Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation (11 page)

“I finally put him out of his misery and said yes. He wants a
short engagement.” Some little evil imp made her poke Bettina a little with that statement since Evan had kept prolonging their engagement. “He wanted to elope to Las Vegas, but I want to take our time and really get to know each other before we tie the knot.”

Evan made a strangled noise and promptly took a long drink of his wine. Celia kept a perfectly straight face as she took in the reactions of Evan's family.

Lucy looked wary. Bettina looked murderous. Mitchell had a strange look that could only be interpreted as a cross between regret and sadness while Marshall nodded approvingly. He reached over to slap his son on the back.

“You've got yourself a winner here, son. I heartily approve. This one will keep you on your toes well into your old age. I like her.”

Greaaat. She had the approval of her fake father-in-law to be. She looked over at Evan as guilt swamped her. She'd gotten carried away and hadn't been able to resist the opportunity to needle Evan a bit. Though he deserved it, she still felt bad about carrying things so far.

To her surprise, he was staring thoughtfully at her, his eyes warm with something she was afraid to analyze.

“I absolutely agree,” Evan murmured. “I'm a very lucky man.”

Evan kept a possessive arm wrapped around Celia's waist as they navigated the small field of people in the ballroom where everyone had gathered after the rehearsal dinner.

A band played, and already several couples were dancing, his mom and dad included.

He knew the closeness between him and Celia was all for show, but the primitive part of him recognized his desire to publicly brand her as his woman. She'd probably knee him right in the groin if she had any inkling what his thoughts were. The image made him wince and chuckle all at the same time.

Every time he looked at Bettina, he was gripped by such gratitude and relief that it staggered him. How close he'd come to an unmitigated disaster.

All the things he had thought he wanted were ludicrous in hindsight. A woman like Bettina would never hold his attention for long. She didn't challenge him.

He wanted someone intelligent, as driven as he was, someone he could consider a partner.

Someone like Celia.

His lips tightened. Thanks to his decision to go with Maddox—he hadn't told Celia yet—a relationship between them was impossible. Not that he'd give a rat's ass that she worked for him indirectly, but Celia would never agree.

“If you hold me any tighter, someone's going to call the police on us,” Celia murmured.

He loosened his hold on her waist and uttered a low apology.

“Let's dance,” she suggested. “You're way too tense. No one's ever going to believe we're newly engaged and head over heels in loooove with you scowling like that.”

“You're right. Sorry. Got distracted.”

“I'll try not to take that personally,” she teased.

He relaxed immediately and let her pull him onto the dance floor. The music was slow and seductive and gave him the perfect opportunity to do what he'd been wanting to do all damn day. Hold her flush against his body so he could feel every one of her soft, delectable curves.

They fit perfectly and he tucked her as close as she would go. His cheek rested against her temple as he slowly whirled her around the floor. Her hips swayed, brushing her belly across his groin. He let one hand trail down her spine and over the curve of one hip.

She tensed a moment, and he wondered if she'd tell him to back off but then she relaxed with a sigh and melted into his arms once more.

“You were fantastic at lunch today,” he said against her ear.
“I never thought my father would become such a fan. He's typically a stodgy, conservative chauvinist.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter. “He'd fit in quite well with my family then. My father and brothers think my sole ambition in life should be to look pretty and let them take care of me.”

“I'm going to admit something,” he said gravely.

She turned her face up, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, do tell. Is this where you divulge your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“You could try to express an appropriate amount of appreciation for my confiding in you,” he huffed.

“Very well. Let me just bat my eyelashes in adoration, but be quick or I'll mess up my mascara.”

He shook his head as helpless laughter escaped. “What I was going to admit was that while I truly appreciate and agree with everything you had to say, there is a caveman lurking underneath my civilized exterior. I can see why your family wants to protect and take care of you. I think if you were mine, I'd feel much the same way.”

Her lips parted, and she stared at him with the oddest expression. There was no anger or condemnation. Interest and something else gleamed in her emerald eyes.

“And sometimes I think if you were mine, I just might let you,” she said huskily.

His entire body tightened. His hand raced up her spine and he curled his fingers gently at her nape. Their eyes were locked together and all he had to do was lean down. Just a bit. He could taste her already.

His head lowered. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she let out a breathy, feminine sigh of anticipation.

“Evan, you've monopolized her long enough.”

His father's voice boomed in his ears and Evan jumped, sending Celia away from him for a brief moment.

Marshall stood there expectantly. “Going to let me cut in?”

Evan slipped Celia's hand into his father's. “Of course. Just don't keep her for long.”

Marshall chuckled as he spirited Celia away. “One dance won't kill you, son.”

Evan watched his dad whirl Celia across the floor. In a word, she was magnificent. She laughed at something he said and her smile lit up the entire room. She sparkled.

“Quite a woman,” Mitchell drawled.

Evan stiffened and turned to see his brother standing there, drink in hand.

“Where's the bride-to-be?” Evan asked. “Didn't figure she'd let you out of her sight until the vows are spoken.”

Mitchell shrugged. “She's over with Mom, talking about the honeymoon arrangements.” He looked again at Celia and their father. “You're marrying her for real?”

“Is there some reason I shouldn't?” Evan asked mildly.

“Doesn't seem your type.”

Evan regarded his brother with curiosity. “And what is my type?”

“Someone like Bettina. You seemed pretty hung up on her.”

“I think it's safe to say I'm not hung up on Bettina.”

“I can see why you're attracted to her,” Mitchell said.

“Who?” Evan demanded sharply.

“Celia.”

Both men stared across the room to where Celia danced with Marshall.

“She's a beautiful woman. I bet she's awesome in bed.”

