“I’m going to sunbathe.” Innocently, I gesture to the pristine white loungers that are arranged at the far end of the deck. “Unless you had another idea?”
I try my best to sound seductive, but think I probably sound a bit more like I have a head cold than anything. Still, I’m gratified to see that Matteo can’t take his eyes off of my body. It gives me the confidence to strut across the deck, the wooden planks warm beneath my feet.
Dante doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s checking me out. It makes me feel good as I settle myself in one of the loungers.
“Get your eyes back in your head or get off the boat!” Matteo snaps at the young man as he pushes away from the table so fast that he upends his chair. He storms across the deck after me, coming to loom over the lounger.
“You’re blocking my sun.” Shading my eyes, I look up at him, and for a moment I tremble, thinking about his analogy of lions and lambs.
He’s one mad lion.
“I thought you said you understood.” He adjusts his position, and I see that he’s trying to block from view of the crew.
Well, then. Matteo is jealous. My feelings aren’t entirely one sided.
“I do understand.” Lying back, I close my eyes, a show of nonchalance, though I really want to keep looking at my big, beautiful Italian stallion. “I just don’t agree.”
“Put your damn clothes back on,” he hisses, looking from side to side. I can’t help it then—I laugh. Never did I ever think I would see Matteo being a prude.
“You or your staff purchased this bathing suit for me.” I remind him, enjoying his scowl. “I’ll change it on one condition.”
“And what is that?” His voice is impatient. Over his shoulder I can see Dante grinning at me... if Matteo saw him right now, I think he just might throw him overboard.
I sit up, and all I can see is Matteo. I shift on the lounger, feel my breasts jiggle with the movement. Matteo curses under his breath, and I watch, fascinated, as a bulge appears in the front of his casual shorts.
“Are you prepared to make me your wife?” Despite all the teasing, this question is dead serious.
“You are my wife.” I can see his range of emotions, lust and irritation and a jumble of other things. I suppose it’s a good thing, that he’s trying to be so noble, but what’s frustrating is that he’s not listening to me.
I know what I want. And I want him.
“Not yet, I’m not.” There. Challenge issued. I lie back down and close my eyes.
And laugh quietly to myself when Matteo mutters a curse and flops down beside me.
Chapter Thirteen
MATTEO
I KNOW WHAT she’s doing. Riley of the cheap yoga pants is playing dirty, and damn it, I gave her the ammunition when I ordered one of the shoppers at a high end department store to pack a bag full of sexy honeymoon clothes for my bride.
I had anticipated ripping those bits of fabric from her body. And what I thought had started as a simple matter of being noble has turned into a challenge.
One the one hand, it’s fascinating to watch my sweet virgin bride own her sexuality like this.
On the other... I’m dying a slow, very painful death. All I’ve gotten in the last two days for being noble is a sunburn from guarding her on deck and a major case of blue balls.
Though I haven’t sullied her with my darkness. So that’s something. But when I think of resisting her for the rest of the month, I actually feel the pain.
Right now we are having cena—dinner—at the little table on the deck. We’ve made it through an aperitivo of olives and martinis, an antipasto course, and a primo—first—course of wild mushroom risotto.
The secondo is delivered, a flaky, steamed fish that one of the crew members caught just hours ago. Riley murmurs her appreciation, reaching for her wineglass, and the movement causes her breasts to press against the fabric of her sundress. The cotton is pale yellow and tissue thin, and I can clearly see the outline of nipples that make my mouth water.
“Stop.” I don’t even realize that I’ve spoken, that I’ve risen to my feet. Riley pauses with her wineglass halfway to her lips, surprised.
“Please. Just stop.” I gesture to her dress, then rake my hand through my hair with frustration. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
My bride’s temper snaps like a whip, almost audible in the warm evening air. She stands too, the movement arching her spine, pressing those breasts forward, and I think I’m about to go crazy.
