“Thank God,” he rasped, snatching the foiled package and immediately tearing it open. He rolled the condom on even as he lowered his face and suckled on an erect nipple.
Olivia clutched his head to her chest and lifted her hips while he used his free hand to gather her short skirt around her waist.
Since her thong was long gone, she was already open and ready, and way too wet for him to meet any resistance. He entered her without warning and she opened her mouth and let out a choked gasp. Ken filled her and filled her, easing so slow and deep she didn’t think he was going to stop. When he finally reached the hilt, he paused a second to meet her eyes. Just as their gazes collided, he started retracting. The breath rushed from her lungs and Olivia already missed the empty space he vacated, wanting him back inside her.
She clawed at his back, hissing when he left her entirely. Then he winked and pushed back in.
“God,” she gasped, gripping his shoulders with her French-tipped nails and whimpering. “Please.” Beating on his arm with her open hand, she pleaded, “God, please. Oh, please.”
What exactly she begged for, she had no idea. But he seemed to understand. He surged then, a quick thrust that caught a scream right in her lungs. He plunged at a speed that left her hanging on for dear life.
The first orgasm had her gouging deep half-moons in the glistening skin of his back. He gripped her hair, tugging her head back and kissing her as she came hard and wild, bucking frantically. She bit his lip, tasting blood as she struggled against him, needing to get closer and further away at the same time, needing her skin gone so everything could get out. Finally, she gasped and pulled taut, spreading her arms and legs wide. Done fighting it, she let the release consume her body and soul.
When she settled, she felt spent, utterly exhausted. But he continued to swing his hips, pushing deeper and faster while she lay as limp as a Raggedy Ann doll.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she closed her eyes and clung. He kissed her throat, repositioned her legs even wider apart, and, like turning on a light, flipped her on again, making her back bow. Her body felt electrocuted and she went rigid again. The surge of power that zapped her from head to toe made her cry out another silent scream.
He threw back his head, and she watched the muscles in his neck tense as he clenched his teeth and gritted out a low moan. The sound reverberated through her and caused her orgasm to ripple and splinter out of control.
Olivia felt so limp and boneless afterward, she barely noticed when he pulled out and plopped onto his back beside her.
“Holy Mother of God,” he wheezed, sounding amazed and dazed, and so winded he panted as if he’d been without air for a few minutes. He set the back of his hand over his glistening forehead and blew out a long breath, though that didn’t seem to help his erratic breathing much.
She smiled at the compliment and curled on her side against him. Closing her eyes, she sighed and inhaled the musky scent of his skin. This man, this man whom she’d never known before tonight, had succeeded in doing something no one else had ever done. He made her smile after sex.
Ignorant of his own accomplishment, he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “You’re something else,” he mumbled drowsily, his breathing finally starting to regulate itself.
She kissed his shoulder and yawned. “So’re you.”
“This definitely calls for a post-coital toast,” he added, catching her
contagious yawn and experiencing one of his one. Then he fisted his hand and lifted it in the air. “To the hottest woman alive,” he announced and tapped his fist twice against his chest.
Then he spooned himself behind her, curling his body protectively around hers. She smiled and closed her eyes. It felt nice, having him snuggle his nose into her hair and sling his arm over her hip, pulling her flush against him. She might not know him from Adam, but something about him made her feel secure and protected as if nothing—not even Vivian—could ever hurt her again. Content, she yawned one last time and relaxed against her new husband, slipping into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.
*
“Oh. My. God.”
Cameron Banks woke to someone rudely hollering in his ear. He winced and moaned. It felt as if someone was taking an axe to his temple and chopping all the way to the gooey center.
Whoa. Hangover City.
He hadn’t felt this disoriented and tormented after a night of booze in a long time. Probably because he hadn’t drunk in such a long time.
But today, every nerve ending in his brain shrieked. And his sister’s insistent voice didn’t help the situation in the least.
“Cam.” She jerked at his shoulder, only intensifying his agony.
He gasped and then held very still until the needle of white-hot pain in the back of his skull dissipated.
“Cam!”
“What?” he croaked in a muffled voice as he buried his face back into his pillow.
“How could you? Have you no decency at all for your family? This is my house for God’s sake!”
“Damn, Leah,” he mumbled. “Lower your voice, will you? I’ve got a killer headache.”
“Oh, do you really,” Leah said sarcastically. “Hmm, I wonder why?”
Cameron cocked one eye open and turned his head to watch her bend down and snag something off the floor: a shot glass advertising “Battista’s Hole In The Wall” nightclub.
Oops.
His sister shook it in his face. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would it?”
He groaned. “Sorry. Forgot to hide that.”
Leah lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm, too bad,” she agreed. “Too bad you couldn’t hide the girl too.”
“Huh?” he asked, squeezing his eyes closed and stretching his arms above his head. Man, he felt like crap. He couldn’t even remember when he’d gotten home last night. Or how.
What in the world had he done? Jesus, what day was it?
“The glass is actually minor compared to her,” Leah was saying.
“Her who?” He smacked his lips a few times to loosen his dehydrated tongue from the roof of his mouth.
