“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her gaze connected with his. He leaned over her, face close, eyes intense. Not one part of his body touched hers and she desired that contact. She was wet. Ready.
Dylan gave her lips a quick kiss. “Are you positive you want this? That you’re ready?”
Was she? Maddy blinked in frustration. Why was he asking this now? She was so close. He couldn’t back away now. “Damn it. Take me.”
He leaned closer, still not touching. “When I enter you, you’re mine.”
Right now she needed Dylan as much as she needed to breathe. “I’m sure,” she panted.
He lowered himself to her, pressed against her opening. He rubbed, slicking himself with her wetness. Then he kissed her face, poised himself and drove himself deep.
A small tear formed in her right eye as the enormity struck her. They were joined. Dylan was her other half. He made her whole. The discomfort ebbed quickly.
She let herself go, taking the pleasure he offered, finding that her body could match his powerful movements. She felt him thrust deep and sensed he was watching her face. She closed her eyes, afraid of what she might see. She felt him begin to tremble as his release built, and she was with him the whole way until his seed let loose and pumped deep inside her, adding a slick coating that drove her into the most powerful of orgasms.
They lay spent afterwards, Dylan drawing her to him and cradling her in his arms. Her body had the most delightful soreness, and a tiredness that meant good things had happened. She snuggled to him, and slept.
Dylan held Maddy in his arms, listening to her steady inhale and exhale. He’d owned her. He’d had her. She’d been a virgin. He’d suspected, hoped. Now he knew for sure. His possessive streak had been satiated
He pushed a strand of hair off her face. In the firelight she was a goddess. His princess. Inside him, something powerful seemed to ebb, as if a tension he hadn’t known he’d kept began to fade from his soul. He lowered his lips, kissing her forehead, feeling the texture of her skin.
She was his wife. His. Nothing would take her from him. He drew her into his arms and slept.
Chapter Seven
Chicago was six hours away and she dozed most of the way there. She and Dylan had made love most of the night, and when they’d finally climbed out of bed, they’d had to close the lodge for the season.
While the actual winterizing of the buildings was left to professionals who did a litany of chores including protecting the water lines from freezing, there were still quite a few things that had to be taken care of before leaving: packing, mousetraps set, furniture covered, appliances unplugged, and perishables thrown away.
None of the summer people ever stayed past mid-September, and the older cottages including those on North Star and Pershall Island didn’t have central heat. Despite being owned by millionaires, very few had been retrofit. Aunt Gail’s was a rare exception, having been built much later.
The season was over, the eagles would soon fly south to winter along the Mississippi River around Grafton, Missouri, and soon Summerhaven would sleep through fall and winter as it had since the 1920s. Next summer, thanks to Dylan’s check, she’d return once again.
He braked slightly. They’d been up at eight, left at one, and it was nearly seven. “We’re just about home. I’m turning onto Michigan Avenue now.”
She craned her neck and took in the names of the stores they were passing. Macy’s. Tiffany’s. Neiman Marcus. Crate and Barrel. Pottery Barn. There on a side street, American Girl Place. Many other small specialty boutiques. Maddy would have world class shopping outside her front door.
Despite the overcast gray sky, the world-class city teamed with life. Home to Oprah, the Chicago White Sox, Chicago Bears, and some of the best museums in the world, downtown Chicago, like New York, was a city that never slept. Yellow taxis wove in and out of traffic, and people window-shopped along the sidewalk.
“There’s our building.”
Madison frowned as she read the words lettered on the side. “It’s a hotel.”
“Only the first eighteen floors. The rest of the sixty-seven stories are condos. The higher you go, the more you can see Lake Michigan.”
“We’re not at the top.” Her stomach clenched just a little. She’d never lived in anything more than three stories tall.
He didn’t seem to notice her unease. “Close, but not quite. We’ve got approximately four thousand square feet and fantastic views. Now the interior could be another matter. I gave the decorator free reign, so if you hate it, don’t be afraid to change anything. It’s yours now.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” she replied, thinking of the lodge. The decorator had made everything there perfect, minus the electric blanket.
Dylan stopped at valet parking and handed the doorman the keys to the SUV. He ushered Maddy inside the plush lobby. “They’ll unload the car and bring up our luggage. After your car arrives from Wisconsin, just call the valet and they’ll retrieve it and have it waiting. We do have a private entrance, but I’ve found the main one and valet parking much easier.”
“Okay.” She exhaled a long breath. Living here was going to take a bit of getting used to. Despite her grandparents’ wealth, they hadn’t had servants or hotel amenities, and Maddy had grown up taking care of herself.
As she entered Dylan’s world, the man he’d made himself into became glaringly obvious. The prime chunk of real estate had cost him several million, of that she was certain. This lifestyle was clearly new money.
“Although the condo associations has its own pool and gym facilities, all the hotel facilities are also at our disposal,” Dylan said as they walked through the lobby. “If we need a midnight snack and don’t feel like cooking we can order room service from one of the restaurants or anywhere that delivers.”