“That’s all well and good, Matteo. But don’t I get a say in what I want?” Those wraithlike eyes shoot pale sparks of temper.
“No. You do not.” Goaded past restraint, I reach across the table, catch my fingers in the front of her dress. Pulling her halfway across the table, I kiss her, the embrace hot and hard and full of frustration.
She blinks at me as I release her, pressing her fingers to her lips, the gesture innocent and sensual.
I let out a gargled sound of pure frustration, and storm away from the table before I lose my mind entirely.
I head directly for the room in which I’ve been sleeping. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone so long without sex, especially not when I’ve been teased and taunted by the woman of my dreams at every turn.
I’m barely through the door when I start to unfasten the zipper of my shorts. Sliding them over my hips, I shove them down, kick them away, then pull my shirt up and off.
I need relief. I should go for a shower, but that would take too long. Instead I throw myself down on the bed and wrap my erection in my fist, the bite of pain.
I’m too far gone to have any kind of restraint when Riley slams open my door, gasping when she sees what I’m doing. Temper has added red to the sun kissed glow she’s gotten while torturing me over the last two days. Knowing exactly where her tan lines are under that dress doesn’t help my self-control.
My hand slows, but doesn’t stop. Riley’s eyes are riveted on me as she slowly crosses the room to stand at the foot of the bed.
“Matteo.” Gone are all traces of seduction, of flirtation—if I had had any doubts about what she truly wanted, this moment would have answered them. “Please. Let me.”
Rising quickly, I pull her into my arms, take her mouth with a kiss that demonstrates every bit of my pent up frustration. Setting myself on the edge of the bed, I slide a hand between her legs, urge her thighs apart, then settle her on my lap, straddling me.
When her core settles against my rigid cock and I realize that she’s not wearing underwear, I make up my mind.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” My hands fist in her dress, but I manage the strength to pull away, to look into those eyes.
“More than anything.” There’s no hesitation on her face as she brushes a soft, sweet kiss over my lips. “Please, Matteo. I know it’s not for real but... I want to truly be your wife.”
Growling low in my throat, I tug at the thin fabric of her dress. It rips down the middle, and I shove it away, over her shoulder, down her arms. She’s entirely naked underneath, leaving us skin to skin for the very first time.
It’s different than any other time I’ve been with a woman, and I don’t entirely understand why. I just know that I don’t like it when she reminds me that our marriage is a sham. It redoubles my need to mark her, to make her mine.
My hands roam over her, discovering her body, but she seems to have other ideas. Sliding from my lap, she drops to her knees between my parted thighs, looking up at me with wide eyes.
The sight of her, glowing from the sun and arousal, on her knees just for me, is my undoing. I cradle her jaw in my palm, rub a thumb over her lips.
“You don’t have to do this.” This is her first time. I want it to be all about her.
She shakes her head, resisting my effort to pull her back up. “I want to.” Her hand trembles as she reaches for me, wraps her hand around my shaft, and I can feel my eyes roll back in my head at the tentative but long desired touc
h.
“Tell me if... if I’m not doing it right.” She inhales deeply, then places her lips around me.
Oh sweet baby Jesus.
I freeze in place, afraid to ruin this moment. To do something that will take away from it for her. Her movements are slow, slightly awkward, but I would never dream of asking for it any other way.
The sensation, the emotion... it’s too much, too intense. When the base of my spine starts to tingle, I cup my hands beneath her elbows, pull her off of me, urge her up.
She sighs dreamily as I take her mouth in a gentle but hungry kiss, my tongue parting her lips, urgency increasing as she meets my demands.
I’m tempted to just lie back and urge her on top of me, but my guess is that she’s going to want some guidance. So with more patience than I ever imagined myself capable of, I gather her in my arms, then stand and place her gently down on the sheets.
“You are exquisite, Riley.” The late evening sun filtering in through the small window highlights her body, and I can’t resist tracing a finger over the tan lines that outline her breasts.
