The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal (Entangled Indulgence)

by Jane Peden

  He was surprised at the sudden flash of possessiveness that surged through him as he parted her, tasted her, and used his mouth to torment her until she was writhing, her hands fisting in the covers as he held her firmly in place with one hand and used the other to palm her bare nipple, rolling it between his fingers as she came apart for him, crying out uncontrollably as her body clenched with an orgasm, her hips bucking frantically, then dissolving into shuddering spasms.

  Feeling her come for him, keeping his mouth on her as she shattered, pushed all thoughts of slow and languid lovemaking out of his mind. He reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of condoms onto the bed, then shed his pants and boxers and, lifting her under the arms, slid her back higher on the thick comforter. He knelt over her for a moment, his eyes on her flushed face and her own eyes glazed from pleasure, while he sheathed himself, then entered her in a single deep stroke. He grabbed her wrists, grasping them firmly in one hand behind her head, while her eyes widened with surprise. The urge to claim her, to take her as no other man had taken her before, was overpowering, and with each thrust he felt his control slipping, until there was nothing in the world but the feel and scent of her and the burning need to possess her completely.

  Her legs were wrapped around him, and her body was on fire. When he released her wrists and braced himself on either side of her she arched up, grabbing him, digging her fingers into his arms.

  He slammed her over the edge as she screamed his name. Only then did he let himself go.

  …

  When Camilla woke up, the sun was streaming in through the French doors. She still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened the night before. Aside from the most amazing sex she’d ever had.

  Their marriage was a farce, and he’d made it clear that as far as he was concerned the sex was just a convenient side benefit of their temporary union. She was willing to go along with that because the one thing she couldn’t deny was that the chemistry between the two of them was intense. If that had been all it was last night, it would have been easier to deal with this morning.

  But he’d taken her like a lover, first with gentle erotic touches that undid her defenses, then with a fierce possessiveness.

  For the first time since she’d shown up at his office, Camilla wondered if there could actually be a point in giving this marriage a chance to be something more than a temporary pretense. She and Sam shared a son. And they obviously shared passion. The only thing standing between them was his refusal to let go of the past. That and his inclination to think the worst of her, without ever giving her a chance to explain her relationship with Danny, or why she had been so desperate to escape everything else that was going on in her life for those two brief weeks in Las Vegas. But this morning she was optimistic that maybe that was starting to change.

  She stretched under the covers, muscles she’d forgotten she even had aching. They’d had sex three more times during the night, twice starting with her on top, taking control, tormenting him with gentle caresses just as he’d tormented her, but ending both times with Sam reversing their roles and taking her body to places she’d never been before.

  She lay there, sated, and wondered if last night had changed anything for him, when she felt as if she’d laid her soul bare to him. Maybe now Sam would ask the questions she longed to answer, would finally give her the chance to explain that marrying Danny had been a matter of life and death – not for herself, but to save Olivia. Nothing had been more important than Olivia.

  As much as his opinion of her hurt, her pride wouldn’t let her demand a chance to tell her side of the story. Not without some sign that he would have an open mind when he heard her out, some chance that he might put aside the assumptions he’d made and actually believe her. He was just so wrong about everything she hardly knew where to begin.

  She heard the shower turn on and thought about joining him. Even if his head and his heart still closed her off, other parts of his anatomy seemed more than willing to give her a chance. Instead, exhausted and emotionally drained, she slipped back to sleep.

  When Camilla woke up again she heard Sam’s voice, but didn’t see him. She wrapped herself in one of the luxurious resort bathrobes and wandered out into the living area of the suite. The dinner dishes had all been cleared away, and in their place was a platter of fresh fruit and a basket of baked goods. Sam had his cell phone to his ear and his laptop open on the table. He was wearing a pale yellow collared T-shirt and faded jeans. His feet were bare and a pair of Docksides had been kicked casually under the table. His arms were tanned—she supposed anyone who lived in Miami had a tan all year round. His hair, still slightly damp from his shower, fell in unruly ringlets across his forehead. Even dressed casually everything about him said self-confidence and determination.

  From the gist of the conversation, she gathered he was talking to one of the young associate attorneys in his office. His voice was authoritative, the instructions he gave crisp and direct.

  Sam listened for a moment, then gave a short laugh. “I know, even on my honeymoon.” He paused, and she heard a change in his voice. “But since my beautiful bride is still sleeping, this may be my only chance to bring you up to speed on the case until I get back to the office.”

  She felt a warm tingle run through her at the way his voice had softened when he mentioned her. He looked up then, saw her in the doorway, and for a moment, his look was unguarded and welcoming. Then his eyes cooled a bit, even though his voice stayed warm.

  “And there she is now, so if we’re clear on what needs done…yes. If it’s urgent text me. Otherwise, I’ll expect the response on my desk on Monday.”

