by Ann Major
Cici’s warm body lay mashed beneath Logan’s on the same bed in the garçonnière where they’d first made love. His manhood was deeply embedded inside her. This time he wore no condom because she’d said, “I want another child.”
Spirals of her wiry gold hair fanned out on his pillow.
How he loved lying like this with her, body to body, the two of them locked together as if they were one being. He loved the softness of her skin, her velvet voice, her smell. In a lifetime, he would never get enough of her.
For as long as Logan could remember she was all he’d ever wanted; the wild hair, her dark eyes alight with sexual mischief, the slim voluptuous body and even the legs wrapped so tightly around his waist.
Her womb quivered, causing his heart to race even faster. What if she was already carrying his baby?
“Well, go on. What are you waiting for?” she teased in a low whisper.
“You didn’t say whether or not you’d marry me.”
“Oh, that,” she said playfully even as her warm, sparkling eyes made more than enough promises to make his heart overflow with bright, shining hope.
“If I want your baby, marriage definitely goes with the territory.”
Epilogue
E verybody from the bad news bikers with their tats and piercings from T-Bos’s Bar to the richest and most elegant lords of the bayou in the county came to the Claiborne wedding ceremony which was held at Belle Rose under a big white tent set up at the edge of the swamp. Alicia clung to Jake’s arm and watched an unsmiling Bos give his niece, Cici, away to the grandson of his ancient enemy.
Hayes Daniels was the best man, and Noonoon was the matron of honor.
Maybe the guests all came because nobody believed Logan Claiborne would really stand up to his side of the bargain and marry Cici Bellefleur.
But marry her he did, and with such a hot look on his tanned face that every man there knew the groom couldn’t wait for the formalities to be over and for his honeymoon to begin.
No, nobody, not even Pierre missed the love and passion in the bride and groom’s eyes when the wedding march began in earnest.
Nor did anybody fail to note that the brightly smiling Cici, with demure white roses in her hair, wore a shockingly short white mini skirt and five-inch stilettos as she joined Logan at the altar. What kind of wife would she make such a man, some wondered.
Then the ceremony was over far too quickly, and the groom kissed his bride far too long and much too passionately, because the rest of the world, even his wedding guests, had ceased to exist and did not matter to him at all.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4459-0
TO TAME HER TYCOON LOVER
Copyright © 2009 by Ann Major
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*Golden Spurs
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