Angelique slid a hand between their bodies so she could unzip him. Ever since that shocking moment in the car when he’d pushed her hand against him, her palm had been tingling to feel him without the barrier of clothes.
He groaned with approval against her mouth as she freed him from his underwear. She shaped him with her fingers first, getting to know the feel, length and weight of him. Then she started rubbing up and down his silky shaft, registering every guttural sound he made, delighting in every flinch or movement of pleasure he made. She felt the beading of his pre-ejaculatory moisture and rolled it around the head of his penis, inciting him, urging him on. Daring him. Wanting him. Aching for him.
He was on his own sensual mission to get her naked. Her knickers were soon dispensed with and she had barely stepped away from the tiny circle of them when his fingers found her hot wetness. She gasped as he slipped them inside her; it was the sweetest torture to have him but not have him quite the way she wanted him. She moved against the blissful friction, making throaty little pleas against his plundering mouth.
‘Condom.’ The word sounded like it was wrung out of him.
‘Have you got one?’ Dumb question. He probably had hundreds on him. Maybe even thousands. He probably had his own insignia on them.
‘In my back pocket.’ He walked her backwards further into the suite, his mouth still fused to hers as his hand searched for the protection in the pocket of his jeans.
Angelique took the foil packet off him and saw to the business end of things. She tried not to fumble in her haste but her hands were shaking in anticipation. For most of her adult life she had dreamed and fantasised about feeling this level of lust.
It was overpowering.
Totally consuming.
Unstoppable.
It was as if every nerve in her body was standing up on its tiptoes and screaming out for release. Now! Now! Now!
It made every single encounter she had had—not that there had been many—pale in comparison.
‘You are so damn hot and wet and ready for me,’ he said as he tumbled with her onto the king-sized bed in a sexy tangle of limbs.
‘Yes.’ One word was all she could manage. Her heart was racing, her blood pumping and her flesh tingling as he came over her with his weight.
He hitched up one of her legs over his hip and entered her so deeply she cried out as his thickened flesh stretched hers to capacity. He immediately stilled and looked down at her with a frown knitting his brows together. ‘Am I rushing you?’
Angelique let out a little breath. ‘No... Sorry, I’m a bit out of practice. It’s been a while.’
His dark eyes searched hers. ‘How long?’
‘A few weeks... Months...’
His gaze was still locked on hers. ‘Months?’
‘OK, a year...and a bit. Two, actually...’
‘But the press...’
‘Get it wrong occasionally.’
His frown was still tugging at his forehead like stitches being pulled beneath the skin. ‘Why do you let people say all that stuff about you when it isn’t true?’
Angelique stroked a finger down his sternum, focusing on its journey rather than staying connected with his gaze. ‘I don’t care what people think. I know what’s true. That’s all that matters to me.’
‘Stop distracting me.’ He captured her hand and held it firmly in the cage of his. ‘I want to talk to you.’
She couldn’t help an exaggerated little eye-roll. ‘I bet that’s what you say to all the girls.’
His frown deepened. ‘Will you stop it, for God’s sake? I’m trying to have a sensible conversation with you.’
‘While your body is doing what it’s doing to mine?’ Angelique writhed beneath him. ‘Can’t you feel that?’
He bit back a curse and moved within her. Deeply. Roughly. Urgently. ‘I can’t stop myself from wanting you. I hate myself for it.’
She grabbed at his buttocks and dug her fingers in to hold him in place. ‘I hate myself for it too. I hate you for it. For how you make me feel.’
His mouth curved in an indolent smile. ‘How do I make you feel?’
She tried to glare at him but it didn’t quite work with his body still intimately connected with hers. Instead, she pushed out her bottom lip in a pout. ‘Mad.’
‘I like it when you’re mad at me.’ He gave one slow, deep thrust. ‘It turns me on.’
