Fake Marriage Box Set

I went down into the cellar and selected a bottle of one of my favorite merlots. I brought it up i

nto the kitchen, where I poured us each a glass, then brought them back out into the living room. Lexi hurriedly put her phone away as I came back into the room.

“It's okay if you want to take pictures,” I told her. “As I said, I know the view is incredible.”

“How do you manage this place anyway?” she asked. “Based on the outside, this place is huge, but I haven't seen any staff.”

I handed her a glass of wine and folded myself easily onto the couch next to her, bringing a hand up to stroke her neck and playing with her hair a little. “The staff is only here during the day,” I told her, amused by the question. “I don't have much in the way of staff, anyway. Just a maid, and then a grounds crew that comes by a couple times a week. I'm not here that often, really only to sleep. I hardly even eat meals here.”

“You must be busy at work,” Lexi said.

I nodded. “Running Orinoco isn't an easy task,” I admitted. “As I mentioned, I was groomed from a young age to run the company, but I didn't really expect to take over the entire company just out of business school. I thought I would ease into things. Not that I'm complaining. I like the work, and I have a lifestyle that anyone would envy. But it's busy.”

Lexi grinned. “So, you've essentially paid millions of dollars for a house that you barely use?”

I shrugged. “That's one way to look at it, I suppose. I view it more as contributing to the local economy.”

“Aren't you worried about security?” she asked.

I laughed. “Not really,” I told her. “There's no reason to be. My billions are in the bank or in the company itself. I don't have stacks of cash just sitting around the house. And in terms of things that I own, those things would raise huge red flags if a thief were to take them and try to sell them, I'm not the sort of target that they're looking for.”

“What about, I don't know, assassins? Someone who wants to kill you and take your position?”

“That kind of stuff only happens in Hollywood movies,” I told her, amused by the very thought of it.

“Oh,” Lexi said, looking embarrassed.

I brushed some of her hair back from her face, deciding it was time to get this evening back on track. “You're really beautiful,” I told her.

“You're really handsome,” she responded, but from the way she blushed and ducked her head, I could tell that she was pleased by my words.

“No, really,” I insisted. “I've met a lot of the girls in this city. I've met a lot of girls around the world. And I have to say, there are very few women who are as beautiful as you are.” I paused, again, sensing her uncertainty. “It's your eyes,” I told her, lightly stroking my thumb against her collarbone. “They're hazel, I guess, but I swear that in the right light, they are the most bewitching shade of green. And you have the cutest freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks. And those legs. God has never given a woman a better pair of legs.”

She laughed a little at that, pushing me away. “Are you drunk or something?” she asked.

“I'm complimenting you!” I protested, taking a sip of my wine to hide my answering smile. “You must have guys complimenting you left and right, though, Ms. Jordan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is this a line? Are you just trying to get me in bed with you? Because you don't have to keep talking about how pretty I am.”

“Oh, really?” I asked.

“Really,” she said, a breathless note to her voice.

I blinked at her for a moment, wondering if it was really that simple, but from the guileless look in her eyes, I had to conclude that it was.

I smiled at her and plucked her wine glass from her hand, carefully setting it down on the coffee table. Then, I took her into my arms and kissed her again. “Let's move this to the bedroom,” I whispered against the shell of her ear.

She shivered and nodded in agreement, letting me lead the way.

In the master suite, I pushed her up against the wall and kissed her thoroughly, feeling my cock rapidly harden in my slacks. I sucked at her lower lip, and I bit gently at her tender skin, then kissed an apology into the pain. She moaned, and her mouth fell open. I took that as an invitation to explore the softness, playing my tongue against hers.

I tugged her dress up, running my fingertips across the smooth skin of her hips and dragging them higher. I had almost reached her breasts when she jerked and pulled away from me, her eyes wide.

I pulled away, too, and let her dress fall back down into place. It pained me to do so, but I wouldn’t push her to do something she didn’t want to.

“If you want to stop, that's okay,” I told her. I cleared my throat. “That is, if you don't want this to go any further than it already has, then as much as I'd like to lay you out and ravish you, I'll respect your wishes.”

I hated saying those words, and I really hoped that she wasn't going to ask me to stop. I was aroused. I was excited for this in a way that I hadn't been in a long time. Sex had become mostly routine by this point. Not that the women I brought home never thrilled me. They did. But I almost never felt this raw, carnal desire for a woman. It felt as though if I didn't take her, I wouldn't be able to satisfy the burning need inside of me.