“Yes.” The word was more of a croak.
“Well...” She hesitated. Though he couldn’t be sure with only candlelight to illuminate her face, he thought she had blushed. “Waiting for the shoe to drop makes me nervous and jumpy around you. I think I’d rather go ahead and get it over with. If you don’t mind.”
Eleven
He scowled. “Like a root canal or tetanus shot? Pardon me if I’m not flattered.” In fact, he was downright insulted. No woman had ever approached sex with him as a hurdle to be overcome. “I told you, our marriage doesn’t have to include physical intimacy at all.”
“That came out wrong. This is my first wedding night, and I don’t have a script.”
“I haven’t ever been married either, but I’m pretty damned sure a real husband and wife would have had sex before dinner. Or maybe skipped dinner altogether.” He was practically shouting at her and he didn’t know why. Except that he wanted to slide that tantalizing dress from her body and see what Lisette Stanhope would be like in bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words stiff. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. Forget I said anything.”
He stood abruptly. Arousal coursed through his veins, pulsating and urgent. If he didn’t get some space—some breathing room—he was going to take her right here on the dinner table. “Excuse me,” he muttered.
“Don’t you want dessert?”
“Screw dessert,” he snarled.
* * *
An hour later, Lisette sat with her bare feet propped on the railing and toyed with a piece of key lime pie. It was actually one of her favorites, and this particular version was the best she had ever tasted. But her stomach was tied in knots.
The maid had cleared the table not long after Jonathan’s stormy exit. A short while later the silent woman climbed into her car for the trip home. Lisette had heard the steady chug of the old engine as it made its way down the mountain.
She replayed the evening in her head, wondering how she might have approached things differently. She hadn’t expected problems to crop up so soon. It looked like the honeymoon period was over. She couldn’t even laugh at her own joke.
The sky was dark now, punctuated with a million stars. The night wasn’t quiet. Birds and other unseen animals spoke to each other in interesting choruses. Because she had napped on the plane, she wasn’t sleepy at all. It was far more entertaining to stay out here and absorb the Caribbean magic than it would be to toss and turn in an unfamiliar bed.
Besides, she couldn’t share a bed with Jonathan. Not now. Had he put her suitcase in the guest room? Or moved his own? She was too much of a chicken to go inside and find out.
She had to get through six days and six more nights of this before they could go home. The villa had a jewel of a swimming pool, and she had brought two brand-new swimsuits. Maybe she could read and work on the summer tan she never seemed to manage.
Tears of regret stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Jonathan’s rejection of her awkward overture had hurt. It still hurt.
All she’d been trying to tell him was that she was ready. She wanted him. Instead, she had made it sound like sleeping with her new husband was a chore and an obligation. No wonder he lost his cool.
She set the small china plate with the pie crumbs on the wall and leaned back so she could see more of the sky. Never had she been more confused or more unsure of herself. Helping Jonathan through these next weeks and months was something she wanted to do...something she needed to do.
He was a decent, kind, hardworking man who had been dealt an abominably bad hand. He was also exactly the kind of man she had always looked for in a life partner. But none had ever come along until Jonathan. Or at least not one who made her body quiver with desire. She wanted him. Desperately.
What did she know about seduction? Apparently nothing. She and Jonathan were married and planted smack-dab in the midst of a tropical paradise, and yet still she had bobbled it. She hadn’t wanted to be a passive female, waiting for him to make the first move. She’d wanted to assert her femininity, to be bold and fearless.
Maybe men didn’t like that in a woman. Maybe they always wanted to be the aggressor. At least in the beginning.
It was late. She should probably go in.
Before she could follow through on that thought, a deep male voice sounded behind her.
“Lisette...”
That was all. Just her name.
She stood up and faced him. “Yes?”
He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Without saying another word, he took his phone from his pocket, tapped a few icons and set the device on the table. A slow, sultry cascade of music filled the air. Jonathan held out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”
Never in a million years would she have pegged Jonathan Tarleton for a dancer, but he proved her wrong. He was both light on his feet and moved with natural rhythm. As he swept her into his arms and twirled them across the flagstone patio, it seemed as if they were dancing on clouds.
With her cheek pressed to his chest, she noted his ragged breathing, his thudding pulse. He held her tightly, close enough for him to know that she was essentially naked beneath her dress. They danced in bare feet. The differences in their heights made her feel cherished and protected.
One song ended. Another began. She couldn’t ignore the way his aroused sex pressed against her abdomen.
She didn’t know what to say, but there was no real need for conversation. Their bodies communicated without words.
After a few more songs, the music ended. Before she could do more than inhale a shocked breath, she felt Jonathan’s fingers play with the knot at her nape. “May I?” he asked, his breath warm on her ear.
A hard shiver rocked through her body. “Yes.”
Moments later, with a gentle tug from him, her dress fell in a pool at her feet. He took a step back and stared. “I want a do-over,” he said hoarsely.
She wrapped her arms around her breasts, equal parts excited and uncertain. “Me, too. I want to sleep with you, Jonathan. Very much.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sleep?”
