Blackmailed Down the Aisle

by Louise Fuller

  His hands were urgent against her skin, pulling off her boots, her T-shirt, and somehow her jeans came off too and she was suddenly naked except for her underwear.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned over her, his face tensed with passion and something softer, less guarded. And she knew that he wanted her to see what he was feeling, to know it was real.

  In a heartbeat, her doubts were forgotten. His hunger was her hunger. Only it was more than hunger. It was like being consumed by fire—total and complete surrender to the flame of passion that burned between them.

  She stared up into his face. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.

  His eyes on hers were the dark green of the forest across the water and, leaning forward, he kissed her slowly, his tongue probing between her lips, delicate and deliberate, so that heat stabbed inside her.

  ‘Open your mouth,’ he muttered. ‘I want to taste you.’

  He was barely breathing, his head empty and hollow of anything except the pulse beating in his groin.

  As the late afternoon sun spread over the deck, liquid gold spilled over her skin and he felt his last atom of self-control dissolve.

  He dipped his head, dipped and licked inside her mouth, his teeth nipping, tugging her swollen lips. And, moaning softly, she kissed him back, her fingers digging into his scalp, pulling him closer and deeper until he broke away panting, his eyes blunt and unfocused.

  For a moment he stared at her in silence, dazed, dry-mouthed, almost drunk on her beauty, then slowly he cupped her breast in his hand, his thumb brushing against the tip of her nipple, and the blood gathered thickly inside him as he watched her face soften.

  Daisy shuddered. A thread of heat was stretching out inside her and suddenly she was arching upwards, her thighs trembling. She felt him push aside the flimsy fabric of her bra, felt his mouth closing over her breast and then his fingers were slipping over her body, across her stomach and hips and between her legs, clasping the pulsing ache against the palm of his hand.

  Her breath thickened in her throat. Suddenly she was clawing at his belt, her nails scraping against the denim of his jeans, tugging the zip down, her whole body vibrating with need as her fingers found the smooth hardness of his erection.

  At the touch of her hand his body jerked involuntarily and groaning, he lifted his mouth and shifted against her, reaching into his pocket for a condom, fingers tearing clumsily at the wrapper. And then he was smoothing it on, feeling himself grow thicker and harder.

  Maddened, she clutched at him frantically, her back curving upwards, seeking more of his mouth and his hands, as he tugged her underwear to one side. The weight of his body was pressing down on her and into her and she rocked against him, her face buried in his shoulder, the pulse inside her beating wildly.

  He shifted his hips and she felt a sharp sting of ecstasy and tensing, she shuddered against him. And then his mouth found hers and, groaning her name against her lips, he pushed up, driving into her hard and fast while her body still contracted around his.

  * * *

  Later, bodies still entwined, they watched a rose-coloured sun sink behind the mountains. Breathing out softly, Daisy ran her hand lightly over his stomach.

  ‘This place is so remote. How did you come across it?’

  ‘I did a deal a few years ago with a guy called Tim Buchanan. He and I enjoyed the same kind of activities, so he invited me up here for a weekend.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Activities! Sounds intriguing!’ She gave him a small teasing smile. ‘You’re not one of those role play fanatics, are you? You know—the kind who re-enact the Civil War. I won’t come out of the shower and find you dressed as Abraham Lincoln, will I?’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘I meant shooting and fishing. But I’m always up for a bit of role play.’

  His fingers tiptoed over the curve of her hip and a hot shiver slid over her skin, her body responding both to his touch and the teasing note in his voice. ‘Well, let me know and I’ll unpack my crinoline,’ she said lightly.

  Glancing back across the lake, she sighed.

  ‘You’re so lucky it was for sale.’

  ‘It wasn’t. But I liked it, so I made him an offer and he accepted.’

  She nodded, as though she too was in the habit of purchasing lakeside mansions on a whim.

  ‘Your family must love it.’

