His Virgin Bride

by Riley Rollins

  "Really?" He leans forward, and places a hand on top of one of mine. It totally eclipses mine. His fingers are so thick and strong. I can't help wondering what they'd feel like against my thighs… and against my pussy.

  "I didn't come… with you." I say, blushing. "I accompanied you."

  He chuckles softly. "Call it what you like. This may be the first time you… accompany me… but it certainly won't be the last."

  I draw in a sharp breath. Normally I'd be grossed out by a guy talking to me this way, but with Luke, it feels completely natural.

  I grab my wine glass with a shaking hand and put it to my lips. Some part of me expects the wine to taste completely different—to taste hundreds of times more expensive than any other wine I've ever had—but the truth is, I can't tell the difference between this and the Trader Joe's boxed wine that Aya buys for our apartment.

  I can't help wondering if it's because I'm uncultured, or if it's because there isn't actually a difference. I don't want to sound like an ungrateful jerk, though, so I don't say anything to Luke.

  "So…" I say. "You know I have to ask. What do you actually do?"

  He grins, and I feel his thumb stroke the top of my hand. It sends butterflies flipping all through my body.

  "I'll give you three guesses," he says. "If you guess right, I'll show you my place after dinner. If you get it wrong… you show me yours."

  My stomach flutters, partially with embarrassment at the thought of this rich, sophisticated man seeing my cheap, dingy apartment, and partially with anxiety over the implication of what he's saying.

  Does he expect to wine and dine me, and then take me home and bang me? After all, I'm a virgin. And just because he's making me feel special and sexy, doesn't mean that I'm just going to give up my v-card in a single night.

  I have morals, after all.

  "Umm," I say, "You're a businessman."

  He laughs out loud. "That doesn't count. Half the men in this city are businessmen. One wrong guess."

  "Uh, okay." I gaze at his shirt, and I can tell his chest underneath is muscular and powerful. He's definitely a Type-A personality. "A Wall Street trader? Like in The Wolf of Wall Street?"

  He cracks up laughing. "Wrong again."

  "So before I use my third guess," I say, "I just want to ask a question. What do you think is going to happen if you come back to my place tonight?"

  He shrugs and grins. "I don't know what you mean. I'm a perfect gentleman at all times."

  I cock an eyebrow. "Why do I doubt that?"

  That's when I feel his leg brush against mine under the table. I almost jerk backwards in surprise, like a silly inexperienced teenager, but thankfully I manage to hold it together.

  I don't move my leg away, but I'm too nervous to return the gesture. I don't stop him, though. I can feel my panties getting wetter and wetter. What would it feel like if there were no clothes in between us, and our naked bodies were rubbing together like this?

  "Take your third guess," he says.

  "I honestly have no idea. An art collector."

  "I hope you're ready for a visitor."

  I frown. "I hope you're telling the truth about being a perfect gentleman."

  He grins. "I'm the CEO of Diamond House Publishing."

  I nearly spit out a mouthful of wine all over the white silk tablecloth. "You're not."

  "Look around," he says, grinning. "Is it so unbelievable?"

  "No," I say, nervously glancing around at the panorama of twinkling city lights outside. "It's just, I'm an author... with Diamond House Publishing."

  His eyes narrow. "If you had a contract with Diamond House, I'd know your name. And I'd definitely have remembered your face."

  "I literally just got the contract a week ago."

  "Well," he says, sitting back in his chair and stroking his chin, "Isn't that something." I'm suddenly keenly aware that he's no longer touching me under the table. I was totally starting to get lost in his eyes, but he just brought me back to reality.

  I straighten up in my chair as well. "Huh," I say, hoping that my voice doesn't betray my disappointment. "I guess that makes this whole thing very improper."

  He nods slowly, and I carefully watch his face for any sign of a reaction. I half-expect him to stand up from his chair and end the date right here and now.

