by Dani Collins
She wasn’t going to let the mobster win. She wasn’t going to let her father’s cruel neglect of her or her aunt’s cutting indifference define how she lived the rest of her life. “I’ve wanted to do this again,” she said against his mouth, “ever since I woke up next to you that morning. And now I can’t think of one good reason why I denied myself. I wrapped myself up in so many layers of protection that I lost myself. No more.”
His hands moved up from her hips to her shoulders with a possessive thoroughness that pinged every cell in her body. Slowly, with a long, rough exhale, Dev pulled back from the kiss. “No,” he agreed, his thumbs tracing over her cheeks in an almost tender gesture. “Nothing has ever tasted as sweet as you, Clare. Or been as full of surprising depths.”
“Are you complaining?” Clare said, burying her face in his throat again. She loved the rough, bristly texture of his skin there, the taste of him, the scent of him. It was beginning to feel like her safe space. But of course, he wouldn’t appreciate it if she said that.
He wouldn’t like it if she took this interlude as anything more than what it was—a fragment of time where he was letting her set the pace and tone of this.
One kiss. Not that she’d had any doubts about his desire for her.
His fingers edged into her hair at the nape of her neck, his thumbs rubbing in mindless circles. “Not at all,” he said. “Nothing but admiration here.”
“Lower please,” she said, in defiant demand.
His laughter vibrated through his body, transferring to hers. “Yes, my lady.” He obediently moved those clever fingers down her neck and onto her shoulders.
Clare groaned when he pressed them into the tight knots he found there.
He was unraveling her, she knew. On more than one level. But she had no energy to resist. No wish to erect her silly defenses.
“Why?” she asked, wanting to know everything he thought of her.
Now his fingers were gently kneading her arms and her back muscles and reducing her to a blob of good feeling and nothing else. “Why what?”
“Why admiration? Because I kissed you better than I did last time?”
Again, that laughter. It was low and warm, and it made her chest feel full of a comforting quality. Clare wanted to roll around in that sound forever and ever.
“Why not? You took sheer terror for your life and transformed it into passion and determination. You didn’t let it diminish you. You used it to find a new you...that, lovely Clare, is cause for admiration and celebration.”
Clare clung to him, no inhibitions or reserve left in her. She’d worked hard all her life with no boyfriends or thought to the future except establishing her own business. The money her father had “given” her before he died—at such cost—had finally allowed her to do that. But the driving force had been her determination to build something for herself.
“You know something about dwelling in fear and forging something out of it, don’t you?” she said then, knowing that she was crossing that invisible boundary she’d always sensed around him. Knowing that he might put those walls back up again in the beat of a breath and shut this interlude down.
But she was tired of being circumspect. Of settling for less than what she wanted.
She was also aware that patterns built over a lifetime of abandonment couldn’t be broken overnight. Sooner or later, she was going to revert to her old habits. To being circumspect with her emotions. To becoming one of life’s spectators once again.
But in the meantime, she was simply going to look at this as a forced, but much-needed vacation. And the main feature of her vacation would be doing deliciously wicked things with Dev Kohli.
Pupils darkened, mouth swollen, hair in disarray, the man looked scrumptious. There was none of that suave, unruffled playboy right now. This was a man in the throes of hard lust. She liked seeing him like this—all gorgeously rumpled, thanks to her hungry kisses.
If she could throw off her shackles for anyone, it had to be this man. Who, she was beginning to suspect, was quite the package—inside and out.
There was a sudden pause, but he didn’t push her away and tell her that asking such a question was above her paygrade. Or that their devastatingly sweet kiss didn’t give her a right to delve and probe.
Instead, he drew in a long breath and Clare felt the echo of it in the rise and fall of his chest. “Yes, I do know what it feels like when no one hears you. Or sees you. I know what it feels like when the only definition you have of yourself is set by others.”
Clare gave up all pretense then. She threw her arms around his waist and held on tight. His large hands moved over her back—in an act of appeasement or need, she had no idea—and then he pulled her close.
“You’re a witch,” he said gruffly, but his fingers were gentle as they clasped her cheek, and then he was kissing her again.
This kiss was not gentle or sweet or exploratory. It was a fierce taking. It was a toll he demanded for giving a piece of himself. His fingers clasped her bottom, holding her firmly against his hard body, his erection a brand against her belly. Clare felt the most overpowering need to touch herself between her thighs, or beg him to. The ache that built there was so insistent.
“I want more,” she said brazenly, determined to ride this high for as long as she could. She could feel a flush climbing her neck at her pouty request, but she didn’t care. “I want a repeat of that night.”
His sudden curse ripped through the air.
Hands on her shoulders, he gently put her back from him. “Let’s think this through for a moment, Ms. Roberts. For one thing, you’re in shock. For another...” His brown gaze zeroed in on her lips, and he seemed as though he’d forgotten what he was saying.
Clare licked them, wanting to feel the swollen sensitivity everywhere else too. “Lost your train of thought there, Mr. Kohli?”