  Even before she heard the edge in his voice she could feel a slight tensing in his shoulders.

  ‘I’m sure they would have done. But both my parents are gone.’

  How had she not known that? He knew all about her family. But somehow his past had never come up for discussion. Or maybe he had chosen to keep it to himself.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  And she was. The thought of losing one of her parents filled her with dread—to lose both seemed intolerable.

  ‘But they must have been so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved.’

  This time his hesitation was unmistakable. For a minute she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, though, he gave her a perfunctory smile.

  ‘Isn’t every parent?’

  He didn’t move, but she could almost feel him retreating from her. Nodding mechanically, she decided it was time to change the subject.

  ‘Do you think we could sleep out here tonight?’

  She felt him relax.

  ‘I guess so.’ His gaze locked on to hers. ‘Won’t you be scared though? Like I said, there are wild animals out here.’

  ‘They don’t scare me,’ she said huskily. ‘I know how to tame them.’ And, wriggling closer, she climbed on top of him, catching his wrists with her hands.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  His voice was hoarse, his eyes dark and fierce, and she could feel the pulse beating beneath his skin.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Only I might need a bit more practice.’

  ‘Good idea. Practice makes—’

  But he broke off on a gasp as, lowering her mouth, she ran her tongue lightly over the smooth muscles of his chest, then lower, down the line of soft golden hair on his stomach, and then lower still...

  * * *

  Afterwards, she lay in his arms, watching him sleep. She felt drowsy but she didn’t want to close her eyes. Or for the moment to end.

  All her life she’d been searching for passion. Looking for that intensity of feeling, that intimacy of knowing somebody inside out.

  Only she’d never imagined finding it with Rollo.

  At best, she’d assumed that being with him would offer a respite from the heartbreak of another failed romance. What she hadn’t expected was this incredible sexual chemistry—a physical attraction that filled her with wonder and yearning.

  It might not be love.

  It might not be permanent.

  But right now she was living in the moment.

  And she was going to make the most of it.

  As the warmth of his body seeped into her she curled her arm more tightly over his chest and, closing her eyes, fell instantly asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IGNORING THE BURNING ache in his lungs, Rollo sprinted up the hill. Only another couple of metres to go and—

  A small but intrusive alarm broke through the pounding of his heart and, slowing to a jog, he headed towards the wooden jetty that stretched out into the lake. His arms were shaking, the T-shirt he was wearing was damp with sweat, but the heat and chaos of his body felt inconsequential beside the turmoil inside his head.

  He had woken early, eyes straining against the first sliver of light slicing through the blinds. There was nothing unusual about that. The business world was always awake somewhere in the world, and he routinely made property deals at all hours of the day and night. Normally, he found it easy to get up early.

  But this time he’d been oddly reluctant to move. He’d felt warm and comfortable and it had been easy to lie there, drowsily listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the deck.

  Only beneath hi
s lethargy and the comforting rhythm of the water there had been a nagging sense of something being different.

  It had taken him a moment to realise that the difference was Daisy.

  Or, more particularly, the fact that at some point during the night her soft body had curled against his. And he hadn’t pushed her away.

  For a moment his mind had stalled. He had felt wrong-footed by the sudden, new and unsettling state of affairs. As a red-blooded male, wanting sex was hot-wired into his DNA. But waking up beside a woman was something he’d taken extreme care to avoid throughout his adult life.

  Yet there she’d been, legs tangled between his, her hand curling over his waist—

  From somewhere in the forest the sharp cry of a bird jolted his mind back into real time. Leaning forward against the railing, he stared dazedly across the water, trying to make sense of his behaviour.

  It took several minutes for him to concede that it might have something to do with Daisy. Or rather sex with Daisy.

  His skin tightened and he felt an almost unbearable tug of sexual anticipation, just as he had during the night, when it had been impossible not to reach over and pull her into his arms.

