by Marian Tee
A little cry escaped her, and it was the start of the end. His engorged manhood started rubbing her crotch, and she fell back weakly against his chest. He slid one finger inside of her, and Isla’s body jerked. His finger pushed swiftly and steadily inside of her, so exquisitely deep that she was certain the memory would forever be etched on her brain. The pleasure that came from it was agonizing, and when he started thrusting his finger in and out of her, her whole body felt like it was about to combust.
Oh. Dear. God.
A second finger soon followed, and her eyes squeezed shut.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
A third finger followed, and this time she felt completely exposed, her folds stretched wide open to accommodate the penetration of his fingers. It hurt, oh, it hurt – but it did so in such a terribly good way.
“Let go, darlin’.”
The low growl did it for her, and as his fingers thrust deep into her, Isla let out a tiny, choked gasp. Her body shattered, and more of those tiny, choked gasps came out, the kind of sound only a well-pleasured woman could make – and Jonathan Swanson heard every single one of them.
Isla was red-faced by the time the musher helped her out of the sled. Sean, on the other hand, was strutting like a damn peacock, with an air about him that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but sexual satisfaction.
Orgasm in a dog-pulled sled, she pondered dazedly. Was that as good as joining the Mile High club? Or was it just proof that she was in way over her head with Sean? Even now, she had a hard time believing that she had let such a thing happen, and for what?
Tell you what, darlin’. I’ll admit to being jealous if you promise I can have my way with you whenever and wherever I want.
And she had actually said yes!
How stupid was that? And how shamefully, terrifyingly telling –
The sound of more paws stomping hard against the snow distracted Isla from her thoughts, and she glanced up in time to catch a glimpse of another dog-pulled sled drawing up next to them. Another couple was aboard it: the man tall, dark, and handsome while his companion was a petite, curvy brunette.
They also looked very familiar, and after combing through her memories, Isla finally remembered where she had last seen them. They were none other than billionaire Devon Montgomery and his wife Hilary. They had married a couple of months ago, with their private wedding still making the headlines of just about every newspaper in the country.
And the only reason she knew this, Isla recalled wryly, was because India hadn’t been able to stop talking about it. Her sister had thought the couple crazy for wanting such a simple ceremony. If I were in Hilary White’s shoes, India had said, I’d have rented the Buckingham Palace for the wedding.
To which Isla had only nodded, knowing there was no point telling her sister that the Buckingham Palace was not the type one could rent as a wedding venue.
“What are you doing here, Sean?” The woman’s voice – soft and delighted – drew Isla’s attention back to the couple, and she blinked in surprise when she saw the two smiling at an approaching Sean like they were all old friends.
“Sean’s not the type to come here alone,” her billionaire husband drawled, “so I’m assuming…” He turned around, and his blue eyes gleamed at the sight of Isla self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ears.
“Evening, ma’am.” Devon’s polite but friendly drawl perfectly masked his curiosity. His friend had never been the type to keep a woman company outside the bedroom, and he wondered what made this redhead different from the rest.
Sean swore in his mind as he caught sight of the uncertain look that Isla shot at him as she joined them. He had hoped to keep his disguise just a little longer, but with this he knew his time was up.
Isla gave a quick smile at the other couple as she came up to Sean’s side. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery.”
Sean tried not to feel unreasonably irritated at how Isla greeted his friends by name. How the fuck was it possible she knew Devon but was clueless about his identity?
“Oh, and congratulations on your wedding, too,” Isla added. “I hope you won’t sue me for this, but I’m afraid I only recognize you because of the stolen paparazzi photos my sister showed me.”
“Depends on which tabloid you saw the photos on,” Devon answered without missing a beat. “Anything outside Texas and I’m equally afraid I’d have to sue.”
Worried that the other woman would take her husband seriously, Hilary hastily stepped in, saying, “Please don’t mind him. He makes jokes so rarely that he forgets he has to actually sound like he’s joking when he makes them.”
“It’s as Harry says, Isla.” Sean’s voice was easy. “But because he’s been my friend for as long as I can remember, I simply force myself to laugh at all his jokes.” Curling a possessive arm around Isla’s waist, he then made the introductions. “Isla, these are my friends, Devon and his wife Hilary.”
Isla tried to decipher Sean’s casual tone. Did that mean they were truly just friends or had Sean become Devon Montgomery’s friend in the course of working for the billionaire?
Ignoring Isla’s visible confusion, Sean went on with the introductions, saying, “Devon, Harry, it’s my honor to introduce you to my fiancée Isla Bouchard.”
To give his friends credit, neither of them blinked at his announcement but instead offered their felicitations immediately, with Devon shaking Sean’s hand while Hilary gave Isla a quick hug.
As they headed back to the hotel, the men deliberately fell a few steps behind, Sean having correctly interpreted Devon’s curious look.
“Since when did you have a fiancée?” Devon demanded as soon as the women were out of earshot.
“It’s a long story,” Sean muttered under his breath. “What the hell are you doing here, Devon?”
