Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife

As he set her on her feet she clung to him and the fire inside him took over, the reality of the touch and taste and scent of her more intoxicating than any champagne. Helplessly he devoured her mouth, knowing this time he didn’t have to stop. This time he could take her, she was his before God and man and the knowledge was heady.

Her body moved against his, as fluid and sweet as wine, and his hands found the zipper of her dress. As it pooled to white mist at her feet he saw she was wearing the scantiest of bra and panties, her sheer white stockings held up by some modern miracle his male mind didn’t ponder. The need was raging, overpowering, taking over the control he had been master of for so long.

Her hands were feverishly undoing his shirt but, as they moved to the belt of his trousers, he stopped her. ‘Not here,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘And not like this. We’re going to take our time, my love. I want my mouth here…and here…’ His hands slid over her breasts and stomach, stopping at the warm feminine mound at the juncture of her thighs. ‘I want to taste you, to make it last for ever. And the first time I have you will be in our bed.’

He lifted her into his arms again and held her high against his bare chest, his open shirt fluttering as he took the stairs two at a time. In their room they finished undressing each other and she was even more beautiful than he had dreamed, her silky honeyed skin, small pert breasts and long, long legs blowing his mind. He drew her down onto the huge soft bed they had chosen together, the scented cotton cool against his hot skin.

He was not going to rush this. Whatever it took, this was going to be a night they would remember for the rest of their lives. Damn it, he thought, they had waited for it long enough.

Gathering her against his body, he crushed her mouth possessively but almost immediately drew on the control which never failed. He began to kiss her face, her throat, her breasts with his lips and tongue before moving down on to her belly and then lower. He touched and tasted her delicately at first, giving her more and more until her hands were hot on his skin, her body molten as she writhed against him. She was moaning low in her throat but still he withheld what they both wanted until he could not wait one more moment.

He felt her stiffen for one brief second as he made her his but then she was moving under him again, her hands pulling him fiercely against her as she let her body tell him what she craved. And he was lost, a furnace of passion engulfing him as the last of his fragile control was burnt up in the glory that was her soft yielding body. An ecstasy that was mirrored on her face spiralled him higher and higher until the world was left behind and they both entered a place beyond time. He gave her his love, his body, his mind, his will, all self-preservation gone for ever. She held his heart in her small hands and always would.

It was very late when Marianne awoke the next morning. In the moment before she opened her eyes, she was aware of soft warmth and a pleasant all-over ache, and then bright daylight claimed her senses. Rafe was lying facing her, one strong, hard arm draped possessively over her middle. He was fast a

sleep, his long thick eyelashes resting on his cheekbones in a way that fascinated her. She let herself enjoy the wonder of drinking in the sight of him for long minutes, taking her time as she wandered over each feature, each inch of his face. He was beautiful, she thought breathlessly. So beautiful. His body, too. Last night in the moonlight she had seen how powerfully muscled he was and without an inch of surplus flesh.

The thought of their wedding night brought a sensuous heaviness to her limbs. In her naivety she had thought their coming together would be over once he had entered her and made her his, but he had spent all night until dawn broke showing her differently. He had been gentle and fierce, playful and dominant, lusty and loving. So many different depths to his loving. She stretched lazily, her eyes closing.

‘Good morning, Mrs Steed.’

She opened her eyes to see Rafe regarding her with sleepy pleasure and, in spite of all the intimacies of the night before, she blushed as she said, ‘Good morning.’

He drew her into him, kissing her thoroughly before he said with some satisfaction, ‘You taste of champagne.’

‘Well, don’t expect that every morning,’ she said breathlessly, amazed at how much she wanted him considering the hours of lovemaking they had indulged in.

‘Why not?’ He grinned at her, propping himself on one elbow and lightly tracing the line of her throat and collarbone. ‘I think that’s one habit we ought to adopt. Champagne for dinner every night if it has the sort of effect it did yesterday.’

She blushed again and he laughed out loud, pulling her on top of him as he said, ‘Don’t stop doing that, it’s kinda cute.’

She tried to frown at him but it was difficult when his body was telling her he needed her every bit as much as she needed him.

They made love again, the sunlight bathing their bodies in a golden glow as they moved together in the sanctuary of their bed. Afterwards he lay stroking her hair and letting his fingers brush her cheeks for a moment or two before he said, ‘What? What is it?’

‘Nothing.’ She hadn’t known her thoughts were showing on her face.

‘Marianne, we said no secrets.’ He propped himself on his elbow, his blue eyes keen. ‘What is it?’

‘Those…those other women. They were experienced. They knew how to please you. I—’

He stopped her with one finger on her lips. ‘Never, ever think that,’ he murmured softly, his voice deep and more sincere than she had ever heard it. ‘Last night was more beautiful than anything I have experienced before. You are my sun, moon and stars, my everything. Nothing else matters but you. I had never imagined before I met you that making love could be so consuming. I only have to touch you and I’m in heaven. It’s never been like that before. Do you believe me?’

She stared at him, seeing the love. The last of her doubts fading way, she smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I believe you.’

‘For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. Till death us do part. We’re one, my love.’

And so it remained.