“I should get married,” she told him. “My mother’s given up on Skye and Xandra because they did. If I jumped the Womanist ship, too, and married some man she totally disapproved of, then she wouldn’t have any reason to hold out hope.” Eve’s gaze shifted to Linc with his blond good looks and his charming smile and his bad-boy attitude. “I’ve got an idea that might save us both.”
“I do,” Eve said a half hour later as she stood in a corner of the Crystal Ballroom and faced Linc.
Xandra and Beau had already left in a flurry of birdseed to catch a plane to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Skye and Clint had called it a night, as well, and so Eve had lucked out. She wouldn’t have to explain anything to her sisters tonight.
Only a handful of reporters remained. They stood on the sidelines, snapping pictures of the spontaneous wedding between the very unlikely pair.
Which was the entire point. It wasn’t enough to just get married; Eve needed someone who would truly horrify her mother, and Linc, who oozed testosterone, was just the man for the job.
With Eve’s sexy, exotic looks, her scandalous profession, and her notoriety as the daughter of famed sexologist Jacqueline Farrel, she was just what the conservative voters of Adams didn’t need. Which made her perfect for the job.
After Eve’s proposition and Linc’s acceptance, they’d ironed out the details of their “marriage.” They were going to help each other over the next nine months until the election in November. Eve’s project was due at the beginning of December, so the timing was perfect. Her mother would stay angry and outraged and distant, and Eve would have the focus needed to complete her documentary. Likewise, Linc’s family and voters would be equally angered and outraged up until the polls closed. Linc would lose, Eve would turn in her project, then they would make a public announcement of their split. A quickie divorce and it would all be over.
Until then, they would play the newlywed couple, spending part of their time in L.A. and part in Georgia. Eve would also put in a few appearances along the NASCAR trail to keep the press buzzing.
First things first, however. They’d had to make their union official. They’d left the freezer and gone in search of the judge who’d married the other couples. Eager for more publicity and the five hundred dollars Linc had pressed into his hand for his trouble, he’d readily agreed to perform the impromptu ceremony.
While there was no actual marriage license, Eve and Linc could apply for it after the fact and still have a legal marriage as long as they both agreed, and the judge consented to sign. Which he did.
And so the deed was done.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the judge declared. “You may now kiss the bride.”
The minute the words were out, panic rushed through Eve, along with a flutter of anticipation. While she’d thought most of the details through, she hadn’t counted on the kiss.
Eve closed her eyes as Linc’s lips touched hers. A peck. That’s what she told herself. He’ll give you a peck and then it will be over and . . .
Her lips softened under the pressure of his mouth. His tongue swept her bottom lip and slipped past to deepen the connection. He pulled her closer, his hands at the base of her spine, burning through the thin material of her dress and stirring her deprived hormones.
The chemistry between them was instant and explosive and she couldn’t help herself. She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. She slid her hands up his chest, her palms flat against the stiff material of his jacket until she reached the solid warmth of his neck. Her fingers curled around, holding him close.
The floor fell away as she leaned into him. His warmth overwhelmed her. His scent filled her nostrils and made her heart pound and—
“Eve Elizabeth Ruella Farrel!” Her mother’s voice shattered the passionate haze surrounding Eve, and her eyes popped open. She whirled to see Jacqueline walking toward them, her expression outraged. Her father, Donovan, followed, surprise gleaming in his eyes. Her grandmother wore a startled look as she hurried to keep up with Jacqueline and Donovan.
“You didn’t . . . ,” Jacqueline sputtered. “You couldn’t . . .”
Before Eve could respond, Linc stepped around her. He caught her mother in a gigantic bear hug. “Mom!” he declared, planting a huge kiss on her lips.
And then he did the one thing that would cinch Eve’s freedom and secure his place on Jacqueline’s list of the most rotten chauvinists on earth. He pulled out a Sharpie from his pocket and attempted to give Jacqueline the signature Linc Adams autograph—smack-dab on her ample cleavage.