“I think first we both need a cold drink and then... I suggest we wait.” Another sweep of his eyes over her body, and it was almost like those big hands had stroked her all over again.
Her gaze dropped down. The outline of his erection was clearly visible. An incredible rush of female empowerment hit Clare in her belly. She flicked her gaze up to meet his eyes. Saw desire etched onto his sharp features. “Why wait? I told you, Dev, you don’t have to worry that I’ll ask for more.”
A flush streaked the sharp blades of his cheekbones. “It’s not that. We need to discuss something important first. I think I’ve come up with a way to get you out of this.”
“Out of sleeping together?”
A smile split his mouth. “No.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I think I’ve already made my peace with the fact that you and I’ll end up in bed again soon enough.”
“That confident of your studly prowess, huh?” Clare interjected, wanting to be miffed but not really succeeding. She couldn’t pretend anymore that he was simply a man who looked at women as conquests or mindless entertainment. Neither was she going to turn him into perfect relationship material with her overactive imagination.
The present was all she had, and she was going to revel in it each day she could.
He shrugged. “Not my studly prowess so much as chemistry like ours. It doesn’t happen all the time, and this is the strongest I’ve ever felt. Does that answer satisfy you?”
His tone glinted with humor and challenge, and Clare nodded regally. The answering warmth in his eyes made her heart feel too big for her chest.
“Do you get the sense that our roles are being reversed?” she said then, pulling away from him.
But he didn’t let her hand go. Clare’s heart jumped at the small gesture that had nothing to do with desire or lust and everything to do with something else. Something she didn’t want to define. If she gave it a name, there wouldn’t be the chance of an escape. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously.
“Like I�
��m becoming this devil-may-care woman and you’re—” she smiled, loving how he tilted his head and stared at her hungrily “—turning into some kind of honorable man trying to keep me out of trouble.”
Dev laughed. “Am I? Don’t worry, Clare. This whole honor thing will wear out soon enough. Just listen to me, first.”
Clare nodded, a trickle of apprehension diluting the heady sense of excitement that had filled her. She didn’t want to face reality just yet. She didn’t want to turn into boring old Clare again.
She liked this new, fun, to-hell-with-everything Clare she got to be with Dev. There was something about him that had made her want to push herself, from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.
A smile creased his cheeks and that damned dimple flashed at her. “Don’t look so worried. This should get you out of the Mafia thug’s hands permanently.”
Her pulse zigzagged through her body. “How?” she demanded.
“We’ll simply get married.”
* * *
Simply get married...
It had sounded simple in his head but as he watched how his suggestion landed on Clare, Dev wondered if he’d made a big mistake. Not about wanting to protect her. One way or another, he was going to get her out of this predicament.
He’d always had an affinity for the underdog. Seeing that he’d been one himself. Or at least he had before his transformation into an...an oversexed playboy billionaire, as she’d called him.
His mouth curved at the title.
While he still didn’t understand how a smart woman like Clare could have made such a bad error in judgment by borrowing money from a known mobster, he couldn’t hold it against her. His company wouldn’t have been in this giant mess if he hadn’t made a ghastly one himself.
But...given the way all humor fled her face at his words, and the way she stared back at him, he wondered if he’d just made another error.
By assuming that she’d take his idea in her stride. That she’d see it only as a solution to her problem and not something else. Something more.
When several minutes passed and she still didn’t say anything, Dev felt more than a hint of irritation. “Do you have a boyfriend tucked away in London who might object to this idea?”
He knew it was the most ridiculous question the moment he heard it. She’d never hinted at any prior relationship, and he’d gotten the sense that Clare kept her relationships carefully vacant of too much attachment. But...the words had stemmed out of jealousy. From a place he didn’t even know existed.
Which was ridiculous. Because it wasn’t as if he was asking for anything from her, during their proposed arrangement. Nothing that wasn’t inevitable anyway.
The very inelegant snort she let out told him the same. “Of course I don’t.” Then she straightened and he could see anger building in her face. “Do you think I’d be...cavorting around with you if I had someone I loved back home?”
“Cavorting?” he said, raising a brow, hoping to deflect her attention away from his stupid question.
“Don’t think you can distract me, Dev,” she said, putting paid to that tactic.
“Then what’s the problem?”
She took in a deep breath. “The problem is that marriage is a big step. I...it means a lot of big things like trust and fidelity and...”
Dev reached out and rubbed a finger over her cheek. “I do trust you, Clare. Which is why I’m not hyperventilating.”
She looked him up and down. “Are you the type to hyperventilate?”
“If the topic of conversation is marriage, yes. Does that make me less manly?”
“Nothing makes you less manly, Dev,” she snapped, with more than a bite to her tone.
“Ah...so the hyperventilation would be a symptom of the underlying condition of not wanting to commit, is it? I forgot that you’re the founding member of the bachelor playboy club, allergic to all things long term.”
