his wife Whitney knew only that she wanted him to stop talking and kiss her like he had before. Reaching up to curl her fingers around his neck before dawn came and he vanished, she whispered the words Christian no longer dreaded. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Take me, love. I want to be yours.”
She was immediately crushed within his embrace, his lips searing hers, sending a liquid river of molten desire coursing through her veins. Whitney was burning with passion, was desperate to quench the unbearable fever that was consuming her. Each touch of his hands, each stroke of his fingers fueled the burning fire within her. She moaned into his mouth, answering the frenzied questing of his devil-tongue with aggressive forays of her own.
Her bikini bottom floated to the surface of the water as he expertly removed it. She hardly noticed. Suddenly she could feel him against her, flesh against flesh, naked need driving them both to cling to the other. Beneath the waters their bodies came together, merging into one. With one mercifully swift thrust her phantom pierced the barrier of her maidenhood, transforming her into a woman in every sense of the word and his hands soothed away the tremors of pain that followed. Slowly, insistently, he began to move within her, turning her world into a spiraling spasm of sensation. Whitney met each driving thrust with an instinct as old as Eve herself, giving him her body, her soul, her heart. When the shuddering pleasure overtook her Whitney screamed out, arching into him, finding release from the sweet torture of his touch. He followed, her name wrested from him in a hoarse rasp as he claimed her lips once more, spilling his seed into her channel. She was his now. She was his forever.
They drifted back to reality, their satiated bodies still joined and Whitney looked for the first time into the face of her husband, seeing Christian’s familiar face, meeting the tender gaze that took in her own. Had she really made love to her husband? She looked but there was no mocking display of laughter in the black pools regarding her. No triumph, no victorious smugness. But how could that be? Christian wasn’t capable of tenderness. He had never treated her with anything other than contempt and coldness. He hadn’t married her because he loved her, had he? No! It was because she held the key to returning his property. And now he had seen to it that she could never have the marriage dissolved, never escape his damned tyranny. How could she have been so stupid? He had planned this all along, planned to seduce
her so that she would be tied to him forever. She didn’t need to see it in his eyes. She had been treated to glimpses into his true heart often enough to know his thoughts.
“I told you not to touch me again,” Whitney exclaimed breathlessly, wriggling to put some distance between them.
“Correction,” Christian answered her, refusing to let her escape now that he had discovered the treasures her beautiful body offered. “I distinctly asked you if you wanted me to stop and you answered that you wanted me, had been waiting for me was actually what you said. Look, I don’t want to fight, Whitney. What passed between us was special, beautiful. It can always be like that. Don’t you want that?”
“I don’t want you, I thought you understood that. How could you sneak in here and take advantage of me like that? Couldn’t you see I was asleep?”
“If that’s how you sleepwalk, honey, I’ll plan to spend the rest of my nights next to you!”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Whitney persisted, pushing against his chest as she did so. “I thought you didn’t want me, that you were perfectly happy with the idea of spending your time with other, more accommodating women.”
She finally stopped moving as the contact seemed to be having a distinct effect on Christian. He grinned wolfishly at her, daring her to keep it up.
“Look, Whitney, I didn’t plan to do this. I came out here to get away from you. But you were here, looking so damned beautiful that no man would be able to maintain the kind of control we agreed to. At least now you won’t be locked into a chaste marriage.”
Oh lord, he planned to do this some more.
“But you’ve ruined all my plans, you big jerk! Don’t you see? As soon as Stephan got back I was going to have him prepare an annulment and leave this place. I never planned to live in an empty marriage, I planned to marry him!”
Don’t Call Me Sweetheart Page 16