“We had to scrap our plans for Monaco. Something came up at one of Logan’s oil fields. He’s got to stay close by, so we decided to come up and meet here instead.” He shot his friend a curious look. “I could ask the same of you. What are you doing here?”
Color stained Sean’s high-boned cheeks. “I lied about having a business deal.”
“And your fiancée?” Devon pressed. “I’ve got all the time in the world for a long story.”
Sean didn’t answer. Should he at least come clean to Devon? His friend had been the first one to get himself a mail-order bride, anyway.
“She’s not from here, is she?” Devon murmured. “I’d have recognized her if she was.”
“Charlotte,” Sean said finally. “Our mutual friend was instrumental in how we met.”
Devon knew right away what that meant, and he stared at his friend in complete disbelief. Unlike him, Sean had always been active in the social scene, and his friend had certainly never been lacking for female company. A playboy like Sean shouldn’t have needed the services that Heart’s Match offered.
Or so he thought.
“What would you need Charlotte’s help for?”
In a voice kept carefully neutral, Sean told his friend about the major surgery his father was poised to take and how the older man had been maudlin and despondent of late. “You know how he’s been harping on me for years about getting married and having kids, so I thought I could let him live out his fantasy for a while.”
Devon shot his friend a sharp look. “What do you mean, for a while?”
“The marriage is a temporary arrangement.”
“And she agreed to this?” Silence was Devon’s only answer, and he slowly shook his head when he realized what that meant. “She doesn’t even know, does she?”
Chapter 9
Even from afar, Mt. Aehrenthal’s lobby sparkled like a jewel in the night, with all the chandeliers glowing in majestic glory while crimson and golden flames danced and crackled within brick fireplaces. A couple of photographers happened to be lounging in the corner when the two couples walked past the hotel’s main doors, and upon recognizing the new arrivals, the photogra
phers instantly went on alert and started taking photos enthusiastically.
Sean cursed under his breath upon seeing this, more so when he heard Isla say ruefully to Devon’s wife, “I get why they’re taking photos of you and your husband, but why us, too?”
“The media’s attention on us since we married has been crazy,” Hilary acknowledged, “but don’t let that make you underestimate Sean’s popularity.”
Devon swiftly moved forward when he realized what the two women were talking about. “Sweetheart, I think we should---”
But it was too late.
“Don’t let it get to you, Isla.” Hilary’s voice was filled with concern. “Sean and Devon are billionaires, and that’s what most of them are attracted to.” She had seen the faintly troubled expression on Isla’s face and mistook it for worry about the way the two attracted women like flies.
“I see.” Isla wondered if she had heard Hilary correctly. Did the other woman just say Sean was also…a billionaire?
“Sean and Devon know this, too,” Hilary rushed to assure Sean’s companion when she saw the other woman start to frown. “So there’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure Sean---”
“Would like to have Isla back,” Devon finished for his wife. Slipping an arm around her waist, he said smoothly, “We’ll see you two at dinner.” After a polite nod to the other couple, he immediately led his wife away in an effort to forestall her from saying anything even more damning.
Sean and Isla stared at each other.
“Was that true?”
“Will you be happy if I said yes?”
Isla couldn't believe how things had turned out. “You’re really a billionaire then?” she asked faintly.
Sean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he answered, “Yes, ma’am.” And with that, Sean waited for her to shed tears of joy like any mercenary woman would, but instead he saw Isla’s emerald eyes shoot sparks at him.
A moment later, and Isla hissed, “You jerk!”
What the hell?
“You’re a billionaire, and you had the gall to insist that I pay for everything?”
It took one full moment for Sean to realize she was joking, and another moment to appreciate the nuance behind it. In not so many words, she was telling him none of it mattered – he was a billionaire, he had lied to her about it, and now she knew the truth. None of those things mattered, and she was telling both of them to move on.
Sean slowly shook his head. “How the fuck did I get so lucky?” He could see in her eyes that his wealth didn’t really matter to her – or at least not the way it would have to most people.
“Not that lucky.” Her tone was cheeky, and her eyes were twinkling with mirth. “I’ll be giving you a full accounting for reimbursement plus interest.”
“You can try,” he drawled, “but if I were you, I won’t count on it.”
“Who’s being the cheapskate now?” She sputtered with laughter.
“Rather than that, I’m simply ensuring you keep your word. You pay that way---” She caught sight of the devilish gleam in his eyes as he started to bend his head. “And I’ll pay this way.” And just like that he was kissing her, in full view of everyone at the lobby, and so very thoroughly that she had a feeling they could be arrested for public indecency.
By the time he lifted his head, she could only gasp for breath, which later turned into a giggle when he swept her up in his arms – again.
“You need to stop carrying me like this,” she told him laughingly, “or you’re going to make me look spoiled.”
“I do plan on spoiling you,” he answered without breaking his stride. “Are you complaining?”
One of the photographers waylaid them before she could answer, asking Sean rather daringly about her identity. The question made her tense. Ten minutes ago, she would’ve been certain of Sean’s answer, but now that she knew he was a billionaire?
“Her name is Isla Bouchard.”
The reporter started typing on his smartphone like a madman while Isla’s startled gaze snapped to Sean, who then grinned at her as he said, “And she’s the woman I’m going to marry.”
