Groom 0f Fortune (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 5)

by Peggy Moreland

  “Isabelle…”

  “Kiss me, Link,” she begged softly, warming his lips with her breath. “Just kiss me.”

  On a low groan, he crushed his mouth over hers, losing his battle for control. And how could he expect to win? he asked himself helplessly as her taste rushed through him like a drug, making him weak, crazy. How could he resist taking what she so freely offered? What he’d wanted, lusted for, for almost a year?

  He hooked an arm around her waist, dragged her up hard against him. And took.

  She gave readily, parting her lips for him, tangling her fingers in his hair. And when he groaned, she rose higher on her toes and captured his head between her hands, forcing his face closer, the kiss deeper. He staggered a slow circle, already drunk with her taste, his blood pumping fire through his veins, and nudged her back toward the sofa. When the back of her knees struck the cushion, he bent her backward and followed her down. He tore his mouth from hers, buried his face in her neck, drew in a ragged breath, then on a sigh, slid his lips down to capture a nipple between his teeth. When she moaned, arched against him, he opened his mouth over the dark, rosy center and drew her in.

  He’d dreamed of this, he reminded himself, spent nights thinking of nothing else. Of her. Of making love to her. But nothing had prepared him for the reality of it, the sweetness, the pleasure, of having his mouth filled with her satiny flesh, of having her body pinned beneath his. He cupped a hand around her breast’s fullness, tipped it higher and withdrew to lave her engorged nipple with his tongue.

  He glanced up at her over his brows, saw that her eyes were on him, the violet irises a dark, sultry purple, glazed with passion. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked huskily before sucking her deeply into his mouth again.

  She filled her hands with his hair and dropped her head back, moaning. “Yes,” she whispered. “Ye-e-es,” she hissed.

  He ripped the sheet from around his waist and tossed it aside, then dragged the nightgown tangled at her waist down her legs and threw it to the floor. He rocked his hips over hers, forcing her legs wider apart until he’d created a nest for himself. “And this?” he asked, pressing his arousal against her.

  “Oh, yes,” she groaned, knotting her fingers in his hair. She arched against him, demanding, needing more.

  Wanting the same, but knowing if he took her now, he would do so greedily, selfishly, without a thought for her own needs, he braced his hands on either side of her face and lifted his upper body from hers. He stared down at her, his blood pumping wildly through his veins, but couldn’t stop the slow smile that bloomed inside him and spread across his face at the disappointment he saw register in her eyes at his withdrawal.

  She lifted a hand to press a fingertip against his lips. “What?” she asked, her answering smile hesitant, curious and totally endearing.

  “Nothing. Everything.” He swooped down to steal a quick kiss. “We’re going to do this right,” he said, and pushed himself off her and to his feet.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Right?”

  Charmed by her sudden shyness, he laughed and scooped her up and into his arms. “Yes, right. In bed,” he told her, and headed there. He tossed her down onto the mattress, making her squeal, then followed her down, stretching out across her length and burying his face in her neck again. “You smell so sweet,” he murmured, and turned his lips against her skin. “And taste sweet, too. Especially right here,” he said, and nibbled at the tender flesh at her throat.

  She laughed self-consciously as she combed her fingers through his hair. “Are you sure it wasn’t you who received the lump on the head?”

  Surprised by the doubt in her voice, he lifted his head to peer down at her. “You have no idea, do you?”

  “What?” she asked, frowning slightly.

  “How beautiful you are. How absolutely irresistible.”

  Color rose to stain her cheeks. “No, I’m not,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to his chest.

  He pushed himself up on an elbow to stare down at her. “My God,” he said in amazement. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  She wove a finger self-consciously through the hair on his chest. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  He dropped his elbow to lie with his face level with hers again, wondering at the men in her past. Their stupidity. “They should have,” he said softly. “Because you are.” When she refused to look at him, he caught the hand she held at his chest and squeezed, forcing her gaze to his. “You are beautiful,” he told her firmly, “and totally irresistible.”

  She sputtered a self-conscious laugh, dipped her chin, then snuck another peek at his face before dropping her gaze again. “You don’t have to say things like that. It isn’t as if you have to sweet-talk me into bed. I’m already here.”

  Delighted by her total lack of womanly wiles, he laughed and grabbed her, rolling to his back and her onto his stomach. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” He bussed her a quick kiss, then nuzzled his nose against hers. “I just hope you don’t regret it,” he said, suddenly feeling as insecure as she obviously was.

  Her head popped up and she peered down at him, her expression stricken. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Never.”

  Threading his fingers through her hair, a sardonic smile curved at one corner of his mouth. “Don’t be so sure,” he warned her. “Morning does something to a person. Sheds a whole new light on things.”

  “I won’t be sorry.” She sank back down over his chest and pressed her lips against his heart. “No matter what.”

  Though he’d brought her to the bedroom to slow things down, to regain a control he was quickly losing, Link realized that it was a wasted effort. There was something about her—her innocence, her total lack of any female vanity, or perhaps it was the tenderness with which she pressed her lips over his heart—that made need swell inside him, a wild animal, demanding release. He dived his fingers through her hair and drew her face close to his, his eyes dark with warning as he searched her gaze. “If you are, it’ll be your own damn fault,” he told her.