When Leah merely scowled at him and dumped an armload of something on top of him, he jerked to a sitting position. Cursing and blinking repeatedly, he took in the black high heels, torn fishnet hose and a slinky strip of black silk cloth. Intrigued by the tiny scrap of cloth, he picked it up with one finger and lifted it for a curious inspection. Good God. Was that—was that underwear?
“I’m so disappointed in you, Cam,” Leah raged. “I can’t believe you brought a woman into my home. I have a family, damn you, an impressionable four-year-old son that just adores his uncle—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, cutting in as he wadded the thong in his fist. “What in God’s name are you talking about? What woman?”
Leah sighed and pointed to the expanse of sheets and blankets next to him. “Well, gee, maybe the one in bed with you.”
He whirled around and immediately found himself eye to eye with a pair of big, blue, raccoon-ringed peepers.
“Holy hell!” he burst out.
He jumped so hard that when he lurched back, he tumbled off his side of the mattress and landed on his bare butt at Leah’s feet. As he grunted, his astute sister immediately noticed another major detail.
Scurrying backward, she squealed, “You’re naked! Eww. Put some clothes on.”
Having just awoken, Cameron felt too disoriented to immediately comply. He did, however, huddle closer to the edge of the bed so he could cover his lap with the sheet draping off the side. He wasn’t worried about trying to protect his sister’s eyes though. He was more concerned with the blue-eyed blond on his mattress.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
The woman had no time to respond, though, because Leah discovered the answer on the nightstand.
“What’s this?”
Cameron lifted his face to see her studying a legal-looking sheet of folded paper. As she
unfolded it, her eyes went wide. A sinking sensation and a flickering memory of the night before hit him. He suddenly remembered prancing down the sidewalk arm and arm with a woman and singing—what in world had they been singing?
“Cameron,” Leah said shrilly. “What is this?”
He grabbed the document away from her. “I don’t know.”
The woman on the bed finally spoke. “Cameron?” She sat up, looking alarmed.
“What’re you doing with a marriage certificate?” Leah railed at the same moment.
“Marriage certificate?” Cameron’s eyes squinted and focused to the sheet in his hand.
“Your name’s Cameron?” Blondie asked. “I thought your name was Ken.”
He didn’t even register the question. “What the…” he murmured in dawning horror as he read the document.
Finally, he glanced up and met the eyes of the stranger.
“You are in serious trouble now, Cameron Banks,” Leah said. “I can’t believe you did this again. I am so calling Mom.”
As she started from the room, a panicked expression lit his new bride’s face. “Cameron Banks?” she shrieked, making even Leah stop in her tracks and glance back.
With the sheet tucked up under her armpits, Blondie pressed her hand to her heart and sucked in a mighty lungful. She stared horror-struck as if she’d just discovered he was Hitler reincarnated.
Then she shook her head. “No,” she murmured more to herself than anyone else. “No. That’s impossible.”
Cameron was about to ask what she was prattling about, but he was suddenly caught by how pretty she looked. Tussled blonde hair swept over her bare shoulder and half way down her back. Though her eyes were rimed with black, they were a clear blue that held him captivated. And the way her full lips parted in utter shock had him going hard. He was struck then with a real clear picture of looking down and watching those luscious lips wrap around him and suck the length of him into the hot, wet cavity of her mouth.
Oh, yeah. He could definitively see how he might’ve lost his head over her in an inebriated moment. He probably would’ve done just about anything to get into her panties.
But marry her?
No. He didn’t do marriage. Not after the first time. Not after he’d made the biggest mistake of his life with Sienna.
Cameron Banks loathed the very idea. Okay, he didn’t care if others partook. His sister was settled and living out her happily-ever-after. But not Cameron. He was never looping that noose around his neck again.
Obviously, though, he had. There was a marriage certificate in his hand and a babbling, sexy blonde on his bed.
She pressed a hand to her temple and shook her head, looking confused, as if she were making a grocery run and suddenly couldn’t remember what she’d come all the way to the store to buy. “No, no, no. This isn’t right,” she insisted. “I covered all the bases. I looked in a damn bar all the way across town, didn’t I? I made sure he was plowed. And hopefully single.”
Then she lifted her face and pinned him with an accusing look. “You’re really Cameron Banks? Cameron Orville Banks?” she asked as if maybe there were more than one of him out there.
He winced, hating it whenever someone used his middle name. “How’d you know my middle name?” Then he glanced down at the paper to see if he’d actually put it there when he spotted her name next to his. “Olivia,” he murmured on a frown.
Olivia ripped the license from his hand and jerked it to her face.
Her cheeks immediately drained of color. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “This can’t be real.”
Her eyes closed but she opened them a split moment later and once again read the document as if the names on the sheet might’ve changed in the last second.
“This isn’t happening,” she muttered, her face pulling tight into a horrified grimace.
Cameron knew that look. He’d grown up with an emotional mother, sister, and handful of female cousins. His new bride was about to throw a major sob fest. He was sure of it. It panicked him as much as it insulted.
Well, hell. He hadn’t thought he was that bad a catch. Yet his bride’s chin quivered at the realization she’d married the one and only Cameron Orville Banks.