The last thing Isla saw before the elevator doors slid close was the man’s jaw dropping open, and her incredulous gaze swung to Sean as soon as they were alone. “Sean!” Her voice was a horrified wail. “Do you realize what you’ve just done?”
“Step 15, I believe.”
Isla choked. “This is not Step 15!” Step 15 in Charlotte’s outline was for them to make their engagement public by posting a classy, discreet notice with the local newspaper in his hometown. “This is Step 15 magnified by a thousand times---” She stopped speaking.
An expression of dread crossed her face, which Sean had no problem interpreting. “I’m guessing it’s only occurred to you that our wedding won’t be as low-profile as you assumed?”
Isla threw him a look of consternation. “Will you please take this more seriously?” Isla stared down at her fingers, wondering if it was time to take a bite, literally and figuratively. She had planned everything about their marriage, and part of that plan was to take her time thinking of how to best let her family know about Sean.
Obviously, that one was out of the window. News didn’t just travel fast these days. They flew at lightning speed, and she was certain everyone in San Diego would know about Sean and her before even the evening news showed up on their TV screens.
“I’m feeling hurt again,” Sean said teasingly at Isla’s look of anxiety. “Aren’t you pleased that the pauper you thought you were marrying turned out to be a prince instead?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m willing to bet your income isn’t anywhere close to Prince Gabriel’s of Contini.”
Sean grinned. “Good point.” But actually it wasn’t. He, Devon, and the others – men whom the media liked to refer to as SAFE or San Antonio’s Finest Eligibles – were good friends with Gabriel de Konigh. They knew each other well enough to share the necessary figures about their net worth, and so he knew for a fact that his wealth was at par with Gabriel’s personal fortune.
But for now, he’d let Isla’s words slide. The way she remained oblivious to the size of his bank account amused him, and Sean hoped she would stay that way for a long time.
Sean only allowed Isla’s feet to touch the ground when they made it back to his suite. She marveled at the sheer vastness of it, which was easily ten times the size of her hotel room. It was like a log cabin in the ordinary sense of the word, but it was also extremely posh, with ceilings so high it made her feel like she was in a church and expensive paintings hanging on its bark-paneled walls.
The suite also had a huge balcony, along with its own piano, and it was this last one that had Isla turning around to him in surprise. “Is that normal? A piano?” She really had to ask. “Or did they just get the idea from Fifty Shades----mmph!”A soft, thrilled laugh escaped her as Sean pushed her back against the wall.
His powerful body covered hers, hard muscles meeting soft curves, and heat exploded between them. It obliterated everything that was unnecessary – his wealth, her fears, the secrets they still kept – and left only what mattered: burning gazes, heavy panting, and the heavy thumping of their hearts – everything that made him a man, and her a woman, and the fact that they wanted each other.
“Is that what you want, sugar,” he whispered. “Kink and bondage?”
Her lips curved. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her smile was as old as time, as potent as it had been from the very start, and Sean fell for it hard and fast, just like the way man first fell for the wiles of Eve.
“You’re teasing me,” he growled.
“Can’t I?” Her tone was breathless, her eyes naked in their innocent desire for him.
He didn’t answer right away, but the way his forceful gaze roamed her face said more than enough. She was his – and he would never let her forget it.
“Talk to me,” he said gruffly.
“I think you already know. As always.” Her t
one was both exasperated and tender, a combination that two of them knew was dangerous.
“Say it anyway.”
“Then…” Her eyes searched his. “Are you truly certain you want to marry me?”
Even though you’re a billionaire?
The words hung in the air, unspoken but heard.
“I hate to break this to you, sugar, but I’ve always known who I am.”
Isla blinked. “You have a point there.” And then she let out a soft laugh, the sound a seductive melody. It had him pressing his body harder against hers, and she bit back a whimper when the proof of his desire nudged against her belly.
“Then we’re okay?” He waited until her gaze met his before shifting against her. This time, the head of his cock brushed against her clit, and as her eyes widened, he did it again, the movement deliberate and explicit in its question. Are we okay? Can we fuck now?
“Sean!” His name, however, came out more a moan than a call of reproof.
A roguish grin slashed his lips. “Shall I take that as another yes?”
She wished she could say yes. It was what she wanted, what her body craved. But she had to be sure first.
“Jonathan isn’t even in your league,” Isla said jerkily, “and I couldn’t make him happy.” She was counting on him to read between the lines – like he usually did – and when she saw a frown mar his handsome face, she knew that he had.
“How many times must I make it clear to you, sugar? Swanson was an idiot.” Contempt lined his voice. “And I’m nothing like him.”
Isla’s breath hitched as he slowly ran his knuckles down her cheek.
“Now that’s done---”
Everything in Isla wanted to succumb to the sinful temptation lacing his thickly accented drawl, but now that she knew it was really going to happen and she would soon be his, fear of the unknown overwhelmed her, and insecurities she didn’t even know she had swelled to the fore.
What if she was just good at foreplay but not at the actual deed itself?
What if she ended up disappointing him?
