The CEO's Contract Bride

by Yvonne Lindsay

  With his fists clenched into balls at his hips and all his muscles screaming in protest, it took every ounce of his control not to grasp her by the hips and take them both hurtling over the edge of reason. But if he’d learned anything from this past week it had been how vital it was to Gwen to have control.

  The way Crenshaw had used her and the way he, Declan, had taken over her life since, had stripped her of her strength—something he knew had happened more than once in her lifetime. He could give that back to her. Here. Now.

  Gwen trailed her fingertips over his chest, down over his ribs, across his waist and then to the spot where their bodies joined. Never losing eye contact he watched as she touched herself there, felt rather than heard the moan that slid from her throat. He couldn’t help it, his hips thrust upwards, once, twice. Her hands dropped to his. She uncurled his fingers and drew them up to cup the burning flesh of her rose-tipped breasts. He gently massaged the full smooth globes as she leaned against his hands, her slight frame pressing against him as she allowed her body to rock in ancient rhythm with his.

  Clawing demand for release swelled within him, but he refused to submit to it. Not until he’d seen Gwen reach her peak. She moaned and tilted her pelvis slightly, taking him even deeper into her body. The sensations that racked him clamoured to let go, but not even they were as exquisite as the expression on Gwen’s face. Their joining felt so right. So complete. In this minute he finally understood he loved her more than he’d ever loved any woman. He wanted her in his life, like this, forever.

  He now bore her full weight against his arms as she moved with increasing strokes against him until finally he felt her body clench and quiver. A deep-seated cry ripped from her throat as tiny tremors rippled through her body and dragged him over the brink—into blissful oblivion.

  Satiated, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her trembling body against the length of his. Perspiration sheened their skin, firelight gilded them with gold. Her breathing slowed and steadied into a less frantic rhythm. Finally, she was where he’d ached to have her for longer than he’d wanted to admit. Secure, in his arms.

  Much later, as the night air cooled, a sudden crack of constricting wood disturbed Declan’s slumber. With sleep-drugged delight he trailed his hand over Gwen’s hip and followed the line of her spine. She moved against him sinuously, stirring his body to full and eager wakefulness.

  He rolled slightly so Gwen’s body was cradled beneath his. With tender care he lowered his lips to the shell-pink nipple of one breast, twirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh, watching as it immediately tightened and budded against his ministrations. He drew the small, hard point into his mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with another swirl of his tongue. Only half-awake, Gwen pressed her body towards him, pressed her hips against his and moaned sweetly.

  “Not yet, my love.” The barely audible words whispered past his lips as he moved to take her other nipple in his mouth, laving the same care and attention as he had to its glistening twin.

  He wanted to see her eyes glazed with need. Need for him. But not yet. Gently he nuzzled her neck, sipping at the intoxicating texture of her skin, before pulling away slightly to position himself between her open thighs. His tip nestled against the heat of her body and he pressed forward, ever so slowly, until he filled her. Bearing all his weight on his arms so that the only point where they touched was the one where they were joined, Declan rose above her.

  A slight chill in the night air passed between their bodies, her skin tightened in response and she sighed, her breath a gentle whisper past his ear.

  “Steve?”

  Steve! Declan wrenched himself free of her body. Steve? She’d been pretending he was Steve Crenshaw all along? Was that why she’d taken him so boldly this evening, why she hadn’t murmured so much as a single protest when he’d started to wake her with his lovemaking? Had she clung to the dream that he was another man?

  Reality sliced through him with painful precision. He’d used her once before, to forget—now she’d done just the same to him. Somehow, knowing that didn’t make it any better.

  “I’m not Steve.” The words broke aloud from his lips before he could stop them, before he could give in to the urge to wipe all memory of the other man from her mind, from her body.

  Gwen fought the confusion that tumbled through her mind as the horror of the dream she’d been locked into dissipated. The nightmare where she’d relived her wedding night and, instead of retiring to a lonely bed, Declan had brought her body to life, craving the dizzying heights of passion. But when she’d reached for him, it had been Steve instead whose body hovered over hers.