“Of course, it’s happening. This would only happen to me.” And yep, here they came. The tears started, gushing from the first drop. “I’m such a moron,” she moaned, clutching her hands in her mussed hair as she lifted her eyes to him.
Cameron realized Leah was still standing at his side. He looked up at her, hoping she’d step in and soothe the girl, or, you know, woman bond. But she looked about as taken aback as he felt.
“What’s wrong with her?” she asked.
Cameron shook his head. “How the hell should I know? I’ve never met her before in my life.”
His sister set her hands on her hips and glowered. “Maybe you shouldn’t have married her then, you think?”
Cameron sent her a dirty look. “Oh, shut up.” He whirled back to his bawling wife.
“Hey,” he said softly and reached out for the lump in the sheet he suspected was a knee. He’d merely been attempting to offer some kind of comfort. But she skittered away from his hand, making him stop his pursuit. Her face was blotchy with tears.
“Maybe you’re not the Cameron Orville Banks I’m thinking of,” she said and sent him a hopeful nod of encouragement. “Of course you can’t be,” she added and wiped at the black mascara trail running down her cheek. “I mean, the man I’m thinking of must be a crusty old drunk, because he’s a mega rich businessman whose wife killed herself ten years ago. And if you had a wife ten years ago, you would’ve only been, like, fifteen when you got married.”
Cameron yanked his hand off the mattress and away from her. His
mouth fell open.
What the hell? How did this complete stranger know about Sienna? His suspicious gaze bore a hole through her.
Finally, he swallowed. “I was nineteen.”
The blonde gasped. “What?”
“I was nineteen when I got married,” he repeated, his eyes still hard as they swept over her. “Twenty when she died. Now, how do you know about that? Who are you?”
Olivia shook her head and the tears started to fall faster. “Noooo,” she moaned. “This is all wrong. You…you were supposed to be at a…a big conference dinner last night.”
Cameron closed his eyes and muttered a curse. “Damn it. I knew I’d forgotten something.”
Leah nudged him in the rib with her toe. “Isn’t that conference the only reason you came to town?”
“No. I went to a meeting yesterday morning too. But, God, I really should’ve made it to that dinner.”
“It really is you, then,” Olivia whispered and inched back even further as if she was certain he was the anti-Christ.
He’d thought she’d already started with the tears. But that little teaser was nothing compared to the sobs that wracked her next. Shoulders heaving, black tears flying, his wife of a few hours buried her face in her hands and wept, putting her entire body into it.
“I want a divorce,” she bawled.
Four
Sobbing wives and nasty hangovers weren’t exactly an ideal way to start the day. Coffee would’ve been nice. But by the way his sister glared at him, he knew Leah certainly wasn’t going to offer Cameron a cup.
“Leah.” He sighed. “Can you…?” He motioned toward the door with a hand, silently asking her to skedaddle.
His obstinate sister ignored the hint. She folded her arms over her chest and rooted her feet to the floor, staring at him as if waiting for an explanation. Since there was no way he could explain any of this, he frowned.
“Will you wait in the damn hall?” he snapped, noticing from the corner of his eye how his bed companion jerked at his tone of voice. She whipped her face up to watch him but he was too busy glaring at his sister to soothe the wife’s tender feelings.
“We need a minute to figure this out,” he said. “And to p
ut some clothes on. Unless you want to watch me change,” he added and reached for the corner of the sheet, threatening to lift it.
Leah jumped back. “Eww, gross. Cameron, that’s sick.”
“Then a minute, please,” he said, lifting his eyebrows in warning. “Damn interfering older sister,” he muttered as soon as she was gone. He sucked in a breath, but when his head continued to throb, he sighed and pushed the sheet off his lap.
His attention swerved to Olivia Donovan—at least, that’s who the slip of paper in his hand claimed her to be. Olivia Bette Donovan-Banks, his new wife.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let out another long breath. “So, uh, crazy night, huh?”
Hey, it sounded like a good icebreaker to him. Not that she responded.
She’d eased up on the tears, but remained huddled under the sheets with her face buried in her palms. A glitter of light caught the huge chunk of diamond clinging to a platinum band wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. He wondered idly if he’d gotten the ring for her last night in his drunken state or if she’d been engaged to someone else before seeking him out.
And she had sought him. He knew that much for sure. He remembered her approaching him, remembered how she’d looked so desperate when she’d told him she needed a husband. He’d been only half wasted at that point. But from then on, everything turned blurry. He also remembered the sex. Vaguely. He recalled thinking he’d never wanted it so bad before. He remembered how good she’d felt when he first slid inside her. He remembered pounding into her and making her come, more than once.
But other than that…
“Look,” he said, trying to sound gentle since she was obviously spooked. “I’m still having trouble remembering much. But if you want to help me clear up a few details, like why and how this happened, I’d be real willing to hear what you have to say so we can fix it as expediently as possible. And I’m not going to hurt you, so you don’t have to flinch away from me every time I speak.”
She didn’t answer.
“Are you okay?” he tried. “Olivia?”
She didn’t even glance his way as she wiped at her eyes.
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