The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal (Entangled Indulgence) (9 page)

Chapter Nine

It was stupid to be so nervous about her wedding night. It wasn’t like she’d never slept with Sam before. Yes, she reminded herself, but comparing the young, brash lawyer she’d met in Las Vegas to the man he was now was like comparing a summer rain to a tsunami. Sam in Las Vegas had been playful, with a touch of arrogance tempered by an almost boyish charm. The man she’d married today had a reputation for being assertive in the courtroom. And considering the way he’d made her unravel in the limo after the charity ball, she suspected he was just as assertive in bed.

He caught her eye as he turned back from the door, and she looked away, quickly. They were having dinner in their suite—the honeymoon suite, according to Margot. Camilla was still in her dress. Apparently the photography package had included intimate shots of the two of them dining by candlelight, toasting each other with champagne. This was after a seemingly endless series of photographs following the ceremony. She’d thought it was silly, but Sam had pointed out that it would be a bit strange to return from their romantic elopement without wedding pictures to display.

And so she had posed, on the beach, on the balcony, twirling with him on the terrace in their “first dance.”

Then all too soon JD and Olivia had hugged her and waved good-bye, boarding the yacht with Sam’s two partners for a three-day cruise.
I know why we have to go on the boat,
JD had pronounced as they got ready to leave.
Sam and Mommy want to go kissy-kissy.
Sam had stared at her then, eyes narrowed, and she’d known exactly what he was wondering. How many other men had JD seen go “kissy-kissy” with his mommy.

But there had been only Danny.

Sam handed the photographer a tip, then locked the door behind him, after hanging the
Do Not Disturb
sign. They were completely alone.

How was it possible to be so physically drawn to a man she was constantly at odds with? She’d been confident, even in the limo, that she could keep her physical desires and her emotions separate. The limo had been hot and fast and spontaneous, with no time to think before her own passions and his demands as a lover swept her away. But it felt different now that they had gone through the wedding ceremony and were alone, just steps away from the romantic king-size bed. Mixed with her anticipation of the intense and demanding lover she knew Sam would be was the certainty that things were about to get a lot more complicated. And there was no turning back.

Sam walked back over to the table, taking off his tuxedo jacket and tossing it over the back of one the silk upholstered chairs.

“Still hungry?” he asked.

She shook her head no. She’d eaten very little of the gourmet meal, but she found she had no appetite at all. Her throat felt dry and she lifted her champagne class and gulped down half its contents.

“Good,” Sam said. Then he reached down and quite simply lifted her out of the chair and carried her through the doorway into the spacious bedroom of the suite.

…

Sam had mixed feelings as he set her on top of the luxurious bed and stopped to loosen his shirt collar and remove the bow tie. He hadn’t expected to. With JD and Olivia off on the yacht there would be no interruptions and he could finally put an end to the frustration he’d been feeling every day since Camilla had come back into his life. Despite his anger with all she’d done and giving him no alternative but to enter into a farce of a marriage, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from wanting her. Tonight would be a simple matter of satisfying his physical needs. Nothing more.

But his conversation with Ritchie kept coming back to him. Regardless of his motivations, the marriage was real. In the eyes of the law and, at least in Ritchie’s opinion, in the eyes of God as well.

This was his wedding day. The woman sitting there on the bed in her wedding dress, watching him, was very likely a lying opportunist. But she was also the mother of his child. And, for now, she was his wife.

So maybe for one night he would put aside who she really was and think of her as the woman he’d believed she was, when they met five years ago, before she’d deceived him.

Camilla was reaching behind her, fumbling with the fastenings on her gown, and he felt an unexpected wave of tenderness sweep over him as he watched her. He’d been struck by how lovely, how innocent she’d looked as she walked down the stone path toward him, then quietly repeated her vows, those remarkable blue eyes looking straight into his. And he remembered how those eyes had clouded with hurt, then cleared with resolve, when he’d casually dismissed her five years ago. She’d gone about everything wrong since that point, but there had been something inside this woman that made a part of him want to cherish her.