I won’t insult her by asking again if she’s sure, but there’s one thing I do have to double check.
“The doctor... he said you are protected now?” I have condoms, packed as backup in case Riley’s shot had been administered at the wrong time of her cycle, but I hate the thought of anything between us.
She nods, ducking her head, hiding behind a fall of hair. Climbing onto the bed, straddling her hips, I brush the soft locks out of the way again.
“I want to see you.” Keeping my stare fixed on hers, I dip my head, take one of her breasts into my mouth. She gasps and arches against me, and I close my eyes, doing my best to not hurry things along.
“You can see me next time. We can go slow next time.” Wrapping her legs around my waist, Riley hooks her ankles behind my back, bringing my hardness flush with her wet heat. I can feel my eyes crossing.
“I want this to be good for you.” Working my hand between our bodies, I slide my thumb over her center, find her wet and ready.
“You’ve made me wait long enough.” She grins up at me breathlessly, rocking her pelvis against mine. “Now. I want you now.”
Her smile is my undoing. The air thickens, the moment intensifying as I shift position, hands sliding over her thighs, urging her to let them fall to the bed. I bend to press a kiss along the crease where one leg meets her stomach before aligning our bodies.
“I hear that this might hurt.” I warn her, but truthfully, I don’t know. If I’ve taken someone’s virginity before, they haven’t informed me.
“I want it.” Face set stubbornly, Riley arches her hips; the way I’m pressed against her finds me sliding in, just a bit.
“Oh. Oh, God.” She claws at my biceps, squirming on the bed beneath me. I tense my muscles, using everything I have not to just take her.
I hold as still as I can, allowing her time to adjust to what must be a strange sensation. Christ, she’s tighter than I could ever have dreamt, lush and wet and welcoming.
My arms begin to shake, and a bead of sweat rolls down m temple.
“More.” Riley’s hands slide from my biceps to my hips, urging me onward. I move forward another inch, thinking to stop again, but she smacks my ass with her palm in her eagerness.
I laugh out loud, and she joins in.
“Sorry. Just... please. More. I want it all.”
“Just so you know, any future spanking will be administered by me, on your gorgeous ass.” I’ve distracted her with that; her eyes glaze over and she bites her lower lip. Her muscles relax, just the tiniest bit, and I use the moment to work forward. I have to push, to twist, to make my way past her resistance, and she cries out loud as I slide home, her nails digging into the muscles of my ass.
She feels so fucking good around me, a velvet glove, but I keep my movements slow as I pull back.
“Are you okay?” Looking down, I can see the smear of blood. I hate knowing that I’ve caused her pain, and yet part me—the asshole part—wants to beat my chest and do a primal war chant.
They say you never forget your first. So I’ve marked her memory at least... when Riley walks away at the end of this month, I’ll be imprinted in her mind, her body forever.
“Yes. Keep going.” There’s an edge of pain in her voice; I don’t know if that’s normal. Cautiously I move back in, then out again, keeping my movements slow and deliberate, my muscles tensed as I try to hold back.
Beneath me, Riley is making these insanely sexy little cries, squirming as though she’s both trying to get away, and trying to move closer. But when she gasps and begins to rock against me again, I understand that the pain has passed, and that it’s started to feel as good for her as it is for me.
“Hold on to me.” Bracing an elbow on either side of her head, I cover her, sealing our bodies together with heat. My thrusts become shorter, harder, and she meets every one with a hunger that, incredibly, matches my own.
I can feel my release gathering, tightening, at the base of my spine. Desperate that she comes before I do, I slide my hand between our bodies, stroke that small nub of flesh that I know will bring her over.
She cries out as she clenches around me, those pale eyes locked on my own. And as I fall with her, she’s the only thing I see.
The only thing that’s real in my world.
RILEY
“Isn’t this the part where you ask if it was good for me and light up a cigarette?” I can’t help trying to inject something to lighten the mood into the room.
