Читать книгу Millionaire Mavericks: The Oilman’s Baby Bargain - Day Leclaire, Michelle Celmer - Страница 10

Lexi crossed the room to Mitch’s bed wearing a floor-length, low-cut, white silk nightgown that shimmered in the light. Her pale hair lay in soft waves across her shoulders, cascading down to the swell of her breasts.

For a second he wondered if he was dreaming. What reason would she possibly have to be in his room? Was she sick? Or plotting to smother him with his pillow?

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

“Nothing is wrong.”

Relieved, he dropped his head back down on the bed. “What are you doing in here?”

“This is officially our wedding night,” she said.

Yeah, so? he thought, unsure of the significance. Then she lifted the gown up over her head and dropped it to the floor. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Now he knew he had to be dreaming. But as she slipped between the sheets beside him, her body warm and soft against his, it was too vivid, too fantastic to be anything but real. Nothing about this made any sense.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” he reminded her.

She leaned on one elbow, gazing down at him. In the dim light she looked like an angel, when he knew for a fact she was actually a devil in disguise. “I know.”

She laid her hand on his chest, lightly stroking his skin, and his body responded instantly. She was obviously willing, so why couldn’t he shake the feeling that something wasn’t right? Why did he feel guilty, as though he was forcing her?

“We don’t have to,” he said, even though he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through the silky ribbons of her hair and pull her down for a long, deep kiss. He didn’t want her to feel as though she owed him, or was somehow obligated.

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, and in that instant he had never seen a woman look more vulnerable or insecure. Deep inside of him something hard and unyielding softened a bit around the edges. Was it possible that she wasn’t as confident and fearless as she liked people to believe?

She pulled her hand away and said, “We won’t if you don’t want to.”

Was she serious? He couldn’t think of a single other thing he would rather be doing. He took her by the wrist and guided her hand under the covers to his erection. “Does it feel like I don’t want to?”

A smile crept across her face as she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed. The sensation was so erotic he nearly lost it.

“I want you, Mitch,” she whispered.

That was all the convincing he needed. He caught her behind the neck, pulled her to him and kissed her.

One second Lexi was lying across Mitch’s chest as he tangled his fingers through her hair and ravaged her mouth, and the next she was flat on her back on the bed looking up at him. The change of position was so swift it left her breathless and dizzy. Or maybe it was his kisses that were doing that. She just prayed, as he pressed his weight against her, caressing her skin with his hands and his mouth, that he didn’t feel her trembling. She didn’t want him to know how terrified she had been that he might reject her. She had no clue how to play the role of vixen, how to be the aggressor, but if she was going to convince him this was a real marriage, if she was going to make him fall in love with her, she had to play the part. What kind of wife would she be if she didn’t please her husband sexually? Especially on their wedding night.

Although right now, he seemed to be the one doing all the pleasing, and she had almost forgotten how impossibly wonderful it felt to be close to him. How he made her feel as though she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.

“I thought we were keeping this relationship outside the bedroom,” he said, nibbling his way down her throat. On the contrary, it was her intention to keep him in bed as much as humanly possible while they were in Greece.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he added. “Just mildly confused.”

“We both have needs,” she said. “I figure, if we have to be stuck with each other, why not enjoy it?”

He grinned down at her. “Lexi, isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“You know what I think?” she asked, and his brow perked with curiosity. “I think you talk too much.”

His grin turned feral. “And I like the way you think.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her for a slow, deep kiss. They caressed and touched each other until she felt as though she would go out of her mind. She wanted him inside her so badly, she actually ached.

“Make love to me,” she told him. “Right now.”

Mitch looked up from the nipple he’d been teasing with his tongue. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

“Maybe you could do it a little faster?”

“What’s the hurry?”

All she knew was that it felt as though there was a big empty space inside of her that she was desperate to fill. He must have seen the desperation on her face because he opened the drawer on the bedside table and pulled out a condom. At her questioning look he said, “Doesn’t hurt to come prepared.”

