Accidentally Married to the Billionaire (The Billionaire's Touch, #1) (11 page)

“A rich guy, someone who’s used to getting whatever he wants without worrying about consequences for anyone else. If I do this, I come out of it divorced but I have enough money to live where I want and not have to scrimp and save. I’m not even sure I know how to do that. But I always thought Ireland would be nice. I look good in a sweater,” she said, her voice thick with emotion even as she tried to make light of it.

“Is this something that you want to do? Because, not to belabor the point on the whole marriage thing, but it’s a commitment. You have to stick with it for at least six months or I basically lose my ass. So I’m asking you to promise to stay with me for half a year. At least. If it’s working out well, I’d rather stay married for a year. The six months is how long it will take to probate the will. The extra six would be for appearances,” he said more awkwardly than he had intended.

“I don’t know why I can’t seem to tell you no,” she said, her voice softening, “Maybe it’s because I want to be married to you even if it’s just for show. We could have fun, couldn’t we?”

“We could try. I don’t consider my life to be a great deal of fun, but I think you could make it a lot more pleasant. Indiscreet or not, I have to say that last night was incredible. You’re a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Which is fine as long as I don’t decide I really want you,” she said.

“That would be more than fine with me, Marjorie,” he said.

Brandon wasn’t sure anymore if he was trying to charm her or if what he said was true. The lines were blurring. She was shocked that he’d really settle enough money on her for subsistence after their parting? How badly had she been treated, to learn to expect so little from people—from men?

Brandon leaned in and kissed the top of her head, her auburn hair silky against his lips.

“I don’t want to fall for you. I’m afraid,” she said huskily.

“Then just lean back and watch the fire. Give yourself a minute to breathe.”

Marj shifted, snuggling against him, her head on his shoulder.

“This is nice,” she said, “I could handle six months of this, easy.”

“I wish I could promise you that. It’s not likely to be much like this. There isn’t a great deal of stillness in my life. I have meetings and charity events and sometimes I think I’m on a plane as much as I’m on solid ground.”

“Wouldn’t it be good to have someone with you then? Less lonely?”

“It would be grand, but—and I’m optimistic that you even asked that, I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I only want you to know that lounging by the fire after supper isn’t something that happens very often. A late dinner meeting followed by a Skype conference, some emails and then a few hours’ sleep, workout, then back to work.”

“Tell me again why you want this job so bad if that’s all your life is?”

“It’s—a connection to my dad, I guess. It’s what he raised me to do, what he sent me to school for. I can’t stand the thought of Lena squandering all of his life’s work, of wrecking it...”

“This company isn’t his legacy, Cates. You are. You’re what he left behind. And he probably raised you because you were his son and he loved you, not because he needed a placeholder,” she said, stalwart.

“You didn’t know my father,” he said, his voice a bit hollow.

“You’re right. I didn’t. If he married someone like the Wicked Queen, he probably wasn’t my kind of people. No offense, but I doubt we would’ve been besties. As for what you do now, your dad doesn’t get a vote. You do. So what do you really want? Not what you think you’re supposed to do, but what you want.”

Brandon shifted uncomfortably, not liking the solemn tenor of the conversation or the inconvenient fact that the woman beside him, his two days’ bride, was the first person to ever ask him what he wanted out of life. The question was disturbing. The answer was worse.

“I think I want you,” he said.

“Good answer, Cates,” Marj said with a sly smile.

M
arj had promised herself when she put on that slinky dress that hugged her figure in all the right places that she wasn’t going to let him take it off of her. That she would make a decision cold sober and without the persuasion of his mad skills in the sack. But when she asked him what he wanted, and all he said was that he wanted her, she had seen him, really seen him. Not the corporate titan, the cover boy for Fortune. The man, who had lost his father and was trying his damnedest to hold on to the only thing he had left of his family—a business. And she wanted to help him. Her heart went out to him, more than she cared to admit.

