Tangled Vows

by Yvonne Lindsay

  The man couldn’t be good for her. They’d been married a week and already she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Going back to work would be a welcome panacea, but that wouldn’t happen for another week. She had thought the two-week honeymoon was a good idea at the time. An opportunity to spend time with her new husband and get to know him better.

  Know him in the biblical sense? She took another, longer sip of her drink. This was getting ridiculous. Maybe she should just sleep with Ilya and get it over with.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  Yasmin felt a blush creep into her cheeks. “Not even worth a penny,” she answered dismissively.

  “Or you just don’t want to tell me,” he responded with a little smirk. “I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight. Maybe the tapas restaurant in town.”

  A restaurant? That would be good, she thought, nodding in agreement. At least there they would be surrounded by people and maybe, just maybe, she’d stop thinking about how sexy her husband was and what the heck she was going to do about it.

  “That sounds great. Would you like me to make the booking? I’m happy to drive us.”

  “I thought we’d take a car service. That way we can both have a couple of drinks.”

  And her inhibitions would fly out the window, she thought ruefully. But then, maybe it was time she let them and learned to let go a little. For so long she’d lived such a structured, self-disciplined existence. Get up, work hard, go to bed and then do it all again. Her entire adult life had been one long treadmill of doing the same thing all the time. Working for the greater good of Carter Air and her employees. So why shouldn’t she let her hair down and live a little? Especially with a man she was married to.

  “Okay,” she said, before she could change her mind. “That sounds nice.”

  Nice? What was she thinking? She wasn’t quite sure she was ready to handle this, but then again, she’d never know until she tried, right?

  * * *

  It was late and Ilya couldn’t sleep a wink. Dinner had been incredible. The tapas restaurant was always good but somehow sharing the platters with Yasmin had given him a new appetite and enhanced the flavors more than ever.

  He’d never met anyone like her before. She was that incredibly perfect blend of beauty and intelligence. And all his life, she’d been living only a short distance away from him. If it hadn’t been for that stupid feud between their families, would things have been different? Would they have ever come together under different circumstances, courted like a normal couple and done all the things a regular couple did?

  Things like make love under a moonlit sky until they both drifted to sleep in sated exhaustion?

  He shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Being around Yasmin was proving very uncomfortable. Not being around her was even worse. Ilya flopped over onto his other side and willed himself to relax, but that was easier said than done when he was once again going to bed with an unrelieved hard-on.

  What would she have done, he wondered, if he’d stroked the fine skin of her lightly tanned arms the way he’d wanted to at dinner, or if, when the car had dropped them home, he’d reached over and planted a kiss on the exposed nape of her neck? Would she have shivered in delight? Would she have turned and met his passion with an answering kiss of her own?

  He huffed another sigh of frustration. Wherever his thoughts were leading, it was irrelevant. Until Yasmin was ready to come to him on her own terms, he wasn’t going to push her. There was still that fragile insecurity beneath the assured surface that she presented to him each morning at breakfast. He wasn’t sure why the insecurity was there, or what had created it, but he certainly wasn’t going to make it any worse. He could be patient along with the best of them. Even if it just about killed him.

  A sound at his door made him stiffen. He opened one eye a crack and detected the svelte silhouette of his wife as she came into the room. Ilya congratulated himself on sleeping with the drapes open, because the weak moonlight provided just enough illumination for him to see his bride step carefully across the room.

  She hesitated at the edge of his bed. For a moment he thought she might turn and walk back out as silently as she’d walked in. She’d been incredibly stealthy. If he hadn’t been awake and facing the door, he probably wouldn’t have heard her arrival. But here she was. An arm’s length away. Ilya found himself holding his breath, wondering what she was going to do next.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Yasmin obviously had made her decision. She reached for the top sheet and slid under it beside him. His body went into overdrive. His every instinct urged him to pull her into his arms and to fulfill the fantasies that had plagued him since he’d left her alone in her bedroom on their wedding night. But he was stronger than that. She could be here for a myriad of reasons—none of them having anything to do with the desperation raging through him right now.

  How did a gentleman react in a situation like this? What did he do, or say?

  “Bad dream?” he asked gently.

  He felt, rather than saw, her shake her head.

  “No, nothing like that,” she answered. Her voice was husky and she swallowed. “I... I thought it was time I took you up on your offer. I changed my mind about sleeping alone. Are you okay with that?”

  Eight

  Was he okay with that? Hell, yes! He wanted to punch the air and shout out loud.

  “Are you certain?” he asked instead.

  “I haven’t been able to think about anything else. It’s...” She hesitated.

  “It’s...?” he prompted.

  “Driving me crazy.”

  “I have to admit to being a little crazy, too. It’s a weird thing, this marriage of ours, isn’t it?”

  He heard her sigh in the semidarkness. “It really is.”

  She fell silent beside him. Her body was rigid with tension. Maybe he should have acted on his first instinct after all—gentlemanly conduct be damned. But then he felt her move toward him. Felt a tentative touch of her hand on his shoulder. He reciprocated, letting his hand rest on the curve of her hip. She was wearing some kind of silky slip, and as he stroked her it moved beneath his palm like a luxuriously delicate barrier between them. But as good as it felt, he wanted to feel her.