Chapter 4
Eve didn’t want to kiss Linc Adams again.
Not yet, that is.
Not until they’d reached the safety of her apartment. At the very least, the elevator that led to her apartment. The key was privacy. No taxi driver stealing glances at them through the rearview mirror. No photographers tailing them.
They left the Beverly Hills Hotel fifteen minutes after the autographing incident. Her mother had been so shocked that she’d rushed off to the ladies’ room, her face red with outrage. Thankfully. For a few seconds there, Eve had actually expected the woman to cry. And while Eve lived to shock the woman, making her mad and making her cry were two very different things. But Jacqueline had reacted in the usual fashion, which meant things just might go as planned.
Before leaving, Eve had pulled her father aside and explained that she and Linc had this cosmic connection and so she’d tied the knot to explore it further. Donovan Martin had been doubtful, but not at all surprised. He’d stopped being surprised by Eve when she was eleven years old and she’d sung Tammy Wynette’s “Stand by Your Man” in an impromptu performance during Jacqueline’s first Good Morning America interview.
In front of the hotel, Eve climbed into the backseat of a waiting cab. She gave the driver instructions to her apartment and leaned back against the vinyl seat. Taking a deep breath, she focused all of her attention on trying to ignore the man who followed her inside.
Her husband.
The thought rooted in her mind as he settled next to her. Not that theirs was a typical marriage, but it was their wedding night.
And she was feeling uncommonly good, thanks to that shot of tequila and the fact that she’d managed to reclaim her Rebellious Daughter title.
And Linc’s lips were so close and he smelled so good—like rich, chocolaty groom’s cake and ripe strawberries—and it had been a long time since she’d had a really great kiss.
Twenty minutes, to be exact, since they’d said “I do.”
“I think we’re off to a good start,” Linc said as the cab pulled away from the curb. He half turned. A grin tilted the corner of his mouth as he pinned her with a gaze.
Eve’s heart stalled and she couldn’t help herself.
She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. It was nothing short of explosive. The chemistry ignited and mushroomed, and what started as a subtle press of mouths soon morphed into a deep, urgent, delicious probing of tongues that seemed to go on forever.
No, no, no, a voice whispered. This was too fast, too soon. At the same time, she’d wanted to kiss him like this since she’d seen him at the Sonoma race the night of their first date. Caution melted away in the face of so much heat as arousal washed through Eve from her head to the tips of her bright red toenails. The pulsing awareness started in her scalp and spread through her body, pausing at every major erogenous zone. Her nipples tightened and hardened. Pressure hummed between her legs. Her thighs quivered. Her heart pounded as loud and as fast as the drummer for Limp Bizkit, and her blood rushed at an alarming rate.
Linc’s hand found its way under her skirt and swept a burning path up the inside of her thigh. His finger traced the lace edge of her panties before dipping underneath. His finger ran back and forth, his calloused skin arousing Eve’s sensitized flesh. Back and forth. Up and . . . ahhh.
He pushed into her and she gasped. She wiggled, pivoting her hips, desperate to feel him d
eeper and harder and . . . There. Just like that. And that. And that . . .
His lips left her mouth to blaze a trail down her throat to her pulse beat. He rasped the tip of his tongue against her skin and worked his finger inside her body. A moan vibrated from her throat. Linc caught the sound with his mouth and devoured her in another luscious kiss.
Suddenly, the cab swerved and the cabdriver’s muttered curse penetrated the haze of desire that enveloped them. Not that the cabdriver could actually see anything. With the massive yellow dress, the specifics of what Linc was doing to her were hidden from prying eyes. But it was still obvious that he was doing something, and that she was enjoying it and—
The thought scattered as a flash lit up the dark interior of the cab. Awareness skittered over Eve and she pulled away long enough to take a deep gulp of air. Another flash went off from outside, to her left. She jerked her head around to see a photographer hanging out the window of a car keeping time next to them. He flashed another picture and black dots danced in front of Eve’s eyes.
