Twice Tempted (Holland Springs)

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Twice Tempted (Holland Springs) Page 14

by Marquita Valentine


  Raising her brows, she smiled. “Pulling out all the stops for my last night in Vegas, huh? I’m impressed.”

  “I want it to be something you’ve never experienced. Hell, it’ll be new for me.”

  Music sounded to the right of them. Men and women emerged from the crowd, joining in.

  Zoe swayed lightly to the beat while she stood in front of him, then froze. His jaw dropped.

  Brennen had kept his promise. ‘Smack that’ didn’t leave anyone’s mouth. It was worse. Much, much worse.

  When the last notes faded away, she turned to face him. “Did you mean it or was that for everyone else?” Her dark eyes were luminous and vulnerable.

  He couldn’t do this, not to her. No matter how much his agent would love this kind of new about him. Not even for an organization like B.T.S. It was too cruel, too permanent. And he had enough sins weighing him down.

  But his heart had other ideas. There would never be another moment like this, so perfect and right. He would never have another woman look at him like Zoe was looking at him right now. Like he’d hung the moon and stars for her. She didn’t see him as Ian Romanov the actor. She knew him, down to his most guarded secrets, as Christian Romanov, the man.

  As if coming from a far off distance he heard himself ask, “Will you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, throwing her arms around him.

  Then he kissed her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Young Elvis winked and shot a finger pistol at them as Christian carried her out of main room of the chapel.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” Zoe shouted in her best Elvis voice. Her head swam from the all the glasses of champagne she’d drunk while they were waiting for their turn. Who knew so many people came to the Little White Church or was it the den of iniquity? Too bad she didn’t have her notepad with her.

  Christian set her on her feet and she lurched to one side.“Hang on there, Mrs. Romanov.”

  Reaching around him to grab another glass, she’d only taken a few sips before he snatched it away. “Hey, that’s mine.”

  “I think you’ve had enough, love. Can’t have you puking your guts up on our wedding night.”

  Her vision blurred, then his fallen angel face came into focus. “Would you hold my hair back if I did? And then feed me Bo’ Jangles the next morning?”

  “Is that a cure for a hangover?”

  She giggled. “Always worked in college.”

  “Were you a wild-child in college? We never discussed Zoe: The College Years.”

  “No, I was very, very good.” She dramatically sighed, thinking of all the times Melanie hadn’t talked her into going out. “All I did was study, study and study some more. No playtime for me.”

  “Not even once?” He smiled at her and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him.

  “Once I was very, very naughty.” She held a finger to her lips. "Don’t tell my momma, but I did it again tonight.”

  “I would think all mothers would love their daughters getting married.”

  “You haven’t met my mother.”

  “She can’t be that bad.”

  “That’s what you think. My mother tends to be dramatic.” She swept her arm out, smacking a vase of flowers and sending the entire thing crashing to the floor. “Oops! I’m sorry. So sorry, Young Elvis.”

  “Add it to our bill,” Christian said.

  “Thanks for not minding my non-sportsiness.”

  “That’s not a real word.”

  She tried to give him an imposing frown. “It’s my wedding night, and I can say what I like.” She let go of him and leaned against the wall. “And I likey that word.”

  “Lucky for you I can afford your un-non, er, sporty stuff.”

  “Non-sportsiness,” she corrected. “And I can afford myself.”

  “But I like taking care of you.” Christian looked down at his bride as her eyes closed, faint smudges of mascara under them.

  She’d cried when they kissed as man and wife. Then she’d gotten really happy, kissing the preacher and the Elvis impersonator. Hell, he had to stop her before she’d kissed the groom waiting to go next. Not that the guy minded, but Christian sure as hell had. The guy’s fiancée hadn’t looking too excited about the prospect either. Even Zoe had noticed and had thrown her bouquet at the woman, telling her to turn her frown upside down.

  Frowning, she mumbled something about her hair. He glanced at her head. The makeshift crown of pink and green flowers she’d put in her hair while they had waited had wilted, but she looked rather enchanting. Her little pink dress made her look bride like. The marriage certificate made it official.

  Come tomorrow he would either kill Brennen or thank him. Maybe do both, then go on a long honeymoon in a country that didn’t extradite criminals.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets to find his phone, texting Sasha with a few instructions. He needed a ring for his bride, and not just any ring either.

  They’d almost skipped over the ring portion of the ceremony, until he remembered the one in his pocket. He suspected Sasha had slipped the thing in his pocket. He also suspected Sasha was in cahoots with Brennen. But why?

  She fussed at the platinum circle when it hit the floor for the hundredth time. “Oh, you slippery little sucker. You better stay in place this time.”

  He stifled a grin.

  “Here’s your copy of the pictures and video of your wedding,” the manager of the chapel said, handing Christian a flash drive decorated with faux diamonds.

  “Thanks,” Christian said. Zoe would be enormously pleased when she had a chance to view them. She had oohed and ahhed over all the Wall Of Matrimonial Bliss. Such a little romantic he’d married.

  His little romantic fell on her butt.