What just happened was so intense, so huge, I don’t rightly know what to do with it.
And the way Matteo is looking at me, the way he’s stroking his hand over my cheekbone...
This just got real. And though my brain is warning me that this can’t end well, my body and heart are floating on a cloud of bliss.
Matteo presses a playful kiss to the end of my nose. “And just how would you know that, hmm?”
Rolling my eyes, I snuggle in closer. “Let’s just stay like this for the next year or so.” I freeze when I realize that I’ve alluded to time together beyond the month.
When I look at him, Matteo’s eyes are thoughtful. He seems like he’s about to say something, but is distracted when we hear a churning noise, then the unmistakable sensation of the yacht slowing down.
“Shit!” He sits straight up in bed, sending my hair flying into my face in the process. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, then abruptly pulls the covers off of me with a grin.
“Matteo!” My instinct is to cover myself, which is silly, since he’s now seen it all.
Seen it. Touched it. Tasted it.
I blush.
“We’ve got to get dressed, cara mia.” Jumping off the bed, he holds up my sundress, then frowns. “And perhaps you could wear something a bit less... revealing.”
I narrow my eyes as I sit up too. “I’ll wear whatever I damn well want.” Reaching, I grab for the dress, then remember it’s torn anyway.
Matteo catches my chin in his hand and the look he sends my way is both dark and sexy as hell.
“We are now in Kalamata, Greece. We’re docking at the home of a good friend of mine. A friend who will find you very attractive indeed, and who will not be overly concerned with the fact that you are my wife.” He is serious. “So unless I’ve made a loose woman of you in the last hour, I must insist that you wear something... more.”
I feel that I shouldn’t like this demand—after all, we’re married, but he doesn’t own me. And yet...
It’s oddly thrilling, being bossed around like this. Wondering how I can do as he says, and yet test the limits.
As he dresses, I run back to my room, search through the clothing that was packed for me. I settle on bikini panties and a sky blue dress. When I return, Matteo nods approvingly at the demure neckline, the built in bra.
“That’s much better.” Pulling me close for a kiss, he nips at my ear. “You can
model some of your other clothing for me tonight. Actually, you may as well not. I like you best in nothing at all.”
His hand strokes down the length of my spine, and I stifle a laugh as he discovers that, while innocent in the front, the dress has absolutely no back.
“Riley...” he starts, warning in his voice, but I skip out the door ahead of him after sending him a naughty glance.
By this time the boat has come to a complete stop. Dante is lowering the retractable plank that will allow us to exit the yacht.
“Riley.” Matteo catches up to me, garbs my elbow. Tucking my hair behind one ear, he whispers into it.
“Remember the conversation we just had about spanking?”
My mouth falls open. Surely he’s not serious.
But then he is gone, striding off of the boat toward a figure standing at the end of the dock. I can’t help but do a double take—the man is hugely tall, well over six feet, and in addition to being ridiculously handsome in the classically Grecian way, his hair is reddish black rather than the ebony one would expect with his coloring.
“Alexi, this is Riley. My new wife.” Matteo reaches out for my hand, and I note than he tucks me right into his arm, a possessive gesture, as his friend eyes me appreciatively.
“Riley, this is one of my oldest friend, Alexios Kosta. Alexi for short. We were at school together.” Matteo grins at his friend, a smug smile that fades quickly as we both notice the other man’s grim demeanor.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, if you please.” Alexi hands Matteo a tablet that looks like it could shoot a rocket into space, then casts me an unreadable stare.
I barely register the latter, as I stand on tiptoes to read over my husband’s shoulder.
What I see makes my knees buckle.
“I didn’t do it.” I tremble as I back away from both men with wide eyes. “I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t know how.”
“Clearly someone does.” Alexi gives me that inscrutable stare again. My mouth dries up.
“Matteo. I didn’t. You know I didn’t.” I grab my husband’s arm, but he won’t even look at me.
A Bride for a Billionaire Page 11