The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance) (8 page)

Her movement threw off his
equilibrium
, and he caught the back of the sofa with his left hand in order to keep from toppling over. He straightened, regained his poise, and frowned.  

Her chest heaved as she struggled for control of raging emotions. She couldn’t do this. Could she be any more pathetic? She should be able to control herself. But her body wanted to make love. Her body cried out for Dylan’s masterful touch, for the quenching of the heated fire raging through her like a wanton inferno. She was married. Lovemaking was something married couples enjoyed.

But she couldn’t turn her emotions or sexuality on and off the way he could. Making love signified commitment of the heart and soul. She was married, but because she’d sold herself to save Summerhaven. She could not bear to lose her heart.

Dylan Blackwater had been her grandfather’s nemesis. Dylan had wanted Maddy, and he’d set out to get her. Despite Summerhaven ’s new glory and security, too many skeletons existed to forget the facts in a slaking of lust. While Dylan had upheld his end of their deal, she couldn’t perform hers, not without feeling extremely cheap and tawdry afterwards. No matter how good the chemistry.

“I think I would like some real food to eat,” she said, her actions a deliberate time
out. “Shall I go get it?”

Dylan opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed. He’d shed the tuxedo jacket and bow tie. He shrugged, the unbuttoned white tuxedo shirt providing a glimpse of his smooth, rock hard chest. “I’ll do it.”
             

“Thank you.” Her bare footsteps fell on the refinished hardwood as she moved to the front windows and placed her hands on the glass. Before tonight the view of the mirror-still lake had never failed to provide repose; it had always been the one thing she could count on to bring peace.

She heard a slightest rustle as Dylan returned with two covered plates. They sat across from each other and Maddy lifted her fork and sampled the cold chicken salad. She had eaten very little for lunch or during the reception, and she was hungry. Buttering a roll, she glanced at Dylan. “Do we need to get our things from North Star?”

“I had all our stuff moved over here. It’s our wedding night, Maddy. This is our home now.”

She dropped her roll, which hit the floor with a thump and left a yellow smear of butter before stopping by the table leg.

Dylan arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is there a problem with sharing a bed? We are married.” He wiped his lips with his napkin.

With the excuse of reaching for the roll, she dipped under the table. She wiped the floor with her napkin and put both the roll and napkin on her plate and pushed dinner away. She’s lost her appetite and her nerves stretched taut.

“This is terribly cold-blooded,” Maddy burst out. “I never imagined my wedding night to be so business-like. I’ve sold my soul.”

“To me, the devil,” Dylan said softly, his voice containing a husky undercurrent.
His laugh sounded hollow and he shoved his plate away. A lock of black hair dropped across his forehead.

“Yes. All I know is that when you touch me…”

“You want me to stop.”

“Yes.” No. She wanted something primal. She wanted heat. Sex. Coupling. But she couldn’t tell him that.

“You’re lying.” 

“I…”

His gaze bore into hers. “You want me. I can feel it every time we kiss. You have a body built for pleasure, Maddy, and I’m the guy who’s going to make you come until you scream.”

His words excited her. “I’ll be screaming in pain.”

“Again you insult me. I would never hurt you.” He frowned and his gaze narrowed. “Stop lying to yourself and denying what you feel. You tremble at my mere touch. I could kiss you and you’d be begging me within minutes to take you, begging for the release only I can give.”

He was right. He was the one who could switch gears without flinching. Maddy was a Mack truck—impossible to stop on short notice. But pride dictate she fight, and so she stood and shoved her chair in. “I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you.” 

“Oh, but I already have, Maddy. I already have.” 

His words iced her veins. “What do you mean by that?” she asked sharply.

Dylan averted his eyes, staring over her shoulder at the now darkened lakeshore. “Nothing. It’s not every wedding night that the groom gets turned down.”

“It’s not every wedding night that the bride is married for convenience.”

“So true,” Dylan mused calmly.

Maddy fumed. The man never lost control. Even at eighteen, Dylan never overreacted. He was a methodical planner with dozens of contingency plans. Even after her rejection and Ted’s punches, Dylan hadn’t stayed down long. He’d changed directions—and ended up here. Owning her.

The chair thudded on the wood floor as Dylan rose.  He gestured toward the opening that led to the two first floor bedrooms. “Feel free to retire anytime. Your belongings are in the master bedroom. I’ve installed myself next door in the red bedroom.”

Angry lines she couldn’t contain creased her forehead. No wonder why he was so smug.
He’d toyed with her. He had no intention of sleeping with her.
Dylan, always one-step ahead. Life was but a game to him.

“My parents will arrive tomorrow,” Dylan continued, ignoring her agitation. “Although we have five bedrooms here, they wanted to stay on the island to give us our privacy.”

Maddy’s body trembled. His ease enraged her, showed her how far out of his league she was. “I don’t want you living here. This is
my
home.” 

He absently ran a hand through his black hair, making the silken strands ripple and reflect the light. “Too bad. A husband lives with his wife.” 

He stressed the last word, and Madison shuddered.

“While I may not be sharing your bed, my parents will find it odd if such a happily married couple like us sleeps a boat ride apart.”

Madison crossed her arms. “I was surprised they missed the wedding, with our being such a loving couple and all. Did you not want them to see how much of a sham today was?”

His eyes narrowed at her sarcasm. “My parents were on a world cruise when we announced our engagement. I insisted that they finish it.”

“Perhaps we should have held the wedding off one more day.”

“Repairs on the church begin first thing Monday and tomorrow’s Sunday service. The first lesson in business is that you have to take the window opportunity hands you, and this was the window. Anyway, if it appeases your sensibilities, my parents understood our hurry,” Dylan said brusquely. “They think we’re madly in love, and they are old-fashioned enough to believe that sex waits until the wedding night.”