  He disconnected and set the cell phone on the table, his eyes still appraising her. When he spoke, his voice had lost some of its warmth as well, and she felt her heart sink. So it wouldn’t be that easy after all.

  She reached for the pot of coffee labeled “decaf,” poured some into one of the cups, saw the steam rising, and inhaled the strong aroma.

  “I ordered both, since I didn’t know which you prefer.”

  He’d also ordered just about everything she remembered eating during those wonderful breakfast-in-bed mornings in Vegas, including her favorites, a bowl of fresh strawberries and cranberry-orange muffins. She added cream from the pretty rose-patterned pitcher, then walked over to the terrace door, pushing it open and stepping onto the balcony. She couldn’t get a read on him, wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel this morning.

  She felt him move to stand behind her.

  Steeling herself, she turned around. “It’s obvious you have work to do,” she said awkwardly. “I’ll just go down to the beach, get a little sun.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, leaning against the doorway, “that it would seem very odd if my wife spent her honeymoon sitting by herself on the beach.”

  He was close enough that she could smell his freshly showered scent. Sam had a deceptively lean build. She imagined that people watching him in court might assume his strength was purely intellectual. But she’d explored every inch of his body last night, felt every sinewy muscle, and she remembered how he’d picked her up and carried her to bed as if she weighed nothing at all. All of a sudden her stomach felt fluttery, and she set the coffee cup down on the iron table and leaned her back against the railing.

  “Since we’ve already consummated the marriage…” she began.

  “We certainly did that,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “More than legally sufficient in my opinion.”

  She couldn’t remember ever making love four times in one night before, and she knew she was blushing.

  “Well, then, it’s not like we have to perform for anyone by spending every second together.”

  Now it was Sam the lawyer looking at her. “You can accuse me of thinking like a lawyer,” he said, and she suppressed a smile, “but until JD is legally mine I’m n
ot taking any chances on your former in-laws hiring someone to investigate our relationship. And since you’re not willing to have me establish paternity directly, I’m going to make damn sure no one has any reason to challenge the validity of this marriage.”

  She’d come into this arrangement with only one thought in mind: shielding her son from the custody threat posed by the Winthrops. Sam was a long way from ever trusting her, but she was starting to think she could trust him to do what was best for JD. And whatever his motives, he’d turned their impromptu ceremony into a storybook wedding. So maybe putting all their futures in his hands—for now—wasn’t such a bad idea.

  “I agree that you becoming JD’s legal father is the best plan.”

  “Then don’t do anything to make people question whether this marriage is real. Including going down to the beach alone on your honeymoon.”

  “Fine. I’ll just sit up here and watch you work. Is that what you want?” She raised her hands, gesturing, and felt the robe gap. She was naked underneath and reached to tighten the robe around her, and saw his eyes darken.

  “No,” he said, “that’s not what I want at the moment.” Her pulse raced into overdrive as he reached out, grabbed the soft belt and used it to pull her forward, back into the suite. He undid the knot easily, and his eyes moved down as the robe gaped wider. Her heart was slamming against her chest as he took hold of the lapels of her robe with both hands, pushing it back over her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

  It was wildly erotic, standing in front of him completely naked while he stood there, fully dressed, not touching, just looking at her with those darkly intense eyes. There were emotions swirling there, beneath the surface, that she couldn’t put a name to. The sunlight was streaming through the open French door, basking her in its golden rays, but it was the look in Sam’s eyes that made her skin heat.

  When he reached for her his movements were shockingly fast. She felt herself spun around, her bottom pressed against the fabric of his jeans, her body molded against his as he lowered his head and used his mouth on the side of her neck. Strong arms held her in place as his hands closed over her breasts, tweaking and rubbing her nipples until she heard herself mewing in pleasure. She couldn’t control the sounds coming from her own lips any more than she could control the waves of anticipation and pleasure coursing through her entire body.

  He used one hand to continue the delicious torment of her breasts, while the other hand shifted lower, the palm rotating over her curls at the vee of her legs creating a delicious friction, using his fingers to stroke her to a shockingly intense orgasm. She’d have sunk to the floor if he hadn’t held her up. Then she was braced with her hands against the closed glass door as she still gasped for breath.

  He entered her from behind with a strong thrust, angling her perfectly so the base of his shaft rubbed against her sensitive nub with every powerful stroke. The hard muscles of his thighs slapped against her bottom as his hips controlled her, drove her in a fast rhythm with thrust after thrust.

  It was crazy; she’d just had an orgasm and already she was coming again, stronger and harder than the first time.

  The door right beside her was wide open. People were milling about below, walking to the beach, strolling through the garden. She didn’t care.

  “Sam!”

  “I want you, Camilla,” he said, his voice controlled but strained, his mouth close to her neck as she went over the peak and her senses shattered. “Just like this. Naked and trembling and screaming my name.”

  Then she felt him tense, and he was the one who groaned, the one who shouted her name, as the last spasms went through her and she clenched around him, his hands still on her too-sensitive breasts, her body going limp against his.

