But only for a moment.
Then she turned and reached for him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, grabbing, tugging, pulling at buttons and hair and flesh. She’d caught him off guard, could feel he shook. But the next moment his mouth was on hers, fierce, bruising, heavy. Desperately she kissed him back, locking her arms around his neck, frantic with the freedom of being able to touch him, to kiss him, to run her fingers through his hair.
Catching the scent of his skin, she moaned softly, and her breath quickened as she felt his body move urgently against hers. She heard him groan and felt a rush of euphoria, and then suddenly his hands were on her waist, pushing her back and across the floor, his legs nudging and pressing between hers. She half slid, half fell onto the bed, pulling him with her, her mouth opening beneath the hard pressure of his lips.
His hands were at her waist, her thighs, her ribs—sliding all over her body, peeling away her shirt and her defences. Her breath felt hot in her throat, the tormenting touch of his mouth making her head swim and, moaning, she reached lower, pressing her hand against the smooth muscles of his stomach until she felt his body shudder.
‘Malachi!’ She whispered his name unsteadily and breathing in hard, she stilled as he raised himself up and stared down into her face, his grey eyes gleaming like polished steel.
‘What’s the matter?’ he murmured. ‘Have you lost your way?’
Addie shuddered. His fingertips, light and languid, were sliding over the smooth mound of her belly, stroking, circling, caressing lower, and lower still, so that a tingling, torturous thread of pleasure wove in and out of her breathing.
Suddenly he lifted his hand and she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering. His gaze fixed on her face, his expression so hard and hungry and knowing that she squirmed against the sheets. There was no way to hide how much she wanted him to keep on touching her, how much she needed to feel him on top and inside her.
‘Malachi...’ She swallowed, fighting to control the need, the urgency in her voice, trying to hang on to the liquid heat building inside her, her muscles clenching and tightening.
‘Addie—’
He let the word hang between them as she looked up at him pleadingly and then, lowering his head, he licked her shoulder, his tongue hot and measured as it snaked over her collarbone, teasing the hollow at the base of her throat until her body started to shake.
His fingers spread across the bare skin of her back, expertly undoing her bra and freeing her swollen, aching breasts. Almost choking on her own breath, she twisted upwards, rubbing against his hips, goading him with her body, wanting him to answer the ache clamouring inside her. But, pushing aside the flimsy fabric, he dropped his head and grazed her breast with his mouth, licking and nipping, his tongue curling around first one nipple then the other.
Finally she could bear it no more and she pushed his head away, at the same time desperately reaching beneath the waistband of his trousers to curl her hand round the hard, straining length of his erection.
He jerked against her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Grasping her head, he began to kiss her again, each time deeper and deeper, until she thought she would melt with need. A slippery heat was trickling down inside her and helplessly she rolled beneath him, wanting to rid herself of that relentless, dragging ache, wanting, needing to feel him inside, to finish what she’d started.
She tugged at his belt urgently, her fingers tearing at the buckle, scraping his skin.
‘Wait—wait, sweetheart. We mustn’t—’
His hand caught her scrabbling fingers, holding them still, and she stared up at him dazedly.
‘Wh-what?’ Fighting to get her words out, she frowned. A haze of unfocused thoughts and fears were swirling inside her head. ‘What do you mean?’ Her voice was hoarse. She could hear her hunger for him, the scraped, raw longing. But she didn’t care. She just wanted him—all of him. The heat and the power, the unthinkable, impossible bliss of his body stretching into hers.
He shook his head. ‘Not here. Not now.’
She looked up at him, shifting restlessly, her whole body twitching with unfulfilled desire so that she had to bite her tongue in order not to beg him to make love to her.
His hand was curving under the back of her head so that his calm, assessing grey gaze held her captive. For a moment he studied her face and then, raising his hips, he let go of her hand and lifting himself off her body, he slid onto the bed beside her.
The cool air stung her skin.
But not as much as the cool, calculating expression on Malachi’s face.
How could he look at her like that? She stared at him uneasily. And how had he found the willpower to stop? The thought that, unlike her, he had been cool-headed enough to break their frantic, febrile embrace was like a punch to the stomach. Cheeks burning, she breathed in sharply and pushed against his shoulder.
He made no objection as she shifted along the bed, tugging at her bra and blouse and pushing her skirt down over her naked thighs, shock at her own behaviour mingling with the humiliating realisation that, rather than taking charge, she had let her self-control go into a complete and very obvious meltdown. It had not been him begging her to ease the frantic demands of his body. Instead she had been the one whose whole being had been focused on satisfying her burning desire for him.
A discreet but insistent buzzing noise broke the silence between them and, rolling over, Malachi punched a button on a panel set into the wall above the bed.
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry, Mr King. Just to let you know we are approaching Antigua now, so if you wouldn’t mind buckling up?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Hanging up, Malachi turned and met her gaze. ‘We’d better go and take our seats.’
Smoothing his fingers through his hair, he tucked in his shirt and as though by magic was transformed back into a sleek, efficient business tycoon.
His eyes drifted over her dishevelled state. ‘You might want to tidy up a little...’
Staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Addie mechanically ran a comb through her hair. Her hand was shaking too much to put on any lipstick or eye make-up, so instead she tried to force her face into the same cool mask of detachment that Malachi could apparently achieve so effortlessly.
How did he do it? she thought helplessly. Even now, with her clothes straightened and buttoned up, and a door between them, her body was still a shuddering mass of sexual yearning, her brain barely functioning.
She moaned softly. She had so wanted to prove to him, to herself, that no matter how disparate their wealth and status they would come together as sexual equals on this trip. But the harsh reality was that she had simply managed to reveal how badly she still wanted him. She’d responded to him mindlessly, her hunger so intense, so desperate that she’d been ready and willing to surrender herself to his every whim—
She shivered. The trouble was that she couldn’t do what he did. She couldn’t blank off her mind from the passion, the hunger. How could she? Until her car accident her whole life had been about living emotions through music. Playing the piano demanded passion as much as discipline, poetry as much as practice.
Her mouth twisted. Sex with Malachi was evidently not going to be as straightforward as she’d thought. Not because she loved him. But because she appeared unable to switch off the mess of emotion that sex with Malachi provoked.
Her heart began to pound. But so what if she couldn’t contain or control her feelings? Did she really want to become like Malachi? All warmth and charm on the outside, but utterly immune to real feelings.
No, she did not.
Her marriage to Malachi had already cost her five years of her life, her hopes, most of her pride and around six kilograms of weight. She wasn’t about to sacrifice the essence of who she was to it too.
And she would survive this trip.
After all, she’d survived far worse.
Lifting her chin, she pulled out a lipstick and swiped it over her l
ips. She might come out of this affair emotionally battered and bruised, but she would come out of it as herself.
Turning, she pushed open the bathroom door and walked determinedly back into the cabin.
‘Ready?’ His voice was distracted, his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone.
She cleared her throat and waited for him to look up, watching his eyes narrow appreciatively as they switched from his phone to her glossy lips and long bare legs.
She met his gaze. ‘I’ve never been readier,’ she said slowly.
CHAPTER FIVE
STARING OUT ACROSS the turquoise-blue sea, Malachi felt a ripple of satisfaction break over his skin. Beside him in the speedboat Addie sat gazing out across the water, her long red hair blowing across her face, her slender legs curling against the smooth suede upholstery. He could imagine how they must appear to everyone around them: the perfect honeymooning couple on their way to paradise.
Beneath his expensive sunglasses his eyes glittered. Except that they weren’t. Yes, his wife was there, her warm, seductive body just inches away from his. But, glancing at the pure line of her profile, he knew that her thoughts were far away. No doubt dealing with the unfamiliar sting of having her warm, seductive body turned down.
He shifted in his seat, his groin tightening uncomfortably. It might be rather more painful than he’d anticipated but he’d proved his point. She wanted him—and badly. Remembering those blue eyes dilating in helpless response, her body twitching beneath his, he felt a rush of triumph. Only it was tempered with a slight sense of relief, for he had come dangerously close to taking her there and then and he hated feeling that frantic. It was too raw a reminder of how his life had used to be, watching and waiting for his parents’ parties finally to end.
But soon he would ease his body into hers. Only for now let her be the one feeling out of control.
As though sensing his thoughts, she glanced up and gave him an icy glare.
‘Everything all right?’ he said softly.
He watched her fingers curl into her hands.
‘Everything’s fine.’
‘Really? Only you seem a little tense.’ He gazed at her levelly. ‘Is it the boat? I could rub your back if you think it would help...’
Oh, she was tense, all right. She’d tried and failed to cover it up, for he’d noticed the wary uncertainty in her eyes, the nervous flush of colour in her cheeks the moment she’d walked out of the bathroom. But there was no place on this trip for feelings—her feelings, for of course his weren’t ever going to be a problem. He’d learned the hard way that life and particularly relationships were simpler, smoother, sweeter all round if emotions were removed from the equation.
His eyes fixed dispassionately on a distant speck of green and brown, rising out of the sea, and his mouth curled into a tight smile. It was the face he presented to any unfortunate gambler who got caught breaking the rules at his casinos.
And Addie had broken the rules. The first rule of the house.
She’d interfered with the run of play.
His mouth thinned. Or rather he’d let her interfere with it. Let her catch him off guard.
Beside her, Addie felt Malachi move, but she ignored him. She was still fuming over that last remark. Rub her back? She’d rather jump overboard. Or better still push him in. For a moment she allowed herself to picture Malachi walking a plank.
Imagining the splash he would make greatly restored her spirits and, feeling able to face him again, she looked up and said sweetly, ‘Everything all right with you?’
‘Everything is fine.’
‘Really? Only you seem a little restless,’ she said.
He held her gaze. ‘I was just thinking about poker.’
She glowered at him. Typical! So nothing had changed. She was still three steps behind him and he was thinking about cards. Carefully she turned her body away from his.
Gazing past Addie, remembering again how close he’d come to losing control, Malachi frowned. He’d been completely unprepared for the way she’d taken his hand and led him upstairs. More mind-blowing still had been how she’d kissed him. The touch of her lips on his had been like napalm—a flash of raw white heat, explosive, all-consuming. He’d been out of control, reduced to no more than a pulsing mass of heat and longing. And for that moment he’d wanted whatever she wanted and more.
