by Dani Collins
Like when a man asked her to come to his hotel room? Or pressured her into marriage? Jun Li’s heart fishtailed in his chest.
“You’ll be good for her. You’re notoriously self-sufficient. Nothing like that vampire of needs who had her throwing away a promotion in Hong Kong so he could throw her away. What an idiot,” Kevin scoffed. “His loss was supposed to be my gain. That’s why I introduced you two at our engagement party. I wanted to find a place for Ivy in my office. Thanks, by the way, for stealing her away and killing that masterful plan.”
Jun Li had a flash of where he would be right now if Kevin had made that clear to him. Ivy would have been off-limits and none of this would have happened. He took a deep sip of his scotch to burn away the uncomfortable dryness that arrived in the back of his throat.
“When I saw her again a few weeks ago, I was planning to feel her out on working for me, but she asked whether you’d be coming to our wedding. She was wearing the guiltiest, most painfully casual look I’ve ever pretended to believe. Have you been seeing her this whole time?”
Jun Li licked his lips. “Not exactly.”
“Hmm.” The noise was neither pleased nor dismayed.
That shouldn’t bother him, but Kevin was his closest friend. “Look, you know why I’ve avoided serious relationships. I felt stretched too thin as it was.”
His instincts had been correct there, too. He had feared the responsibility of a wife and child would put him into a depression, and the sense of not being enough had been closing in on him for days.
“I know.” Kevin gave the back of his shoulder an affectionate slap. “Ivy might remind me of my sister, but you are like a brother to me.” They had never spoken frankly about why Jun Li had opened his home to Kevin even though he had felt alone for so long by then, he had come to believe he preferred it. “I want you to be happy, Jun Li. I believe Ivy could make you happy. If you let her.”
His response ought to have been, I am happy. It was his wedding day. But he didn’t know what happiness was. It was hard for Jun Li to say he was even content. He experienced brief moments of satisfaction over accomplishments, which was what he’d been feeling until Ivy had fainted.
He was filled with self-criticism at not having predicted her faint. He’d been distracted, ruminating over her reaction when he had mentioned staying in bed all day. The thought of making love to her was the only thing keeping him sane through this demanding week. Once they were married, she would be his. He couldn’t wait to make it so.
She’d looked conflicted, though.
He wasn’t about to force himself on her, especially when she was passing out from low blood sugar and exhaustion.
Ivy looked over then. Her smile faltered as she met whatever severity his thoughts were putting into his expression. After a disconcerted blink, she offered a warm smile to Kevin. Kevin nodded at Jun Li and went across to wish her well.
Someone else came up to him, and Jun Li threw himself back into thanking their departing guests while privately continuing to brood.
* * *
Ivy was still feeling sheepish over her faint when she and Jun Li entered his penthouse a short distance from the hotel. Bridal shyness accosted her. After a week when they’d begun to feel more like business partners than romantic ones, she was ready to explore a deeper, more intimate connection, but she was ridiculously self-conscious about making love again.
Everything had changed since their first time. She had. Their relationship had. In Vancouver she’d felt more like his equal, muscle car and five-star hotel room notwithstanding. She had known that she wouldn’t see him again, so the emotional stakes had been minimized.
Now their lives were irrevocably tied. Whatever happened between them tonight would carry over into the next day and the next for the rest of their lives.
What if it wasn’t like it had been in Vancouver? What if the passion was only on her side and she went off like a firecracker the way she had in Singapore, making a fool of herself?
Jun Li had been watching her like a hawk since her faint, and not in a good way. She felt as though a wall had come down between them, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Aside from his butler, the place was deserted. As soon as the man pointed out the refreshments he’d left for them, Jun Li dismissed him.
Ivy sank onto the sofa, trying to read her husband as he filled a bowl with soup and brought it to her.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked as she accepted the soup.
“I’m angry with myself. I could see you were tired.” He sat next to her and pointed at her foot then patted his thigh.
She carefully shifted her position and set her shod feet in his lap then sipped the fragrant ginger-scented broth while he unbuckled her shoes and eased them away. He dropped them, then rubbed through the blue silk of her hose where the straps had left small indents across the tops of her feet.
“Why are you wearing shoes that are too small?”
“My feet are swollen from being on them all day.”
He sighed. “I expect you to tell me when I’m asking too much of you.” His grip shifted, gently crushing her arch so the tension released.
It made for a confusing contrast of dull pain and sharp relief. Of feeling like she was being punished but doted on at the same time. She bit back a groan.
“I kept thinking it was only a little bit longer—” she started to say.
“Isn’t that what you thought with that other man?” He gently bent her toes back and forth. “That you only had to put up with his disregard a little longer?”
“That was different,” she protested, practically shuddering as the flex and relaxation in her feet caused her whole body to melt.
“I promised I wouldn’t ignore your needs. I’ll be more careful with you from now on, blossom, but I need your help. I’m not a mind reader.” He gave her foot another firm squeeze.
