Hired Bride

by Noelle Adams

  “You didn’t do anything. Absolutely nothing. Just drag me with you to Charleston with the idea that it will be a fun trip that will make it easier for us to get along when you really just plan to abandon me on my own for three straight days.”

  “I had to work. Did you think I would ignore the work I was here to do in order to entertain you?”

  “I didn’t think anything!” Her voice was too loud, but his was too. Both of them were trembling with anger, glaring at each other heatedly. “I never asked for you to entertain me. I haven’t complained once the whole time we’ve been here, even though you said this would be like a honeymoon, which would be hard when we are barely ever in the same room.”

  “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want to be in the same room as me.”

  She gasped. “The bedroom. Not every other room in the city. Do you think it was fun for me to have to do everything alone?”

  “I could have arranged for someone too—“

  “I didn’t want you to arrange some tour guide for me.”

  “Then what did you want?”

  She’d wanted him to do a few things with her, but that was obviously too much to hope for. Too much to even hope he’d recognize it. “I don’t want anything from you,” she snapped, turning around and deciding she might as well go to her room. Otherwise, she might do something silly like scratch the skin off his face.

  He reached out to grab her arm, turning her around to face him again. “What do you want from me?” he demanded again. “How the hell am I supposed to know unless you tell me?”

  “Any normal person would have known without being told,” she said, “but I shouldn’t have expected that from you.”

  He seemed taken aback by the words, and she was troubled when she heard her own words. Despite her intense irritation, she cleared her throat. “Sorry. That was too mean. I shouldn’t have said that. I just meant—”

  She never got a chance to tell him what she meant because he suddenly pulled her toward him and started kissing her.

  Six

  Mitchell had never felt like this in his life.

  It was like he was possessed—like some sort of animalistic force had taken possession of his body. He’d been fighting against lust for Deanna for the last two weeks, ever since that painfully frustrating wedding night. When they’d arrived in Charleston, it had gotten even worse, since the romantic setting and the intimate nature of the suite made it hard for him to think of anything but sex.

  So he’d made up reasons to stay away from her, so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by coming onto her again, when it was clear she didn’t want him.

  This was the last straw, though. She was standing in front of him, wearing nothing but little pajamas that clung to her hips and breasts, and she was flushed and panting with passion.

  His body couldn’t recognize that the passion was anger. It could only roar in his head that this was what he wanted. She was what he wanted.

  So he stupidly—without premeditation—reached out to grab and kiss her. If he’d been able to think, he probably would have assumed she’d pull back and slap his face.

  She’d told him very plainly that she didn’t want to have sex with him.

  But she didn’t pull back. After a moment of freezing with what felt like surprise, she made a little sound in the back of her throat and reached around to cling to his neck with her arms, her entire body responding to his kiss.

  Pleasure and satisfaction now roared in his head with the hunger, and he pulled her more tightly against him, wanting to feel all of her pressed against his body. His eyes blurred and his ears buzzed and his groin throbbed as he plunged into her mouth with his tongue.

  She was soft and warm and willing, and he couldn’t get enough.

  When the kiss finally broke, he still couldn’t pull away. He pressed little kisses across her face and jaw as she panted desperately.

  “What is happening?” she whispered, as if she were just as possessed by this force as he was.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, sliding his hands down to cup her bottom and lifting her as she wrapped her legs around his middle. “But I don’t want it to stop.”

  She kept trying to kiss him as he carried her into his bedroom, his body one tight, coiled ache.

  He laid her down on the bed, staring down at her lush, sprawled body, the way her dark hair spread out around her face, the way the flush of her cheeks tapered off into the paleness of her neck, the way her tight nipples were visible beneath the fabric of her camisole.

  And every detail stoked his desire even more.

  With a guttural sound, he moved over her, kissing her deeply as she moved restlessly beneath him, stroking his back, trying to wrap one of her legs around his thigh.

  “Mitchell,” she gasped, when he lowered his face to take one breast in his mouth. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel…” She cried out when he tweaked her nipple with his teeth. “Out of control.”

  He was deeply relieved to hear he wasn’t alone in this. He couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t keep from pressing his pelvis into her with helpless little pushes.

  “Just go with it,” he murmured. “It’s too good to stop.” He slid down her pajama pants so he could see her whole body, and his spirit howled with satisfaction at the sight of her lovely naked flesh.

  She was panting frantically as she pulled his shirttails out of his trousers, so he paused to help her get rid of his clothes. Then both of them were naked, and they were kissing again, and nothing had ever felt nearly so good.

  “Oh, please,” she gasped, her voice right at his ear as he mouthed the pulse in her throat. “I can’t wait anymore, Mitchell. Please.”

  He couldn’t wait anymore either. He pulled up, giving his aching erection a quick squeeze as he tried to think clearly enough to figure out whether they needed a condom.

  “I’m not on birth control,” she told him, answering his unspoken question.