  “Sorry, it’s the champagne,” she said, her words slurring. “Champagne. CHAM-pagne. Does that word sound funny to you? Cham-Pagne.” The ring fell in her lap. “Darn it, my wedding ring slipped again. It’s too big for me. Like you.”

  At least she was a happy drunk unlike his mother who’d wept and railed at the world over what a bastard his father was until the day she’d left. Although, he was inclined to agree with her assessment of Vladimir.

  He brushed away the melancholy thoughts.

  After texting Sasha, again, when he didn’t reply, he sat beside Zoe, but she had other ideas and parked herself in his lap. He groaned as her cute little bottom ground into his groin.

  “You okay? Want me to kiss your owie?”

  His what? “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not.” She plunged her hands between his legs.

  “Carefu—ow,” he yelped as her fingers pinched him on the thigh. Now the word made complete sense.

  She grabbed his hand, holding it up to the light. “I’m really sorry I stabbed you.” Her lips were gentle as they moved over the faint scar. “Poor baby.”

  “It’s nothing, Zoe.”Actually, he quite liked the fuss she made over him.

  “Love,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I love it when you call me love. No one calls me love. No one loves me, but you.” Her hand crept around his neck. “And I love you, too. Only you, my husband and I lahve him. You.”

  She tried kissing him, missed and nearly high-fived the wall with her face. He managed to stop her just in time by grabbing her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “Are you going to start singing again? The couple in front of us did enjoy your rendition of “Somebody to Love” and you had the entire chapel joining in on the chorus.” Christian smiled fondly at the recent memory.

  “Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help,” she sang in her off-key, but sweet voice. She leaned back in his arms and gazed up at him. “I forgot the rest. Sing it to me.”

  “You did not.”

  “Please.” She batted her lashes at him, and he caved faster than sandcastle hit by a wave.

  “Falling in love with you.”


  “I knew it.” She curled against him. “You remembered our song.”

  He held her close, stroking her back until he thought she’d fallen asleep. It ate at him that he couldn’t remember meeting her, much less their first kiss. And God help him if he was right about it being more than a kiss. A mixture of shame and remorse tried to invade his soul, but he held the emotions at bay. Surely, if it was that important, that involved, she would tell him.

  After all she’d told him about the man that had broken her heart.

  “I’m ready for my honeymoon, Mr. Romanov.”

  So was he, but making love to an inebriated woman was high on his list of things he never did anymore. “You’re drunk.”

  “Am not,” she argued, kissing his neck.

  He shivered. “We’ll see.”

  ***

  “Make love to me.”

  “We can’t.”

  What the hell was he doing anyway? It had all started with a good night kiss and had quickly turned into her pulling him to the bed. And of course he’d followed her down. And of course it had made complete sense to kiss her again.

  Her toes caressed his ankles while her hands explored the inside of his shirt, rubbing her palms against his chest. And he was acting like a damn schoolboy, running his fingers through her long, silky hair and tickling the side of her face with one of the flowers he plucked from the crown she’d made.

  “Yes, we can. All you have to do is insert part C into part Z,” she teased.

  He made another pass with the petals of the rose he was holding, highlighting her eyebrows. “You’ve got an instruction manual in your carry-on?” he murmured, pressing his lips against hers.

  “It’s written in the language of love.”

  “I speak that particular language fluently.” Oh, good God. Someone make it stop. She’d kill him when she remembered the ridiculous lines he’d just used on her.

  “Be my tutor.” Her tongue slid in his mouth to coax and tease until his followed. When she sucked on it, his dick throbbed in response.

  Holy hell, he had to stop while he could. “Zoe, you’re drunk and I don’t want you to regret this.” He pulled away, resting his head on the pillow beside her. He closed his eyes as her hands ran up and down his back.

  “I wouldn’t. Not one bit,” she said, her words feathery light in his ear. She scooted closer, her curvy body molding to his once more.

  He untangled his body from hers and sat up, shoving his legs over the side of the bed and gripping the covers so he wouldn’t touch her again. “It’s not that I don’t want to because, God help me I do.”

  “Wait! I have to tell you something,” she said, tugging at his shirt. “It’s really important. My name—”

  “Just a minute, love.” He jumped up from the bed and strode into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. “No touching the wife. Keep your damn hands to yourself. She’s drunk.” Grimacing, he swiped a hand towel over his face. “Now all you have to do is go in there, tell her good night and sleep in one of the other five bedrooms in this place. Alone. Again.”

  Just how many times could they come so close, but never finish? Only for tonight. One more night and then he’d make love to her until he couldn’t or keeled over.

  He blew out a long breath, confident he could resist her. He walked back to the bedroom to find his bride sound asleep, with one hand under her cheek and her lips slightly parted.

  Gazing at the ceiling, he mouthed a thank you.

  After covering her up and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, he tilted his head from side to side and joints popped, relieving some tension. He ached to join her. And why shouldn’t he? He could wake her up in the morning with kisses and—

  She sighed, rolling to her back and making her dress dip dangerously low. Her breasts rose with every breath. Instantly, he was rock hard and throbbing for relief. With a restraint he wasn’t aware he possessed, he back away.

  “Good night,” he whispered and left the room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zoe’s eyes popped open. She sat up, looking around the unfamiliar bedroom.

