Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire

‘Wife…I like the sound of that.’

‘In name only, of course.’

Her biting response might have been edgy, but she didn’t move when his finger continued its leisurely exploration, reaching her shoulder, skimming along her collarbone, resting in the hollow just above where her pulse beat frantically.

‘Of course,’ he said, ducking his head to replace his finger with his lips, turned on by her low moan and the way her head fell back to give him better access.

Her skin tasted better than he remembered, deliciously soft with a hint of vanilla, and it took every inch of his rapidly dwindling will power not to devour her on the spot.

‘This isn’t supposed to happen,’ she murmured as his lips trailed slowly upwards, nuzzling behind her ear, nipping the lobe before swooping on her mouth in a fiery kiss that branded her his.

Raging need exploded in him as her tongue touched his, the same overpowering, overwhelming need that had driven him to possess her years earlier.

Nothing had changed, absolutely nothing. He was still the same star-struck guy helplessly under her spell.

The realisation should’ve angered him, for he was nothing like the blue-collar farm boy he’d once been. But he didn’t give a damn, didn’t care two hoots she now had him as ready and raring for her as he’d been as a horny eighteen-year-old.

Wrenching his mouth from hers and dragging in a breath, he captured her face in his hands, noting the swollen lips, the rosy cheeks, the eyes midnight-blue with passion, his libido roaring in response.

‘You know something? This was meant to happen from the first moment you came back.’

To her credit, she didn’t look away, didn’t take a step back.

‘You’re wrong. Nothing has gone to plan since I returned.’

The flicker of pain in her eyes hit him hard and he dropped his hands, gave her space and she took it, putting enough distance between them for him to feel the loss.

‘Tell me you don’t want to consummate this marriage as much as I do.’

There, he threw it out, knowing the firebrand she used to be would never back down from a challenge.

However, the forlorn bride in a fancy dress staring wistfully out of the window was a far cry from the feisty girl he’d known, and the thought he’d made her this unhappy was a kick in the guts. And the wake-up call he needed.

‘Forget it. I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back later.’

Failure didn’t sit well with him, never had, and, hating how he’d botched this, he wrenched open the door.

‘Nick, wait!’

But he didn’t.

He walked out on his bride and slammed the door shut on his dreams of a memorable wedding night.

Brittany kicked off her sandals, ripped off the wedding dress and tore the frangipani from her hair, crushing it in her palm in the process.

She stared at the furrowed flower, limp, lifeless, and sank onto the bed, letting the petals drift from her finger-tips to the floor.

She was like that flower: all pristine and showy on the outside, a crumpled mess on the inside.

As if getting through the ceremony hadn’t been hard enough, pretending she didn’t want a real wedding night had almost driven her insane.

Nick wanted her.

She wanted Nick.

Where was the problem?

A sharp pain shot through her chest as a timely reminder of exactly what the problem was: her heart. Her stupid, impressionable, just-break-me-now heart that jumped up and said ‘pick me, pick me’ every time Nick Mancini looked her way.

It’d been the same ten years ago and nothing had changed. She’d been home just over a week, long enough to realise singing the ‘I’m only doing this for business’ tune wouldn’t cut it with Nick.

Not this time.

He’d let her walk away back then, he’d let her do it now, so why was she falling for him regardless?

With a frustrated groan, she headed for the bathroom. A good, long soak might ease her tension.

Yeah, right, just as trying to date other guys had eradicated Nick from her memory banks. Not a chance in hell.

While the bath filled she paced the bathroom, fiddling with the fancy toiletries, picking them up, putting them down, trying not to stare at her reflection as she did so.

The odd times she caught a glimpse in the disastrously monstrous mirrors, she didn’t like what she saw.

A woman in sexy lingerie with thoroughly kissed lips, shining eyes and a glow no amount of blush could induce.

A woman who’d subconsciously bought the sheer ivory lace demi-cup bra and matching knickers edged in rosebuds in the hope the man she still fancied might get to see it.

A woman who was kidding herself.

That stung most of all, the fact she was a smart, astute businesswoman yet here she was playing silly games with herself.

She wanted Nick.

It all came back to that.

Her job and the promotion might be the reason she was here but right now, this very second, Nick was her motivation for staying in this suite when she could’ve quite as easily escaped.

She hated manipulation, hated lies: dear old Dad had seen to that. So why was she wasting time lying to herself now? She’d be gone in a few months, back to her orderly life. Why not make the most of the time they had?

For if she slept with Nick or not, spending the next eight weeks with him would break her heart regardless. At least this way she’d have some fun.

After closing off the gold taps, she carefully slipped out of the lingerie—she had high hopes for the stuff now—and dipped under the lavender-scented bubbles to her neck, resting her head against the giant Jacuzzi and sighing with pleasure.

Closing her eyes, she savoured the lavender scent infusing her senses, soothing, relaxing, helping her mind wander. And wander it did, taking a stroll down memory lane, to the first time Nick had made love to her.