Angelique felt her belly do a funny little shuffle like the pages of a book being thumbed. Her body was fully aware of him. Excruciatingly so. Every nerve ending was primed for his next thrust. She felt the tension building in her flesh with every erotic movement of his body in hers. He increased the pace and her pleasure rapidly climbed with the pulsating throb of her swollen, sensitised tissues as they each clamoured for release.
He hitched her leg higher over his hip and drove even deeper.
It was like detonating an explosive device.
Angelique felt the explosion deep in her body, radiating out in pulsing waves that ricocheted through her. She shuddered and screamed, a raw, primal-sounding scream that was unlike any other sound she had ever made before. But then she had never felt anything like this before either. She bucked beneath his rocking body to keep the exquisite sensations going for as long as she could. Finally they faded and she was left in a blissful state of lassitude.
But he wasn’t finished with her yet.
He shifted position slightly, slowing his pace until her body was crawling with need once more. She felt the tingling start all over again, the tightening of muscles, the pulse of longing and the steady climb to the summit that was tantalisingly just out of reach.
He slipped a hand underneath her buttocks and raised her as he thrust deeper and faster. She looked at his face, at the taut set to his features as he fought for control. His eyes were hooded, his jaw like honed steel, his breathing sounding harsh and laboured. She had never seen a more erotic sight. A beautifully cut and carved man in full arousal, poised to explode, waiting for that final trigger.
Angelique lifted and then rolled her hips. He grimaced as he tried to hold back but then she rolled her pelvis again. She felt the exact moment when his control slipped. He stiffened and then let out a shout, the pumping action of his body triggering another wave of pleasure through her body that travelled all the way to her fingertips and toes.
He slumped over her, burying his head to the side of her neck, his warm breath and stubbly skin a deliciously sensual caress against hers.
Angelique was so used to sparring with him that this new connectedness was faintly disturbing. If he could read her body so well, how well could he read her mind?
She wasn’t used to feeling such powerful sensations during sex. She had never felt that level of desire or need before. She had never orgasmed with a partner before. She’d always pretended and got away with it.
This was so new and exciting. Breathtaking. Tantalising. Addictive.
Dangerous.
Remy finally lifted his head and looked at her. ‘Was that good for you?’
His arrogant confidence made her retort ‘Average.’
His brown eyes glinted as if he knew she was lying. ‘Then maybe I should try and improve my rating.’ He stroked a lazy finger down between her breasts where a tiny slick of sweat had pooled. ‘You’re incredibly beautiful.’
She gave him one of her bored looks. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?’
His eyes tethered hers; dark, probing, penetrating. ‘Ah, but do you believe it?’
Angelique felt as if he had already cracked open a corner of her mind and was examining the contents with a high-beam searchlight. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. ‘I have to get up. I don’t want the condom to leak.’
He got up and dealt with the disposal of the condom while she went in search of her clothes. She felt foolish and somehow sordid, scrabbling about the room, picking up her underwear and redressing while all he had to do was straighten his c
lothes and zip up his trousers.
Was it somehow indicative of the imbalance of their relationship? She would always be the one who felt naked and exposed while he would only reveal what he wanted her to see.
He was in control.
She wasn’t.
‘Is this yours?’ Remy asked, holding up a diamond pendant swinging on a fine gold chain.
Angelique went to take it off him but he held it just out of her reach. ‘Give it to me.’
His mouth was curved in a sarcastic smile. ‘Where are your manners, mon amour?’
She ground her teeth and flashed him a resentful look. ‘Please.’
‘Not good enough.’ He held the pendant higher as she took another swipe at it. ‘I want to hear you ask nicely.’
She felt a ripple of annoyance course through her, tightening every muscle to snapping point. ‘Give it to me, please.’
His chocolate-brown eyes contained a goading glint. ‘You can do better than that, ma belle. I want to hear you beg.’
Angelique felt the sudden rush of her fury as it unleashed itself from the tight restraints she had spent a lifetime keeping in place.
She would not beg.
She would not plead.
She would not give in to his command like a servant who had no rights. She would scratch his eyes out before she did that.
