The Tycoon's Forced Bride

When she woke up again it was morning, sunlight pouring through the slats at the window.

Colm wasn’t in bed but she found him in the connecting bathroom’s shower.

She opened the glass door and stepped into the shower, dissipating the steam. “Well, hello there,” he said, drawing her under the hot water spray. “Have you come for a shampoo and wash?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “I heard the shower and thought I should come see what all the fuss was about.”

He took her hand and wrapped it around his hard length. “This is the situation,” he said, his hand covering hers as they firmly stroked him. He grew even thicker and harder beneath her touch.

Her eyes widened as her gaze locked with his. “Impressive.”

“It wants you, baby. But I’m worried after yesterday you might be sore.”

She didn’t know about sore. It was hard to think about being sore when his free hand was playing with her body, soaping her breasts, kneading the nipples. She arched and he stroked down her belly to slide fingers between her curls to find her clit.

She stroked him harder.

His fingers were between her legs, and then slipping into her. She groaned and then nearly fell when he went down in the shower onto his knees and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, put his mouth on her and took her with his tongue.

She came hard, but he wasn’t done, and turning her around he slowly entered her from behind, filling her slick, tight core until she’d taken all of his length.

With him buried deeply, he caressed the length of her, finding her breasts, the small of her waist, the curve of her hips. He didn’t move or thrust and yet with him seated so deeply within her, she began to pulse around him, and the more her body squeezed him, the more he filled her and it was mind-blowing being so still and yet feeling so much.

“Don’t come,” he murmured, pressing his fingers to her clit while her body gripped his length, contracting internally.

He was hot, she was hot, she felt as if she was going to explode. It was so damn erotic. He was so damn erotic.

“Don’t come,” he repeated, parting her folds, opening the soft swollen lips to expose her to the air.

“I need to come.” She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, her body throbbing, her nerves taut, skin tingling. “Touch me and let me come.”

“You want this.”

“Yes.”

“You need this.”

“Yes.”

“You need me.”

“Yes. Always.”

And then he touched her and she shattered, like the fireworks on the fourth of July. Her orgasm triggered his and they came together and, as she leaned against the shower wall, it struck her that although the sex was incredibly good and incredibly hot, they’d never once mentioned the word love.

But then, she shouldn’t be surprised. He’d never loved her. Why should she think it’d be different now?

*

Breakfast was served on the sundeck at a table set for two. Neither Ava nor Colm were very talkative during the meal. She didn’t mind. She was definitely languid from the night of lovemaking.

Between sips of coffee, she pulled her warm, chocolate-filled croissant apart, popping bites into her mouth.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun reflected brightly off the water, the sea sparkling all around them.

It was an almost perfect morning.

It was an almost perfect holiday.

She was almost satisfied. Physically she was sated. Colm was a skilled and generous lover. He always made sure he took care of her before he asked for anything himself. She appreciated his skill. Her body hummed from all the attention but she hated how her heart felt empty.

Colm had talked about her moving in with him. He’d talked about them becoming a family for Jack. But if Ava was honest, she wasn’t sure she could handle spending her life with someone who didn’t love her.

She needed to tell him somehow. She needed to let him know that they couldn’t just move forward with plans…at least, not with his plans. Surely, there was a way to see Jack and still protect her heart?

“Should we talk about what happens next?” Colm asked, breaking the silence.

Her insides suddenly felt fluttery, as if she’d swallowed a handful of butterflies. “Okay.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“It’s scary.”

“I thought you wanted to give Jack a family. I thought you wanted to be with him.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. Because, yes, she wanted Jack loved and happy, but she worried that she wouldn’t be loved and happy living with Colm. “I’m just wondering if there are options we haven’t explored.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should try to work me into Jack’s life slowly with visits…play­time…things like that.”

“You don’t want to live with him?”

“I do, but I’m not sure it would be good for him if I live with you.”

Colm just stared at her, expression shuttered, and, as the silence stretched, it became heavier and more uncomfortable.