She couldn’t help her moan of pleasure-pain. Her eyelids fluttered closed.
“That feels so good,” she sighed.
“Finish your soup.” He kept rubbing her feet while she sipped. He rolled her ankles and massaged up her calves. By the time she had drained her bowl and she set it aside, she was a puddle of flesh.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?”
“That sounds nice.” Her shoulders and upper chest had been dusted with pearlescent glitter for this dress. She was dying to wash it away and lose these false eyelashes along with the rest of her makeup.
Jun Li went down the hall. She walked shoeless to the table, where she prepared a plate of finger foods they could enjoy in the tub.
When she caught up to him, he was lighting floating candles in the water-filled bowls that stood on the three stairs leading up to the tub. Bubble bath was beginning to froth in the water, releasing a calming aroma of lavender.
“You are hungry,” he said wryly as he took the plate from her and set it on a shelf within reach of the tub.
“It’s for both of us.” She turned her back to him so he could open her zipper.
The silence that greeted her remark had her lifting her gaze to the mirror.
His profile had become very remote as he slowly slid the zip down. The freedom to draw a deeper breath was profound, but even though it was warm in here, she shivered and defensively clasped the gown to her front.
“You’re not planning to join me?” Why did that hurt so much?
“You’re tired. There’s no rush,” he said, very offhand, as if he didn’t care one way or another if they ever made love again. It drove a fresh spike of agony through her.
Ivy had spent the last week counting down the minutes until they would be together again, when she could discover if they still had, at the very least, the passion that had made this baby they had married for.
Throat aching, she moved to the sink and peeled off her
lashes, then began to pull the decorative pins from her hair. It caused her dress to slump to her hips.
Jun Li was turned away, closing the taps on the bath. Ivy hurried to wriggle free of her dress and toss it over the back of a wooden chair. She took up the silk robe that had been artfully draped there and started to shrug it on before Jun Li saw what she was wearing.
The room was nothing but mirrors, though. He turned his head, caught her reflection from the corner of his eye and did a swift double take, swinging around and swearing under his breath.
“What?” Her heart leaped into her throat, but she acted as casual as possible as she started to close the robe over the underwear she’d chosen for his pleasure. Heaven knows, it wasn’t for her comfort.
At the last second, however, a prickle of defiance stopped her from belting the robe. She turned to the mirror and held it open, cocking her head as she regarded herself.
“I chose blue to go with the dress. It’s pretty with the necklace, isn’t it?” The strapless bra was more of a bustier with blue satin cups and a white lace overlay that hugged her ribs. Below it, she wore blue satin cheekies with a white lace garter belt. It held up the blue hose that looked closer to black in this low light.
“You should have seen it with the shoes.” She went up on her toes, noting that he was paying very close attention and looked rather feral as shadows appeared in his hollow cheeks.
A pulse of triumph scattered butterflies of danger within her.
She dropped back to flat feet and said, “But there’s no rush. Is there?”
It was a challenge, absolutely. Probably not a wise one.
When she would have belted the robe, he appeared behind her like some sort of avenging angel and tangled his hands with hers, so she was captured in the circle of his arms. Trapped, but not crushed. Pinned by the reflection of his fierce gaze meeting hers in the glass.
“I was trying to be considerate,” he growled.
“I’ll tell you if I’m not up for sex.”
“Will you?”
It was a dig at her driving herself into a faint earlier.
“Yes,” she said petulantly.
As if to test her, he tugged the belt free and opened the robe himself, exposing her to the mirror and taking another long look over her shoulder.
The naked desire in his face made warmth run into all her erogenous zones. She shifted restlessly and became aware of his hardness against her backside. She flashed him a wary look, and he quirked a brow.
“Will you tell me if you are?” he asked. “Up for sex?” His voice seemed to have dropped several octaves so it reverberated from within his chest against her back.
“This underwear is a bit of a neon sign, isn’t it?” she tried to joke, but she was very aware that he was still drinking her in with the most ravenous, lustful look on his face. It was both heartening and exciting but made her wonder what she had started.
“I think I’d like to hear it,” he said softly, fingertips trailing across the naked skin of her midriff before he traced his thumb beneath one breast. “To be absolutely sure.”
“I want to,” she whispered, distracted by the sharp ache that came into her breasts. They were already swollen and tight. His light caress made her nipples sting and chafe against the satin cups.
“You want what? To be touched?” His thumb climbed higher and higher while his other hand brushed aside her hair. “Kissed?” He opened his mouth against her nape.
Her knees went soft. “Yes. Both. Everything.”
“Oh, be careful what you invite, blossom.” His teeth lightly scraped against the side of her neck, making her scalp tighten while she reflexively slouched into him. Her breast fell into his palm, and he gave her nipple a light pinch through the cup.
It was enough to make a sob pang in her throat, more alarm at the threat of pain than the real thing, but her reaction was quick and instinctive.
He started to jerk his hand away, but she covered it to keep it there.
“They’re really sensitive,” she said. “Just be gentle.”
