The Temporary Bride

by Marquita Valentine

  “That talk we had about your experiences and then when I was hitting on you while we were dancing…”

  “I remember.”

  “Don’t worry, Haven. All I plan to do this week is be in vacation mode. Maybe you should try it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she agreed, shocking him. “I can’t remember the last time I took one.”

  “Then prepare yourself, Mrs. Ambrose, I’m about to vacation you so good that you’ll never want to come back.”

  Haven huffed, but he caught a glimpse of the smile on her face. The sight of it made him gave him the same feeling as when the Buccaneers won against the Braves.

  On top of the world. Nothing could stop him.

  Then again, his team had gone on to lose against the Yankees.

  Chapter Ten

  ‡

  The bellhop stepped opened the door to their hotel room, pulling the cart with their luggage attached and unloading it. After tipping and thanking the man, Heath secured the door behind him.

  “Would you like some champagne?”

  “No, and you didn’t have to change plans on me. I’d rather we stayed at the beach house.”

  At the very last minute, he decided against the family beach house and had called The Magnificent Dunes for a suite. It felt odd taking her to the beach house, and not on a proper honeymoon, no matter how celibate she wanted to be. “Maybe so, but I think this is better. Besides, the suite has two beds, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Haven muttered as they walked deeper inside the room.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say to her. He hadn’t expected the entire suite to be outfitted for lovebirds.

  Rose petals practically covered the bed. A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice with two flutes ready to be filled. Chocolate-covered strawberries in a crystal bowl.

  Her expression softened. “You had them do all this for me?”

  “Not exactly,” he admitted. “I let them know we were on our honeymoon, but I didn’t suggest any of this.”

  “Because it would be an awkward ending to an already awkward day,” she said. “Go us.”

  He looked at her, standing in the middle of a suite meant for romance while wearing a wedding dress that was meant for a dream wedding. He might not know everything about weddings, but he had sisters and they’d schooled him every chance they got.

  “Why don’t you change first, and I’ll get us a table at Bluebelle.”

  “Fine.” She trudged to the dresser and unzipped her suitcase, pulling out clothes. “I need your help.”

  “Getting dressed?”

  “No.” She presented him with her back. “There’s no zipper.”

  He glanced at the tiny buttons, then at his big fingers. “I’m not sure this will work.”

  “Always worked in romance novels.”

  “Read those, do you?”

  “I switch between those and comic books.”

  “What one are you reading now?” he asked.

  “Start at the top,” she said. “I’m reading Runaways. It’s about a group of kids who find out their parents are villains and work together to stop them.”

  “Sounds like a movie I’d like to see.”

  “You’re not into books?”

  “Is that a question or sarcasm?”

  Her eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror in front of them. “A question.”

  “I don’t have a lot of time to read for pleasure, but when I was younger, Rick Riordan was my go-to guy.”

  “Me, too. I loved his mythical gods series.”

  Concentrating on pushing buttons the size of the tip of his pinky finger through loops of fabric, he tried not to get turned on, but with every slide, another glimpse of her creamy skin was revealed. Teasing him. Making him want to press his mouth against the exposed area.

  He had to stop, or he’d give into his urges, and there was no telling how she’d respond to that. His fingers began to shake, but not from the effort. It was becoming very apparent that she wasn’t wearing a bra, but even more stunning was the fact that a line of butterflies was tattooed down her spine.

  “When did you get these?” he asked.

  “Three years ago.” She tipped up her chin. “Do they disgust you?”

  “Hardly.” He ran his fingers down her back, tracing the lines that marked her skin in the most erotic of ways. She shivered under his touch and he couldn’t stop the smile that kicked up the corners of his mouth. “These are pretty. Delicate, yet bold. They’re you.”

  His other hand went to her shoulder, caressing the flowers that bloomed on her arm. “They make me want to get even closer to you.” He wanted to run his nose along her skin, see if the floral scent she wore was, in fact, skin deep.

  “Oh.” She licked her lips. “One in five people have tattoos.”

  “Two out of two people in this room have tattoos.” He went back to unbuttoning her dress.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never seen yours.”

  “Want to?” The last button went through the loop, and her dress began to fall forward.

  With a gasp, she caught it, pressing her hands against her chest. “Show me.”

  “All right.”

  Haven watched as Heath’s fingers went to his shirt, the same fingers that had touched her with such seductive skill and made her shiver. Made her thighs clench together.

  She had to stop letting him get to her like that, but it was her own fault. Her dress actually had a zipper, but she wanted the excuse for him to touch her.

  Had she stopped there? When he’d revealed that he had tattoos, she just had to open her big mouth.

  Under her watchful gaze, Heath made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. She slowly turned around, wanting to view him up close and personal.

  His shoulders were broad, his chest muscular, his eight-pack defied reason, and his arms defined… oh, his arms… they were works of art. Heavily corded, the muscles under the skin ripped as he moved his hands to the button of his pants.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

  “Showing you my tattoos.” He toed out of his shoes, hooked his thumbs into his pants, and pushed them down, then stepped out of them and his socks. With a wicked grin, he pulled one side of his boxer briefs down, revealing the number twenty-three.