He scrunched his nose in distaste. “You make me sound like I have a disease. But no, a traditional marriage isn’t in the cards for me.” He pushed a hand through his hair, annoyed that she kept making him ponder things he’d never...well, pondered before. Like marriage. And fidelity. And long-term relationships. And how it would feel to have someone permanent in your life who knew you inside out. Who would make you laugh and want and push you to be a better version of yourself.
Who would also have complete control of your emotional health? Who could destroy your self-worth with one well-targeted barb? the sanest part of his brain pointed out.
No woman was worth opening himself up to that kind of risk again. Yes, that meant sometimes his life was lonely. But it wasn’t exactly a choice he’d made so much as a defense mechanism. A way he could survive intact. The only way.
“And while, yes, this is bigger than anything we’ve both done, it is to our mutual benefit.”
“How?”
“Firstly, it should stop this mobster from just...taking you. As my wife, you’ll be so much more high-profile, and there will be permanent security in place around you. He’s unlikely to just kidnap you, which gives us time to negotiate and see if paying off his loan is going to satisfy his desire for vengeance. As for me, it provides me with instant respectability. A distraction for the media to focus on while I sort out Athleta. It’s getting tiring hearing my competitors using this scandal to try and get ahead of me. My twin called and told me both my sisters have had paparazzi chasing them. Diya’s also had to put up with my dad’s lecture about how I’m casting a shadow over Bhai’s shining reputation.”
“Bhai?”
“My older brother,” he explained. It had been only a matter of time before Dev heard his father’s opinion on this matter. It didn’t mean he’d ever been prepared for it.
“I told you those interviews with your family were important,” Clare said, mercifully interrupting the spiral of anger and frustration he got pulled into whenever he thought of his father. “People need to see your face alongside theirs. They need to see different sides of you.”
“I agree. And this way, they will see not only a loyal brother, but a happily married man—head over heels in love with his wife. Two birds with one stone... It seems to me like it’s the best stopgap measure.”
She laughed and Dev sensed the ache she couldn’t hide in her words. “I never imagined I’d hear the words ‘stopgap measure’ in a proposal.”
“Does that mean you’ve imagined getting a proposal?”
He thought she’d shrug and laugh it off. He needed her to. He didn’t want to discover at this stage that Clare was the romantic type.
“In a faraway future kind of way, yes. I’m a businesswoman through and through. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t harbor the hope of a husband and a family someday. I want to be a wife. And a mum.” She swallowed and looked away. When she turned and look back at him, her blue eyes glittered in a way he’d never seen before. “I want to belong. To someone. To something. I’ve always wanted more than just a career.”
If she’d kicked him in the chest, Dev would have been less surprised. He didn’t know why. He’d heard her talking about her best friends. He’d seen the hurt on her face the morning after their incredible night together when he’d told her they were done.
But somehow he’d thought she’d be more like him. More disinclined to take the traditional path in life. The idea of Clare marrying some stranger and having his children did strange things to his insides. Things he didn’t want to dwell on.
He had to make one thing clear. “You’re only in your twenties. All those things are still possible for you, Clare. This marriage is only a temporary solution to both our problems, and it doesn’t mean you’ll have to give up any of your long-term dreams.”
“Making sure I know the score?” she said, the earlier ache in her voice gone. “Making sure you’re in the clear? Don’t worry, I un
derstand.”
He should have been glad that she could so easily shelve her hopes for the future. That she could keep that part of herself mostly hidden. Instead, Dev only tasted a perverse bitterness that she’d so clearly decided that he wasn’t going to be included in that particular dream.
Even though, that was exactly what he’d already warned her.
He shrugged. “Earlier, on our way to the foyer after dinner, I spotted a photographer from a popular lifestyle magazine watching from behind one of those giant trees in the courtyard when I was giving you my jacket. I have a feeling the shot he took was quite an intimate one.”
She gasped. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“It was too late,” Dev said with a shrug. “I’m sure that photo of us has already hit the internet. There’ll shortly be rabid speculation that I have a new woman. In a day, they’ll know it’s you. This way, we’re staying ahead of the curve and dictating the news. We could get married at my villa in the Caribbean, and by the time we’ve sailed back to California for Diya’s wedding, the news of our own private, top-secret wedding will be all over the news. As I’ve already said, hopefully, it will at least make your mobster think twice about snatching you openly. Between us all, my family has a lot of clout.”
“He’s not my mobster.”
“You know what I mean.”
“And it will only be an arrangement of convenience?” she said cautiously.
Dev nodded. “It can be whatever you want it to be, Clare.” He pinned her with his gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.” Her instant answer calmed the furor in his head. Dev kept seeing the damned image she’d created in his mind—Clare marrying some staid accountant type. Clare running behind two children. Clare in bed with this boring old accountant who was nevertheless extremely good in bed.
Or was that himself he was imagining in her bed now?
Dev cursed.
Her gaze held his, a question in it.
Dev shook his head.
“I have a few conditions,” she said after what felt like a weighty silence.