Inviting her to dinner at the plantation when Papa had taken a business trip to Brisbane, the lukewarm pizza they’d fed each other while sitting on the frayed love seat on the back veranda, the icy cola fizzing up out of the can and dousing her in stickiness, Nick’s tongue licking it off her…

He’d made her first time beyond special. He’d been caring and gentle and amazing, treating her virginity like a precious gift she’d given him.

She’d never forgotten it, never forgotten him and it was high time she stopped pretending she didn’t want to recreate the magic they’d once shared between the sheets.

Sinking under water to sluice away her memories, she thought she’d done a fair job by the time she resurfaced.

Until she opened her eyes and saw Nick leaning against the bathroom door, staring at her with barely disguised lust in his incredible dark eyes, looking like a man in definite need of a bath.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NICK took several surreptitious breaths, willing his pulse to slow and his heart to stop pounding. At this rate, he’d collapse on the spot if it kept thumping with such ferocity.

‘You came back.’

Her tentative smile had him gripping the door jamb to stop from striding across the bathroom, sweeping her out of the bath and holding her close.

Thankfully, only her head was visible, the rest of her delectable body submerged under a bubble cover that threatened to spill out onto the black-and-white-tiled floor. Not that the bubbles hampered his imagination. He could picture exactly what delights were hidden beneath those bubbles and the images weren’t helping his heart rate.

‘Yeah, couldn’t stay away.’

‘I’m glad.’

Her tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip in a totally innocuous gesture that slammed into his conscious like a bull ramming a gate in mating season.

‘Are you?’

He was too old to play guessing games, too wound up to figure out why the turnaround.

He’d come back because this was his wedding night and, while lust might have temporarily blinded him to the real reason behind this marriage, the sight of more international guests checking into the hotel had alerted him to the fact he needed to make this marriage look real for investors to accept him as one of their own.

It was the reason he’d come up with this crazy scheme in the first place but somewhere along the line—probably around the time he’d first set eyes on his beautiful bride—his motivation had blurred until all he could see was Britt.

She nodded, gathering more bubbles with her hands on the surface and bringing them towards her chest. Damn, what he’d give for a fan now.

‘Uh-huh. I didn’t like how things ended before. Why don’t you let me finish up in here and we can talk?’

Talk? She wanted to talk?

With that small smile curving her lips, droplets clinging to her eyelashes and her hair falling in tendrils around her face—he wasn’t even going near those damn bubbles—talk was the furthest thing from his mind.

The corners of her mouth twitched as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and he quickly thrust his hands in his pockets and back-pedalled a few steps.

‘Fine.’

‘Give me five minutes and I’ll be out.’

Her smile could’ve fogged up the mirror a lot more than the fragrant steam rising from the water and he managed a terse nod before backing out and closing the door.

Damn it, why hadn’t she closed the door in the first place? Didn’t she know the effect she had on him?

Of course she did. Then why the nasty thought that suddenly insinuated its way into his lust-hazed brain, making him see sense in her behaviour.

Since she’d arrived, she hadn’t shown much interest in him as a man. Sure, she’d teased him, but that was nothing new, she’d always done that. The teasing often included flirting but that came naturally too.

He’d been the one to kiss her when she’d first arrived home.

He’d wanted to kiss her after dinner at his place and she’d pulled away.

He’d wanted to share a room tonight; by her reaction earlier it was pretty obvious she didn’t.

Sure, she’d responded to his kisses, but maybe that had been for old times’ sake? Giving in to him not to antagonise him, not to jeopardise their deal and her precious promotion? Made sense.

In reality, how far did he want to take this?

She’d be gone once her business here was finished, back to her high life in London, and he’d be left behind again, pretending he had a modern marriage where two busy business people lived on opposite sides of the planet.

He’d let her walk away last time, didn’t tell her the truth; what would be different now?

Shaking his head, he took off his tux, pulled a T-shirt over his head, stepped into jeans, ran a comb through his hair and added a splash of aftershave. He would’ve loved a shower but the thought of using the bathroom so soon after Britt had vacated it, her scent lingering everywhere, evidence of her presence all over, would be too much.

She wanted to talk.

That was a sure-fire libido-killer. In his experience, when women wanted to ‘talk’ they wanted to lay down the law.

Well, whatever she had to say, he’d deal with it. Just as he’d deal with this crazy, one-sided obsession to make their marriage real.

After brushing her teeth, Brittany took a final look in the mirror: without make-up, the freckles on her nose stood out like sprinkles on a cupcake, her loose hair had turned frizzy courtesy of the humidity and her plain cotton PJs wouldn’t win any Victoria’s Secret competitions.

Just the look she’d aimed for…before she’d taken a bath and had that little revelation to make the most of the next two months with the sexiest guy to walk the planet.

Her bad boy.