  It had been wild, heated, mind-blowing, and she had made him want more, give more, feel more than any woman he had known before. Her feverish demands had matched his, her hands, lips, body had been like quicksilver. Even now, with the cool breeze blowing across the water, he could feel the white-hot imprint of her touch on his skin—

  But nothing had really changed, he reassured himself. Daisy might look like a sleeping princess, with her long, blonde hair spread out over the pillows, but there would be no fairy-tale ending to their relationship.

  Yes, he would marry her. But only because he needed a wife to persuade Dunmore to sell to him. Although after last night, she felt more like a compulsion than a necessity.

  Remembering her smooth, naked body, and his own speechless, almost savage exultation at the way she had melted into him, he felt himself grow instantly and painfully hard.

  Breathing out slowly, he frowned. There it was again: that same nagging uneasiness that had woken him. The sense that Daisy was different.

  That he was different when he was with her.

  But why? It wasn’t as though he’d lived a life of celibacy. He’d had many women. All beautiful and sexually eager, and at the time he had wanted them—some of them badly. But never like this. Never with this relentless, excruciating hunger. And never once that hunger had been sated. Walking away had always been easy. Only not this time. Not with Daisy.

  His mouth twisted. He’d had to force himself to get up this morning. And he’d only done it to prove to himself that she was an indulgence he could resist.

  But instead her absence was like an actual physical pain. Every nerve, every sense focusing in on it, like a toothache.

  He frowned. Sex with Daisy was supposed to cure his sexual frustration, not exacerbate it. Only it appeared that instead of having his appetite sated he had grown instantly and intensely addicted to her.

  Probably it was because he’d never gone without sex for so long, or had to deal with so much intimacy. And so what if it was taking longer than usual to work her out of his system? He had a whole year to wear her out in his bed.

  In the meantime, however, he needed to be careful. Disciplined. Pragmatic. It would be easy to lose himself in his desire for Daisy, but he must not lose sight of the real reason she was in his bed. Or the fact that once Dunmore signed over that building to him she would be gone from his life for ever.

  And turning away from the lake, he began a leisurely jog back along the jetty towards the lodge.

  * * *

  ‘What’s this?’

  Gazing up at Rollo, Daisy stifled a yawn. ‘What’s what?’ she asked sleepily.

  He never seemed to tire of touching her, and now he was caressing her leg, his hand moving slowly down from her hip.

  After he’d returned from his run he’d showered and woken her impatiently and they had made love for most of the morning. Now they were lying in bed together, their skin hot and damp, their bodies exhausted. Or rather she was exhausted. Rollo seemed energised by the morning’s activities.

  ‘What’s what?’ she said again.

  ‘This.’

  She felt his fingers stop and slowly trace a figure of eight on the skin above her knee, and instantly she forgot her question, forgot his answer, forgot who and where she was. Her whole body was trembling, nipples tightening, a soft, liquid heat spreading inside her so that she could hardly breathe, could barely control the longing spilling over her skin.

  She stared at him dazedly, hardly daring to believe he was there beside her, all sleek, warm muscle and smooth, golden limbs. He was just so gorgeous, and he made her feel gorgeous too.

  Not just gorgeous, but somehow freer and truer to herself.

  With other boyfriends—with everyone, really, except David sometimes—she felt as though she was always pretending to be someone else. Someone she didn’t want to be—happy-go-lucky, ditsy Daisy, who never quite pulled it off, whether ‘it’ was a relationship or her career.

  But with Rollo, it was different.

  She felt different.

  Unsurprisingly, she thought grimly. Even aside from his being one of the richest men in the country, it wasn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill relationship. Her other boyfriends might have been lazy and thoughtless and immature, but none had blackmailed her into playing their wife.

  But it wasn’t just the framework of their relationship that was making her feel so blindsided. It was Rollo himself—or rather the way he demanded a truthfulness, an honesty, that other men did not. Not just with facts but with herself. With him there was nowhere to hide. He wanted all of her. The good, the bad and the pretend-it-never-happened. No one had ever got under her skin and turned her inside out like that.