  The echo of Declan’s voice hung in the air. A sickening sense of wrong-doing dragged her awake.

  “I’m no man’s substitute.” Declan’s voice rasped across her ears like bare skin over barbed wire. The accusation in his eyes was illuminated by the dying embers of the fire, which glowed sullenly in the grate.

  Speech failed her and she watched helplessly as Declan drew himself to his feet and left the room. No! she cried silently, feeling the loss of his body, his presence, as keenly as if she’d lost a limb. She wanted to scream aloud, but she was terrified that if she did, once she started she’d never be able to stop.

  Eleven

  Gwen sat at the table, hunched over a cooling cup of coffee when Declan came into the kitchen the next morning.

  After he’d left her last night she’d dragged herself to her bedroom, wrapped up in her dressing gown and curled, shivering, on her bed until pale streaks of pink striated the sky. In the cold reality of dawn she had wandered into the kitchen and had sat there ever since, trying desperately to find an explanation for what she’d done and said. But there was none. She’d acted foolishly, daring to reach for what she wanted, daring to take it, then look what had happened—she’d lost yet again.

  Declan stopped beside her. Dressed as he was in a starkly tailored suit and a brilliant white shirt adorned by his signature jewel-bright tie, she couldn’t identify with this corporate Declan. Not after the past week when they’d worked together, laughed together. Not after last night, when they’d loved together.

  She stole a glance at him. His face held no clue as to what he was thinking.

  She sighed. “About last night, Declan—”

  “It didn’t happen. Having sex was a mistake, Gwen. We both know it—it just clouds everything. We should’ve learned from past mistakes.” He held himself rigidly, as if each word had to be scoured from deep within him.

  It didn’t happen? How could he say that? It had been the most defining thing she had ever done in her life—and it had been beautiful, even if the aftermath had left her emotionally burned. It didn’t deserve to be diminished. And neither did she.

  Gwen shot to her feet. “Had sex? Declan, we made love. And it was not your fault. It was something we did together because we wanted to. Because we wanted each other.” Her clipped words seemed to have no effect.

  “Whatever.” He shrugged off her defence of their passion. “But like last time, we shouldn’t have done it. Have you considered that we did so without protection?” He drew his dark eyebrows together in a slant. “This marriage is for six months, Gwen. Six months only. We can’t afford consequences.”

  A shard of ice penetrated her heart. Consequences? No, they certainly couldn’t afford that. She slowly counted to ten and focussed on her breathing—in, out—difficult as hell when her chest felt as though she were pinned down by an elephant.

  She summoned the dregs of her courage and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you for the reminder. You’d think I’d have learned after last time. And you don’t have to concern yourself with consequences. I’ve been on the Pill since Steve and I met.”

  At the mention of Steve’s name, Declan became even more rigid, if that were possible.

  “Good,” he said abruptly. “We’re clear on that, then.” He turned to leave but hesitated in the doorway. “And, Gwen,
it will never happen again, I promise you. We will stick to the terms of our agreement.”

  She listened as his footsteps retreated down the hallway. It wasn’t until his car roared to life and sped away with a squeal of tyres that she sank down into her seat again, and the trembling began to rock her body in violent waves. He’d made his feelings abundantly clear. And that was what she’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? As her heart screamed to the contrary, Gwen forced herself to concentrate on facts. They’d had a deal. All they’d had to do was stick with it. How hard could it have been?

  Declan shifted through the gears as quickly as he could to increase the distance between himself and Gwen. He’d been nuts to let her under his guard and allow the parameters of their paper marriage to shift. Totally certifiable. Just five months and three weeks and he was out of there for good, and after last night he couldn’t wait to put this episode of his life behind him.