Marj felt the urge to comfort him, to hold and kiss him, as an entirely separate impulse from the clench she felt low in her belly every time his hand brushed her wrist or he kissed her hair. And what was with that? The hair kissing. He’d done it twice, and the heat of his mouth, his warm breath on her hair made her feel tingly from her scalp to her toes.

She’d held herself together pretty well, except for setting that one little fire and that was purely an accident. Just like the fact that she was currently nuzzling him was totally involuntary. It was an automatic result of the crackling fire in the fireplace, the luxurious suite, the luscious food and the proximity of an undeniably hot man who had so far said some pretty amazing things to her and shown himself to be caring, to have an affectionate heart, even if he was defensive.

He was also warm and strong and solid, and she had no idea that was what she craved until she leaned her head on his shoulder and felt that click of rightness, that instant recognition of what she needed and wanted.

Then she’d had to struggle against the urge to bite him. Because she wanted to drag his shirt aside and bite his shoulder which was probably pretty bad dinner party etiquette.

Marj tried to slow her pounding heart, tried to bite her lip and take slow breaths on a four count like she learned in a Pilates class. Nothing calmed her. Her whole body was flushed and throbbing for him. Her chest felt tight. Her palms and scalp tingled. Her nipples were hard, and it was all she could do to keep her legs together. They wanted to open for him. Six months be damned. Common sense be damned. She wanted him.

And Marj was many things but shy wasn’t one of those. So she leaned in and said, “I want you now,” in her breathiest whispered voice.

That was all it took to ignite her new husband into action. Her words must have been the spark that kindled him, for his mouth was on hers, his warm hand sliding up her thigh, pushing the hem of her snug dress up to her hips.

“Ah...” she moaned as his tongue flicked into her mouth.

Brandon was rubbing her neck, lifting her long hair aside so he could kiss her throat. Marj framed his face with her hands and drew back to look at him. That was a mistake since he looked in her eyes and felt a stab of something worse than lust. Affection, closeness—intimacy. There was that word that had become the women’s magazine slang for sex but which meant something entirely different in real life.

She felt a connection with him. The kind of connection that made her feel sappy in a rush of roses and champagne and diamonds. Like the diamonds on her hand already. She kissed his lips softly, gently, trying to make light of it. But she felt something for him beyond their initial attraction and it hadn’t even been forty-eight hours. Six months on and she’d have lost her heart completely.

But Marj couldn’t worry about that now. Not with his shirt unbuttoning beneath her questing fingers, his smooth chest exposed. Trailing her fingers down his muscular chest, she paused and drew back, her fingertips inches from that wire, that white bandage—so small but so troubling.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he said, “but wanting you does.”

Brandon took her mouth in a kiss that she felt down to her curling toes. Even if every word he’d said to her had been calculated to secure her cooperation, she didn’t think he was good enough—or bad enough right to the core to lie with a kiss like that. There was something deep and staggering about that kiss, so that she blended together with Brandon in some primal way. She wanted to join with him, wanted to lose herself in him forever.

Her shoulders pressed against the thick rug beside the couch.
Last night we only made it to the sofa before we were all over each other, and tonight we didn’t even make it past the floor!
She thought with a surge of excitement. Being with Brandon was thrilling, this knowledge that, if only for this moment, he needed her just as badly as she needed him. He was above her, and she reached for him, pushing his sleeves down his arms and then reveling in Brandon’s smooth skin, his strong arms, those undeniably accurate thick wrists!

When he nudged her legs apart, she felt the full force of his desire swelling against her. Marj wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, urging him on even as he entered her completely. Buried within her, his lips drawn back from his teeth in iron control, Brandon moved gently at first, letting her catch her breath and stretch to accommodate his size. Everything was more real, more vivid than the night before when she had been drunk and dreamy. This time, she felt every push and thrust, rocking her hips to the rhythm he had set.

“Yes, more!” she moaned as Brandon lowered his face to hers, his tongue stroking into her mouth sensuously as he moved within her, brushing maddeningly against that place that made her see stars and pant for breath.