“Perhaps in a regular marriage people anticipate the wedding night.”

He stepped around the table so that he towered over her. “Make no mistake. I want you, Maddy. I can think of nothing I’d rather do than have you lying beneath me, writhing with passion as I take you over the edge.”

With that he pulled her upwards, crushing her in a kiss that was as passionate as it was possessive. Every defensive wall crumbled underneath at his sensual onslaught. It was as if she’d been made for this, made for him. She molded herself to fit, wove her hands around his neck and gave into the sensations overtaking her.

He slid his hands to her breast, pushing the bodice down so he could slide his hand inside. His fingertips found her nipple and he rolled it, sending pleasure shooting through her. She had the strongest need to clench her legs, but he’d stepped between them and the heaviness and the wetness seeped and created a fire her body had to quench. He kept her mouth pinned with his as he moved to touch her other breast and she ached for more as his tongue mated with hers.

Then coldness descended as he yanked away from her. Like being doused with a bucket of cold water, Maddy tried to straighten up.

“Go to bed. It’s been a long day. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe from the monster you claim I am. When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself about how turned on you are, let me know.”

Maddy’s chest heaved as she drew breath. She forced her feet to move, somehow held her head high. Damn the man! She stalked toward the first floor hallway, turning around once. “Goodnight, Dylan.”

Dylan had turned away from her. “Good night, Maddy. Sleep well. Pleasant dreams.”

Maddy shivered and escaped. She flipped the light switch, sending light flooding down the twenty-foot hallway until it made a 90-degree turn. She made the next turn and entered the master bedroom.

Here, too, magic had occurred. An antique four-poster bed stood against one wall, complete with new mattress and linens. The new white bedspread had been turned down, and a single rose rested on the white down pillows. The decorator had replaced the hideous old, red painted furniture of Maddy’s childhood with antique mahogany pieces that matched the refinished wood floors and wood paneling.

She walked to one of the side windows. Gone were the sheers yellowed by age, and in their place were new lacy white curtains and sliding drapes. She moved a lace panel aside and looked down the lane toward her aunt’s cabin. Through the trees she could see lights, meaning Aunt Gail hadn’t yet retired. Madison turned away as a soft breeze blew through the new casement window. This suite had always been her room, her grandparents and Ted preferring to stay upstairs where the bedrooms were larger, albeit without a fireplace.

“Oh Grandfather,” she thought, “if you could see what he’s done. You’d be so
pleased.” 

From the buildings to the grounds, Dylan’s money had made the restorations swift reality. No expense had been spared returning the lodge to its beauty.

Everything was the way she’d envisioned. She touched the freshly stained wood mantle and lifted up the antique china vases that were original to the house. 

She traced her finger over the antique writing desk, noting that not a speck of dust marred the smooth surface, and then she threw open the double doors and stepped onto the private sun porch that overlooked the lake. 

Night had fallen but she could discern the lake from the sky. The calm water held a navy hue and fireflies lit the grassy lawn. She sat down in the refinished rocking chair, noting the tightness of the rewoven seat. With a rhythmic motion, she set the wooden runners in motion. Around the lake, lights flickered, appearing to the naked eye like tiny beacons. Madison kept rocking, sending herself into an exhausted sleep.

Sometime late at night, her sleeping brain heard the wind pick up and the rain descend. Cold blew into the small sunroom, and she groggily opened her eyes. Getting her stiff body out of the rocking chair was a challenge, and awkwardly she stumbled to the turned down bed. Fighting the enveloping sleep, she pushed the rose to the other side, and drew the covers up to her chin.

Wisconsin nights are naturally pitch black, and the storm accentuated the darkness. The thunder rolled in on freight trains, and torrid rain sheeted down. Maddy tossed and turned as uneasy sleep claimed her. In the haze of slumber, she rolled over in the bed, the sharp prick of thorn against her bare shoulder sending pain throughout her body. She screamed, and with a jolt, flung the offending flower off the bed.

“Madison? Are you okay?” The voice burst forth out of the blackness of her dream
as an even darker figure appeared. “I heard you cry out.”

Dylan. He’d come for her. Had he ever let her down? “I pricked myself on the rose.”

“Let me see.” The shadow’s fingers moved along her shoulder, and Madison trembled as the coverlet fell away.  The rain had left the night cold, and her breasts were heavy and full. “You’ll be okay, princess. I’m here for you.”

His hand reached out, and he pulled her toward him. His arms encircled her.

“My mistake,” he huskily said in her ear. His breath was hot and his nose pushed her hair back from her ear before his lips traced a path down her cheek.

“What mistake?” Madison whispered. Oh, how she wanted him!
             

“Letting you go to bed alone.” His voice came from somewhere in the shadow in front of her, and the next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers. 

His lips demanded entrance, and she yielded under his prowess and skill.

She pressed against his smooth chest, her fingertips burning as she found it naked. How she’d longed to touch him. She ran her hands over his chest, memorizing every nuance of the smooth texture.

His tongue was doing something to the roof of her mouth, and a fire built and spread across her body. He pushed her down to the mattress. His hands freed from holding her, he moved them up under her wedding dress. His fingers pushed the bodice down, and his right forefinger and thumb kneaded her left nipple and drew it up into a bud. 

He plundered her mouth as he stroked and teased, and with an impatient gesture, he released her from his kiss, lifted her dress completely, and closed his lips over the throbbing nub.

“Oh!” The cry wrenched from Madison’s mouth of its own volition as she writhed
under the sensation of Dylan’s lathing of her nipple. She felt him stoke the other breast with feather touches, and he ran his tongue over the ridge and down the valley as he moved to the taste the opposite peak.