Bought: One Bride

Richard could see she wasn’t going to let him drag her back to bed for the rest of the day, damn it. If he was going to get up and take her out somewhere, he might as well clear the air on the subject of the Wives Wanted agency right here and now.

“Somewhere nice it will be, then. But before I get dressed and run you home,” he said, “could you come over here and sit down on the bed next to me?” He patted the side of the bed with one hand as he dragged a sheet over his lower half with the other. “I have something I want to discuss with you.”

“What?” she asked a bit nervously as she did as he asked. But as she sat down and crossed her legs his shirt parted across her thighs and he had a tantalising glimpse of the dark triangle of curly hair that arrowed down between her legs.

“I’ve just had a call from Reece,” he said before he succumbed to temptation and pulled her into the bed with him.

“Oh?” Her hand lifted to finger-comb her hair back from her forehead.

“Alanna told him what she’d said to you in the powder room last night.”

“Oh!”

Was that alarm in her eyes?

Damn it all, but she could be hard to read at times.

“Why didn’t you mention it last night?” he asked, watching her face closely.

Definite guilt in her eyes this time. Though Lord knew what she had to feel guilty about.

“I…I didn’t want to spoil anything,” she said.

Aaah, now he got it. She’d wanted him to bring her home and make love to her. That had been her priority at the time.

“But you were still angry with me,” he pointed out.

“Not really. More like…bewildered. I…I couldn’t understand why you would want to go to that kind of agency, or why you would think you had to buy yourself a wife, the way Reece did.”

“Reece didn’t buy Alanna.”

“Oh, come now, Richard. Do you think she’d have married him if he’d been poor?”

“No. But Reece’s wealth was not the whole picture. They connected straight away. And the chemistry was right. The way we did.”

Now she definitely looked alarmed. Or was it shock?

“What is it you’re saying, Richard? Surely you’re not asking me to marry you?”

“Would that be so surprising?”

“Yes! I mean…I thought…I just…I… For pity’s sake, we’ve only known each other a little over a week. And please don’t go saying you’ve fallen madly in love with me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he said, and watched her eyes widen.

“Wow. You can be brutally honest when you want to be, can’t you?”

“Would you prefer I did a Dave on you?”

“Lord, no,” she said with a shudder.

“In that case, hear me out,” he said, throwing back the sheet and climbing out of the bed. “Wait here.”

Holly remained rooted to the spot, her head spinning. So he had been targeting her as a marital candidate.

Holly couldn’t deny she felt flattered, but, goodness, what was the rush? It couldn’t be because he wanted sex. She’d slept with him last night and would undoubtedly sleep with him again, whenever he wanted. Her insistence earlier that she wouldn’t be his sex slave was just so much rubbish. Being Richard’s sex slave was exactly what Holly would like to be.

But his wife?

No, thank you very much. She might have toyed with the idea last night, when she’d been turned on to the max. But the cold light of morning had a way of making her see common sense.

Holly refused to play second fiddle in any man’s life! If and when she got married, she definitely wanted a man who was in love with her. A deep and everlasting love. She deserved to be loved and was not going to settle for anything less!

The bathroom door opened and out he came.

Thank God, he’d put something on. Though what he was wearing wasn’t much of a covering, the navy silk robe only loosely sashed around his hips. Most of his massive chest was on display, the matted curls in the centre giving him a cavemanish look. Adding to his primal appearance was his stubbly chin and his slightly messy hair.

“Come with me,” he said, taking her by the hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he practically dragged her along the hallway.

“My study,” he answered.

The room he took her into was nothing like his father’s study back at Strathfield. Bright and sunny, the walls were a pale yellow, the floor covered in the same cream tiles that seemed to run through the whole penthouse. One wall was almost entirely of glass, with sliding doors leading out onto a huge terrace. Another wall had built-in shelves, housing a colourful array of books. A blue-and-yellow rug stretched out in front of the desk, which was sleek and modern. The desktop was clear, she noted, except for a phone and a laptop.