  The visual memory of Gwen’s golden-lit body poised over his, the glitter in her eyes, the scent of her skin, the exquisite feel of her as she’d lowered herself onto him flooded his mind. The sensation so vivid his whole body jerked, and he fought to drive a straight line. His body coursed with need so raw it shredded at his insides like a starved wild creature.

  And all along she’d been imagining he was someone else. Remember that, he counselled himself. His cell phone started to vibrate in his breast pocket, and he eased off the accelerator, pulling over to the side of the road.

  “Yeah,” he growled as he flipped open the phone.

  “Mr Knight. Congratulations. I know you’re anxious for the news so I thought I’d let you know straight away—your tender has been accepted.” The rest of the excited Realtor’s words filtered out as a rush of relief flooded through him. They’d done it. It was exactly what he’d wanted—what he’d worked so hard for and fought past even Steve Crenshaw’s interference to win. So why did he feel as if he’d lost everything?

  Ever since what she now privately referred to as ‘the morning after,’ she and Declan had observed a polite, if cool, living arrangement. Tonight would be the ultimate test as they were expected to dine with the board of directors and their wives. She and Declan would be the youngest couple there, and the most watched. It terrified her that Tony Knight would be able to see right through them, to see past the plastered up cracks in their façade and call them barefaced frauds and liars.

  At the sharp knock on her bedroom door she let her hand drop and took a deep, steadying breath.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” In front of the mirror Gwen nervously smoothed her hair then coated her lips one more time with a glistening lip-gloss and stood back to appraise her reflection. Yes, that would have to do. If she failed to project the right image tonight it wasn’t for lack of trying.

  “The booking’s at eight. We need to get going.” Declan’s growl echoed through her closed bedroom door.

  Gwen’s heart gave a painful twist. A month ago, in that heady week after their wedding he’d have knocked and then come in, not perpetuated this cold distance they’d maintained ever since that night. How many ways could he punish her for what she’d done, she wondered as she hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. How many ways could she punish herself?

  “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  Gwen opened the door. “It’s okay. I’m ready now.”

  For an infinitesimal moment she saw a flare of reaction in his eyes, a tightening of his jaw, before any animation was swamped by cool composure. But it was enough to have caught that glimmer, to know her efforts weren’t wasted. She’d gone all out for this dinner. She was armoured to the hilt in a designer dress she’d borrowed from Libby. The fabric changed colour as she shifted, at first an intense periwinkle-blue, then a silver-grey, while the clinging fit of the sleeves and low-cut neckline emphasised her shoulders and, as of recently, more prominent collarbones. Her friend had laughingly said she looked like a blue flame, joking she’d be cool to appearance yet hot to touch. Libby’s comment couldn’t have been further from the truth—she wouldn’t be igniting any passion in her husband tonight.

  Declan gave her another hard look, then turned to hold the front door open, waving her through before him. Even though he barely spared her two words strung together these days, he remained faultlessly courteous. Sometimes it made Gwen just want to scream.

  At the restaurant Declan handed the car keys to the parking valet and crossed towards her as she waited at the front door. He put a hand against the small of her back, the sensation of sudden heat making her flinch slightly.

  “You’re going to have to do better than that. They’re expecting to see a happy couple.”

  “Well, that’s going to be interesting then, isn’t it?” The sharp response slid from her lips before she could stop herself.

  “Gwen…” Declan started, his voice filled with warning.

  “Don’t worry, I know the rules. They won’t suspect a thing.” Gwen crossed her fingers that would be true.

  As conversation buzzed around the table Gwen couldn’t help missing the camaraderie they’d built up before this new cold war, the closeness that would have allowed them to exchange a look or a smile over the pomposity at the dinner table. Instead he’d studiously avoided making eye contact. Oh sure, to all intents and purposes they still managed to look like a happily newlywed couple. With his arm draped across the back of her chair, his fingers stroking the bare line of her shoulder to her neck and back again, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking that he couldn’t keep his hands off her. If only his touch hadn’t set up such a current of awareness coursing through her veins.

