The Tycoon's Forced Bride

He was walking towards her, pushing back dark blonde hair from his forehead, muscles rippling in his chest, arm. “At my place. On St. Barts.”

She looked from his hard, thickly muscled chest to the jutting angle of his jaw and then to his eyes. “How? Why?”

“You came with me last night.”

It was her turn to push a tangle of hair from her face. Her hand was trembling. Her legs weren’t at all steady. Her eyes burned, hot and dry, and painfully gritty. “I don’t remember.”

“We’re here for a holiday.”

“Why?”

“We thought it’d be fun to have a little R&R. You’ve always loved the sea, and it’s warm here. Not at all like New York, which is in the middle of a snowstorm.” He talked as he walked towards her, his pace slow, and body relaxed and yet she felt ripples of heat and tension.

Just watching him approach made her nervous, anxious. She backed up a step. And then another, bumping into the chest at the foot of the bed. “But why here, now?” She couldn’t sort it out. “Why…now…?”

“You don’t remember that I came to see you yesterday in New York? You were working at the school, teaching, and we talked about our son, Jack, and how much he misses you.”

She winced at the mention of Jack. Jack, her baby. She didn’t know him, though, not really. She’d only seen him a couple times because she wasn’t a fit mother. She was dangerous. Colm had to keep her away.

“Is he okay?” she asked. “Has something happened?”

“No.” Colm stopped just a few feet from her, hands resting low on his hips. He still looked relaxed, and yet she felt his scrutiny. He was studying her closely, monitoring her expression. “He’s doing great. Healthy. Happy. You’re the one we worry about.”

Her heart ached. Air bottled in her lungs. “Why?”

“We miss you.”

She continued to hold her breath, holding the pain and longing in. She’d been so lonely…she’d been so lost without them. “I miss him.” She swallowed hard. And you. I miss you so much, she wanted to tell Colm, but couldn’t. She was too broken, too damaged. She couldn’t be what he wanted or needed and she had to be mature, had to accept how things were. She was better off alone. It was her only way to protect Jack, and Malcolm. Sometimes love meant sacrificing what you wanted in able to meet the needs of others.

“Only Jack?” He teased, firm mouth quirking, tone wry. “Not me? Not even a little bit?”

Always you.

I have loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.

She struggled to speak but a lump filled her throat and she blinked to keep her eyes dry. “Maybe a little bit,” she admitted hoarsely. So much. Too much.

“I’ll take that,” Colm said, moving another step towards her, closing the distance, bringing her against him. His hands settled on her shoulders before moving carefully down her back. He was warm, so warm. His touch soothed her, comforting her in a way words never could.

She tried to hold herself upright but his skin was a siren call and she needed him. Wanted him.

He stroked back up her back, drawing her even closer and finally she gave in, leaning against him, resting.

And once she was relaxed, her led her back to bed, and climbed into the bed with her, holding her until she fell asleep in his arms.

It took Colm far longer to fall back asleep.

*

Ava sighed with pleasure, warm and so very comfortable. Sleepily, she stretched, and as she stretched she encountered warm skin and hard muscle.

All sleepy thoughts vanished and she opened her eyes to discover it was morning, the wooden plantation shutters open, along with the oversized sliding glass doors, inviting the sunshine in. But that wasn’t all. Colm was in the bed with her, lying on his back, arms folded behind his head. The covers were bunched low at his hips, exposing his broad, bare chest.

She didn’t know where to look—his body or his face.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, blushing, tugging the covers up higher, trying to cover him and her.

“You must have had a bad dream because you woke, and were upset, so I put you to bed, and stayed to be sure you were okay.”

She pressed the covers to her collarbone. “You are so attentive,” she said primly.

“I try.”

“Hmph.”

He smiled lazily. “You’re really wrestling with those covers, Ava. It’s almost as if you’re a virgin.” His smile reached his eyes. “In case you forgot, you’re not.”

She sat up, covers still pressed to her chest. “You can leave now.”

“You’re kicking me out of your bed now that I’ve served my purpose?”

She blushed all over again. “Nothing happened last night.”

“How do you know?”

Her mouth opened, closed. That was a good question. Not that she’d tell him that. He was already looking a little too much like a big cat in her bed, and extremely self-satisfied. “I would know if something had happened.”

“How so?”

“I would just know.”

He

rose up on his elbow to look at her. “So what about on the plane? What did we do during the flight?”

Ava slid out of bed, putting much needed distance between them. “Nothing.” She saw his expression and hurriedly added. “We couldn’t do anything. There was too much turbulence.”

“So, you do remember the flight.”

“You seem to be part of my emotional memory. For the good and the bad.”

“I would prefer to think of it as good.” He threw back the covers and stepped from bed. “Want coffee? Breakfast?”

“Coffee would be wonderful. Maybe a slice of toast, too.”

“I’ll have coffee and breakfast sent to you. They’ll probably set your table on the deck out there. Is this alright with you?”

She nodded. “Are you not going to eat?”

“I’m going to go run and then I’ll be back, and I’ll have a light bite and then take you on a tour of the place.”

*

When Colm returned an hour later, he found Ava on the deck, leaning against the railing, her long, dark hair loose, her slim figure wrapped in a delicate cherry silk robe that made her pale skin glow, and highlighted the hint of pink in her cheeks. He’d picked the robe up on one of his trips, thinking she’d looked gorgeous in it, and she did. But then, he thought she could wear a paper bag and be stunning.

She hadn’t heard him yet and he watched her for a moment, feeling the same rush of possession and desire he always felt when near her.

He’d been smitten with her from the start. Only he hadn’t always known how to tell her. Or maybe, he’d been too proud to tell her.

Had it been a game? A power trip?

God help him…he hoped not.

He made a sound, and she turned, spotted him, and gave him a smile. “How was the run?” she asked.

He joined at her the railing. “Good.” He forced his gaze from her fine elegant features to the turquoise water and the foam tipped waves. It was a beautiful day and yet she was a hundred times more appealing. “Did you eat?”

“I did. More than I usually do.”

“That’s good.”

“Dancers can’t afford to gain weight, though.”

“Not even dance teachers?”

“No.” She grimaced. “I wouldn’t be respected. That’s why I write everything I eat down. Helps me keep track.”