  Then the corners of his mouth curl upward and he gives me a half-smirk. "Very. But it makes it a lot more exciting, too. Don't you think?"

  My heart skips a beat. "Well," I say, "You are the CEO, after all."

  He nods. "I am. At the same time… I still have to manage the optics of the situation. You understand what I mean, right?"

  I nod back. The CEO can't be seen dating an author for his own company. That would be a conflict of interest.

  "I feel like I can trust you not to go running around telling everyone about this little secret. Am I right to place that trust in you?" He gazes intensely into my eyes. Of course I'm honest. But I don't feel like I could get away with lying to him even if I tried.

  "Of course," I say.

  He relaxes and smiles. "Good." He extends his hand toward me again, and I lift mine up from my lap, and place it in his hand. We make eye contact again, and I feel excited.

  I'm just not used to things turning out in my favor, at least not when guys are involved. Luke and I just had our first roadblock, and we already got past it.

  For now, at least.

  Before either one of us speaks again, the waiter comes back out with a huge platter of seafood. It smells like perfectly fresh fish, cocktail sauce, lime juice, cilantro, and a medley of other spices I can't even identify.

  I suddenly realize I haven't eaten anything all day, and my mouth starts watering.

  Luke smiles as he picks up a fork. "Are you underfed? Or malnourished? Because you're looking at this ceviche like a death row inmate looks at their last meal."

  "That's a pleasant thought, I say, laughing.

  "You're a pleasant thought."

  Excitement thuds in my stomach, but I feel shy. Deep down, I still can't help wondering why this rich and handsome man is paying so much attention to little old me. I can't help wondering what his true motives are.

  I wonder what he'd say if I told him right now that I'm a virgin. Of course, I'd never actually do that.

  "I don't know what you mean," I say bashfully, blushing again. I pick up my fork and plunge it into a piece of ceviche on the platter. When it hits my tongue, my taste buds explode like a fireworks finale on the fourth of July.

  "Oh, wow," I say, stabbing my fork into another piece. "This is divine."

  I don't usually accept gifts or help from anyone—I like to make my own way and it's one of my best qualities—but I can't help enjoying this moment. Being the center of attention, eating the best food in one of the best restaurants in New York City, with a devastatingly handsome CEO.

  Even if it's completely wrong.

  The limo pulls up in front of the modest Queens brownstone where my basement apartment is located. It's already after ten-o'-clock and this residential neighborhood is quiet and empty already.

  Thank goodness, because I might die of embarrassment if anyone saw me getting out of a limo in my own neighborhood. There'd be no end to the questions. I hope Aya is fast asleep right now.

  Luke places a hand on my bare thigh, close to my knee, and I feel myself get wet again inside my panties.

  This is so crazy. This sort of thing doesn't happen to virgins like me, and I'm half-terrified to go along with it any further, just because I know I'll end up completely disappointing this mature, experienced man once he finds out the truth about me.

  "So," he says, brushing his fingertips lightly over my kneecap, "A deal's a deal."

  I gulp. "First, you didn't let me change before dinner. Now, you want to see my place before I get a chance to clean it up. And," I add, "I don't even really know who you are."

  "You know exactly who I am."

  "I don't know
you beyond you being my boss's boss's boss. Or whatever."

  "We should get to know each other better. And don't worry about the situation." He looks deeply into my eyes. "If I say it's allowed, it's allowed."

  I pull my knee away from his hand, and out of the corner of my eye, I think I see a momentary look of surprise flash over his face.

  Good. I like that I can have that effect on the big, rich, handsome billionaire who gets everything he wants. I know he wants me, and I have power because I can deny him that. It makes me feel powerful.

  "I'll honor our deal," I say, "but you have to come back another time. I have to prepare for visitors first. And that's final."

  Luke chuckles. "Yes, ma'am." Then he adds, "You know… you could easily own this entire house. It would be pocket change to me."

  "Ew," I say, frowning. "Wait. I thought you were trying to take me on a nice date. Are you trying to… buy me?"