  When she opened her mouth to reassure him again, he crushed his over it, rolled, then held her beneath him. Digging his knees into the mattress, he found her moist center, pressed his sex against it. Then, with his hands fisted in her hair, holding her mouth to his, he growled low in his throat and thrust inside her.

  She screamed, the sound filling his mouth, echoing inside him, as she arched away from him. He froze, every muscle tensing in denial as he realized too late his mistake.

  She was a virgin. God help him. Isabelle was a virgin.

  He sagged against her and buried his face against the side of her neck. “No,” he groaned, fisting his hands in her hair. “No!” he raged.

  He felt the tremble of her body beneath his, tasted the salt of her tears as they slid down her cheek and over her jaw to wet his lips. Slowly he lifted his head to peer down at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice raw with regret.

  She looked at up him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Because I was afraid you’d say no. That you wouldn’t want me.”

  He groaned again and dropped his forehead against hers. “Issie,” he murmured, his voice laden with guilt. “If you’d told me, I would have been more careful with you. I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

  Her palms framed his face and pushed, forcing his head up until their gazes met. “But you didn’t hurt me,” she told him stubbornly, blinking back tears that indicated he had. “At least, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” She stroked her thumbs beneath his eyes and a smile trembled at her lips. “I’ve wanted you, this, ever since I first saw you.”

  He frowned, searching her face. “What? When?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Just love me, Link. Please?”

  When he didn’t move, but continued to stare down at her, she lifted her hips and gasped as his still-stiff
sex shot deeper inside her. “Ye-e-es,” she said, sighing, closing her eyes on a low, pleasure-filled moan. She opened them and the heat he saw there seared through him.

  He lifted his hips, intent on drawing away from her, but she stubbornly followed. Lifted higher, and her velvet walls clamped tightly around him, holding him inside. Need burned through him as he watched the passion wash over her face, felt the soft purr of pleasure that hummed through her.

  Lost, he eased back down, thrusting slower this time…and bit back a groan when she arched against him, instead of away.

  “Come with me,” he urged, sliding a hand beneath her hips. Holding her to him, keeping his strokes slow and easy, he guided her in a dance as old as time, one partnered by a sweetness, an innocence so pure it made his heart twist painfully in his chest, squeezing out tears of regret at his own jadedness.

  He brought her to the edge, held her there a rapturous moment, glorying in the feel of her sheathed around him, the desperate dig of her fingers into his neck. Then pushed her over, tumbled after her, his arms locked tightly around her, holding her, his breath tangling with hers, their mouths joined even as their souls became one.

  Link lay propped against the pillows, an arm draped low on Isabelle’s hip, stroking a thumb over her warm flesh, watching as she pored over the long list of names.

  He still couldn’t believe that he’d slept with her, taken her virginity. He, the man who had dedicated his entire life to fighting the wrong done to her as a child, had robbed her of the last of her innocence. Her virginity. But when he’d awakened earlier that morning to find her snuggled against him, and with a smile on her face, he’d been surprised. He was sure that she would hate him when morning came…or at the very least, have a few regrets.

  Yet, she didn’t appear to have a one. In fact, she seemed almost radiant. Giddy, even. She’d insisted on making coffee and bringing it to him in bed, along with the list of wedding guests. She hadn’t bothered with a robe and seemed totally at ease with her nudity, and with his as she served him his coffee, then settled down beside him to read through the list of names.

  A slight frown puckered between her brows as she carefully studied each one. When she reached the last, she tossed down the pages and flopped back against the pillows beside him. “It’s hopeless,” she said miserably.

  “Nothing struck a chord? A memory?”

  She shook her head and leaned forward to gather the pages back into a neat stack. Sinking back again, she dropped them onto her lap. “Nothing,” she said, and folded her arms beneath her breasts, her lips pursed in a pout.

  “Maybe you’re trying too hard,” he suggested, distracted momentarily by the rosy nipple that peeked from beneath her arm.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it. “They’re there,” she said as if to herself. “Their names have to be there. The two men were wedding guests, and my parents had the ushers check invitations before seating each guest.”

  He picked up the papers and scanned the first page, arching a brow when he recognized a few names. “Isn’t he a movie director?” he asked, pointing to one.

  She glanced down at the paper, then away, lifting an indifferent shoulder. “Yes. He’s an old friend of the family.”

  He shook his head and flipped the page, noting a couple of more names from the film industry, as well as a few high-ranking politicians. “Do you know all of these people?” he asked in amazement.

  She lifted a shoulder again. “Most. Although not well. They’re friends and business associates of my parents.”

  He shook his head and tossed down the papers, reminded again of the gap that yawned between them. One that couldn’t be closed. Something that he was going to have to convince her of soon. She snuggled against his side and he dropped a hand over her abdomen, frowning as he splayed his fingers over it, a new worry rising to niggle at his conscience. “Isabelle?” he asked uneasily.

  She sighed and snuggled closer. “What?”