  He pushed the fabric higher until he touched bare skin. She wasn’t wearing any underwear and the knowledge sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin. His hand shook as he stroked her, pushing the slip higher, feeling the dip of her waist, the shape of her ribs, the curve of her breast. Her breath hitched as he touched her there, as he cupped her fullness and let his thumb drift across her tight nipple.

  Her skin was hot, as if she burned with the same need he did. Ilya shifted in the bed so he had better access to her and bent his head to her breast, taking his time kissing and licking a path from the underside to the budded peak. He wished he could see her more clearly. Drink in her beauty, the color of her skin. But like this, in the dark, his other senses became more attuned to her. To the sighs and gasps she made as he caressed her body. To the scent of her—not just the light summery fragrance she wore, but the scent of her body—her desire.

  It was a powerful aphrodisiac, the knowledge that she wanted him that much. He continued to lavish attention on her breasts while letting his hand trail down over her taut stomach and lower still. She was obviously the kind of woman who took her personal grooming to the next level, he realized as he felt the tiny neat patch of body hair nestled there. He groaned. Ah, what he wouldn’t do to see that. But there was time. Hopefully tonight would be the first of many such nights where they could explore each other, touch and taste and revel in each other’s bodies.

  His fingers dipped a little lower, to the molten core of her—slick and soft and, oh, so very tempting. She moved beneath him, a groan coming from her that spoke to how ready she truly was. He let one finger slip inside her and felt her tense a
nd shudder against him.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she sighed on a quiver of breath. “Don’t stop, please.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

  He repeated the movement, this time easing two fingers inside her and curling them to stroke her. Her hips lifted from the bed and she tightened around his fingers again. Keeping his movements small and slow, he continued to caress her, all the while trailing a line of kisses down the center of her body. The scent of her was hot and musky, and yet enticingly sweet, as well. He nuzzled against her mound, pressed a kiss there, then used his tongue to find the pearl hidden in her folds.

  Yasmin’s hands caught in his hair, holding him to her as he worked his tongue in patterns against her clitoris. Beneath him he felt her body grow more and more tense. It was time. He increased the tempo of his fingers, closed his mouth around her bud and suckled her.

  She climaxed on a keening cry, her body shuddering as she came around him, beneath him. It was all he could do not to come himself, such was the force of her orgasm. Instead, he held onto the last shred of his control, determined to make her enjoyment last. His pleasure would come later and be all the better for it.

  Ilya slowed his movements, pressed a lingering kiss against her and withdrew his fingers from her body.

  “I know this probably comes across as cliché,” she said, her voice just a little shaky. “But wow.”

  Ilya laughed, loving the fact that she could make a joke at a time like this.

  “I’ve yet to meet the man who wouldn’t find that a compliment,” he admitted, still smiling.

  He lay down next to her and pulled her closer to him.

  “I meant it as one,” she answered, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. “And now, it’s your turn.”

  “There’s no need—”

  “Shush, there’s every need. I’m all about equal opportunities. Aren’t you?” she teased.

  She nipped him and the sensation of her teeth against his skin sent another jolt of desire crashing through him. He’d be lucky to hold on another minute, let alone for as long as she planned to torture him. And torture it was. Sweet, delicious, sensation-filled torture as she explored his body with her hands, her lips and her tongue.

  Every now and then her hand would drift close to his groin and brush against his penis, making it twitch involuntarily. His balls were so tight they ached, and the pleasurable pain of it nearly drove him to distraction. Tremors began to rock him as she worked her way down his body, as her teeth scraped over the sensitive skin at the V of his groin. If she was going to do that somewhere else, he—

  She did. Ilya clenched his fists in the sheets beside him, allowed his body to ride the wave of sheer unadulterated pleasure that threatened to swamp him. Her fingers closed around his shaft, stroking him as she took his tip deeper into her mouth. It was too much. Far, far, far too much.

  In one swift movement, Ilya pulled her up higher on his body.

  “You’re killing me,” he barely uttered as he lifted her over his engorged shaft and slowly lowered her down.

  “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Oh, we’ll finish. I promise.”

  As her body engulfed him, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, calling on every last ounce of restraint. This wasn’t about him anymore. It was about both of them. Together.

  His hips began to move and Yasmin met him, thrust for thrust. He could just make her out in the low gleam of moonlight from the window. Her slender body was rising and falling—undulating like waves on the sea. His climax was near, but he had to be certain she was going to fall over that edge with him. He fought the urge to give in. Felt her body grow tight around him, felt the rhythmic pull of her orgasm beginning.

  He could hold on no longer. She was his absolute undoing. He let go, riding the intense swell of pleasure, again and again. And she let go with him, her body tensing and releasing on her own waves of delight, until she collapsed over him.

  Ilya wrapped his arms about her, felt the last tiny tremors course through her body before she went completely slack in his arms.