Evan rounded furiously on his brother. “You shut the hell up. Don't even breathe her name again. You got it?”

Mitchell smiled and backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. You're awfully touchy about her. Funny, you weren't that pissed when you found out about Bettina.”

Mitchell sauntered off and Evan turned away, angry that he'd let his brother goad him.

“Evan, there you are.”

He sighed when his mom latched on to his arm and dragged him over to introduce him to people he had zero interest in and would never see again in his life. After several minutes of pleasantries, Evan grew restless. The song ended, and he turned in search of Celia.

His father was making his way through the crowd toward Evan and Lucy, but Celia was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Evan scanned the room until finally he found her.

She was dancing with Mitchell. She didn't look altogether thrilled, but Mitchell was smiling as he held Celia close.

Irrational anger exploded over Evan. All he could see was that it was Bettina all over again, only this time it mattered. This was Celia. His Celia.

His brother was a slimy predator. Never mind that Celia was perfectly capable of fending off any advances. He didn't even imagine she'd ever be receptive to an overture on Mitchell's part. But the fact that his brother would behave this way at his own wedding celebration enraged Evan.

His woman. He let Bettina go because she was never his. Celia was his even if she hadn't recognized that little fact.

Not stopping to think how it would look to others, he cut a path through the crowd that had people exclaiming on either side of him. When he got to Mitchell and Celia, he reached for his brother's arm and spun him around.

“What the—” Mitchell began.

His eyes narrowed angrily, but Evan stopped him with a look.

“You'll excuse us, Mitchell. I find I've spent entirely too much time away from my fiancée.”

Celia stared at both brothers in shock but didn't utter a single protest when Evan all but dragged her out of the ballroom and into the hallway.

The predator had been unleashed. No way he'd stand by and watch his brother move in on what he considered his.

He stalked toward the elevator, his only thought to get Celia
as far away from everyone else as possible. He punched the button and hauled her inside. As soon as the door closed, he slammed her against the back wall and angled his mouth over hers.

It was like a fuse igniting. Desire sizzled down his spine, frying every nerve ending in its path. He wasn't gentle. He wasn't sure he had it in him. He devoured her. Claimed her.

She gasped for breath, and he stole it as soon as she could gain it back.

“Evan, what on earth …”

The question ended on a moan as his mouth slid down her jaw to her neck. He sucked hungrily at the soft skin just below her ear.

Behind him the doors opened and without taking his mouth from her skin, he maneuvered them down the hall toward their suite.

He was on fire. He had no rational thought. His only instinct was to take her. To make her understand she belonged to him. Only to him.

Her eyes were dazed when he leaned her against the wall next to the door. His hands shook as he rummaged in his pocket for the key. It took two times before he inserted it correctly and as soon as the lock released, he threw open the door, held it with his foot and reached for her again.

This time she did her share of grabbing. Amid the turmoil of his jumbled, raging lust, relief hit him hard. She was with him. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

He tore at her clothing. Then he tore at his. Shoes and shirts hit the floor, leaving a trail across the floor to his bedroom.

By the time the backs of her knees hit the edge of his bed, she was down to just her bra and panties. Not just underwear. Pink, delicate, frothy confections that accentuated every curve and swell. Her breasts bulged and plumped upward over the cups. He could see a hint of her aureole and it was driving him crazy.

His fingers fumbled with his pants. Her hands tangled with his as they both shoved downward.

“God, Celia.” He couldn't catch his breath long enough to say what he wanted. “I always swore when I made love to you I'd savor you for hours. I told myself I'd take my time touching and kissing every inch of your body. But I swear, if I don't get inside you soon, I'm going to explode.”

“Fast is good,” she panted. “We can do slow later.”

“Thank God.”

He fell forward, taking her with him. They both hit the bed, and she absorbed the shock of his body melding to hers.

“I'll savor you next time,” he promised between kisses.

“Savor is good. We can definitely savor. But, God, Evan, make love to me now. Please.”

He chuckled and captured her mouth with his. “Sweet. So sweet. I'm going to take you, Celia. I'm going to take everything you have to offer. If you don't want this, tell me now. I'll stop. It'll kill me, but I'll stop.”

She pulled away and stared up at him with glowing, brilliant eyes. Her hands traced a line from his temples over his face and to his jaw.

“Take me then,” she whispered.

C
elia lay underneath Evan's big body. Every part of her was covered by him. His heat penetrated her, seeped into her flesh and whispered seductively through her veins.

She wanted him. God, she wanted this man. Her need for him frightened and exhilarated her in equal parts. She knew she shouldn't—that she mustn't—and yet she also knew she wouldn't tell him no.

There would be no recriminations later. There would be no regret. She knew the potential pitfalls of making love with Evan, and she would face them with full acceptance.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She raised her gaze to meet his. He was propped on his arms, his body still flush with hers and their noses were mere inches apart.

His eyes were warm with desire, liquid with want, and her heart fluttered in response.

His voice was so tender and understanding. He stared down
at her like she was the only woman he'd ever made love to. A mixture of awe and wonder that humbled her.

“I was thinking we shouldn't do this,” she admitted.

“But? There's definitely a but in that sentence.”

He sounded so hopeful that she smiled and once again traced the lean lines of his face with a fingertip.

“But I don't care. I should care. I should be on my way back to San Francisco. I should have never agreed to stay.”

“But,” he murmured again, his voice husky and so very predatory.

“But I'm here, in your arms, and I want you so much that I'm willing to take the biggest risk of my life. I won't lie, I don't like that about myself. I don't like that I'm allowing infatuation and sexual desire to mess with my head. It's stupid and irresponsible and …”

He shushed her with one finger and then followed it down with his lips. He nibbled playfully at the corner of her mouth and then licked the spot where he nipped.