Take Me

by Diane Alberts

  “Gee. Thanks for the loving words, wife.” He threw his hands in the air. “But in case you forgot our little talk last night, I didn’t want to get married, either. Ever.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask you.”

  “And I didn’t ask you,” he snarled. His jaw ticked. “I wouldn’t have.”

  She glared up at him, not saying another word. What more was there to say? Without proof, they would never know…

  She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?” he snapped.

  “Call your buddy. Ask him who did the proposing.”

  He gave a curt nod, his jaw ticking again. “Fine. But first, we’ll shower and brush our teeth.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have to be at work in a few hours and I smell like a fucking bottle of vodka.” He eyed her. “So do you.”

  And she probably did, too. Even though she wanted to get to the bottom of this, a shower would help clear her head. It’s where they’d been heading before the whole world exploded. “Fine. But no sex.”

  “Wow.” He headed for the bathroom. “You sound like a wife already. Didn’t take you long to slip into that role.”

  “Oh, shut up already. You’re giving me a headache.”

  He threw his hands up. “It’s official. I’m married.”

  She flipped him off and followed him into the bathroom. The whole time they brushed their teeth with the honeymoon suite’s complementary toothbrushes and showered, she remained silent. A couple of times he tried to strike up a conversation but she refused to engage in pointless chitchat. She was too busy trying to figure out what the hell had happened last night.

  How could she have gotten married?

  Even as a little girl, she’d known what she wanted out of life. What could have possibly happened to make her change her mind? Sure, she’d been drunk…but she’d been drunk plenty of times. She’d never gotten married because of it. Why had she married Mike? What made him so freaking different that she forgot all her goals in life? Her career. Her independence. Her desire to travel the world.

  None of those dreams included a husband.

  She shrugged into a robe and plopped down on the bed. He strode out of the bathroom, completely naked and looking far too irresistible for her sanity. Their gazes connected and she couldn’t look away.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “You ready to be proven wrong?” she asked, choosing the fight portion of the fight-or-flight survival tactic. She was never one to run away when she was about to be proven right.

  “Now she speaks?” He shook his head like a dog, sending splatters of water her way. One hit her on the nose and trailed down. “I’m never wrong, wife.”

  Wife. That word sent a weird thrill chasing up her spine. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Stop calling me that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not your wife.”

  “This says you are.” He grabbed her hand and held her ring in front of her face. It was the first time she saw it. Part of her hoped it would be hideous and gaudy. Something she hated. But she loved it. The simplicity of the white gold and the small spattering of diamonds was exactly what she would’ve picked. Probably because she had chosen it. Damn it. “And I’m sure we have a marriage license lying around here somewhere that further proves our married status.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “We’ll get it annulled.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” He cocked a brow. “Do you really think we didn’t consummate the marriage?”

  Her cheeks heated. Judging from the soreness in between her thighs…they probably had. “Does it matter?”

  “Hell yeah it does.”

  “Wait a second…we were both dressed.” Her heart leapt at the thought. “We weren’t naked. I bet we came back and fell asleep. That’s our out. That’s how we cancel this without a divorce. Thank God.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. “Maybe.”

  “What?” She looked back at him, and his eyes were shuttered. “What do you mean, maybe? It’s the only way to fix this mess.”

  “Maybe,” he said again, his voice hard. He picked up his cell, punched in a phone number, and then raised it to his ear. “Hello?” He was silent for a little while, and she fidgeted. “Yeah, thanks so much for that.” Another pause. “Hell no.” He rolled his eyes, and she stiffened. “What do you think?”

  “That’s it.” She couldn’t take this one-sided conversation anymore. It was killing her not knowing what was going on. She yanked at his arm but he didn’t sit down next to her. “Put it on speakerphone.”

  He ignored her. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  She snatched the phone out of his hand and bolted across the room. She put it on speakerphone just in time to catch Mike’s friend saying, “…wanted to.”

  “You’re on speakerphone,” Morgan said, holding the phone out between her and Mike. Mike crossed the room, still naked, and scowled at her. “What’s your name again?”

  “Alistair, but you can call me Al,” a male voice said. “Nice to talk to you again, Morgan.”

  “Uh, yeah. Right back atcha.” Not that she remembered meeting him at all. Morgan pursed her lips. “Now, tell us who asked who to get married. And even more importantly, is this a legal marriage?”

  Al clucked his tongue. “Well…yeah. It’s legal. You both wanted to make sure it held up under the laws.”

  Mike groaned and sank to the bed, his forehead on his hand. “Just fucking great. Did it ever occur to you to try and stop me?”

  “I tried.” Al laughed. “You were quite adamant that you marry Morgan. I even have it filmed to prove it.”

  “See?” Morgan’s grip tightened on the phone, triumph going straight to her head and making the room spin. “I told you that you asked me.”

  Mike scowled at her. “Fuck that.”

  “I knew I wouldn’t have wanted to—”

  Al cleared his throat. “Uh, actually? You asked him. But he said yes right away.”