  “Yeah, wow,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I can’t move,” she said languidly. “You’re going to have to push me off.”

  “I kind of like having you right here,” he replied, closing his arms a little tighter and relishing the feel of her body against his.

  Her breath came in short little puffs of warm air against his chest and he felt her body relax as she sank into sleep in his arms.

  He’d never thought it could be like this. The depths of passion, the heights of satisfaction, the closeness of remaining joined when he finally lost hold on consciousness and drifted into a satiated sleep himself.

  * * *

  It was still dark when Yasmin woke. She remained sprawled over Ilya’s chest, her legs splayed on either side of his. Her entire body hummed with a sense of completion she’d never known before. A part of her wondered why the heck she’d waited so long to give in to the attraction that had driven her crazy this past week. The other part told her she was simply being careful.

  This changed things. Making love to Ilya had taken their marriage to a new level of permanence for her. Had it been the same for him? She gave a little shiver as she remembered the things he’d done, the reactions he’d wrought from her. She was no shy violet in the bedroom but he’d brought her to the precipice of something new and exciting. Something she knew would be addictive.

  Was she ready to do this? To give herself over to that level of commitment? They’d known each other and been married just a week. It was all kinds of madness to be feeling this way so soon. He was her enemy in business and yet, here in his bed, she knew he was anything but.

  Was this the real Ilya Horvath? A man who rescued puppies? A man who saw to her every daily need? A man who reduced her to a puddle of loose limbs and fulfillment after just one sexual encounter?

  So where did this leave her? Confused, yes. Wanting more, most definitely.

  But did Ilya feel the same way? How did a girl go about asking a man something like that?

  “You’re thinking too hard,” Ilya said sleepily from beneath her.

  His voice rumbled in her ear. His hand, which only moments ago had rested limply on the small of her back, now began to drift gently, tracing the knobs of her spine. Up and down and back up again.

  “Is that even possible, to think too hard?”

  “It is when you should be sleeping or making love.”

  Desire unfurled in her like petals opening on a full-blown rose.

  “And which would you suggest in this instance?” she asked, lifting her head and looking at his face.

  His eyes glinted in the dark.

  “The latter, of course.”

  “Is that so? Didn’t you have enough the first time around?”

  He shook his head. “That was only a starter to whet your appetite. Did I fail?”

  She laughed at the mock mortification in his tone.

  “No, you didn’t fail. But, then again, I don’t expect you know what that’s like.”

  His hand stilled on her back. “You think I’ve never failed?”

  “Have you?”

  “Enough to know what it feels like,” he said grimly. “But I don’t want to talk about that right now. Right now, I’d rather do this.”

  He rolled them over so she was beneath him, and he settled between her thighs. She could feel his arousal, already hard and heavy, probing at her entrance.

  He hesitated. “We didn’t discuss contraception,” he said, his voice blunt.

  “I get the birth control shot. And I know we’re both clean. It was one of the tests we had to have before the wedding, remember?”

  She flexed a little, felt the tip of him enter her. She gasped on a floo
d of awareness.

  “Too soon?” he asked, nuzzling the curve of her neck.

  “Not soon enough,” she replied, pushing her pelvis forward so she could take him in farther.

  He withdrew teasingly. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  She dug her fingernails into his buttocks and felt him flinch.

  “Not soon enough,” she repeated.

  “Then I had best continue as the lady demands,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a thrust of his hips.

  “That’s more like it,” Yasmin sighed in approval.

  “I aim to please.”

  “There’s nothing whatsoever wrong with your aim,” she managed to say before ripples of desire built up inside her and threatened to sweep away any capacity to speak.

  This time her climax was deeper, more intense than before, and she knew, through every step, that Ilya was with her all the way. When he came she felt it through her whole body, her pleasure and his mixing and blending and radiating through them until they were both left spent and breathing heavily.

  She’d known pleasure and satisfaction before, but nothing—nothing—came close to this. Boneless, sated beyond belief, she drifted back into a deep sleep, oblivious to the screen on her mobile phone on the nightstand next to her, lighting up with an incoming email notification.

  Nine

  He hadn’t expected it to be like this, Ilya thought as he and Yasmin walked hand in hand along the beach the next day. They’d driven out to the coast. Feeling the salt air buffet them as the wind whipped down the sandy shoreline and watching the huge breakers roll in, Ilya felt as though the landscape was a fine analogy for the turmoil that churned inside him.

  He certainly hadn’t expected this depth of connection with another person so quickly. Oh, sure, he knew a lot of how he was feeling was due to their incredible sexual connection. What man wouldn’t feel bonded to a woman who made him feel the way Yasmin did when they made love? But it went deeper than that, and that knowledge scared him.

  He’d loved a woman before. Believed, with every cell in his body, that she was The One. Yes, they’d been young, but there was no rule saying young people couldn’t love each other forever, was there? Although, in their case, forever had only lasted three years. When he’d discovered that the Jennifer he’d fallen in love with had been a fake, that the true woman beneath the smiles, the affection, the plans for the future had, in fact, been a cruel, lying and scheming bitch, the damage to his heart had been total.