  He pulled out of her.

  “Oh hell,” he said, and she turned around, holding on to his arm for support.

  “What is it?” She was still half dazed.

  He looked down, then met her eyes.

  “I forgot a condom.”

  “I’m on birth control pills, remember?” But even as she said it she knew that a part of him still thought she might be lying, trying to trap him with another pregnancy.

  She stepped away from Sam, pushed his discarded clothing aside with her foot as she bent down to pick up her robe. She walked across the room, naked, as Sam watched her, his silence speaking louder that any words he might have said.

  She’d only had sex with two men in the past five years. One of them died, breaking her heart. And the other one seemed determined not to trust her.

  Camilla went into the bathroom, locked the door, and started to draw a long, hot bath.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam pushed aside a stack of papers and leaned back in his chair, swiveling to take in the panoramic view of Miami at dusk, the lights of the city just starting to glow. They’d been back from the Keys two weeks now, and it surprised him how quickly he’d settled into the routine of having not just a wife but a four-year-old child and a teenage girl living in his house.

  He had to admit, Olivia had turned out to be a pleasant surprise. So far she hadn’t invited throngs of teenagers over, or raided his beer fridge, or shown up at the front door without her key at two o’clock in the morning. Or done any of those other outrageous things his acquaintances with teenage daughters were always moaning about. He frowned. In fact, she was almost too good. Whenever she wasn’t looking after JD, she was usually out on the terrace curled up with a book or in her room playing her guitar. He didn’t know a lot about the kind of music she played, but he had a feeling she was pretty damn good.

  It just wasn’t healthy for a girl her age to be at home 24-7, so he’d suggested that she might want to come into the office with him a few days a week.

  Her eyes had lit up. “You mean, like a job?”

  “Yeah, like a job,” he’d told her.

  “And you’d pay me?” she’d asked, staring at him with what could only be considered a calculating look.

  He’d laughed and said of course he’d pay her, but if she needed money all she had to do was ask. He wondered, belatedly, if he should have been giving her some sort of allowance. But since he’d set up a separate account for Camilla he’d just assumed she was taking care of that sort of thing. He didn’t want to think she was stashing away whatever money he gave her for after the divorce, but he supposed it was possible.

  But Olivia had flashed an indulgent smile at him and rolled her eyes in the exaggerated way only a teenager could perfect, and told him no, she didn’t need the money, but if you actually got paid for working it looked just so, so much better on college applications. And since she was planning to be an entertainment lawyer, having a summer job at a law firm when she was only fifteen was “absolutely insane,” which he took to mean it was a good thing.

  She’d come in with him every day so far this week, and was already making herself invaluable to half a dozen legal assistants. And if her work involved more emergency runs to Starbucks than to the courthouse, well, at least she was soaking up the atmosphere of a busy law firm.

  He reached back on the credenza and clicked on the digital frame he’d loaded with photos of the “honeymoon” so his staff would stop haranguing him for pictures of his oh-so-romantic elopement. He watched the photos rotate through the wedding shots, the candlelit dinner, the two of them on the beach, catching some air on the Jet Skis, Camilla laughing into the camera, eyes seeming to sparkle with happiness. Good. He nodded to himself, satisfied. Anyone who saw these pictures would be convinced he and Camilla were exactly what they seemed to be.

  In fact, there times when he was almost convinced himself. He’d been late to work three times in the past week because Camilla had gotten up early and slipped into the shower with him. He closed his eyes for a moment. The first time he had been standing under the hot spray, the steam rising around him, dual showerheads streaming water onto his body. He’d sensed her before he felt her.

  Then she’d slipped her
arms around him, touching him, until he’d spun around and taken her in the heat and the wet and the steam, pressing her body against the tile wall. In those moments there were no lies, no secrets, no mistrust between them. It felt primitive. It felt…right.

  He shook his head, clearing his thoughts as a photo of Camilla sipping champagne in her wedding dress faded into another of the two of them, hands joined, standing on the balcony looking out at the sunset. Sometimes it seemed like sex was the only thing in their lives that wasn’t as carefully staged as the wedding photographs. But there were those rare moments when she would look over at him in the middle of something mundane, like pouring a glass of orange juice or tossing her keys on the marble table by the door, and he could swear there was real affection in her smile. Moments like that made him want to have a real conversation with her—let his guard down like he had all those years ago in Las Vegas and share things that really mattered—instead of just exchanging superficial comments about their day, two polite strangers living in the same house.

  And there was that time just last week, when he’d come home from the office much later than usual, planning to be up most of the night preparing for a difficult hearing, and realized he’d used the last of his favorite strong coffee just that morning…only to find a fresh bag of it sitting on the kitchen counter, and a note saying there was a plate of food in the warming drawer and he shouldn’t forget to eat. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken the time or trouble to anticipate his needs like that. Truthfully, no one ever had.