  The phone dropped from her hand, hitting the plush carpet. “No.”

  “Wait.” Mike leapt to his feet, his eyes glowing and his face flushed. “She asked me?”

  “Yeah.” Al’s voice was muffled from the carpet. “She did. But you enthusiastically said yes. Said it was the best idea ever because you two were the same.”

  “Nice to know I’m right. It’s a great way to start our marriage.” Mike, of course, ignored that last part about him enthusiastically agreeing to the idea. “Thanks.”

  “I have a DVD for you at my place. It’s from the wedding,” Al said.

  Mike shuddered at the word wedding. Actually shuddered. “Yeah. Burn it.”

  “But—?”

  “Bye.” Mike hung up. Morgan swallowed hard and met his eyes. He stared at her with a burning, possessive heat she could never describe in a million years. “So…?”

  She lifted her chin. She refused to back down or admit she was wrong. “Just because he says I asked doesn’t mean I did.”

  “Why would he lie?” He took a step toward her. “What possible reason could he have to do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because he’s your buddy?” She shrugged, forcing herself to ignore the fact that he was creeping closer. “Some form of bro-code or something?”

  “He didn’t lie. He never does.” He stopped directly in front of her. Since she was sitting and he was standing, she was eye-level with his penis. His large, very hard penis. “And neither do I.”

  “Whatever.” She licked her lips. “Can you please put some clothes on?”

  He picked up a piece of her hair, playing with the damp curl. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll get dressed
if…” He trailed off and cupped her chin, tilting her face up toward him.

  All sorts of dirty images flashed before her eyes. Images of him demanding sexual favors in return for him clothing himself. And if that’s what he wanted, then hell yeah, she was up for that. When he didn’t finish the sentence, she asked, “If what?”

  He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. She clung to his arms, his muscles bunching under her fingers. “If you admit you asked me to marry you. That you wanted to marry me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mike nibbled on the side of Morgan’s neck, waiting to see what she would do. Would she flip out and yell at him? Punch him? Curse him out? Probably all of the above. He tensed, waiting. Watching.

  But he refused to take the blame for something that was quite obviously her idea. He wouldn’t have come up with the plan to get married. He wouldn’t have thought it was such a great fucking idea, if not for her. She’d changed everything. It was all her fault he was here with a band around his finger.

  And she’d damn well admit as much before he let her go.

  She’d wanted to marry him, and for some god-awful reason unknown to man, he’d said yes. Now, he was shackled to a woman he couldn’t get the hell out of his mind. He needed to run for it before she somehow convinced him to stay here with her. But first…he refused to let her write him off. She’d married him for a reason—and he’d married her for one, too.

  He just didn’t know that reason yet, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to.

  She curled her hands into fists on her thighs. “Never.”

  That’s it? Just a simple word? “I won’t give you an annulment until you admit it was your idea. Until you stop blaming me for this.”

  She glared up at him, somehow making it appear that she was looking down at him, instead of the other way around. “Then I guess we’ll have to live happily ever after, because I don’t believe it.”

  “Fine by me.” He said it in a smug way but the idea didn’t sound too scary. His throat should have been threatening to close up on him from the mere thought, but he didn’t leave. Didn’t even want to leave. What. The. Fuck? “I could handle that.”

  She pointed at him. “See? You’re the one who wants to be married to me. If you didn’t, you’d be panicking right now. Just like I am.”

  “Of course I’m panicking.” He lowered himself onto her, making her lie back on the bed. She flopped down without a struggle but her eyes had all the fight in them. “I have a surefire way to forget all about that.”

  “Are you still drunk?” She put her hands on his chest, holding him back. “Not happening, husband.”

  Something about that word on her lips just felt right, despite the sneer in her tone. Shit. Maybe he was still drunk. It would explain why he was still here, with his wife. But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

  Instead he pressed his body to hers, his cock nestled in between her legs. Reaching between their bodies, he tugged at her robe. “Liar.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. “Am not!”

  “Are too.” He lowered his face until their lips were a breath apart. “Tell me you asked me to marry you and I’ll leave. I’ll let you go and give you the annulment you so desperately want. But you have to say it first.”

  Her nails dug into his skin, stinging. “And if I won’t?”

  He nibbled on her lower lip and she whimpered. That small sound did weird things to him. Made his whole body strain for more. “Then I’m fucking my wife in my honeymoon suite in my bed until she can’t remember why she refused to admit she wanted me in the first place.”

  “I’m not your wife,” she said, her voice little more than a breathy whisper. “And I refuse to say it.”

  He closed his mouth over hers, his tongue immediately seeking hers. As soon as they touched, all of the stiffness left her body. Groaning, he ran his fingers up her side, ripping the robe open. She arched her back, begging him without words to take her. To make her his. She might not want to admit it out loud, but she clearly wanted to be here.

  Wanted him.