He held her elbow as he guided her to a private elevator. After he inserted his passkey, the door slid open. Madison noticed there weren’t buttons for any floors between four and nineteen. Dylan punched the button for the sixty-fifth floor. They rode in silence until the elevator doors slid open, revealing a small hallway with only a few doorways.
Dylan slid his passkey into the handle on the double doors and the light blinked green. “We’ll get new keys monthly. Part of the security features. There’s also a standard deadbolt key. I never use it, but we can if you’d like hard keys instead.”
“This will be fine,” Maddy said, her sneakers squeaking on the marble floors.
“Welcome home.”
“It’s nice,” Maddy said, taking in the décor. The room was done in blacks and reds set on a white and chrome palate, which gave the room a modern loft impression even though the room only had ten-foot ceilings.
“You’re the only woman who’s ever been in this apartment,” Dylan announced, and his words gave Maddy some unexpected relief. There were no ghosts here.
He’d been driven to build an empire of such magnitude that even his own parents didn’t understand his craving for material goods. But standing in the gilded foyer of the apartment, Maddy understood.
That poignant summer Stephen and Ted Johansson hadn’t found Dylan adequate or good enough. For Dylan, a man with such a proud Italian-American heritage, seeing something you wanted and not being able to possess it must have shaken him to his core. Especially if it had been something he’d loved, like he said. Then there had been the physical beating Ted had inflicted, a fight ended only by Maddy’s fervent denial and rejection of their love.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, leading her into the living area. They had a three-wall panoramic picture view of Lake Michigan, which sat shimmering against the setting sun. “I could call down for some food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Is the apartment acceptable?” he asked.
“It needs homey touches. It’s stark.”
It was like a picture in a high-end architectural magazine, Maddy decided. The room had well-defined areas: a place for si
tting, a media area with plasma TV and surround-sound, and even a white baby grand piano in its own dedicated space.
“You can change it however you want. The dining room and the kitchen are through here.”
Dylan gave her a tour. “This door leads to an outside hallway and the fire stairs. My office is here, and this hallway leads to the bedrooms. I’m using one for a library. The master bedroom is through here.”
He pushed open a door. The room was large, decorated in neutrals and whites, and equipped with its own en suite bathroom. From the window, Maddy had a view up Michigan Avenue and beyond, Oak Street Beach. The doorbell rang, indicating their luggage had arrived.
“I’ll get everything,” Dylan said.
Within moments, a porter had dropped her suitcases off and left. Maddy stood in the bedroom doorway, her hand on the doorframe. Dylan approached her.
“While I’m sure you have unpacking to do, I’ve been wanting nothing more than to get you into that bed.”
He wrapped his arms around her and moved her to the king-sized bed. “Let’s break it in, shall we?”
Their lovemaking had been the start of life in Chicago. She’d moved her clothes into the closet, and Dylan had provided her with credit cards so she could shop. The nights were hot, and the days long. By mid-September, Maddy had read every book in the apartment, bought many more, and explored just about every store and boutique on the Mile. She’d done all those things a Chicago native should do growing up, but which she had missed.
She’d done the touristy things of taking a river cruise and going to the top of both the John Hancock and Sears Towers. She’d been to the Shedd Aquarium and the Field Museum. She’d spent the day at the Navy Pier, spent a day exploring the Museum of Science and Industry. She’d contacted college friends and done lunch. Former colleagues of her grandmother had contacted Maddy, and she had a multitude of charity work offers to consider. She’d also spent time with Dylan’s parents on weekends.
Party invitations had rained in once people had learned of their marriage, and they’d attended many. Business associates of her grandfather’s had courted Dylan Blackwater and his wife. The result was that he seemed to be working twenty-four-seven, including the weekend. The nights were hers though, and Dylan’s appetite hadn’t waned.
Yet Maddy wanted more than sex. She might have married for convenience, but somewhere inside had to be the man she’d fallen in love with long ago. If they could get back that spark, maybe they could make this relationship become real. She could not spend the next fifty-plus years of her life like this. Something had to give, and she knew it would have to come from her.
She was sitting in the living room reading one Friday afternoon when he finally arrived home. They had yet another party that night. She closed her book and set it aside.
“Good, you’re here. I have some papers for you to sign,” Dylan said without preamble as he strode over to her. He placed his leather attaché case on the coffee table.
She drank in his appearance. The custom navy blue double-breasted suit accented a body that she longed to touch. The leather couch dipped as he sat next to her. “So what papers?”
“They’re title work. I sold North Star Island. Closing was today.”
“What?” Maddy jumped to her feet, in the process upending the briefcase. It landed wrong side up, the papers scattering and crumpling beneath.
“What is the big deal?” Dylan appeared more annoyed than angry.
Her body shook. She couldn’t believe what he’d done. “You sold Star! My grandfather wanted that island. You only bought it because of him, didn’t you? Admit it!”
The sound from Dylan’s mouth was harsh and biting. “You persist in painting me with the wrong brush. What happened to you, Maddy? You used to be the only person in your family without prejudice. You saw the good in everyone, especially me. The rest, they just saw a eighteen year old boy with black hair and olive skin and immediately stereotyped him as a gold digger, certainly not good enough to be in their world.”