  He chuckles again and shakes his head no. "I actually wanted to see your reaction. And you know, Leah, very few women would react the way you just did."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, very few women would flatly reject an offer dangled in front of them like that."

  "That doesn't bode well for my gender."

  He sighs. "I'm not attacking women. I'm saying… Most people… men and women alike, only want to know me for my money."

  "Well, you sure don't mind showing it off."

  He shrugs. "I like good food and nice things. But that doesn't mean I want to be taken advantage of. I want genuine connections as much as anyone else."

  "Well," I say, "I'm not looking to get anything out of you. A nice dinner, sure. But I make my own way through life. I always have, and I always will."

  He smiles. "I like that about you, Leah. And I had a good time tonight. If you want to call it a night, very well. But I hope to see you again."

  I glance at him, and for the first time, I wonder if there could be a different man underneath the surface. I assumed he was just a good-looking guy who buys women everywhere he goes. Maybe there is more to Luke Steele than I first thought.

  "Well," I say, patting him on the hand jokingly, "Tonight you'll have to cuddle your piles of money, because I have to go to sleep. But I had a good time, too."

  I open the limo door, get out, and bend down to get one last look at Luke Steele's gorgeous face.

  "When will I see you again, Leah?" he says.

  "We'll see," I say. "I… have to do some work on my book this weekend. And I'm visiting my dad in the hospital sometime next week."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Accident?"

  "No," I say. "Cancer."

  "I see. Send my best wishes."

  "Thanks."

  "Take my number," he says, pulling out a business card. "Get in touch when you're free."

  "Okay. Good night." I push the limo door shut, and turn toward my front door.

  That was the most interesting day I've had in a long time.

  But I can't help wondering what Luke Steele is going to think when he finds out the truth about me… that I'm a virgin.

  4

  Luke

  For days after our date, Leah doesn't text or call. And it only makes me think about her that much more.

  I can't stop thinking about the way her skin felt, about those delicious, full and perky breasts beneath her shirt. But at the same time, it was more than physical. She's a smart girl—a writer, after all—and she's sweet too. On top of all that, I believe her when she says she's not out to get my money.

  She seems honest, and I sense a kind spirit in her. I also sense a tremendous amount of pent-up sexual energy inside her. I can't quite put my finger on where that's coming from, but it's definitely there.

  Leah is a hell of a girl. It's no wonder I can't stop thinking about her.

  This morning, I wake up at six sharp to my artificial sunlight alarm clock. My mansion has built-in skylights throughout, but I make a habit of being up before the sunrise. It's the best way to stay sharp, focused, and ahead of the competition.

  This particular morning, I wake up with morning wood that's even harder than usual. I had a sex dream about Leah, and it was hot as hell. I'm tempted to turn off the alarm clock and sleep in to try to make the dream come back, but I always keep to a strict schedule. Always. No exceptions.

  As I get ready for work, I think about what it'd be like to crush my lips against hers, to tangle her tongue with mine. And I realize, as much as I want to explore that sweet body of hers, I like that she didn't give it up on the first date.

  It'll make her taste that much sweeter when I finally catch her. I'm going to take my time with the pursuit and really enjoy every minute of it. A real pursuit is something that I haven't had in a long time.

  Right as I'm about to head out the front door so Earl can drive me into the office, my personal phone buzzes in my pocket with a text message. My heart hammers hard as I wonder if it could be Leah. I get dozens of messages on my work phone each day, but my personal phone has been way too quiet lately.

  I yank it out of my pocket and read the message:

  Sorry to bother you. I left an important notebook in your car. I need it today if possible. -Leah

  I usually hate distractions in the morning—I like to get into the office before 7:30. But my cock stirs at the thought of seeing Leah again. And to be honest, it's not just my cock. I'm genuinely excited at the prospect of seeing her.