“Let me,” Sam said, and she looked up at him, her face showing a combination of surprise and nerves that he found oddly compelling.

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her lightly, brushing his lips over hers and just tasting, while his hands slipped behind her and began undoing the elaborate series of buttons and ties. When he felt the gown loosen, he held her slightly away from him and let his eyes take in the soft swell of her breasts, then traced his hand along the sagging top of the strapless gown, allowing his fingers to dip down lower. His fingertips grazed her nipples, and he felt them respond and tighten. He let the gown fall to the floor, revealing those skimpy lacy panties that had driven him mad in the limo and thigh-high opaque stockings. High-heeled shoes showcased her pretty feet and still had bits of sand clinging to them from the wedding.

“Sam.” His name was carried on a breath like a sigh.

He brushed his lips over hers again, then used them to trail down the side of her neck, lingering at the spot just before her collarbone and hearing her quiet moan. He moved to her breasts, taking his time, coaxing a response from her instead of demanding it, as his hand trailed down her back, over the band of lace at her hips, then stroked the smooth swell of her bottom, molding her flesh. Instead of exploding with heat and passion like she’d done in the limo, she trembled in his arms.

After the way he’d handled her that night, he imagined she thought he had no finesse at all. He’d show her she was wrong.

When her head fell back and her body went pliant, he slid her panties slowly down over her hips, taking care this time not to rip the delicate lace. He lowered her to the edge of the bed, gently pushing her back into the thick comforter. He removed her shoes, then slowly rolled one stocking down her long, endless leg. He ran his mouth over the arch of her foot, then nibbled his way slowly up her calf. Her skin smelled like some exotic flower, and he breathed her in, pausing at the back of her knee to elicit shivers of anticipation from her, gauging her reaction as he moved up the inside of her thigh.

He was surprised at the sudden flash of possessiveness that surged through him as he parted her, tasted her, and used his mouth to torment her until she was writhing, her hands fisting in the covers as he held her firmly in place with one hand and used the other to palm her bare nipple, rolling it between his fingers as she came apart for him, crying out uncontrollably as her body clenched with an orgasm, her hips bucking frantically, then dissolving into shuddering spasms.

Feeling her come for him, keeping his mouth on her as she shattered, pushed all thoughts of slow and languid lovemaking out of his mind. He reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of condoms onto the bed, then shed his pants and boxers and, lifting her under the arms, slid her back higher on the thick comforter. He knelt over her for a moment, his eyes on her flushed face and her own eyes glazed from pleasure, while he sheathed himself, then entered her in a single deep stroke. He grabbed her wrists, grasping them firmly in one hand behind her head, while her eyes widened with surprise. The urge to claim her, to take her as no other man had taken her before, was overpowering, and with each thrust he felt his control slipping, until there was nothing in the world but the feel and scent of her and the burning need to possess her completely.

Her legs were wrapped around him, and her body was on fire. When he released her wrists and braced himself on either side of her she arched up, grabbing him, digging her fingers into his arms.

He slammed her over the edge as she screamed his name. Only then did he let himself go.

…

When Camilla woke up, the sun was streaming in through the French doors. She still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened the night before. Aside from the most amazing sex she’d ever had.

Their marriage was a farce, and he’d made it clear that as far as he was concerned the sex was just a convenient side benefit of their temporary union. She was willing to go along with that because the one thing she couldn’t deny was that the chemistry between the two of them was intense. If that had been all it was last night, it would have been easier to deal with this morning.

But he’d taken her like a lover, first with gentle erotic touches that undid her defenses, then with a fierce possessiveness.

For the first time since she’d shown up at his office, Camilla wondered if there could actually be a point in giving this marriage a chance to be something more than a temporary pretense. She and Sam shared a son. And they obviously shared passion. The only thing standing between them was his refusal to let go of the past. That and his inclination to think the worst of her, without ever giving her a chance to explain her relationship with Danny, or why she had been so desperate to escape everything else that was going on in her life for those two brief weeks in Las Vegas. But this morning she was optimistic that maybe that was starting to change.