“Don’t tease me. Not now. I’m trying to play this cool and sophisticated. But I’m at a definite disadvantage.”
Her wry comment coaxed a grin from him. “What if I take off my shirt?” He tackled the buttons so fast she laughed out loud. But when his chest was bare, her levity dried up.
She cocked her head. “If I had known you were hiding a six-pack beneath those hand-tailored suits,” she said, “I would have hit on you a long time ago.”
He scooped her up in his arms, his gaze hot and hungry. “No, you wouldn’t. You’ve always been the consummate professional. You never even hinted that you were interested in me.”
“Of course not,” she whispered. “You were my boss.”
He kicked open the door, carried her into the house and bumped the door shut with his hip before locking it. “And now I’m your husband.”
“Yes, you are.” She cupped his cheek with her hand. “I’m glad you changed your mind. I’m sorry I made sex with you sound like something I was tolerating. I didn’t want to wait, but my words came out all wrong.”
“I’ll let you make it up to me.” He strode in the direction of the bedroom. In the doorway, he paused. “I have a confession.” He dropped her onto the mattress and settled beside her, placing one hand, palm flat, on her stomach. His dark eyes glittered. “I’m very much afraid I came up with the marriage idea because I was obsessed with you...not because I cared about Tarleton Shipping.”
Being mostly naked with Jonathan in a huge, hedonistic bed should have embarrassed her, but all she could think about was how very much she wanted him. “Maybe it was both,” she said. “I’m okay with that.”
He stood up and stripped off h
is pants and boxers. The sight of his aroused sex dried her mouth. His body was intensely masculine and incredibly beautiful. For a man who purportedly worked long hours, he surely did something to maintain that physique.
When he reached into his pants pocket for a trio of condoms, she realized that the reason he had come out to the terrace to make peace was because he wanted more than a platonic wedding night.
His crooked smile found its way into her heart and made her eyes sting with emotional tears. She loved him. It was the only reason she had said yes to this inconvenient marriage.
She still wanted a baby, but since they had come close to ruining this first night, she wouldn’t bring it up. Yet...
She flipped back the covers and held out her hand. “Come get warm.” The tile floor was icy with the AC running.
Though the bed was large, when Jonathan joined her, his big, masculine body dominated the space. She tried to scoot farther to one side, but he grabbed her wrist. “Come here, Ms. Tarleton.” Leaning over her on one elbow, he brushed the hair from her face. “I want a real honeymoon,” he said softly. The words were not particularly provocative, but the expression on his face made her tremble.
She touched his shoulder, stroking the hard planes where smooth, taut skin stretched over muscle and bone. “So do I.”
He let her explore for several long moments, not moving at all. But the flush on his cheekbones darkened. “I like having you touch me, Lizzy.”
When he cupped her breast and teased her nipple with his thumb, she gasped. Heat bloomed and streaked through her body like an erotic pinball, flipping switches she didn’t even know existed.
She tried to say something, but he bent his head and tasted the furled flesh, raking it with his teeth. Her hands clenched in his hair as all the breath wheezed out of her lungs.
It was almost laughable to think about how she had imagined this moment. In her mind, the first time with Jonathan was going to be tender and gentle. Why she’d held that notion, she couldn’t say.
The reality was totally unlike her fantasies. It was far more visceral, more powerful. He staked his claim without apology.
He touched her everywhere.
And all along the way, he muttered praises and pleas and demands. He allowed her neither timidity nor inhibitions. His hunger ignited her own, taking her to places she hadn’t experienced.
They tumbled across the mattress, wrestling for the upper hand, both determined to drive the other to the edge. Jonathan dragged her lacy undies down her legs, careful not to tear them. She wouldn’t have minded.
Now he moved lower in the bed. “I want to taste you,” he said. “Spread your legs.” Three words. Three little words, and she was his slave.
His intimate demand shocked her. For a moment, her thighs tightened instinctively.
As he moved to his elbows and nudged her ankles apart, he lifted his head, staring at her challengingly. “Too much, Lizzy?”
She forced herself to relax. “No,” she said softly. “Never.”
Jonathan was skilled at more than dancing. He shot her over the edge of her first climax with dizzying speed. Her body was his. He played it like a master, demanding her total submission to his will.
Though she wanted to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, she barely had time to breathe or choke out a cry of completion. He gave no quarter, drawing out the incredible bliss of orgasm until she was weak and spent.
At last he let her rest. “You’re amazing,” he said, resting his cheek on her upper thigh. “Maybe we’ll never leave this room.”
With his hair tumbled across his forehead and his pupils dilated with arousal, he looked very different from the man who controlled a huge business empire with cool confidence. Tonight he was naked and voracious, utterly male, completely devoted to pleasing his bride.
She still trembled from their recent excess. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” she said. The words were only slightly unsteady. “I want you on your back, Jonathan, so I can have my way with you.”
The muscles in his throat rippled as he swallowed. His erection bumped her knee. “Should I be scared?” he joked as he rolled away from her and sprawled on the empty side of the bed.
“Very.”