“I’m confused,” he said after a long moment. “I thought—” He broke off, brow furrowing, his jaw tightening. “What about us?”

She swallowed hard and wrapped her fingers around the stem of her water glass. “There isn’t an us, though.”

“Ava.”

“We’re good in bed. But that’s all we are, all we have.”

“Oh, Ava.”

“You know it’s true. You never wanted me. You didn’t want Jack, either—”

“That’s the past. We have to leave that in the past. It’s time we lived in the present. We have a son who is three and he needs his parents to pull together, to function together. And we can. We can be a real family. It’s what you wanted for Jack. It’s what I want for Jack. It’s the best thing for him. We both know that.”

No wonder Colm had been so successful in life. He made everything sound easy. He didn’t believe in complications. He ignored obstacles. But she wasn’t like that.

She couldn’t bury her head in the sand. “One doesn’t just create a stable family, Colm. Stability comes from within. It can’t be imposed from the outside.”

“It won’t be imposed. It’s something we’re choosing. And it’s the right decision.”

She didn’t speak, struggling to organize her thoughts, trying to make sense of the objections forming inside of her. She knew he was right about Jack needing security and stability but Ava knew she needed the same thing. She didn’t do well with chaos. She needed calm, and structure and order.

In the silence, she could hear a voice from a steward down below, and the lap of waves against the side of the sleek yacht.

“What you’re suggesting is practically an arranged marriage,” she said finally.

“But I didn’t want to marry Senor Carlito, and I don’t want to marry you. Not if you don’t love me. That’s why you were so upset about the pregnancy. You didn’t love me and didn’t want a baby with me. You were angry because you felt like I was trapping you.”

One brow lifted. “Weren’t you?”

Her jaw dropped, shocked. “You really did feel that way?”

“I’d be lying to you if I told you it hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Why would I trap you?”

He shrugged. “You loved me. You didn’t feel secure about my aff

ections. It was a way to keep me in your life.”

Sickened, Ava stumbled to her feet. Pushing away from the table, she walked as quickly as she could from the sun deck, her hand on the rail for support.

Beneath her feet the yacht shifted, rolling. They were moving again. She could hear waves breaking against the bow.

“Ava, stop,” Colm called after her, following.

“Leave me alone.” She choked, hating him, hating how he ruined everything. The pleasure he gave her never equaled the pain he caused her.

His footsteps sounded behind her and then his hand closed around her arm, forcing her to a stop. “Stop running from me. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Better I hurt myself then let you hurt me with more of your words!” She flashed, bruised. “How little you thought of me…how much you must despise me to imagine I’d trap you with an unplanned pregnancy.”

“You weren’t always so ethical,” he said, pinning her with his body against the railing. “You’re an intelligent, passionate woman. But that doesn’t make you a saint.”

He was leaning close, far too close. She could smell his spice and vanilla fragrance, the scent heightened by the heat of the sun and the warmth of his skin and her whole body reacted, nerves screaming. “I’ve always been ethical,” she protested. “I’m a product of convent education. I know my ten commandments better than anyone.”

“Then you know, thou shalt not lie.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve no need to lie. Ask me what you want to know and I’ll tell you…if I can remember.”

His head dipped, his mouth grazed the corner of hers, placing the lightest kiss possible on the edge of her lips. “How convenient.”

His whisper sent icy-hot rivulets of feeling up and down her spine while his light kiss made her tummy curl and the hair rise on her nape. She remembered the way he’d kissed her in the shower, remembered the heat and intense sensation.

She shook her head, chasing the memories away. “At least I was willing to give you my heart! You wouldn’t even offer me that.”

His blue-green gaze sparked. “I did care for you. But it wasn’t enough for you.”

Care, she repeated silently. What a small strange word. Completely colorless, nearly sterile. Like caregiver and caretaker and everything else cold and burdensome. Care and duty could be sisters. Dowdy sisters while love, joy, and pleasure were the beauties that went to the ball.