  “Jersey number,” he said.

  “Is that all?” Please don’t let that be all. She wanted to see more of him. Forget more. She wanted to see every inch of him.

  “No.” He turned around to show her his back, and she almost let out the most embarrassing, lusty sigh. It wasn’t fair that she was married to a man whose body type met all of her requirements. Worse, it wasn’t fair that she could never do anything with his body.

  With a shake of her head, she stepped closer and found a series of numbers under his shoulder blade. “Is that a date?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is it important?” she asked, barely restraining herself from touching him like he had her.

  “Someone very important to me died.”

  “I’m sorry.” Without thinking, she kissed the spot.

  His entire body trembled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re more sentimental than I thought you’d be.” She kissed the spot again.

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  She began to massage his back, starting at the bottom and working her way up. “Then tell me.”

  “I cried when my dog died, and I still can’t stand the thought of getting another one because she meant so much to me. So part of that series of numbers is for her. That’s probably something a dumb jock would do.”

  “You’re not dumb, and I think it’s an incredible tribute.” Haven couldn’t stop her heart from pinching. “My parents died when I was ten, while they were deployed. It was a freak thing.” She held her arm out to where he could see it. “As soon as I turned eighteen, I had their names tattooed on
my wrist in the shape of a word that captured my feelings at the time.”

  He lifted her wrist and bent his head at the same time, brushing his lips over the spot that said Always.

  “And the other one?” he prompted, letting go of her arm.

  “Forever in honor of my grandparents. Do you have any more?”

  He shook his head, the golden streaks from his time spent outdoors catching the light.

  “Why not?”

  “Two’s enough for me.” One of his hands clenched into a fist. “At least for now.”

  “I have another, but it’s not… visible unless I’m nude or wearing a swimsuit.”

  He spun around, his blue eyes heated. “Show me.”

  If she let go her dress, she knew everything would change between them. If she let go of her dress and allowed him to touch her, then she wouldn’t let him stop.

  She wanted to taste his lips, savor his touch… because she would never, ever have the excuse or the opportunity to do it again.

  “Will you touch me again?” she asked, her chest heaving. Anticipation shot through her veins, heating her body.

  “Hell yes,” he said softly.

  Seconds passed, turning into minutes, but her hands refused to move. She was paralyzed by her own desires. “I want to let go, but I can’t.” She lifted her eyes to his face. “Help me.”

  As if in a dream, he dipped his head, kissed her sweetly. With infinite patience, he pried away her death grip on the barrier between them. The dress fell to the floor and his hands went under her thighs, lifting her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his strong neck. He smelled so good—like cut grass on a sunny day and that elusive scent that made him Heath.

  Without letting go, he lowered them both to the bed. Rose petals tickled her skin, made her hyper aware of her hard nipples as they brushed against his chest. Of the way their hips fit together and his erection.

  She moved restlessly against him, the massive hardness making her shamelessly wet. “I want you in me.”

  “In a minute,” he said, kissing his way down her body, sucking and biting at her breasts. He licked the line of poetry under her left breast, then took her nipple into his mouth and began to suck hard.

  She cried out his name and gripped his hair. He did the same to her other breast before pushing his arms straight and looking at her. Automatically, she tried to shield herself from his eyes, not because she was ashamed of her body, but because this was her at her most defenseless.

  Nothing was between them except his boxer briefs, and that wasn’t enough to protect her. He could see her, and if he could read her mind, then he would know how much this overwhelmed her. Not just physically, but emotionally.

  For years, she’d loved him from afar while taking every opportunity to torment him with her words.

  “You’re a without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He lowered himself a little, nuzzling her hands out of his way. “Need your sweet nipples in my mouth again.”

  “What if I want yours in mine?”

  “You’ll get your turn, Mrs. Ambrose.”

  This time, she didn’t correct him. This time, she leaned up on her elbows and nipped his bottom lip.

  “Hurry up,” she said.

  “No, ma’am.” He ran his hand down the center of her chest before stopping at her sex. He cupped her. “You might be ready to get this over with, but I want to take my time.”

  His fingers began to move, circling her clit and making her hips jump. “I don’t want to get this over with. I just want equal opportunity to explore you.”

  He slid two fingers inside of her and lowered his mouth to her breast. “Normally, I’d say ladies first and let you do what you like, but I’m already where I want to be.”

  She gasped, her back arching.

  “Besides, we have four days for you to have a turn.”

  Haven writhed beneath him, taking what he had to give her. He pulled her into a kneeling position on the bed, keeping his fingers deep. “Ride them. Come all over my hand.”

  Gripping his shoulders, she began to move her hips. His free hand went to her head and her hair fell to her shoulders, bits of birdseed scattering everywhere.