  He spread her robe wide. She clung to him, her eyes closed and her breathing heavy. He nibbled at her neck, then moved lower. Left a trail of kisses down her shoulder and over her breast. He didn’t stop until he took her nipple in his mouth, sucking deeply. She cried out, her nails raking over his skin. He was filled with the need to make her want him as much as he wanted her. Inside of the bedroom and out of it.

  He had no intention of falling in love with her—after all, love may have worked out for Brianna and Kiersten, but it had been a disaster for his other sister and his parents—still, he knew he liked having her around. Despite himself, he liked Morgan. Liked her independence, her confidence, her commitment to her dancing, her sense of humor. And after they fixed this crapshoot of a marriage, then he wouldn’t mind seeing her again. Stupidity or not. He knew he should be seeing yellow lights right now. Maybe even red.

  But to him—the world was green.

  He scraped his teeth against her nipple again. “Mike,” she moaned, digging her fingers in his hair.

  Desire shot through him, heating his blood, and he slid his fingers in between her legs. He cupped her mound, slipping his fingers inside of her. She was wet and ready. And, damn it, so was he. He moved his fingers inside of her, rubbing his thumb against her clit. She cried out and pumped her hips up, rotating them desperately.

  Standing up, he grabbed one of the many condoms sitting on the nightstand and rolled one on. Next, he slid down her body, leaving little love nips as he went. She tasted so damn good. He’d never get enough of her. Okay, that thought may have made the light go red for a minute. But he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t going to fall for her. He knew better.

  By the time he reached the top of her thigh, she cried out. Moving in a little bit, he thrust two fingers inside of her and flicked her clit with his tongue. Her muscles squeezed down on his fingers, begging for more. Looking up at her, he traced a finger over her sensitive flesh. “Say you want me.”

  She gripped the sheets with white knuckles. “What? Are you insane?”

  “No.” He swirled his tongue over her again, sucking gently. She tensed, her whole body straining for release. His own need demanded he stop this game. Demanded he bury himself inside of her and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight. But he pulled back again, stilling his fingers inside of her. “Tell me.”

  “Please,” she panted, her cheeks flushed. “Stop talking.”

  “After you admit it.” His mouth dried out. If his plan backfired, then he would kick himself in the fucking nuts. If she told him to fuck off, he would die. “Tell me you want me.”

  “Just take me,” she said, her arms open to him.

  And he wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to. “Say it. Say you need me as much as I need you.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “Why?”

  “I—I need to hear it.”

  And he did. But…why?

  She seemed to sense how important this was to him. How much he needed this right now. And for once? She didn’t fight him. “I need you. I need you right now.”

  And then, within seconds, he was on his knees, and he was pleasuring her with his mouth. Her legs tightened around his head, squeezing tight. He swirled his tongue around her clit, sucking and scraping and licking. Her cries got louder and harder, her hips moved faster and more demandingly.

  She froze, her whole body tight and tense. When she collapsed against the mattress, he positioned himself at her entry, rubbing the tip of his cock against her clit. She cried out and convulsed again.

  When he shoved into her, she was still quivering from her climax. And her inner muscles squeezed him tight, drawing him in deeper. He’d always prided himself on being able to last for hours. Being able to make a woman come all fucking ni
ght. He could almost sit back like a bystander, coldly calculating his next move.

  But with Morgan, all that restraint was gone.

  And he needed to come now or he might die.

  He thrust inside of her, pressing his thumb to her clit and deepening his strokes. She clung to him, calling his name like a litany. And he knew, right then, that this woman was not like other women. That this woman had the power to bring him to his knees…and leave him there for the rest of his life.

  And if that wasn’t a fucking red light, he didn’t know what was.

  She seemed to sense him pulling away. Sensed his panic. She grasped his head, yanking down until their lips met. Her tongue dueled with his and he forgot all his reservations and the reasons he should be running. He moved inside of her, groaning when her body clenched down on him.

  She climaxed again at the same time he did. And when he came back down to reality…he knew he was completely fucked. His instinctual desire to flee from whatever the fuck was wrong with him struck, and he didn’t fight it this time.

  They’d barely finished when he jumped off of her and strode into the bathroom. By the time he came out, she was dressed in her shorts and pink tank top she’d worn last night, wringing her hands in her lap. She looked up at him, her blue eyes confused and lost. And truth be told, he felt lost, too.

  The urge to comfort her, to pull her into his arms and heal her, was strong. So strong that he almost couldn’t resist it. But then again, his desire to remain single was pretty damn strong, too. A lot stronger.

  “I know this is confusing but we’ll get it all sorted out.” He stepped into his jeans. Right now, he needed to go home, get changed, and get his ass to school. This shit storm he’d gotten himself into would have to wait. “We can look at this some more tonight. I know you have to work. I’ll pick you up from the bar at two.”

  She played with her shirt. “You don’t have to. I can catch a ride home with Hugh.”

  “No.”

  The reply came from somewhere deep within him and was so harshly said, she jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. Even he barely recognized his voice.