She flew at him like a dervish, calling him every foul name she could think of. It all came bubbling out like poison—the rage, the hatred, the feeling of impotence, the shame at being under his control when she had worked so hard not be under any man’s control.
He had subdued her sensually.
He had ambushed her.
Disarmed her.
Now he wanted to break her spirit just like her father had done to her mother.
Of course, she was no match for him. He took control of her flailing fists before they could even land a punch. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ he asked, frowning at her.
Angelique pulled against his iron-like hold. ‘Let go of me, you...you bastard!’
‘Not until you simmer down.’ His tone was calm but implacable. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself carrying on like that. What’s got into you?’
Tears started and burned in her eyes. It was the greatest shame of all to be snivelling like a child in front of him but there was nothing she could do to stop the flow once it had started. She choked back a sob but another one soon followed, and then another, and another until she finally bowed her head and gave in to the storm of weeping. It was lowering to find herself in such a vulnerable state. How could she have let this happen? What was wrong with her? Where was her pride and determination? Had his powerful love-making undone her completely? How would she get herself together again?
Remy released her wrists but he gathered her to him, putting his arms around her so the wall of his body supported her. One of his hands went to the back of her head and gently stroked her hair as she shook with sobs against him. ‘I’ve upset you.’ His voice was very deep and sounded surprised. Perhaps even a little shocked.
Angelique gave an almighty sniff, and as if by magic a neatly folded white handkerchief with an embroidered black C on it was handed to her. ‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
She blew her nose and scrunched the handkerchief into a ball inside her hand. ‘I’m fine now.’ She took a ragged breath and glanced up at him with an attempt at wryness. ‘Bet you don’t think I’m so beautiful now.’
His expression was clouded with concern as he looked down at her. ‘I was only teasing. You do know that, don’t you, ma petite?’
Why did he have to keep calling her those wonderful endearments in that sexy accent of his? It made it so much harder to hate him.
You don’t hate him.
Angelique skirted around the thought and gave him a small self-deprecating smile. ‘It’s a bit of a hot button for me. A red rag, if you like. I don’t beg. Ever. For anything.’
‘I’ll make a note of it.’
The silence thrummed for a moment.
She tucked a tendril of hair back behind her ear. ‘Um...I guess I should go and clean up.’
He handed her the pendant, his expression now inscrutable. ‘It’s very nice. Was it a gift from one of your lovers?’
The fine chain tickled Angelique’s palm as it coiled there. ‘It was my mother’s.’ She raised her chin a fraction. ‘Just for the record, I don’t accept gifts from my lovers. Ever.’
He held her gaze for a beat or two, his still dark and unfathomable. ‘Apart from Scottish mansions, of course.’
She pursed her lips at his counter-move. Would he end up giving her back Tarrantloch? He hadn’t made any promises. Nothing was written down or signed. They had consummated their relationship, but did that mean anything to him other than yet another sexual conquest?
Angelique gave a little shrug of her shoulder as if it didn’t matter to her either way. ‘I’m sure you’ll do the right thing when it comes to the end of our relationship.’ She met his gaze again with a bold look. ‘Have you got a date in mind or are we just going to wing it?’
The screen was still down over his eyes but a tiny muscle tightened near his mouth. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll give you plenty of notice.’
She smiled a saccharine-sweet smile. ‘Big of you.’
He let out an audible breath. ‘You have first shower. I have some things to see to. We’ll eat out at nine.’
‘But I—’
The door clipped shut and after a moment Angelique dropped her shoulders on a sigh. He had a nasty habit of getting in the last word.
She would have to break him of it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
REMY HAD BARELY stepped out of the hotel when his mobile buzzed. He looked at the screen and winced. ‘Rafe, I was just about to call you and—’
‘Tell me I did not just see you telling the press you’ve married the devil’s spawn, Angelique Marchand,’ Rafe said.
Remy glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to listen in. ‘That’s not a very nice way to speak of your brand new sister-in-law, bro.’