  He’d brought condoms, just in case, so he reached over to the nightstand drawer to grab a packet, unwrapping it with fingers that shook far more than they should.

  Then he was rolling it on and positioning himself between her legs, and she was spreading her thighs for him and trying to guide him in.

  She was wet and warm and soft, and he moaned helplessly as he entered her. She was tight but pliant, and her whimper sounded like pleasure as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

  “Good?” he asked, rather raspily, when he’d gotten control of the intense surge of need at the feel of being inside her.

  “Oh, yeah.” She gave a little pump up into him. “Oh, God, it’s so good.”

  It was better than good for him, and he wanted to take her hard—harder than would be comfortable for her. So he reined in the need enough to establish a gentle rhythm, trying to figure out what she liked, what she needed.

  She matched his motion initially, settling herself around him. But soon her gasps intensified and she was bucking up eagerly, trying to speed up their rhythm.

  “Faster,” she gasped. “I need it faster. Harder.”

  He responded, taking her faster and harder, letting himself go enough to start building toward climax, the friction needed and pleasing and so good.

  “More,” she gasped, her face twisting in shameless need. “Oh, God, Mitchell, I need even more.”

  He made another sound in his throat—this one of intense pleasure, since she seemed to want exactly what he wanted to give her. Then he lifted her legs higher so they were wrapped tightly around his waist, and he thrust into her exactly as he wanted.

  Her cries of pleasure became louder and more helpless as she surrendered to the sensations, obviously letting go of any restraint or inhibition in a way that fed his need and satisfaction. She was giving all of herself to this—she wanted it so much.

  Exactly as he did.

  So he let go to, grunting as he built toward climax and then unable to hold it back whe
n it arrived.

  The rush of hot pleasure consumed him as he jerked in his final thrusts, greatly relieved when he felt her coming too, crying out as the final moment took her just after him.

  They were both gasping and clinging when they came down from the climax, and Mitchell couldn’t remember the last time his body and spirit were washed with this kind of satisfaction.

  It wasn’t merely the normal satiation after a good screw. It felt deeper—like something beyond his libido had been satisfied.

  He was lying on top of her, and he must have been too heavy because she started shifting, as if she were uncomfortable.

  He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him. He couldn’t seem to let go of her. He had no idea what had gotten into him.

  He was never like this.

  He even found himself trying to see past her messy hair so he could check her expression. To his relief, she was smiling.

  She opened her mouth, like she would say something, but she must have changed her mind. Instead, she nestled against him.

  He settled his arm around her and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and enjoying the feeling.

  Tomorrow, it would change. Tomorrow, he’d feel like normal again. Tomorrow, he’d be likely be annoyed with a wife who was turning out to be anything but easy to manage.

  But, right now, he could just enjoy it. After all, he’d spent his life enjoying each moment without worrying too much about what came afterwards.

  ***

  Deanna must have fallen asleep. She hadn’t intended to. She thought she would just rest and recover for a minute before she went back to her own bedroom.

  But, when she opened her eyes, it was dark in the room, and she was still pressed up against Mitchell’s body.

  The first thing she felt was a deep pleasure.

  The second thing she felt was a deep fear.

  She shouldn’t be doing this. She’d decided from the very beginning that sex would just complicate things, and she could tell it already had, since she was feeling very soft and clinging toward Mitchell now—like she wanted to be close to him, like she wanted him to really like her.

  That was stupid, since this marriage would only last six months. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he was interested in having sex as a way to pass the time and prevent a long period of imposed celibacy.

  It didn’t mean anything. It might have been the best sex she’d ever had, but it didn’t mean anything to him but a good time.

  That meant it couldn’t mean anything to her either.

  The roiling fear only got stronger as she lay in the dark, so she rolled away from him. His body was generating heat, and all of her skin that had been pressed up against him was damp and felt chilled in the cool air of the room.

  That didn’t matter either, though. She just needed to get away.

  She was reaching down onto the floor in the hopes of finding her pajamas when an arm came from the other side of the bed and pulled her back.

  She gave a squeal of surprise when Mitchell rolled her toward him so she was on her back and he was on top of her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice thick with the kind of texture she’d heard in it before—which she’d already labeled his “bedroom voice.”

  “I was looking for my pajamas. You tossed them over the side somewhere.”

  “Why do you need your pajamas?” There was enough light in the room to make out his face, and he was smiling down on her.

  She couldn’t help but smile back. She loved that smile from him—the one that felt real—like it was coming from something genuinely happy inside him and not like he was putting it on to be charming. “I don’t normally spend the night naked.”

  “I don’t know why not. It seems like a very good idea to me.” He pulled up enough to leer down at her bare breasts with playful exaggeration.

  She laughed and tugged up his head by his hair, making him look at her face again. “If men had their choice, then women would never sleep in any clothes at all. And, I’m telling you, we’d get cold!”