His stomach clenched. Before he’d met Addie his mantra for living had been simple: work hard, play harder. By sheer effort and determination he’d transformed his family’s casino business from a debt-ridden mess into a global brand. And to relax there had been women. All beautiful, sexy and disposable.
Until five years ago. Until Addie.
When, despite knowing exactly how damaging and abusive marriage could be, he’d gone ahead and married her. And he still couldn’t quite understand why. It didn’t make sense, not after his childhood with its ringside seat at his parents’ marriage. Watching helplessly as they’d let sex and passion twist their lives—and his. He’d sworn never to do the same. A muscle tightened in his jaw.
But Addie had been so beautiful, so tempting, with that glorious red hair tangling about shoulders, her blue eyes pulling him in and under her spell, and just like that his promises had turned to air. Ignoring all his instincts, and every promise he’d ever made, he’d followed his libido up the aisle and married Addie, justifying it as a commercial decision: a merger of bodies rather than business.
It had sounded good inside his head—so good that he’d let himself believe it was the whole truth until, too late, he’d realised the scale of his mistake—and how badly sex had clouded his judgement.
But he wasn’t going to let that happen again.
This time he held all the cards. He wasn’t blind to the allure of her body, but this time it would be safely contained. Their arrangement would last a month, and there would be no meaningless romantic gloss. It would be like any other business arrangement. Only instead of paperwork and conference calls it would just be the two of them on a deserted island and a month of pure pleasure, designed to exorcise the sexual hold she still had over him.
Feeling suddenly immensely satisfied, he leaned towards Addie and pointed to where the dark clump of palm trees and other green foliage was rapidly growing larger.
‘That’s it. That’s where we’re going. Bar Jack Cay.’
She nodded and managed to give him a small, polite smile. But her head was spinning, her skin flushing hot then cold. It felt like seasickness but it wasn’t. It was humiliation. Sitting in silence, gazing out across the water, she’d been able to pretend that she was on some other boat, maybe with friends. Those blush-making moments on the plane pushed to the back of her mind. But now that he’d spoken to her, his body leaning in, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the sea spray, the whole embarrassing scene filled her head again.
What had she been thinking? She couldn’t have made a bigger fool of herself if she’d planned it. Shrinking back against the seat, she felt her stomach twist with misery as she remembered her frantic behaviour, how desperate she must have looked. She might as well have worn a huge sign saying ‘My sex-life is non-existent’ around her neck.
But far worse was the way she’d let him manipulate her all over again. Just as she’d done five years ago. She felt a rush of anger. Everything was such a mess, but one thing was clear. That despite what he’d said, or what they’d agreed, this arrangement clearly had more to do with power than desire. His power over her.
It was the first time she’d really understood what she had actually agreed to.
Her heart gave a jolt as the speedboat began to slow. Looking up, she found him watching her, and something in his cool, speculative gaze made her lift her eyes to meet his.
‘Are we slowing down for a reason?’ Her voice sounded curt, not at all like a bride on her honeymoon. But she didn’t care. He was paying for her body—not for her to look as though she was madly in love with him. And it wasn’t as though he woul
d comment on her manner. He shied away from conversations that even hinted at the intimate or the personal.
With a chill, she remembered how he had refused even to acknowledge her doubts about their marriage. Like when she’d tried to find out why his parents weren’t coming to the wedding. At first, he’d ignored her questions. Then finally, when she’d made it clear she wasn’t going to drop the subject, he’d simply walked away. It had been the same at the reception, when having overheard a conversation about his motives for marrying, she had attempted to discuss it with him. He had withdrawn not just physically but emotionally and that was when she had known their marriage would never work.
But there was no point in thinking about any of that now and, feeling his gaze on her face, she curled her arms around her waist, flattening out the emotion inside her.
‘There are rocks up ahead.’ He smiled, his eyes dancing maliciously. ‘You can’t see them, but they’d scuttle a boat this big. So we have to transfer to a dinghy.’
Ignoring his hand, she stepped past him into the smaller boat and, laughing softly, he sat down next to her, trapping her thigh against his, his arm draping around her shoulder as she stared mutinously down at the sea.
‘I know the water’s tempting, sweetheart, but don’t you want to look at where you’re going to be staying for the next few weeks?’ he teased. ‘Or are you trying to work out if you can swim home?’
Gritting her teeth, Addie lifted her head reluctantly and gazed at the island.
Up close, it wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting. It was beautiful in a rugged kind of way, but truthfully, she had been expecting something a little more Robinson Crusoe.
But so what if the island was a little less pretty than her mental image of paradise? It was obviously completely untouched, which was surely closer to the true meaning of paradise. Surprised that Malachi would be sensitive enough to recognise that fact, she felt some of her anger fade.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said stiffly, managing a small, tight smile.
Smiling back at her, he reached out, and before she could protest he had taken her hand in his. ‘I like to think of it as a little bit of Eden. Somewhere I can be completely uninhibited.’
Claiming His Wedding Night Page 7