by Janice Lynn
His mother laughed at her astounded expression. “I know my son is no saint. I see the pictures of him with all those women. But family functions aren’t a place for him to bring some woman he’s passing time with. He knows that. That’s why we were all so excited when he said he was bringing you.”
And Vale thought bringing her was going to protect him from his family? Hello, he’d created a whole new range of problems by bringing her.
“B-but we work t-together,” she stammered, still digesting the news that Vale didn’t bring women home. None of the beauties he wined or dined had ever slept in the big bed occupying his suite in the beach house. Just her.
“Which explains why my son works so much.” Her eyes twinkling with delight, Virginia patted Faith’s hand. “You don’t have to explain your relationship with Vale to me. Just know that I’m happy you’re here. We all are because it’s been so long since Vale’s let down those shields of his.”
Faith wanted to crawl under the seat at the hopeful anticipation in his mother’s eyes. Besides, what was she referring to? Vale’s shields? That made it sound as if Vale had once had his heart broken. Had he? It seemed a strange thought. Faith couldn’t imagine any woman not falling under Vale’s spell. The man was a hypnotist, a wizard of wondrous proportions when it came to wielding power over the opposite sex.
“Vale and I really are more friends.”
His mother’s penciled on brows rose in perfect arches. “Are you saying I’m wrong? That you’re not in love with my son?”
She studied her so intently Faith closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “You’re not wrong.”
Faith swallowed. Hard. Had she really just said she loved Vale? She didn’t. Did she? Sure, she was fascinated by him, admired him, wanted him. What sane woman didn’t? But love? Did such a fanciful emotion even exist?
Dear Lord. He was a hypnotist and she’d fallen completely under his spell this weekend.
“Good.” Virginia squeezed her hand. “Now, let’s sit back and enjoy this wedding we’ve been planning for years. I can’t believe our little Sharon is all grown up and getting married.”
Faith couldn’t figure out how to politely remove her hand from Vale’s mother’s so she left it. Seconds later the groom and his men came to stand at the gazebo and Faith could only stare at Vale, in awe at how handsome he looked in his tuxedo, how tall and confident, how he completely outshone the groom and every other man who’d ever lived.
He took her breath away in his black and white tuxedo. Somewhere in the time since she’d last seen him he’d had a haircut and fresh shave. He came to a stop in his designated place, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes immediately searching out hers.
When he spotted her, his gaze lingered on hers a moment, then raked over her, taking in her appearance, appreciation glimmering in his eyes when they returned to hers.
“You’re beautiful,” he mouthed, obviously not caring who saw.
Faith blushed, feeling as if she’d just won the lottery.
“So are you,” she whispered back, wondering if he’d be able to read her lips, if he’d see how much she wanted him at that moment, how no one existed for her except him.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a pleased grin and he winked.
Faith’s brain went fuzzy and she couldn’t breathe.
A tight squeeze of her hand had her breaking away from Vale’s gaze to stare half-unseeing at his mother.
“Looks as if we’ll be planning another wedding by Christmas,” she said excitedly, smiling at Faith.
Another wedding?
“Not my wedding. Uh-uh. No way.” She shook her head, knowing that, regardless of how Vale made her feel, she didn’t want to marry him. Never, ever would she set herself up for that kind of failure, that kind of disappointment. Having watched her mother’s heart break time and again, Faith would never go through that. Never. “I don’t want to get married to Vale, or any other man.”
Virginia frowned, but didn’t have a chance to comment as the small orchestra set up along the back of the yard began to play. Bridesmaid after bridesmaid walked up the rose-petal-strewn carpet until the wedding march sounded.
Everyone in the crowd stood, turned to see the bride in all her spectacular glory.
Faith was sure Sharon made a beautiful bride, but her vision had clouded over and she saw another wedding, another bride. Although she tried to choke them back, tears streamed down her cheeks now as they had then. Tears of pain and sorrow. Tears of loss. Tears of knowing her heart would never be complete again.
Her mother’s wedding.
The first of several that had followed over the years.
She never wanted to be like her mother. Yet wasn’t she?
Tears flowed at the realization she wasn’t so dissimilar after all, despite years of walking a straight and narrow path, putting her education, her career before all else. Still, she’d foolishly done as her mother had, doomed herself to wanting a man she’d never really have. Vale.
“Here’s a tissue, dear.” Virginia pushed a clean but wadded tissue paper into her hand. “I came prepared as I always cry at weddings too.”
Embarrassed that she was weeping at a virtual stranger’s wedding, Faith took the tissue, knowing nothing would dry the tears that would flow when Vale broke her heart, as he inevitably would.
Because if he really wanted her he’d have her before the weekend ended and there was nothing she could do to stop him unless she left right this very moment.
CHAPTER SIX
HOW many photos did one need at a wedding? Too many, Vale decided a half-hour after the ceremony had ended and the photographer was still imitating a general on the battlefield. Forcing yet another smile, he held his pose.
He’d had enough and just wanted to go find Faith to see if she was okay.
When the rest of the guests had been looking at Sharon walking down the aisle toward her groom, Vale had been watching Faith, noticed she’d only half turned, had seen the tears in her eyes.