Brandon drove her over the edge, her fingertips digging into the rug for purchase so she didn’t go spinning out into the void. Her breathing was hard and a cold chill gripped her as she tumbled back down from her climax. He gripped her calves and pushed her knees to her chest so he could penetrate her more deeply. It took her breath away, the long, thick slide of him as she trembled helplessly in the aftershocks of her own pleasure. Relentlessly he pounded into her until she saw his expression change and he seemed to freeze, perfectly still as the pleasure took him. Marj reached up and gripped his face, pulling him down until his lips met hers. She kissed him then, with every bit of affection she was afraid to feel, everything she wouldn’t admit even to herself.

Marj was completely vulnerable to him in that kiss, and his tender, questing response met her in kind. She felt like she was soaring, united with him completely. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms insistently, crushing her to his chest and raining kisses on her face and hair. She laughed from a surfeit of emotion and because it was the only alternative to bursting into tears.

Never, not once, had she felt her eyes sting and well up after sleeping with some guy.

Maybe because you never slept with your husband before
.

He felt like her husband, like the entire landscape of his body belonged to her alone. She trailed her fingers down his arm and caught his hand in hers with easy fondness.

Brandon kissed the tip of her nose and grinned.

“You look relaxed,” she said lazily.

“That’s because I
am
relaxed. You look gorgeous.”

“Now that’s the way to win me over, Cates,” she said with a grin.

He laced his fingers with hers and lay there holding her. She drifted off to sleep and when she woke on a few minutes later, he was still there beside her, still wrapped up in her and holding her in his arms as if there were no hurry at all. At last, Marj relaxed and let herself enjoy it instead of tensing for him to get up and leave any second. She let her eyes drop shut and he kissed her forehead.

“I’m staying married to you, I guess,” she said with a smirk.

“You guess? I’m insulted that you’re not completely convinced after that.”

“Maybe I could use a little more persuasion. I need a few minutes to recover, but I have it on good authority that you’re tireless when it comes to getting what you want. So if you want to secure my unreserved cooperation, you’ll have to put some work into it.”

“Oh, darling, I don’t consider this work.”

Brandon dropped a kiss on her shoulder and raised up on his knees. She sighed, knowing it was too good to be true—he couldn’t stay still long enough to just hold her and be with her. He was off to Skype someone or answer emails no doubt. She tugged her dress down self-consciously and leaned up on one hip to look for her panties. She squealed as he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Kicking her feet, she giggled, looping her arms around his neck and thinking how wonderful it all was.

B
randon had Marj exactly where he wanted her. Whatever that meant. He’d gotten her to agree to remain his wife. He’d also gotten himself in way too deep. At some point last night, he’d lost track of the main objective. He’d stopped acting, stopped persuading. He had just been himself, been open with her and let her be with him. It was strange and intoxicating and scary as hell, and he hoped never to do anything like that again.

He felt laid bare before her, like she could see everything he’d ever done wrong, every secret he was trying to keep. She saw it all and made love to him anyway. And there was that problem as well. It wasn’t just sex. If it had been, everything would’ve been too close to perfect. Now it was sex with feelings, which wasn’t something he wanted to get better acquainted with. Not since that one sorority girl in college had Brandon been emotionally involved with someone he slept with. It was so much simpler to be nice, have fun, and keep everything clear cut and no strings attached. Now there were strings everywhere.

It had happened when she set the table on fire, he knew. It was that completely unpredictable, unscriptable moment that threw him off. Instead of swearing and calling the waiter to take care of the blaze, his first instinct had been to yank Marj away from the flames. Then he threw water on it like he was some sort of outdoorsman who knew how to deal with shit like that.

He had felt protective, masterful, like there was a danger to his woman. It was embarrassing just to remember how he’d reacted. Then she’d snuggled up against him by the fire and nuzzled his neck and he was gone. There was nothing that could’ve kept him from her then, not after she’d molded against his side, all soft and pliant and wanting. He could feel the hum of her desire, and his own had mounted in response.