She didn’t tell him there was no point, that the damage was already done.

He rolled it on, then entered her with one slow but purposeful thrust. She gasped at the stinging sensation as her body stretched to accept him.

Concern filled his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she lied, because it was a good hurt. Since that night at the hotel, she’d had the constant and nagging feeling that something was missing. She had felt…incomplete. Now, with their bodies joined, she finally felt whole again.

She arched up, taking him even deeper inside of her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Mitch groaned and grasped the bedcovers. It gave her a thrilling sense of power to know that he was losing control, and she was making it happen.

He rolled over so that she was on top, straddling him, their bodies still joined. Now that she was up here, she was unsure of what to do. What if she did it wrong and made a fool of herself? What if she was clumsy and awkward, and couldn’t satisfy him? “Mitch, I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he said, as though he had complete confidence in her. “Just do what feels good.”

She braced her hands on the mattress on either side of him and rose up, but she went too far and he slipped out. She made a noise of frustration, but Mitch didn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t worry,” he said, guiding himself back in like it was no big deal. This time he rested his hands on her hips to guide her. “Take it slow.”

She began to move slowly, eyes closed in concentration. At first, she was so afraid to make a mistake, focused so completely on her every move, she wasn’t able to let herself enjoy it.

“Relax,” he said, arching his hips up to meet her downward thrusts. They slipped into a slow, steady rhythm, and she began to lose herself in the sensation, in the sweet friction, until it began to feel as natural as breathing.

This was the way she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Acting on impulse, living by instinct. Doing things just because they felt good.

“Open your eyes,” Mitch said, and when she did, when she looked down at him, she could see that he was barely hanging on.

With his eyes locked on hers, he reached down to where their bodies met and stroked her. Pleasure rippled through her from the inside out and an orgasm that was almost shocking in its intensity locked her muscles. She threw her head back and rode out the sensation, and through a haze she heard Mitch groan, felt him tense beneath her, his fingers digging into her skin.

Limp with satisfaction, Lexi collapsed against his chest, their hearts pounding out a frantic beat together. It just kept getting better and better. She had never felt as close to anyone in her life as she did to Mitch tonight.

This was going to work, she assured herself. Everything was going to be fine. But as he rolled her over and began kissing her, making love to her all over again, she couldn’t help feeling like a fraud.

Mitch woke the next morning and reached for Lexi, but her side of the bed was empty. He glanced over at the clock, surprised to see that it was after eight. Jet lag had his schedule all jacked up, because he never slept a minute past 6:00 a.m., even on weekends. He sat up and looked groggily around the room, thinking that maybe Lexi had just stepped into the bathroom, but he could hear the clatter of pots and pans and dishes in the kitchen. He caught a whiff of something that smelled like breakfast, but he knew he must be imagining it, unless she had hired a cook after all.

He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and walked to the kitchen. Lexi stood by the stove, poking at something in a frying pan with a spatula. On the counter sat a plate with some sort of sausage.

She cooked?

Beside her, the state-of-the-art dishwasher was open and there were actually dishes inside. He didn’t think a spoiled heiress even knew what a dishwasher was, much less knew how to use one.

Was it possible that he’d misjudged her?

“Good morning,” he said.

She turned to him and smiled a sweet smile that made him believe she was genuinely happy to see him. “Good morning.”

She was wearing the silk gown she’d had on last night and her feet were bare. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. She looked young and sweet and pretty, but from the neck down, she was all woman. Full and firm breasts, perfectly proportioned hips. He had to fight the urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her back to bed. Having a little occasional fun was one thing, but they shouldn’t overdo it. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I made breakfast.”

“Starved,” he said. They had skipped dinner last night. “Can I help?”

“I’ve got it. Do you want coffee?”

“I can get it,” he said, but she shooed him away.

“Go sit down. Relax.”

Ooookay.

He took a seat in the nook by a window overlooking the pool, while she filled a cup that was already sitting by the coffeemaker.