“I don’t think—,” she started.
“Don’t think,” Linc murmured before kissing her again.
The small bit of consciousness she’d regained quickly drowned in a rush of desire. He was simply too close and too warm and too intoxicating and she was too turned on.
Eve relished his deep, thrusting touch for a few more delicious moments before he pulled out of her completely. The tips of his fingers skimmed her swollen flesh as he caught her thigh. She trembled as he urged her leg up and over his lap until she straddled him. They faced one another, her dress bunched around her waist.
Linc’s gaze drilled into hers, his eyes dilated with hunger and a deep appreciation. Warmth bubbled inside her, a feeling that might have spooked her if she hadn’t been so hot and bothered in the first place.
Eve didn’t do bubbling warmth. Or soft fuzzies. Or any of those girly feelings that tended to undermine even the most strong, confident woman when it came to men. She didn’t let herself get involved in the emotional aspect of sex because that would only make it harder to walk away the next day. And she always walked away. While she’d had a few relationships that lasted more than one night, the connection had always been the sex.
But at the moment, Eve was too needy to worry over the way her heart skipped a beat and her hands trembled at the look on Linc’s face. As if he liked her. He felt too good and she wanted to feel more.
As if he read her mind, his strong hands cupped her bottom and he worked her against the rock-hard bulge pressing tight against his tuxedo trousers. The friction was incredible and stirring. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as pleasure ripped through her.
She shimmied her hips and spread her legs even wider, settling more fully on top of him. He let loose a low growl and leaned forward, his hot mouth going to the plump cleavage pushing against the low neckline of her dress. His tongue traced the edge of the material before he reached his hand up to grasp the edge of the neckline. He was just about to pull it down and free her aching breast when an all-important fact registered.
Eve wasn’t clutching at his shoulders to keep from swaying to the side anymore. They were sitting stock-still, the cab engine idling, the driver waiting.
“We’re here,” she breathed.
Linc’s hands stilled as his gaze met hers. They stared at each other for a long moment, their breaths coming in quick, frantic gulps.
“We’re here,” he echoed. He sounded disappointed.
Until reality seemed to hit, and then it was as if someone lit a fire under them. She scrambled from his lap and pushed open the door to step out onto the curb while he paid the cabdriver. The photographers had pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street and had already climbed out to follow. Eve picked up her pace, but not to outrun the paparazzi. She needed to get into the elevator and into her apartment and back into Linc’s arms.
Linc followed and soon they’d retreated into the safety of her apartment building. The elevator wasn’t working, unfortunately, and so they took the stairs up to the fifth floor as if the devil himself were chasing them.
Eve fumbled with her key for a few moments before Linc stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. His long, lean fingers closed over hers, and he steadied her long enough to slide the key into the lock. Metal clicked and hinges creaked and then they were inside. The door slammed behind them and before she could draw a breath, he whirled her around and pulled her into his arms.
He kissed her, his tongue delving deep as he pulled her close. Her thighs quivered and her bosom heaved and she came dangerously close to fainting from the desire swamping her. But this was too good to miss, and she wasn’t about to forfeit what was surely to be a really incredible orgasm.
She reached for the waistband of his pants as he reached behind for the hooks on her dress. They both worked at the clothes until all the pieces had been pulled away. The yellow nightmare landed in a heap somewhere across the room. The matching hoop slip ricocheted against the far wall and nearly smacked Eve upside the head. But Linc took the brunt against one solid shoulder and it hit the floor like a hula hoop. Eve’s corsetlike bra put up a fight, but Linc eventually emerged the victor. The edges sagged and groaned with relief as he tossed it near her massive DVD collection in the far corner. She wasn’t sure what happened to her stockings or shoes. She could only hope they developed a life of their own and dead-man-walked their way to the trash compactor in the kitchen.
