Paper Marriage Proposition (Gage Brothers 1)

Landon didn’t plan to remain here, being baited by his brothers, questioned by the mothers, or ribbed by Kate. He swept her up in his arms. “Good idea.”

“Landon Gage, you did not just do that.”

Because there was no brown bag she could cover her face with, Beth had to pretend she had hallucinated the stupefied stares of their family members as Landon carried her up the stairs. Like freaking Rhett Butler!

His steps were purposeful as he reached the landing, his jaw determined. “I think I did.”

The dogs trailed close at his heels. She squirmed, worried that her poor grasp on reality was slipping. His kisses just got better and better and her breasts tingled like her lips did. “Landon, put me down.”

“You’re drunk, Beth.”

“And?”

“And I’m going to take disgusting advantage of that.” He kicked the door shut behind him and set her on her feet. Her legs felt wobbly, the room spun a little. “You have one minute to get in that bed, Bethany Gage. I’m going to kiss you senseless.”

“Ha!” was all she could say. Her hands trembled as she got busy plucking at her earrings, slipping off her shoes, stealing covert glances at him as he removed his jacket, whipped off his belt. Their movements were rushed, even her awkward ones. Rushed.

“I can’t imagine what they’re all thinking!” she burst out, reaching to her side to unzip her dress. “They’re going to imagine we’re upstairs, doing…that.”

The dogs whined out in the hall.

Landon kicked off his shoes and quickly unzipped. Bethany blinked as he pulled off his pants. He had long, hair-dusted, muscular legs and thick thighs and calves and… He was a dream. A little girl’s fantasy of a prince and a little girl’s fantasy of the villain, all in one man.

She couldn’t do this, couldn’t bear to see him. He was dreaming if he was going to kiss her senseless again. He already had, and she already feared she was losing herself in her daily fantasies of this man.

Storming into the bathroom and closet, she washed her face, slipped into the T-shirt she used as pajamas that someone—probably Martha—had brought from her room, and then she jumped on the bed, quickly sliding under the covers.

She would not look at him, and for a few seconds, she actually succeeded. She had to cool down her jets, get herself calm and in control.

But she felt strange, a little wicked, like she had stolen a moment with her husband and that fact alone made her naughty. She turned just as he shrugged off his shirt. His chest held her mesmerized, made her lungs stop working. She’d never thought a man could be so beautiful and so virile at the same time.

She swallowed at the sight of all that bronzed flesh, the rippling muscles as he yanked the shirt off his wrists.

“I don’t feel married,” she blurted. “Do you?” This felt more like having an affair with the sexy town bad boy who also happened to have millions.

“Like I said, you’re drunk, Beth.”

She rolled to her side, giving him her back, forcing herself to stop staring at his body. “The first time I married, I cried on my wedding night,” she said, because she figured talking would distract her. She didn’t feel like crying now, though, she actually felt…kind of tingly and very weird.

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed. “I guess it was the moment I realized all those little romantic ideas in my head—that’s all they were. Ideas, not reality.”

She heard the drapes snap shut with a yank. “The first time I was married I got stone drunk.”

She whipped around to face him at that. “Why?”

“Perhaps I felt cornered.”

He climbed into bed in his boxers. The mattress squeaked. Her heart did something else entirely; it seemed to vault. He was practically naked under the covers, and within inches of her.

His scent wafted to her nostrils, and the butterflies in her stomach jumped and twisted as her lungs fought for air. “Cornered twice into marriage,” she said, flipping around once again, hating the pulsing sensation between her legs. “I left a light on in the bathroom—it’s the only way I can sleep.”

He edged closer. The heat of his body singed her backside. He set a big calloused hand on her waist, and her breasts felt suddenly painful and heavy. “What are you afraid of?” he urged. “Hector.” You. “I slept alone most of my married life. I would lie in bed and pray he wouldn’t come in, even though I felt so lonely sometimes.”

His hand on her waist squeezed gently, almost possessively, and she was shocked that other parts of her body were jealous for his touch. “You don’t have to sleep alone tonight.”

“I love David.” She shut her eyes tightly, fighting the magnetic force that seemed to be urging her to turn around and run her tongue all over his silken skin. “I think I wanted to love his father, but he makes it so difficult.” And I don’t want to love you.