That he was responsible for her sarcasm made him ashamed. “I’m sorry I left you in Antigua. I was scared.”
She sniffed, huddling into her jacket. “You’re a Wolff. You scare other people, not the other way around.”
“You terrify me,” he said bluntly.
“How?”
“I’ve searched for happiness my whole life and only been able to catch glimpses of it here and there. In you, I see the whole picture. Beginning and end. Eternity. But the knowledge that you can walk away is unbearable.”
Twenty-Three
Ariel threw her pain in his face. “I heard you tell my mother you don’t love me. So it’s a little tough to buy into this whole devoted suitor business.” Hurt, long since stuffed into a dark little box, escaped and spread through her body, reminding her that she was vulnerable to the Wolff.
“Oh my God.”
“Exactly.” She twisted away, almost stumbling in the damp sand. Humiliation scored her skin, leaving her raw and exposed.
Jacob stood, silent and strong, his face unreadable. “I was fighting my demons at that point,” he said slowly. “And lying to myself in the process.”
“Because you were still in love with Diane.”
“No. Not that. I adored her. I can’t deny it. But it was a young man’s infatuation.”
“And you’re so ancient now?”
He caught a wisp of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. The brush of his fingers was fleeting. “I love you, Ariel. It took me too long to realize it, and I hurt you in the process. I’m sorry.”
Her fingers itched with the need to reach out to him. Her emotions were all over the map. And she was afraid to be wrong. If he was coming to her out of some misguided sense of responsibility, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
“You were right before,” she said slowly. “Our worlds don’t intersect.”
“I’ve thought about that,” he said. “I’ll move here. Where your work is. And I can travel with you.”
Her heartbeat sped up in lurching thuds. “What are you saying?”
He went down on one knee, no doubt finishing off the damage to his suit. “Marry me, princess. I can’t live without you. I don’t want to.”
In his hand was a small jewelry box. He flipped open the lid, and fire shot from the contents—an obscenely large solitaire set in a platinum band.
She inhaled a shocked breath. “Holy cow, Doc. Please tell me that’s cubic zirconia.”
Lifting the ring free, he took her hand. “Ariel Dane, will you be my wife?”
Her heart contracted painfully. The Wolff had humbled himself completely, offering to give up his home, his way of life, his pride. To win her.
She thrust out her left hand, joy zinging wildly throughout her body. “Keep talking. And stand up, damn it.”
For a large man, he was graceful, with the sleek power of his namesake. He took her cold fingers in his warm grasp and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. “Wolves mate for life, Ariel. You know that, right?”
She blinked rapidly. She wasn’t going to cry. Not about this. “I’ve heard that, yes. Are you sure you really want me, Jacob? I won’t let you change your mind. It will be in the prenup somewhere. You’re stuck with me forever.”
He lowered his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I adore you, Ariel. Is that an acceptance speech?”
“Take me home to bed. Quick.”
They ran like children, Ariel’s muffled laughter the sweetest thing Jacob had ever heard. In the car, they held hands. The trip was too long for his liking, but his patience was limitless now that she wore his ring.
In Ariel’s foyer, they faced each other. “I don’t want sand all over the house,” she said with a small, familiar grin. “We should undress here.”
Jacob encountered his first real test as a husband-to-be. “Um, well… You go first and get in the shower.” If he saw her naked, all bets were off.
She took his hand, her dear face earnest. “I need you tonight, Jacob. And not in some platonic, asexual way. Show me what you feel.” The ragged edge in her low, coaxing voice slid down his spine and under his skin.
“You’re not thinking straight,” he said. “I can’t take advantage of you at a time like this. Consider my proposal. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Her chin lifted, quivering only slightly. “I’m sad,” she said quietly. “And I’ll be sad for a long time. But when you’re with me, I feel hopeful, I feel alive. Don’t make me sleep alone.”
When a woman strips naked, a man has two choices. He can run from temptation, or he can take what is offered. Jacob was tired of running.
Unable to touch her just yet, he shed his clothes rapidly. His shaft, thick and heavy, rose hard against his belly. When he was completely undressed, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom and on into the bathroom beyond.
With one hand, he adjusted the water carefully and deposited her, standing, on the cold marble floor. Ariel reached to remove the pins from her hair. “Let me,” he said, his hands shaking.
The sunlit gold darkened to honey as water soaked the strands that tumbled over his hands. Drops of liquid clung to her raspberry-colored nipples. The steam warmed her skin to a healthy pink.
Ariel stood docile beneath his touch, eyes open, watching him with an azure gaze that still held remnants of uncertainty.
He took the soap and washed her, holding his own need at bay. His hands soaped her slim arms, narrow waist, long legs that went on forever. His princess, his mermaid, his Ariel.
When she touched him, it shocked him out of his reverie.
She laughed. “I love the gentle side of you, my Wolff. But I won’t break. Make love to me.”
Her firm caress on his sex blurred his vision. His hips flexed of their own volition, pressing into her hand eagerly.
“Whatever my mermaid wants.”
Shutting off the water, he nudged her out of the shower enclosure and dried them both. Ariel nestled against his chest. “I love you, Jacob Wolff.”
The words struck deep at a wound he’d thought would never heal. Both pain and penance slid into his heart and staked a claim, mending years of raw suffering. “And?”
“And yes, I will marry you.”
Exultant, he carried her again, this time to the king-size bed through the doorway. The covers were tumbled from her earlier nap. Laying her down gently, he came down beside her.
Ariel rolled on top of him, dragging his wrists over his head and trapping them with hers. “You’re mine now, Wolff.”
She straddled his waist and lowered herself onto his erection with a downward thrust that made them both cry out. He gripped her hips, shuddering as her sinuous ride unmanned him. “Always,” he groaned. “God, Ariel…”
Reaching between her legs, he stroked her intimately.
They reached the peak together, her passage squeezing him with little flutters that made the top of his head explode.
The end lasted forever, radiating endlessly in ripples of release.
Ariel kissed him, her hands braced on his shoulders. “I want to live with you on your mountain,” she said, her gaze watchful. “I can do one movie a year, but I think I want to earn my degree. What do you think about that?”
Still half erect inside her, he struggled for coherence. “I won’t stand in the way of your success. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to the world.”
“I’m a great multi-tasker, Doc. You wait and see. And what about babies?”
“Babies?”
“You know. Those little things that scream and poop?”
He grinned, bone-deep contentment wrapping him in a haze of wonderment. “I could be persuaded.”
Ariel sighed. “This will be my best role ever—mate to the Wolff.”
He flipped them with a neat maneuver that put Ariel right where he wanted her. “I like the sound of that, my darling diva. Now hush and let’s rehearse that last scene. I think we can do better.”
Eighte
en months later…
Jacob Wolff stood on the red carpet, rigged out in an Armani tux, surrounded by photographers. At his side stood his wife, luminous in a backless ball gown of cotton-candy pink. The skirts poofed out in true princess-worthy fashion.
During a brief lull, he whispered in her ear. “Are you nervous?”
She tucked her hand into his, reaching up to kiss him square on the mouth despite the crowd of onlookers. “About the award?”
The best actress nomination had been no surprise to anyone but Ariel.
“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head in bemusement. She was the belle of the ball, and she was his.
“It’s an honor to be nominated, Doc,” she said with her trademark sass.
Snorting at her exaggerated theatrical accent, he led her a few steps down the runway. “You’re a brat.”
“You’re a bully.”
They exchanged smiles, in perfect accord.
And for once, the following morning, the tabloids printed the unadorned truth—Hollywood Princess Finds Her Happily Ever After.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459230347
Copyright © 2012 by Janice Maynard
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