  The unfamiliar weight on her ring finger caught her attention as the previous night’s events came rushing back. Flash Mob. Little White Chapel. Skinny Elvis. Kissing Christian in bed. Not only that, she had pleaded and begged him to have sex with her. He’d refused not once, not twice but three times.

  Groaning, she fell back on the pillow and stretched an arm over her eyes.

  “Good morning, wife. Already regretting last night?”

  She jerked up, watching as Christian pressed a button on his way to her. The curtains moved into hidden chambers in the wall. “Of course not.” She blinked and squinted at the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows.

  The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he sat down. He looked completely sexy and ready for the day while she had morning breath and bedhead. A sneaky glance at the mirror directly across from the bed made her want to yank the sheet over her head, and not come out again until he left.

  “Feel like eating?” His blue eyes were sympathetic.

  Her stomach growled. “Maybe some dry toast and a glass of orange juice.” That usually calmed her stomach.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, rising from the bed.

  As soon as he left the room, she raced to the bathroom. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” she chanted. After seeing to her most pressing need first, she washed her hands, rinsed her mouth out with some mouthwash and scrubbed at her face. There wasn’t much she could do for her hair, but she managed to make the side sticking up lay back down.

  Well, at least she didn’t look like she could scare him into an annulment. He was probably used to waking up with women whose hair was gently tousled and their makeup sleep proof. Not smeared to look like a before picture.

  She made it back to bed and slid under the covers before Christian returned.

  He coughed, then sat down beside her. “We need to talk about last night.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she moaned. Insert part C into part Z. Could she have sounded more ridiculous? Oh, wait she could and had. It’s written in the language of love.

  “But you were so hot. So wild and uninhibited. No matter how many times I told you we couldn’t do it on the balcony, you insisted. And as your husband, it’s my duty to make you happy.” He stroked the side of her face. “My little wildcat.”

  She tried swallowing, but her mouth felt like gauze had been stuffed into it. Not only had they had sex, but she had been an exhibitionist. To make matters worse, she didn’t remember anything. “I…uh, that is…”

  Christian looked hurt and his hand fell away. “It wasn’t good for you? Did I fail to live up to your expectations?”

  Horrified, she shook her head. There was no way she was going to admit she didn’t remember their time together. “Oh, no, you were… awesome.” Awesome? She was a best-selling novelist and that’s the best adjective she could come up with? She racked her brain. “It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Almost like I wasn’t myself.” It had to be because blanks kept coming up when she tried to rewind her memories. She had the absurd notion to scream her fool head off in frustration.

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “Don’t you mean almost like it didn’t happen?”

  She gasped, then grabbed the pillow beside her and began smacking him with it. “You mean, teasing thing.”

  He laughed and blocked her blows. In one swift move, he had her wrists pinned to the bed.

  “I missed you, Zoe.” He licked at a small spot on her neck. Heat spread through her body in languorous waves. “Tonight, I’m going to make love to you until you’ve forgotten your name. Until you only exist for my pleasure and me for yours. I’m going to be so deep inside of you that we fuse from the heat of our bodies.”

  “Knock, knock. Are you two indecent?” came a male voice, with a British accent.

  Christian looked at her with such longing that it
took her breath away. Releasing her wrists, he turned to face their intruder. “Have I ever told you, Sasha, that your timing leaves much to be desired?”

  “Hello, beautiful. Here’s the toast and orange juice you ordered.” Sasha gestured to the tray now resting on the nightstand. He sat down beside Zoe. “Gave the butler the day off.”

  “Um, thank you,” she said, sounding very prim and proper.

  “Shall I feed it to you, dear?” asked Sasha with a wink.

  Her eyes grew as round as DVDs before she looked at Christian with ‘help me’ practically written all over her face.

  He pulled her over to his lap and reached for the tray, balancing it with one hand and settling it in her lap. “My wife can feed herself.” He grabbed the toast out of her hand and held it up to her mouth. “Here.”

  She took a small bite. As she chewed, he could almost see the gears turning in her head.

  Sasha’s knowing eyes roved over Zoe, and it was all Christian could do not to punch him. Good God. He was jealous. Pure and simple. He was now one of those guys, with the potential to punch another bloke out first and ask questions later.

  “He’s such a spoilsport,” Sasha said. “Never lets me do a damn thing. Are you into ménage, darling?”

  The toast fell to the tray. “Excuse me?”

  Christian felt her body tense. “For God’s sake, Sasha, this is my wife.”

  “Never stopped you before.”

  She made a face.“You two—”

  “Not with me, of course. He did that with—”Christian punched him in the arm. “What?”

  “Alexander, you are not helping,” Christian ground out.

  “I thought his name was Sasha?”

  “Only when I like him.”

  Sasha raised a brow. “I thought we were getting to know one another.”

  “That’s called too much information, Alexander.” She set the tray to the side, then grabbed the glass of juice.

  Sasha cupped his hands behind his head and shifted his hips from side to side. “This bed is actually quite comfortable. A lot of spring to help with—What now?”

  “Out.” Christian pointed at the bedroom door.

  Sasha crossed one ankle over the other. “Think I’ll stay here, mate.”

 

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