  She still felt that rippling of fear, but it was quickly being drowned out by a lot of other feelings.

  He laughed out loud and leaned down to kiss her, and it still felt like he was shaking in amusement as his tongue gently caressed her bottom lip. She tangled her fingers in his thick hair and exhaled as the sensations washed over her.

  She’d already made the mistake. It wouldn’t matter if the mistake ended with their first round of sex or this one. Might as well enjoy it for as long as she could.

  It seemed like an entirely sensible decision to her.

  “I can’t figure out what it is about you,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “What can’t you figure out?”

  “Why I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  “Maybe you’re just a victim of your testosterone.”

  “I don’t think so. Because I’m not normally like this.”

  She couldn’t help but like that idea. “You’re not normally like what?”

  “So overcome with lust I can’t even see straight.”

  “Oh.” She tried to think of something clever and funny to say, even though she was drowning in dangerously soft feelings. “Maybe it’s the fact that you’re married. Did you always secretly want to be a husband?”

  “Uh, no.” His mouth was skating down her body now, teasing places that left her squirming with arousal. “I never wanted to be a husband in my life.”

  Those words gave her a weird, heavy clench that she made herself ignore. “Well, maybe it’s the surprise, then. Being a husband was so unexpected that your body can’t quite make sense of it.”

  “That must be it.” There was laughter in his voice now, even as he nuzzled between her legs. “Might as well indulge it, since it won’t last very long.”

  She gasped and parted her thighs for him, choking on the pleasure when she felt his tongue on her intimate flesh.

  He pleasured her with his mouth and fingers until she came, and then came again. Then he rose up and took her hard, until they were both drenched and exhausted.

  Lying together afterwards, Deanna couldn’t help but think about doing it again.

  And then she thought about what he’d said and why he’d said it. He was indulging in a temporary interest—a fleeting desire—knowing it was only temporary.

  She had to keep remembering that.

  ***

  When she woke up the next time, it was light in the room, and she knew for sure she’d made a mistake.

  She wasn’t cuddled up against him now, but she was facing his direction, and as soon as her eyes opened, they landed on him.

  He was asleep, lying on his back with the covers pushed down to his waist. One of his arms was hooked up over his head, and he was breathing in slow, deep inhales and exhales.

  She watched and listened to him for a while, remembering how he’d acted last night. Not just the passion but the intimacy and laughter.

  She’d loved it. All of it. She wanted more of it. She wanted to know him like that more and more, get closer and closer to him.

  But that wasn’t part of the deal, and she wasn’t stupid enough to assume that having sex would change the core of their relationship.

  Whatever was between them was temporary, and he had never lied about wanting it to stay that way.

  If she didn’t pull back immediately, she would end up with a broken heart out of this marriage. She could see it happening already.

  It was okay. They could still work things out. She could get out of this thing with her heart intact.

  But they couldn’t have sex again.

  She rolled over to the edge again and reached down for her pajama pants, which she could see in the morning light.

  She was pulling them on under the covers when Mitchell opened his eyes.

  “Morning,” he said, his voice thick with sleep rather than sex.

  “Hi.” She smiled at him, reac
hing back to the floor for her camisole.

  “It feels too early to be moving yet.”

  “It’s not six yet, but we’ll have to get up in a little while anyway. We need to leave before eight to make our flight.”

  He groaned and closed his eyes.

  “You might as well resign yourself to getting up,” she said, sounding more awake than she felt, since she was clearly more awake than him.

  He opened his eyes just a slit and peered at her through them. “We have a little time. I can think of a few ways to resign myself to waking up more pleasantly.”

  She shook her head, amazed at his appetite, since they’d had two fairly vigorous rounds of sex that night. “Not going to happen.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  She smiled, since his concern sounded sincere. “Yeah, I’m fine. Despite your delusions of grandeur, you’re not so huge that it leaves me unable to walk this morning.” She made sure her tone was light so he would know she was teasing.

  He chuckled and reached out for her, but she stayed out of his reach.

  He frowned when she got off the bed. “Where are you going?”

  “To my room to get dressed.”

  “Why are you so standoffish?”

  “Because I don’t think we should do this again.” She tried to sound firm, but she ended up sounding more resigned than anything else, like it was something she didn’t really want.

  This startled him into sitting up. He rubbed his chin with his hand, making a scratchy sound from his bristles. “Why not? It was fantastic.”

  She blushed a little at the words, which was ridiculous. “Yeah, it was really good. But I told you before that sex would make things between us more complicated.”

  “It didn’t feel complicated last night.”

  “Maybe not. But it’s starting to feel that way this morning.” When it looked like he would argue, she spoke over him. “I’m serious, Mitchell. I know it was good. And I’m sure it would continue to be good. But I…I…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but not feeling comfortable revealing the deepest parts of her soul to him.

  He looked cool and disapproving, but his eyes searched her face. “You want…?”