  I text back:

  Ok. Sending a car to pick you up immediately. Be ready.

  On my work phone, I send another text message to my assistant, who's always up before I am, to call for the car.

  This is an unexpectedly pleasant way to start the day.

  I wait until the knock comes at my front double doors. Then I pull one open. They're French doors, each one weighing more than three hundred pounds and made from rare French maple. They're perfectly balanced on German-engineered hinges. They open and close as smoothly as ball bearings rolling on glass, and they swing as light as feathers.

  There she is. Leah Price, just as adorable and fuckable as she was when I met her last Friday afternoon. In this chilly morning air, she's wrapped up in black leggings and a college logo sweatshirt, but it just makes me want to unwrap her that much more, like the prize she is.

  I grin. "Just couldn't wait to see me again, eh?" I poke fun at her, but the truth is, I was starting to wonder if she was going to get in touch at all. And for all I know, this could be completely about her missing notebook and nothing more.

  She rolls her eyes. "It's more like, that notebook has the outline for my whole series in it. I looked everywhere. I even went back to the restaurant and asked about it. If it's not in your limo, then I'm really screwed."

  "You should have let me know," I say. "I could have easily had my people search everywhere we went on Friday."

  "It's fine," she says, brushing her hair out of her face. She looks positively radiant this morning. "I didn't want to bother you."

  "Well," I say, "Beautiful and considerate."

  She blushes.

  "Regardless," I say. "I wanted to see you again anyway. Come in."

  She steps into the main foyer, a chamber with a thirty-foot ceiling and hanging crystal chandeliers. "Well, this is excessive," she says. "The entrance of your house is bigger than my entire apartment."

  "You're welcome to stop by whenever you need a change of pace," I say with a wink. "I know how to share."

  Leah laughs softly. "But… does it really count as sharing when you inherited all of this?"

  Her question catches me off guard, and frown as I close and lock the door with a click behind her.

  "Where did you hear that?" I say.

  "On the Internet."

  "So you're cyber-stalking me?" I ask, frowning.

  She turns red. "I Google all my dates."

  "You have a lot of those?"

  "Not really," she says, and she looks uneasy. "But Forbes says that you inherited
your company and fortune. Anyway, I didn't mean anything by it. It's not like it matters to me anyway."

  "Well," I say, walking with her toward the main living area, "If we're getting technical about this, then I'll have you know that I inherited the company from my father while it was in Chapter 11 bankruptcy. I turned it around myself."

  She crosses her arms. "Then why does the Internet say otherwise?"

  "Do you believe everything you read on the Internet?"

  "Touché," she says. "I guess you're a self-made man after all."

  "Yes. I couldn't look myself in the eye if I was riding daddy's coattails. But don't mention that to Rex LaPrise at McMaster Publishing. Rex, he inherited his company. And he doesn't know what the hell he's doing with it."

  She laughs. "I've heard of him. I heard he's a jerk."

  "You heard correctly. You got signed at the right company."

  "Good," she says, smiling. "As long as you're in charge, I have a feeling that I did."

  I nod. "I'm in charge at all times. Day… and night."

  Leah bites her lip, twirling the tips of her hair in her fingers. I flash her a winning smile. "You'll see."

  She draws in a quick breath and changes the topic. "Okay, mister smarty pants. Where could my notebook be?"

  "Likely still in the limo," I say. "Let's go look."

  "I checked when they picked me up just now," she says. "It wasn't there."

  "That was a different limo."

  "…Oh. Of course." We both laugh.

  "I'll take you to the garage. But it's on the other side of the property. So you'll get the full tour."

  "I'm not impressed by material things, remember?"

  God, her pink lips look so full and pouty, and I just want to press them against mine. I shrug. "Not trying to impress you. Simply showing you around the property so you'll be prepared to spend more time here in the future."

  I walk toward the central living room and she chases after me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  I just smile and lead her through the corridor into the main living area, and I hear her gasp when we enter it.