“Are they?” His touch drew patterns on the swells above the edge of the cup while his lips nibbled at her earlobe, heavy with the dangling blue diamond she was wearing. “I won’t suck your nipples, then. I’ll only taste and blow on them.”
He blew softly against her damp earlobe. She gasped at the sensation, half-drunk with passion from a few words of a sensual promise. She tried to turn, but he didn’t let her.
“Are you hurt? Do you want to stop?” His smile flashed.
“You know I don’t.”
“What then?”
“Keep going. Touch me. Show me what you want,” she dared, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“I want all of you.” He held her stare while his hand went down from her breast, down her center, down, down until he cupped her mound. “I want this.” He pressed his touch over her, possessively claiming her. “I want to feel you melt and hear you scream my name.”
She was shaking with want, throbbing beneath the pressure of his hand.
“Open your legs,” he commanded softly. “Let me touch you.”
She did. He shifted his touch so his fingertips stole down the front of her cheekies. It was blatant, both of them watching as his flattened fingers petted down her sensitive flesh. The garter belt framed his caress as he rocked his hand inside the satin. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Are you breathing, blossom? I don’t want you to faint again,” he teased.
She was gasping with anticipation. Aching and needy. Biting her lip as he took his time tracing into the furrow of her folds, intensifying her sensations. A rumbling noise of satisfaction tickled her ear as his touch moved freely in the moisture gathered there.
“I’ve wanted you for months.” His mouth swept her neck again. “Since that night. It’s all I’ve thought about. Feeling you shaking and digging your nails into me again.”
Was she? One of her hands was up around his neck, the other gripped his upper arm through his sleeve. He still wore his shirt and pants, the crispness of the fabric a further stimulation through the layer of silk against her back.
“Let me watch you come apart.” His touch began to roll and dip and slide against the small knot of nerves that were already dancing waves of escalating pleasure through her. “Move with me. Show me how to make it good.”
She couldn’t resist his command. Her hips began to rock. She ground her bottom against his hardness while he played his touch inside the satin and lace. His cheeks grew flushed with excitement as he watched them. As she saw what her pleasure was doing to him, hers increased, making their sexual play that much more erotic.
Her excitement reached breaking point. Climax swept up and over her. She called out his name and shattered in his arms.
CHAPTER NINE
FOR THE SECOND time tonight, Jun Li picked up Ivy.
This time she wasn’t a dead weight in his arms. She was weak with postorgasmic lethargy and coiled her arms around his neck, offering her mouth. He spared a moment to ravage her, holding back nothing since she met his kiss with equal abandonment. Her mouth opened unreservedly beneath his. Her tongue brushed against his while she moaned and pressed the back of his head, urging him to kiss her harder.
He was so aroused, he could have taken her to the floor, but he wasn’t consummating their marriage on the hard tiles of a bathroom. He dragged his head up and strode to the bedroom, where he set her on his bed. He began yanking at his clothes.
“Don’t take that off,” he ordered when she flicked at a clasp against the top of her hose.
“You do like what I’m wearing.” She smoothed her hand over one knee and arranged herself more provocatively, weight propped on an elbow. She hooked her other thumb in the top of her underpants. “These don’t come off unless I release the garter straps.” She crooked her knee
up and popped the second clasp.
“Let me do it, then.” His guttural voice didn’t sound like his own. He was sinking into a barbaric one-track head space that originated nowhere near his head. It was the abandonment of control he’d been avoiding, and it took everything in him to keep himself this side of civilized.
He rolled her over, nearly dying at the way the underside of her plump cheeks was outlined in blue satin and white lace. He wanted to bite those tender, buttercream-colored swells.
“I’m going to give you a special allowance to spend exclusively on lingerie,” he informed her as he blindly kicked away his trousers. “I should have written it into our contract as a marital requirement.”
She propped herself on her elbows and gave him a sultry look over her shoulder, kicking one foot. “You realize how much power you’re giving me? If I dent the car or burn the cookies, I’ll buy a thong before I tell you.”
“Dent all my cars.” He was naked and so aroused, he was shaking.
He braced one knee on the bed to survey the lissome shape that had dominated his fantasy life for months. Finally, he could touch her again. He did, running his hand over the silk that hugged her calf until he arrived at the back of her thigh. He caressed all the naked skin he could find, running his fingers beneath the tension of the straps and the lace of her underwear, making her squirm and lift her plump cheek into his touch.
He wanted to cover her and have her like this. In a thousand ways. Kiss and lick and thrust and claim.
He could. He had a lifetime to explore all the ways they could drive each other mad. It was mind-blowing.
He kissed her shoulders and discovered the lace that hugged her ribs had a dozen hooks closing it. He nuzzled her spine as he released them one by one, enjoying the way she flexed and writhed and caught her breath.
“I want to eat you alive. Every inch.” He ran his mouth over her naked back as he fully exposed it, up to her nape, where she seemed particularly sensitive, and back down her spine to where it dipped into her lower back.