Rafe let out a curse. ‘Are you out of your mind? What the hell are you playing at?’
‘Hey, it’s not Angelique’s fault her old man is a double-crossing tool.’ Remy couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was to find himself defending her when normally he was finding any excuse to criticise her.
‘Don’t tell me you’re in love with her, because I don’t believe it for a second. The only person you love is yourself.’
‘That’s a bit harsh. I love lots of people. Even you.’
‘Come on, Remy, this is me—Rafe. I know you. You would never fall in love with Angelique. She’s as far away from your ideal woman as she could be. You’ve always said what a little slutty shrew she is. What’s going on? Has Henri Marchand done the dirty on you? Forced you to marry her? Set up some sort of dodgy deal?’
‘None of the above,’ Remy said. ‘Angelique followed me to Dharbiri and, to cut a long story short, she was found in my room and I had to marry her to keep from causing a public riot which might have ended up in one or both of us losing the skin off our backs. I decided not the take the chance.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Rafe asked.
‘Not at all,’ Remy said.
‘You said she followed you to Dharbiri. Why didn’t you say something earlier if you were involved with her? Why let us find out like this?’
‘I wasn’t involved with her. Before this I hadn’t seen or even spoken to her in years. She came to see me about her father’s house. Remember Tarrantloch in Scotland? I won it off Henri Marchand in a bet.’
Rafe swore again but this time it was more a sound of admiration. ‘So, it’s just a marriage on paper, right?’
Another little silence, while Remy thought of how to answer. He didn’t want to lie to his brother but neither did he want to discuss what had happened not ten minutes ago. His body was still singing from what was
one of the most—if not the most—exciting sexual encounter of his life.
‘You haven’t,’ Rafe said, sounding stern and incredulous at the same time.
‘Hey, what is this?’ Remy said. ‘I don’t ask you about your sex life with Poppy. Back off. I know what I’m doing.’ Sort of. ‘It’s cool. Everything’s cool.’
‘You married our family’s worst enemy’s daughter without a pre-nup,’ Rafe said. ‘I don’t think that’s cool; I think that’s outright stupidity. You’re jeopardising everything we’ve worked for, just like Nonno did. Have you learned nothing in your thirty-two years on this planet?’
‘What was I supposed to do?’ Remy felt his hackles come up. ‘Let her take the rap for being discovered in my room? I had to think, and think fast. There wasn’t time to draw up a pre-nup. I did what I thought was the best and safest thing.’
‘Being legally tied to Angelique Marchand is not safe,’ Rafe said.
Tell me about it. ‘I won’t stay married to her for any longer than I have to,’ Remy said. ‘I’m working it to my advantage. Remember the Mappleton hotel chain I’ve been trying to buy for months? Henri Marchand’s rumours about me turned old man Mappleton off, but now I’m married to Angelique he wants to play ball. I’m meeting with him next week. If I nail that deal, it will be worth any minor inconvenience of being married.’
‘I can’t help thinking this could blow up in your face.’
‘You always think that about me,’ Remy said. ‘I like taking chances. Going with the gut. I always land on my feet. Always. Goal. Focus. Win. Remember?’
Rafe let out a long breath. ‘Watch your back, Remy. Keeping your enemies close is wise, but sleeping with them is not.’
Sleeping with them is the fun part, Remy thought as he ended the call.
In fact, he couldn’t wait to do it again.
* * *
Angelique was putting the finishing touches to her make-up when her mobile phone rang. She glanced at the screen to see it was her manager, Mackenzie Hillstrom, from her New York modelling agency. ‘Hi, Mac, I was going to call you but—’
‘Darling girl, I should hate you for not inviting me to your totally awesome desert wedding, and for not even telling me you were dating one of the most eligible and gorgeous men on this planet, but I forgive you, because you’ve just landed yourself the biggest contract of all time,’ Mackenzie said.
Never Gamble With a Caffarelli Page 8