Likewise, Linc’s clothes followed hers. His jacket hit the floor along with his belt and trousers. Buttons popped, and she shoved the shirt down his arms and sent the white material flying in the opposite direction. She paused only to discover whether he was a boxer, brief, or au naturel man—crisp white BVDs, just for the record—before shoving the elastic waistband down and freeing a massive erection.
She wanted to look. But even more she wanted to feel, and so she threw herself against him. Her body went flush against his as bare skin met bare skin. His lips found hers again for a long endless moment before he pulled away to fish a condom from his pocket and slide it on his throbbing length. He kissed her as he swept her into his arms and started for the bedroom.
They ended up in the kitchen, and while she had nothing against a little tabletop action, her small glass-topped breakfast table could barely accomodate her laptop, a pot of coffee, and her supersized mug. She tore her mouth from his long enough to murmur, “The hallway. Third door to the left,” before plunging back into the kiss.
There was just something about the way his mouth ate at her lips and his tongue tangled with hers, stroking this way and that, up and down, deeper and stronger, that took her breath away. She’d never met a man who kissed with such passion and intensity. As if he liked it. As if he liked her.
The last thought rooted in her mind as he tumbled her back onto her king-sized bed. Her dog, Killer, who’d been curled up on her pillow, jumped to the floor with a loud, surprised yelp. She then let loose a grumpy growl—usually elicited by dry dog food and the Live with Regis and Kelly show—before scurrying off toward the walk-in closet that housed her doggy pillow.
Linc’s body covered Eve’s and she spread her legs, ready for the wondrous Big O that would undoubtedly follow such heated, frantic foreplay. She wrapped her legs around him as he readied himself and plunged fast and deep inside her.
She expected it to be good. Fantastic, even, with a man like Linc.
A wild man.
Eve tried to force aside the last thought. So what if he was the exact type she’d sworn off? They were stuck in a relationship together, however temporary, and so they might as well make the most of it.
Enjoy yourself, a voice whispered. Unfortunately, her conscience said something completely different.
“Are you going to move or just lay there?” His deep voice slid into her ears and shattered her thoughts.
“I’m moving.” She frowned up at him and shifted her pelvis for emp
hasis. “You’re just moving too much.”
“Too much?” He plunged into her and stilled. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” He stared down at her, a disbelieving look in his gaze. The same look he’d given her when she’d tossed the breadstick at him during their first date. A look NASCAR’s hottest commodity undoubtedly reserved for any female stupid enough to resist his southern charm.
She stiffened. “Too much as in quick on the draw.”
His brows furrowed together. “Who are you calling quick on the draw?”
“You’re the only one cocked and ready, so that would be you.”
“You might not be cocked, sunshine, but I’d say you’re pretty ready, yourself.” He moved to prove his point, and her body welcomed him deeper. He grinned the infuriating grin that never failed to make her heart beat faster and her bloodlust rise to dangerous levels. “Just relax and enjoy.”
She tried. She met him thrust for thrust until sweat beaded on his forehead and her breaths came faster and shorter and she moved closer toward a climax. Just . . . a . . . few . . . more . . . and . . .
“Ahhh.” His groan filled her ears and she knew he was close. Determined not to miss out, she shimmied and swayed and rode him for the next few seconds, waiting for the light to splinter her vision. She closed her eyes, anticipating a wave of sensation.
Or at least a ripple.
Nothing. Her eyes popped open and she saw Linc looming over her, his neck muscles taut, his gaze deep and hungry and expectant. He was waiting for her.
The realization sent a burst of warmth through her, followed by a rush of panic because she wasn’t even close to the edge.
Before she could stop herself, she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and let loose a deep moan that quickly morphed into screaming encouragement. Linc pounded into her a few more times and her voice, louder with each thrust, echoed off the walls surrounding them.
“Yes! Yes! Yesssssssssssss!”
Linc collapsed on top of her for several long moments, his heart hammering against hers while Eve did her best to breathe beneath the full press of his weight.
Sweet as Sugar, Hot as Spice Page 4