Dylan raked a hand through his hair. “All I’ve ever wanted was respect. Can you at least do me the courtesy of extending me that?”
She licked her lip to moisten it. “How can I? You sold North Star. Your bidding war over that island cost my grandfather his life. It caused his heart attack!”
Dylan sighed. “He was old, Maddy. Do me a favor and talk to his doctor instead of just taking Ted’s word, for we both know how much that’s worth. And by the way, ask yourself, what would have happened had your grandfather had bought Star? Hmm?
“It would have been one more piece of property that your brother would have abused and let rot. As it was, Ted raided your personal trust and drained the one designed to pay the taxes and upkeep. My purchase of North Star saved it from Summerhaven ’s fate. And, for the record, I sold North Star to the people who own the Pershall Island. They plan to rent North Star as a honeymoon cottage for those who truly wish to escape.”
Maddy remembered Aunt Gail’s words about the big island being booked every summer. Still, “I didn’t think they could afford it.”
“I’m financing the note myself,” Dylan said coldly. “And I cut the price slightly considering that I didn’t sell the access strip.”
Maddy’s mouth dropped open. The access strip, the reason her grandfather had really wanted North Star Island. “You kept the strip?”
Dylan reached down and began organizing his briefcase. “No.”
Her stomach landed at her feet. “You sold the strip?”
“No, I gave it away. The owners of the big island already have mainland access and the strip is too far away to suit their purposes.”
He tossed a quitclaim deed toward her and stood up, the closed briefcase in hand. “Consider the access strip your wedding present. Early Christmas or birthday perhaps. Now if you excuse me, I need to get ready for tonight’s party.”
He shook his head violently, the back of his dark black hair brushing the collar of his crisp white shirt as he strode toward his bedroom.
Maddy leaned down and picked the document up off the floor. There the title was, all signed, sealed and delivered. All she had to do was file it.
He’d given her the access strip.
She’d given him nothing but grief.
He’d saved Summerhaven, restored it. He’d decided she was the only one he’d marry. At some of the parties they’d attended, she’d heard the gossip. No woman had ever been good enough for Dylan Blackwater. They’d all been cast aside, for the “one.”
She wanted him to love her again. This was his big gesture. She had to meet him halfway.
She tossed the document onto the table and raced after him. He wasn’t in his office, and she caught him as he began to shut the bathroom door.
“Wait.”
“I’m tired, and we promised to make an appearance,” he said.
“We’re newlyweds. We can call in sick.” She moved forward, quickly linking her arms around his neck. “I want to stay home.”
“Stop,” he said, but she ignored him and pulled his mouth to hers.
Despite their earlier lovemaking, for a moment it was like kissing a statue. Dylan had business connections to make tonight, and he had made a commitment.
Tonight, that commitment had to shift to her. Insight hit her that she loved him. She had never stopped. She’d hated him, yes, but at the same time she’d loved. It was a dangerous tightrope between the two emotions, but she’d walk it until he loved her back. She had to. Their future depended on it.
She felt Dylan shake as his resolve faltered and he gave in to her kiss. “The party.”
“Is not important,” she insisted. Her arms slid inside the suit jacket and circled his waist. He trembled under her touch as she unbuttoned his shirt and moved it aside. She planted a kiss on his smooth, muscular chest. He quivered. She kissed him again, grazing one of his nipples. “This is much more important than some silly party.”
Wordlessly, Dylan step
ped toward the bed, taking her with him. They fell onto it together. He tossed her on her back and gently pinned her arms down to her sides. Then he took over.
Her clothing went flying. Dylan caressed her breasts, her belly, and between her legs. His mouth found new crevices, and she arched and bucked at his mastery of her body.
Not ready to let her rest, he replaced his roving fingers with his mouth and buried his tongue inside her. She cried out as wave after wave washed over her as Dylan licked and lathed. He added his fingers, and she rode him to a release that left her begging for more. His lips moved up her body, over the peak of her breast as again he returned to her lips for another kiss.
She tasted their intimacies and then he stood over her, firm and hard. She reached for him, his length powerful yet silky beneath her fingers.
He grabbed her hands. “Hey.”
“My turn.” Her tone was forceful, and Dylan’s eyes darkened to that fathomless midnight black before he collapsed onto his back and let her have her way.
She stroked the man she loved with the palm of her hand. He groaned and she grew bolder, stroking the tip and caressing the folds of skin. He moaned at that, and she smiled. There was more than chemistry here. More than convenience.
Her body was wet, ready, and willing. He cupped her breasts with her hands. She moved to all fours and poised herself over him.
“Take me.” His voice was a mere croak.
So she did. She slid down onto his length, controlling her descent. Her body stretched to accommodate him, and she quivered with pleasure as she sat fully on him.
Then she began to move. She set her own pace, her position of being on top allowing her to hit every pleasure spot. His eyes were wide open and she closed hers, lost in the ecstasy of the up and down motion. She was on fire. She soared, she crested, she peaked, and she repeated the process over and over again until she shattered. And then Dylan held her close, flipped her over, and started all over again.
This was her prince, and she, his princess. What they were doing was right, good, no, more than that. It was….
The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance) Page 9