Not tears of joy over the bride-to-be’s happiness, but tears of sorrow and pain. Tears that alluded to past hurts.
Instinctively he knew Faith’s hang-up with weddings had to do with her mother, probably to do with her numerous weddings. Faith had admitted as much without telling him any real details. He’d wanted to ditch his role in the wedding and go to her, comfort her, take her in his arms and kiss her until she never cried again.
Had his mother not turned, handed Faith the tissue, not patted her hand in comfort, not reminded him with a quick meeting of the eyes that he had a duty to Sharon not to ruin her special day, maybe he would have. He certainly hadn’t been thinking of his cousin when he’d spotted Faith’s tears.
All he’d been thinking about had been the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, the woman he’d watched sleep, wondering what it was about her that fascinated him so. He’d known she was hurting and he’d wanted to go to her.
How had his mother known to turn, to catch him watching Faith, to see his inner turmoil over her tears?
Maybe a mother just knew. His certainly always had.
“I’ve had enough,” he announced to no one in particular. “Any other photos requiring my presence will have to be taken later.”
The photographer must have been finished with him anyway because no one seemed to mind when he left the wedding party to find Faith.
The guests had been served a sit-down meal and Faith had to be at one of the long white tables dotted across the lawn or inside the tent. But he didn’t spot her. Not even with his mother, which is where he expected to find Faith.
His mother’s gaze shifted purposefully toward the house and he sent her a silent “Thank you”.
She wasn’t downstairs, so he headed up to his suite.
“Faith?” he called when he entered his room, not seeing her in the sitting area. When he turned toward the bathroom she was coming out, another tissue in her hand. Some of her hair had worked loose from its u
pswept style. Her nose was red and her eyes puffy. Her make-up was slightly smudged.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, looking at him in confusion. “Aren’t you needed for photos?”
He couldn’t move, could only stare at her and wonder at the pangs in his chest. “You’ve been crying.”
She winced, wiping at her eyes as if that would somehow disguise the truth from him. “It’s nothing. Weddings make me cry, that’s all.”
She was a horrible liar and unaccustomed guilt hit him.
“I shouldn’t have made you come with me this weekend. You told me you didn’t like weddings and I didn’t listen.”
She forced a small smile. “It’s okay, Vale. I need to get over my phobia about weddings. Besides, you needed me to protect you from your mother’s matchmaking.”
Rubbish, he thought. He could handle his mother. Sure, she’d been hinting more and more for him to find someone to share his life with, telling him he worked too much, needed to enjoy life, and had paraded female after female in his path the last time he’d visited. Having Faith at his side had ensured she wouldn’t do that, making his weekend less complicated. Only perhaps having Faith at his side had complicated things in ways he wouldn’t be able to easily undo. Regardless, at the moment all he wanted was to protect her, to take away her pain and promise her everything would be okay.
Whatever the everything that had upset her was.
Was he right and it had to do with her mother or was her phobia something more personal? Had Faith been engaged in the past? Married even?
His chest pang grew stronger.
“I wanted you with me, Faith.” He pulled her into his arms and she willingly went, laying her head against his tuxedo and wrapping her arms around his waist. The pang clawed at his throat, threatening to give him heartburn. “But it was unfair of me to force you to come to something that obviously distresses you so much. I’m sorry.”
In all the time Faith had known Vale she’d never heard him say he was sorry. Not that he was the type of man who thought he was too good to do so, just that he was rarely wrong. Maybe never.
“It really is okay, Vale,” she breathed against his chest, loving the strength she found in his arms, loving how tightly he held her, as if he planned to hold her for ever. “I wanted to be with you this weekend, too.”
Now, that was really stupid. Why was she telling him that? The next thing she’d be blurting out that she was in love with him. She wasn’t in love with him. This wasn’t love.
“I mean…” Oh, what did she mean? With him holding her, she couldn’t think and her mind had already been cloudy from her cry-fest. Silly that weddings made her sad, made her miss her father, made her wonder if she’d been responsible for him leaving, and if she was doomed to repeat her mother’s mistakes.
“I don’t know what I mean, Vale. I’m so confused about everything this weekend. Weddings confuse me. You confuse me. The way I want you, yet I know I shouldn’t.” There she went, saying stupid things again. “I can’t seem to think about anything but you, Vale. Make it go away.”
He tilted her chin, stared into her eyes, then did what she wanted more than anything, what she’d been waiting for nearly a lifetime. He kissed her with all the passion of a man who wanted a woman intensely. With all the gentleness of someone who cared about her and didn’t want her to hurt, who really did want her pain to go away. He kissed her with all the fierceness of a man who wouldn’t be denied, a man used to conquering the world.
Faith kissed him back with matching passion, gentleness, and fierceness, but also with everything in her heart, knowing that he alone could take away the ache in her chest, that only he could make her feel whole.
Was that love? Was that what she was feeling for him?
She couldn’t think of that now. Not while he was touching her.
He trailed kisses over her exposed neck, onto her bare shoulders. Cupping her bottom, he held her to his groin, pressing her into where he’d grown hard for her.
For her.
Because he wanted her.
And she wanted him.