“Milk or sugar?” she asked.

“Black, please.”

She laughed lightly and shook her head.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just weird,” she said, crossing the room and setting the cup in front of him. “We’re married and I don’t even know how you take your coffee. I guess this just wasn’t the way I imagined my life.”

Amen to that. He never imagined himself ever getting married. He would have been happy playing the field the rest of his life. Having relationships on his terms. Living life by his own rules.

She walked back to the stove and he was mesmerized watching her hips sway, the curve of her behind under the silk gown. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was commando under there. If so, it wouldn’t take much to lift up the gown and pull her into his lap…

He gave his head a shake. He needed to stop with the fantasies and keep his hands to himself.

She scooped scrambled eggs onto his plate, added a few links of sausage and then set the plate in front of him. “Bon appétit,” she said, then sat down across from him and rested her chin on her clasped hands.

“Aren’t you eating?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I had something when I got up.”

He stabbed a forkful of eggs and shoveled it into his mouth…and nearly spit it back out. The eggs were so salty he almost gagged. He forced himself to swallow and chased it down with a guzzle of coffee, but almost choked. The coffee was so strong that if he didn’t already have hair on his chest, it would have put some there. He tried to cover the bitter flavor with a bite of sausage, but it was so overcooked and dried out he could barely chew it.

The meal was a total and complete disaster. And one thing was absolutely clear. Lexi did not know how to cook.

If he had a choice, he would dump the whole thing down the sink, or do like he had when he was a kid and feed it to the dog. Unfortunately, they didn’t have a dog, and she was gazing at him with such a hopeful look on her face, he didn’t have the heart to hurt her feelings. He pasted on a smile and said, “Delicious.”

He wasn’t sure what brought on this sudden attempt at domesticity, but, mind-boggling as it was, he gave her credit for the effort. He forced down every last bite of eggs and sausage, stopping just short of licking his plate clean, and he even asked for a refill on his coffee.

“That was really good. Thanks.” He stood to clear his place, but she stopped him.

“You sit. I’ll do it.”

She cleared away his dirty dishes and set them in the dishwasher. “I was thinking of making lamb for dinner,” she said.

If it was even half as bad as breakfast, he didn’t think his stomach could take it. “Why don’t you let me cook dinner?”

She frowned. “Why?”

He could see that he was walking a very delicate line here. One wrong step and he would hurt her feelings. “It’s only fair that we split the household chores while we’re here. Don’t you think?”

“But I’m your wife. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

That was the part he didn’t get. Hadn’t they agreed that this wasn’t a real marriage? That this was a business deal? This was the last thing he expected. “Why, Lexi?”

The space between her brows furrowed. “Because that’s what wives do.”

Real wives maybe, not pretend ones. Maybe she had caught a bug and wasn’t feeling well, or she was a little off due to jet lag. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

What was he supposed to say to that? You can take care of me in the bedroom anytime you like, but otherwise leave me alone? That was just…sleazy.

It was obvious that a sexual relationship was a really bad idea. And he hoped like hell that this desire for domestic bliss would wear thin. They would get back to Houston and settle into a life of servants and chefs, and live amicable but very separate lives.

“If it means that much to you, you can make dinner,” he said.

She sat back down at the table across from him, wearing a smile so full of relief it worried him.

What the hell was going on?

“So, what did you want to do today?” she asked. “We could walk to the village, or hire a car to take us on a tour of the island.”

“Actually, I was thinking of just hanging out by the pool.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds like fun.”

He meant alone. As in, by himself. He hadn’t even entertained the idea that she would want to spend the day with him. He figured they would just go their separate ways. But what was he supposed to say? Leave me the hell alone?

This was just too weird.

He rose from his chair and she stood up, too. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“And I have to clean this mess. Meet you outside in thirty minutes?”

She looked so eager, so desperate to please him, all he could do was smile and say, “I can hardly wait.” But he felt as if he’d climbed out of bed into an episode of The Twilight Zone.