  It made her feel helpless, off balance, and yet in his arms she felt warm and secure, all her old fears and doubts about herself kept at bay by the steady beat of his heart.

  She felt her own heartbeat stumble as a flush of heat crept over her cheeks.

  That was the trouble with sex.

  She’d been there before, and each time it had been the same old story. Sex felt so intimate. And it was—physically. Only really it was nothing but bodies wrapping round one another.

  She frowned. It sounded if not bleak, then mechanical, and not at all like the way she had felt with Rollo. But then sex with him had been beyond anything she’d ever imagined. She’d never responded to any man like that—so fiercely, so freely. It was exhilarating—and terrifying. At times she couldn’t even recognise herself. Who was this woman who initiated and demanded so much? But it had felt good to be that woman. To be herself—the Daisy she had wanted to be for so many years.

  Her thoughts slowed.

  Being with Rollo felt right in other ways too. Maybe it was because they shared a secret. But it felt as though they knew other well. Almost as though they had been reunited after a long separation. Which was not only untrue, she admitted ruefully, but also made no sense whatsoever.

  She felt his gaze on her face and, pushing aside her thoughts, she glanced to where his fingers were still doodling over her skin.

  ‘Oh, that.’ It was a small cut just above her knee. She felt a flush of heat rise over her face. ‘That’s where I banged into that board thing in your office.’

  Beside her, Rollo tilted his head back, her words acting like an emergency brake on his runaway desire. His office! His hand trembled slightly against the scar on her leg.

  How could he have forgotten how they met? Or the real reason she was here in his bed. He felt a flicker of irritation that he’d let his libido get in the way of business.

  ‘That reminds me—James Dunmore rang. He’s invited us to lunch. Apparently he very much wants to meet you.’

  Daisy stared at him in silence. There was an expression on his face she didn’t quite recognise, and m
omentarily she thought it might be regret.

  But his next statement instantly dispelled that idea.

  ‘Holiday’s over,’ he said casually. ‘Time to go back to work.’

  His words echoed inside her head.

  It hadn’t felt like a holiday. It had felt like a honeymoon. Either way, though, it was over.

  Forcing herself to smile, she met his gaze.

  ‘That’s great,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll go and get dressed. We don’t want to keep him waiting.’

  * * *

  As the helicopter rose upwards, Daisy glanced furtively at the time on her phone. Her heart was beating nervously. Now that she was actually about to meet him, she would have liked more time to get to know the man for whom this charade was happening.

  Damping down her panic, she cleared her throat. ‘Is there anything I should know about Mr Dunmore? I mean, I know the basics, but—’

  Turning, Rollo stared at her, his cool expression a clear indication that the relaxed lover of the past few days had been replaced by the dispassionate property tycoon.

  ‘The basics will do just fine.’

  He glanced back out the window.

  Beneath them, the soft green of the forest was growing sparser. Roads were starting to crisscross the landscape. Soon he would be shaking hands with Dunmore, Daisy by his side. It was the moment he’d been working towards all his life—the moment when his goal switched from impossible dream to possible reality.

  So why, then, did he want nothing more than to turn back time? To go back to the lodge and it be just be the two of them.

  It was nerves, he told himself quickly, his gaze tugging towards where Daisy sat, wearing a navy pencil skirt, a gold chain belt accentuating the waistline of her fitted grey blouse. Nerves and a raging, unassailable lust for the tempting body that lay beneath that demure outfit.

  Pushing aside his desire, he cleared his throat.

  ‘Dunmore’s been married to the same woman since he was nineteen. He’s a romantic.’

  He smiled, but Daisy couldn’t bring herself to smile back. The dismissive tone in his voice, his barely masked incredulity that a man could truly love a woman, let alone choose to stay with her, for life tasted bitter in her mouth.