He tucked his hands behind his head. His cocky grin made him look young and carefree. For a moment, her heart wrestled with the reality of the future, but she shoved the bad thoughts aside. No time for tears or mourning now.
Despite what had just happened, she was shy about him seeing her naked. While she debated how best to play with him, she wrapped the coverlet from the foot of the bed around herself and clutched it with one hand.
Her gaze landed on a beautiful azure-glazed urn filled with dry grasses. She plucked one out of the container and brushed the fluffy tip against her arm. “This will do,” she said.
Jonathan’s eyes widened. Perhaps he had been expecting oral sex. Everything in its time. She wanted to keep her new husband off balance. He leaned toward arrogance at times. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for him to wonder what she was up to.
Trying to climb back onto the bed without losing either her weapon of torment or her covering was virtually impossible.
Jonathan smirked. “I’ve seen all there is to see. No reason to be shy with me now.”
The challenge in his voice tipped her decision. She dropped the soft throw and stood at the side of the bed, naked and in charge. Or at least that’s what she was shooting for. Jonathan’s searing gaze, intense and bold, was almost enough to melt her into a puddle.
“I’m not shy,” she lied. “I was merely planning my assault.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
She ran her hand down his thigh, carefully avoiding the interesting territory nearby. “Close your eyes, Jonathan. Relax.”
He obeyed the first command, but choked out an incredulous laugh. “Relax? You can’t be serious. You’ve got me so tightly wound I might go up in flames.”
“I have faith in you,” she said, leaning down to kiss his sculpted lips. She let the tip of her tongue push inside his mouth and brush his tongue. “Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes. Just glide on a sea of pleasure. One muscle at a time.” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I want you to feel everything. Do you understand?”
He nodded, his jaw tight. “I’ll try.”
With the feathery end of her long frond, she started at his ears and his cheeks, caressing one at a time. He gasped once, sharply, and his hands fisted at his hips. Slowly she moved the seagrass along his sternum and over his belly. When she neared his erection, his entire body went rigid and a ragged moan escaped him. “Not yet,” she murmured. “You’re too tense. You want to be in control, don’t you, Jonathan?”
“Hell, yes.”
She slid the fluffy tip across the tops of his thighs, accidentally brushing his vulnerable sac in the process. Then it was on to his calves, his ankles and his big, unabashedly male feet.
“Letting go can be wonderful,” she promised.
The word he said made her smile. He was clearly trying to indulge her and so very clearly losing the battle.
Now she hovered the stalk of seagrass over his body and let the soft tip toy with his erection. His sex was swollen and hard, flat against his belly. Importunate. Ready for action.
When she touched him like that, a giant shudder racked his frame. “Please,” he muttered. “No more.”
She dropped the dried plant and climbed onto the bed, taking his sex in her hands and squeezing gently.
Before she could taste him intimately, his control snapped. He reared up and took her head in his two hands, dragging her mouth to his, kissing her desperately. “I can’t wait,” he groaned. “Now, Lizzy. Now.”
He reached blindly for one of the condoms. A fleeting regret swept through her. Would he ever change his mind about the baby?
But then he was on top of her and in her and her world exploded. When she grabbed his shoulders, her nails sank into his flesh. He grunted in pain, but didn’t stop. She didn’t want him to. Ever. The feel of his body taking hers would be imprinted in her memory forever.
Canting her hips, she urged him deeper and deeper still until the blunt head of his sex pressed her womb. “Jonathan...” she cried out. Suddenly she was both elated and terrified. She would never be able to protect her heart. Not if things were like this between them.
There was no room for subterfuge, no opportunity for self-defense.
“Relax, Lizzy.” It was his turn to say the word. He must have felt her moment of indecision. His lips nuzzled her ear. “I want you every way there is to want a woman,” he said. His voice was rough, almost inaudible. “You’re mine,” he said. “For as long as we have.”
Even the fact that he brought reality into their bed couldn’t stop the headlong rush into abandon. “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.”
Stunned fulfillment caught her yet again and swept her into the currents of his passion. Jonathan went rigid and thrust inside her forever, it seemed, until he found his own release and collapsed on top of her.
Twelve
God in heaven. What have we done? Jonathan was groggy and satiated. His limbs were numb, his brain fogged with a jumble of thoughts that didn’t quite coalesce into reason.
When he could open one eye, he determined that his new wife slept...draped over him like a soft, curvy boa. And that vision, only that, was enough to have his sex stirring again.
If he had known it would be like this, he might never have been able to leave her alone for these last three years. Tonight had shown him a whole new side of Lisette Stanhope. She was strong and capable. He knew that much, of course. But she was also sexually adventurous and fun in bed.
She’d been hiding behind sensible skirts and tops and boring colors. Here, in Antigua, her sexuality had blossomed. Or maybe it had been there along, and she had simply kept it from him.
Suddenly an unpleasant thought occurred. His new bride wasn’t a virgin. He knew that, of course. She was thirty-seven years old. But where had she learned how to turn a man into a drooling idiot? Jonathan liked being able to drive her wild, but when she turned the tables on him and used a pseudomassage to push him to the edge of his control, the experience was less comfortable.
A Contract Seduction Page 11