For once she wasn’t going to deny herself a guilty pleasure, wasn’t going to deny herself what she’d likely spend every day of the rest of her life regretting.
She’d regret not making love to Vale more. Lots more.
She kissed his throat, tugging on his bow-tie to loosen the material so she’d have better access to his body. She kissed the open V of his tanned chest when he tossed the tie to the floor, undoing the top couple of buttons. She continued to kiss him while her fingers worked the remainder of his buttons loose and pushed his shirt open, exposing the ripped planes of his abdomen.
“You have a beautiful body,” she praised. A gorgeous body that looked more like it belonged on a pin-up poster than a physician.
“Isn’t that my line?” A half laugh, half groan sounded from deep in his chest, changing to a full-blown moan when she bent and kissed his flat belly.
“Faith,” he growled from beneath clenched teeth, “you’d better know what you’re doing because my willpower is almost gone. Has been almost gone from the moment I spotted you at the wedding. I wanted to ditch the ceremony and carry you up here, spend the night making love to you.”
He’d thought all that when he’d looked at her? When he’d told her she was beautiful?
She rubbed her cheek across the sculpted planes of his lower abdomen, loving his indrawn breath, how he pulled her to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Much more of that and I’m going to push you back against my bed and make you mine,” he breathed against her mouth. His fingers bit into her bottom, grinding her against him. His gaze held hers, branding her with his hot desire. “All mine. Be sure this is what you want or stop me now because I want you.”
Did he intend his words to deter her? Because if he was almost gone, she was all the way. Gone out of her mind with need and longing and the desire to feel wanted, loved, to be enough for someone. To be Vale’s whole world, even if for just a few moments in time.
Rather than heed caution, she slid her hands beneath the open flaps of his shirt and pushed the material off his shoulders, letting her fingers trace over the taut muscles. “I don’t want your reason, Vale. I want you to make love to me.”
“Faith.” His eyes deep blue seas, he shrugged out of his shirt and claimed her lips again. He feasted on her mouth, drawing out every morsel of pleasure within her, making her tingle from head to toe in sheer awareness of her very being.
She wound her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through the short hair at his nape, held him to her.
Not that she needed to hang on to him.
Vale wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted, needed, as much as she did. His fingers had worked up her skirt, bunching the clingy material at her waist, revealing the garter and thigh-highs she’d bought to go beneath her dress.
“Faith,” he hissed against her mouth, leaning from her long enough to take in her new sexy undergarments. “You’re killing me.”
She might have felt embarrassed except for the raw desire shining in his eyes. No way could she want to do anything except stand in the glow of his gaze when he looked at her as if he’d just awakened on Christmas morning and found exactly what he wanted beneath his tree. Her.
Thank God she’d listened to the saleslady and bought new underwear to go with her weekend wardrobe. The scraps of silk and lace had been worth every high-priced penny.
“Faith,” he repeated, tugging her back to him, his groin thrusting hard against her belly, his hands everywhere on her body. “I want you so much.”
She’d have told him to take her, but he was kissing her again, so she told him with her mouth, her hands, her body, with every fiber of her being.
She lowered his zipper, sliding his pants down his thighs and marveling at his body, at his reaction to her every touch, marveling at her boldness with his body.
She freed him, encircling him with her hands
, stroking over the silky smooth skin. He was big, hard, jutting out proudly toward her, magnificently male, but she wouldn’t have expected anything less. Not from Vale.
When his fingers pushed aside her lacy panties, rubbed across where her every single nerve ending culminated into one tiny nub, she cried out his name.
“You like that?” he asked, although surely he knew the answer as her body moved in rhythm to his touch, moved as if she were a puppet he controlled.
“Please,” she whimpered.
Please don’t stop.
Sliding one finger then another inside her, he stroked until she could stand no more, until she was on the verge of shattering, until her legs turned to jelly. She was thankful he held her, otherwise she’d be a puddle of hot liquid on the floor.
“You’re so tight.”
“Vale, I need you inside me.” Please. Please. “Oh, please,” she pleaded against his neck, amazed by the warm waves washing through her, amazed that he was holding her, touching her, wanting her, amazed at the foreign sensations swamping her body. Her head dropped forward, resting in the crook of his neck as each cell in her body performed acrobatics, pulsating toward him in sweet, gratifying throbs of pleasure. “Vale!”
First donning a condom, he gave a satisfied growl, looped his hands beneath her bottom, lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, to press against where he’d created the most fabulous magic inside her. He backed her against the bedroom wall, using the sheetrock to help support her, to help keep her in position. She didn’t stop him. Not when the full length of him glided against her, testing her moist readiness. Not when the thick head of him pushed inside, making her breath catch in her throat, stretching her beyond belief.
“Vale!” she gasped at the same moment his eyes widened with horrified realization, at the same moment every muscle in his body tensed.
“Faith…” He sounded tortured, seemed to hate that his hips moved in automatic response to her tight pelvic muscles, even when he was hurting her. She could feel his restraint oozing from every pore of his body, could feel that he barely held on to his control as he gently stroked within her. Yet hold on to his control he did in slow, methodical flexing of his hips that tormented as much as pleased her.