  “So, Gwen,” Tony Knight leaned across the table, “tell me how my boy’s behaving. He’s treating you right, yes?”

  Gwen felt Declan’s fingers still in their track across her skin and tighten on her shoulder. A lick of anger flamed inside. Didn’t he think she could cope with such a question? “He’s doing all the right things,” she fenced with a tight smile.

  Declan’s father’s face went still for a moment, then he leaned back in his chair and let rip with a loud guffaw. When he could contain himself again he lifted his napkin to wipe tears from his eyes. “That’s my boy. That’s my boy.”

  Next to her, she could feel Declan relax by degrees as his father’s mirth set the tone for the rest of the evening. It was a relief when after dessert everyone else took their leave and left them to their coffee.

  “That went better than I expected,” Declan commented with a relieved sigh after the last of their companions left the restaurant.

  “Yes. It did.” Gwen fidgeted with her napkin in her lap. It had gone better than she’d expected. Obviously people had seen what they wanted to. There’d be no threat to her security now. She’d passed this hurdle, she could pass whatever else came her way.

  “We should go, too. I have an early flight to Christchurch tomorrow.” He stood to pull out Gwen’s chair when he suddenly halted.

  “What?” Gwen looked up to see all colour flee his face. “Declan, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go.” He grabbed her silver evening purse off the table and thrust it in her hands.

  “Declan? Declan Knight?” A man’s voice halted their progress through the restaurant.

  With a muttered curse Declan put a restraining hand on her arm and turned to greet the man who hailed them. The familiarity of the other man’s voice struck a cold chill down Gwen’s spine. No, it couldn’t be. Not Renata’s father. Not here. Not now. Declan kept a hand at her back as they made their way through to Renata’s parents’ table.

  “Declan! Gwen! Fancy seeing the two of you together. Please, take a seat.” Renata’s father smiled, gesturing to the two empty seats in their booth.

  “Trevor. Dorothy.” Declan nodded at them both. “It’s a surprise to see you here in Auckland.”

  “Oh, we come once a year. Time to catch up with friends and visit Renata’s grave—it would’ve been her birthday today, reme
mber? Oh—” Renata’s mother grabbed Declan’s hand. “Is that a wedding ring I see? Trevor, look. They’re married.”

  “M-married? You and Gwen?”

  Gwen stood mute. She couldn’t speak if she’d tried. She’d known these people since she was a teenager, had stood beside them at their only daughter’s funeral. The air around them grew so thick you could cut it with a knife, and she began to regret the small portion of her dinner she’d managed to consume.

  “Well, congratulations you two. Has it been long?” Trevor tried manfully to hide his surprise.

  “Just over a month,” Declan replied smoothly. “I’m sorry we can’t stop with you, though. Maybe another time?”

  “Yes, that would be lovely.” Dorothy’s enthusiasm appeared genuine and Gwen’s heart sank. How on earth could they dream of attempting to fool these people? She didn’t want to hurt them any more than she could bear another hurt herself. Dorothy stood up and wrapped her arms around Gwen with a tight hug. “We’ve missed you, honey. Both of you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Gwen’s voice thickened with emotion. It had been crucifying to meet their gaze as, stricken with grief, they’d asked her why their daughter had to die. She’d failed them as much as she’d failed Renata that awful day.

  “Don’t be a stranger, promise? Now go on, get away with you. I bet you two can’t wait to get home.” Dorothy gave Gwen a gentle squeeze before releasing her.

  Whether she said farewell or not Gwen couldn’t remember, all she knew was she had to get out of there. Away from the unspoken questions. The journey home was mercifully swift, and the minute Declan pushed open the door at the house Gwen raced forward on unsteady legs for the bathroom. Her stomach heaved until she could do no more. A cool washcloth wiped her face clean. Wiped away the tears that streaked her face. Wiped away the last of the dignity that she’d struggled to maintain.