She stretched under the covers, muscles she’d forgotten she even had aching. They’d had sex three more times during the night, twice starting with her on top, taking control, tormenting him with gentle caresses just as he’d tormented her, but ending both times with Sam reversing their roles and taking her body to places she’d never been before.

She lay there, sated, and wondered if last night had changed anything for him, when she felt as if she’d laid her soul bare to him. Maybe now Sam would ask the questions she longed to answer, would finally give her the chance to explain that marrying Danny had been a matter of life and death – not for herself, but to save Olivia. Nothing had been more important than Olivia.

As much as his opinion of her hurt, her pride wouldn’t let her demand a chance to tell her side of the story. Not without some sign that he would have an open mind when he heard her out, some chance that he might put aside the assumptions he’d made and actually believe her. He was just so wrong about everything she hardly knew where to begin.

She heard the shower turn on and thought about joining him. Even if his head and his heart still closed her off, other parts of his anatomy seemed more than willing to give her a chance. Instead, exhausted and emotionally drained, she slipped back to sleep.

When Camilla woke up again she heard Sam’s voice, but didn’t see him. She wrapped herself in one of the luxurious resort bathrobes and wandered out into the living area of the suite. The dinner dishes had all been cleared away, and in their place was a platter of fresh fruit and a basket of baked goods. Sam had his cell phone to his ear and his laptop open on the table. He was wearing a pale yellow collared T-shirt and faded jeans. His feet were bare and a pair of Docksides had been kicked casually under the table. His arms were tanned—she supposed anyone who lived in Miami had a tan all year round. His hair, still slightly damp from his shower, fell in unruly ringlets across his forehead. Even dressed casually everything about him said self-confidence and determination.

From the gist of the conversation, she gathered he was talking to one of the young associate attorneys in his office. His voice was authoritative, the instructions he gave crisp and direct.

Sam listened for a moment, then gave a short laugh. “I know, even on my honeymoon.” He paused, and she heard a change in his voice. “But since my beautiful bride is still sleeping, this may be my only chance to bring you up to speed on the case until I get back to the office.”

She felt a warm tingle run through her at the way his voice had softened when he mentioned her. He looked up then, saw her in the doorway, and for a moment, his look was unguarded and welcoming. Then his eyes cooled a bit, even though his voice stayed warm.

“And there she is now, so if we’re clear on what needs done…yes. If it’s urgent text me. Otherwise, I’ll expect the response on my desk on Monday.”

He disconnected and set the cell phone on the table, his eyes still appraising her. When he spoke, his voice had lost some of its warmth as well, and she felt her heart sink. So it wouldn’t be that easy after all.

She reached for the pot of coffee labeled “decaf,” poured some into one of the cups, saw the steam rising, and inhaled the strong aroma.

“I ordered both, since I didn’t know which you prefer.”

He’d also ordered just about everything she remembered eating during those wonderful breakfast-in-bed mornings in Vegas, including her favorites, a bowl of fresh strawberries and cranberry-orange muffins. She added cream from the pretty rose-patterned pitcher, then walked over to the terrace door, pushing it open and stepping onto the balcony. She couldn’t get a read on him, wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel this morning.

She felt him move to stand behind her.

Steeling herself, she turned around. “It’s obvious you have work to do,” she said awkwardly. “I’ll just go down to the beach, get a little sun.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, leaning against the doorway, “that it would seem very odd if my wife spent her honeymoon sitting by herself on the beach.”

He was close enough that she could smell his freshly showered scent. Sam had a deceptively lean build. She imagined that people watching him in court might assume his strength was purely intellectual. But she’d explored every inch of his body last night, felt every sinewy muscle, and she remembered how he’d picked her up and carried her to bed as if she weighed nothing at all. All of a sudden her stomach felt fluttery, and she set the coffee cup down on the iron table and leaned her back against the railing.