Untouched Until Her Ultra-Rich Husband

Not a house, Luli decided as she absorbed the ebony-and-ivory interior with its glints of chrome and glass. A spaceship.

The attendant took her down a short corridor that ended in a minisuite in grays and chrome. Along with a massive bed, there was a private dining area for two, a sofa, a desk and another television.

“Please use the bell if you need me to bring anything.” She pointed at the button near the headboard as she left.

Luli saw her bag hung empty on a hook behind the door. She opened a couple of drawers, finding Gabriel’s clothes in them.

Her heart stopped. This was his room.

And there was her underwear in another drawer, looking very paltry in such a big, empty compartment. She closed the cupboard and touched the vase on the night table. It was magnetic, ensuring it wouldn’t fall over during turbulence.

She went into the bathroom. Mirrors and subdued lighting turned the powder-blue color scheme silver. The shower had frosted glass and the towels matched the bedspread.

Luli stared at herself in the mirror. Gabriel was right. This double-breasted jacket did her no favors. She had been trying to blend in for so long, she had mostly forgotten how to make the most of her attributes.

There was only soap and lotion in here, no makeup. She washed, then, rather than pin up her hair again, left it loose. The thick, wavy mass had always been one of her best features along with her natural honey-toned skin. She left the jacket on the hook behind the door, even though her plain cotton bra caused unflattering lines against the thin fabric of her knit top.

She paused before she opened the door. Gabriel was on the other side, advising someone on the phone in French what time they would arrive.

She opened the door to see him tossing a pair of bone-colored pants onto the foot of the bed. He noticed her and glanced at the blue shirt on the hanger in his hand. He replaced it on the rack and brought out a red one.

“Merci. Au revoir.” He ended his call. “These are for you. More comfortable for travel.” He pulled the shirt off the hanger and picked up the pants. “And more flattering. Although, that’s better without the jacket.”

The way his gaze lingered on her made her think of their kiss. Her skin grew tight.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she came forward to take the clothes. The linen pants had a wide, woven tape as a drawstring and the shirt was a soft knit with a half dozen buttons at the collar. “We, um, should talk about a few things.”

“Sure,” he said absently. “I wondered how long it was.” His gaze traveled to where tendrils of her hair scrolled against and around the swells of her breast. His hand lifted and she felt a light tug against her scalp, as though he drew a few strands through his finger and thumb, testing its silky texture.

She stood very still, not sure what to make of his curiosity, but liking the tingle that rippled across her scalp and down her nape into her shoulder. It was like their kiss, leaving her feeling shaken, while he had seemed to shake it off.

“I wondered if—” She started to lose her nerve. “We didn’t talk about whether this would be, um, a real...um...” She swallowed, voice almost nonexistent as she squeaked, “Marriage?”

His brows came together like a pair of crashing trains, head-on. “You signed the contract. I thought that meant you agreed to everything.”

“I didn’t have a chance to disagree, did I? Everything happened so fast. Then, the way you kissed me, I thought maybe it was just for show.”

“What do you mean? Were you pretending when we kissed?” His voice rang with such foreboding, she shivered inwardly.

“N-no?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m sure. But I wasn’t sure if you...?” She swallowed, completely out of her depth.

“I wasn’t pretending anything. I was trying to keep it this side of X-rated.”

There was something in his demeanor that reminded her of the time her mother had been photographed with a jaguar. Luli had been seven or eight. Her mother had insisted she join her. Luli had been fascinated by the power and heat radiating off the spotted cat, but the handler had warned her, Don’t look him in the eye.

So she knew better, but she did it now with this beast—and instantly understood why it was a mistake. It aroused the hunter in him. He might appear relaxed, but his pupils opened and he bared his teeth, sending swirls of reaction into her abdomen. Strangely, it wasn’t terror. It was the opposite. An answering type of excitement? She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.