  “You are so damn beautiful,” he said again. “I can’t wait to see what you look like when you scream my name.”

  Somehow, he managed to take off his boxer briefs. His erection sprang free, making Haven gasp. “You’re… very impressive.”

  Smiling faintly, he curled his fingers inside of her and she let out a low moan. “So are you.”

  The pressure was too much, her body was too tight, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to have him.

  “Please.”

  He flicked her swollen clit. “Please what?”

  “Make love to me.”

  Withdrawing his fingers, he replaced them with his cock, the broad head nudging her entrance.

  Staring into her eyes, he simultaneously pushed up while pulling her down. She cried out and let her head fall back, her long hair touching the top of her bottom.

  He pressed her firmly against him, sat back on his calves, and began to move. Not an inch separated them.

  Cupping the back of her head, he fused her mouth to his and mimicked the motion of his cock with his tongue.

  She held onto him as he drove into her with solid strokes that had her sobbing his name. “Heath… please, Heath… stop torturing me.” Opening her eyes, she caught their reflection in the mirror. The two of them on the bed, his powerful body moving with hers as she straddled his lap. His back flexed, the muscles in his arms drawn tight as he drove deeper and deeper inside of her.

  Her ultimate fantasy come to life… Heath was inside of her, moving and stroking and kissing. It was too much. Her orgasm washed over her, making her come apart like she never had before. She tightened down on his cock, rolled her hips in time to his thrusts until he shoved deep inside of her, then quickly pulled out of her, turned her over, and groaned her name as hot splashes hit her skin.

  “Haven,” he murmured as he came to rest beside her. “That was… incredible.”

  She wasn’t sure how to take his compliment and instead of spouting off a random fact about the withdrawal method only having a failure rate of four percent while condoms had a failure rate of fifteen percent, to her horror, tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes.

  “Don’t, baby.” He kissed her tears away, cleaned her up, and gathered her in his lap. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know it’s been a while for you—I should have gone slower. Should have asked you if you were okay.”

  She shook her head, seeking his strength and warmth. “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m crying because that’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  Lifting her chin with his hand, he stared deeply into her eyes. She half-expected him to say something cocky, like damn right it was, but he didn’t.

  Instead, he tenderly kissed her lips and said, “It was the best I ever had, too.”

  *

  For the next four days, her life existed in the hotel suite with Heath. They didn’t leave, didn’t bother to put on clothes except when room service was delivered. They talked, they ate, and they made love—slowly and sweetly while other times he took her so hard and fast that she could barely keep up.

  Through it all, that invisible countdown that had disappeared when he agreed to marry her, had come back, in full force. Only this time, it was a reminder of how much time they had left as a couple.

  It made her frantic, made her reach for him and do things to his body that made him groan and call out her name. She loved the taste of his skin, his kiss, and the sounds he made when she took his cock into her mouth.

  But it was Saturday morning now. Time for them to return to the real world, and she wanted to cry at the unfairness of it while cursing her own stupidity for allowing him to get this close to her.

  “Want some help packing?”

  “No,” she said tightly, cr
amming her wedding dress in last. She knew she should be careful with it, but she was so ready to go that she couldn’t be bothered.

  “Willow’s going to yell at you,” he teased, and she wanted to cry even more.

  “So?”

  He took a step back, confusion on his face. “Have I done something, or said something wrong?”

  No, you’ve continued to be nothing but perfect and I can’t take it. “No. I’m just ready to go home.”

  He rubbed his ear. “I guess we need to talk about that.”

  “What is there to talk about? I live in Holland Springs, and sometimes, you live in Greenville when you’re not traveling.”

  “Yes, but we’re married and—”

  “Not for much longer. I’ll be calling my attorney’s assistant on Monday to get the paperwork going.”

  His jaw clenched. “For Chesson House to be put in your name?”

  “That, and…” She chickened out slightly. “Other stuff.”

  “Uh-huh.” He exhaled. “So that’s how it’s going to be.”

  She didn’t have it in her to argue with him. “That’s how it has to be.”

  Grabbing her suitcase, she bit her lip and looked away. “I had a nice time, Heath. Please take me home.”

  “Please take you home? Seriously? I’m not your chauffeur.”

  “You are my ride.”

  “Yeah, and you rode me every chance you got,” he pointed out, and she gritted her teeth to keep from snapping back at him.

  “You don’t have to be crude,” she said evenly.

  “Damn it. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to start this with you. Look, I get this is new for us, but with everything we shared over the past few days, don’t you think we could—?”

  “It won’t work. Now, are you going to take me home, or do I need to find another ride?” Lifting her head, she kept her face relaxed but remote. It wasn’t easy, especially with the way he was staring at her with hurt and confusion in his dark blue eyes.

  They hardened. “I’ll take you home, and afterwards, you won’t have to deal with me again.”

  Chapter Eleven

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  Later that afternoon, Heath went to his brother’s house. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would share with Carter, but one thing he did know was that he could always count on his brother to listen.