  “Are you…what I mean to say is, are you…?”

  She peered up at him, then smiled. “Yes,” she assured him, obviously aware of his sudden, if overdue concern. “I’m on the pill.”

  Though he tried his best to hide it, his relief must have been obvious, because she laughed and crawled onto his lap to straddle him. She braced her hands against his chest and leaned close, pushing her face within an inch of his. “Were you afraid that you might have gotten me pregnant?” she teased.

  “Well, it was a possibility,” he said, feeling the panic lick at him at the mere thought. “We sure as hell didn’t take any precautions.”

  She brushed her lips sensually across his. “No, we didn’t,” she murmured, then dipped her head to press a kiss into the middle of his chest. She leaned back and smoothed a finger over the moisture she’d left there, then slid her fingers down his stomach. “I’m getting that feeling again,” she said, and shot him a wicked look over her brow.

  He jerked instinctively as her fingers closed around him, then groaned. “Isabelle—”

  She laughed at the strangled sound he made as she stroked her fingers downward, then leaned into him and pressed her mouth against his. “What’s the matter, Link?” she teased.

  He reared back to look at her, unable to believe the change in her. What had happened to the shy, innocent woman who had barely been able to look him in the eye the day before? And where had this bold temptress come from?

  He groaned as her fingers stroked back up, and he flipped her to her back, wondering why he was even questioning the change.

  “Better watch it,” he warned. “Keep that up and you might get more than you bargained for.”

  She arched a brow as she stroked her fingers to the base of his sex. “Promise?” she asked coyly, then curled her fingers around him and guided him to her.

  He jerked violently as the sensitive tip of his sex met her warm, moist opening. “Isabelle,” he gasped, then set his jaw, stifling a shuddering groan as he slid inside her.

  Smiling, she stroked her palms down his back. “What’s wrong?” she asked innocently as she molded her hands over his buttocks and shifted, drawing his hips closer to hers.

  Gasping, he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against hers. He inhaled deeply, once…twice…three times, before he released the breath in a ragged sigh and replied, “Nothing.” He drew back to meet her gaze and returned her smile. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Bracing his hands at either side of her head, he thrust deeply, watching her eyes shoot wide, her breath catch in her throat. “Something wrong?” he asked, feigning the same innocence she had.

  Unable to speak, she dug her fingers deeply into the flesh of his buttocks and shook her head. “No,” she assured him, then gulped a breath. “Nothing.”

  He grinned as he pushed himself deeper inside. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, arching to meet him, then cried, “No!” and attempted to hold him against her when he began to withdraw. “Please,” she begged. “Again.”

  He dipped his head low and captured a nipple between his teeth. “Again what?” he asked, teasing the bud to life with his tongue.

  “Oh, yes,” she gasped as he closed his mouth over her breasts and began to suckle. “There. And there,” she cried when he pushed his sex deeper inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut, arching against him, then opened them to scorch him with the heat that burned there. “Love me,” she begged almost desperately. She reached for him, framing his face between her hands, and drew his mouth to hers. “Love me,” she said again as she touched her lips to his.

  Link melted at her words, knowing that he had little choice but to love her, then, just as quickly, he stiffened as she mated her tongue with his and her taste rushed through him, clouding his mind, filling his soul, heating his blood. He gathered her hands in his and pushed them up over her head, holding them there as he stretched out, matching his length to hers. With his mouth welded to hers, he pushed deeper inside her, feeling
the pressure build around him with each new thrust. Heat pulsed between them, coating their bodies with a fine sheen of perspiration, and adding a friction to their joining. He felt her body tense beneath his, felt the wild thrust of her body against his. And he froze, holding himself still as she came apart around him. He gloried in the sensations that poured through his body, was blinded by the emotion that stung his eyes.

  Never in his life had he experienced anything like this. Like her. Never had he felt so completely joined with a woman, as if their bodies, their hearts, their very souls were one. The realization weakened him, even as it thrilled him.

  “Isabelle,” he groaned, then set his jaw and thrust one last time, crying out her name as he found his own trembling release within her.

  His chest heaving, he released her hands to gather her into his arms. “Issie,” he murmured breathlessly, as he rolled to his back, taking her with him. “My Issie,” he said, as he held her against his heart.

  That same afternoon, Link strode into headquarters and headed straight for his desk, hoping to get the file he needed and make a quick exit, before anyone noticed his presence.

  A few heads lifted as he pulled open the file drawer with a screech of metal, but he pretended not to notice as he flipped through the folders crammed inside.

  “Templeton!”

  He stifled a groan, plucked out the file he wanted, then slammed the drawer. “Yeah, boss?” he called, glancing toward the chief’s office door.

  “Inside,” the chief growled.

  Inhaling deeply, Link tucked the folder beneath his arm and strode for the doorway. He squeezed past Chief Luben, who remained stubbornly in the doorway, glowering at him, then waited while his superior closed the door and moved to stand behind his desk.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Luben growled.

  Link lifted a noncommittal shoulder. “Chasing down leads.”

  Luben’s eyes narrowed. “What leads?”

  “On the Dodd murder case. It’s still our priority, right?”