Who was doing his best to appear good but she knew better, knew the underlying rebellious streak that lent him a dangerous edge she found infinitely appealing.

Most girls went through a bad-boy phase, lusting after guys they shouldn’t and couldn’t have, guys with attitude, guys you wouldn’t dare bring home to meet the folks.

Nick had been her James Dean, Marlon Brando and Sean Penn all rolled into one and, while the designer suits and air of success had softened the edges, she just knew he was the same sexy rebel underneath.

But it was more than that, so much more, and the fact her heart had squeezed every time he’d entered a room these last few days was proof enough she’d developed a monstrous crush on her rebel with a cause all over again.

A crush she finally planned to fully indulge. However, there was one main problem. The pyjamas she’d brought were a deeply unsexy pair she’d bought especially to appear as unappealing as possible. Her body, humming with the heat of the bath and anticipation, informed her point-blank that fuchsia stripes wouldn’t do the job.

As for the lingerie she’d intended on using to prove her point tonight, it had taken a tumble into the sink while she’d been brushing her teeth and there was no way she was walking into their bedroom wearing wet, see-through, ivory lace. That left only one viable option.

Wrapping the oversized bathrobe around her damp, overexcited body, she took a deep breath and prepared to leave the safe haven of the gloriously tiled bathroom.

Only a robe between her and Nick. As if she weren’t nervous enough.

Nick had his back to her and she was darn grateful for that extra shot of oxygen a second ago, for the moment she caught sight of him her lungs seized.

Soft black cotton moulded to his broad shoulders, hugging the muscular contours of his back before tapering to a narrow waist, tucked into faded denim…

That was all he used to wear ten years ago, black T-shirts and denim, somewhat of a clichéd bad-boy outfit, but she’d never cared. He’d always looked delectable and nothing had changed.

With her eyes fixed on his butt, she must’ve made some terribly embarrassing sound akin to a groan for he turned, his gaze zeroing in on her damp, bare skin, what little there was on show. His eyes turned very dark brown and he swallowed.

Brittany smiled wickedly at him, his reaction fuelling her faltering courage.

He shook his head as if to break himself out of a trance, cleared his throat, and finally spoke in a low, dangerous tone.

‘Just so you know—if you’re planning on avoiding being seduced, you’ll definitely need more than a robe. Maybe an entire wardrobe.’ His voice sounded strained.

Brittany could see the bad boy inside was only barely contained. Just the thought of what might happen when he broke out added further to her inner tremblings. In a voice that sounded higher than her own, she said, ‘Well, I wanted to talk about that—’

‘Yes?’

His response was so fast it interrupted her mid-sentence, and she gaped at him like an idiot for a moment, her train of thought derailed.

‘You were saying? Something about seducing me?’

His wide grin broke the tension as she remembered how much she liked this man and she grinned back.

‘You wish.’

‘You have no idea how much.’

His intense tone caused her belly to drop in a frightening free fall as liquid heat pooled in places long ignored, every inch of her hungry body on high alert as the bed dipped when he sat next to her.

While her scrambled brains tried to reform the words she was having such a hard time articulating, he sighed.

‘But I thought about it, and you were right.’

What? No! She opened her mouth but he continued before she could speak.

‘Let me guess. You’re not interested in changing the status quo between us. You don’t want to ruin a good working relationship. You don’t want to risk wrecking our deal by letting sex get in the way of the sound business decision we’ve made, right?’

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

Logically, he made perfect sense and he’d reiterated the arguments she’d been having with herself ever since she’d said yes to his ridiculous proposal.

Emotionally, she wanted to rant and scream and kick her Garfield slippers into the Great Barrier Reef, for now she’d made up her mind to alleviate some of this growing tension between them she didn’t want to take the safe, sensible option any more.

But what could she say?

Backing down from her previous stance would make her seem fickle and indecisive and decidedly stupid, not to mention shooting down any credibility in convincing him her acceptance of his proposal was one hundred per cent business.

For him, having sex would be satisfying his lust factor. For her, it was so much more and he’d know it. She’d told him so ten years earlier and knowing Nick he wouldn’t have forgotten.

‘Just business, right?’

With a sinking heart, she nodded.

‘Right.’

‘Okay, then, glad we got that settled.’

He didn’t move and when she raised her eyes to his she knew nothing was settled, far from it, for while Nick might be spouting the business tune his eyes were gobbling her up and coming back for seconds.

‘Britt?’

She gulped, knowing her voice would come out squeaky if she didn’t, for the longer he looked at her like that, the harder it was to breathe.

‘Yeah?’

‘You made a breathtaking bride.’

It wasn’t his compliment that made her blush as much as the memory of how she’d envisioned him taking her wedding dress off.

‘The dress was pretty special—’

‘I wasn’t talking about the dress.’

His hand snaked across the bed and rested on hers, the simple touch setting her body alight as her gaze flew to his, connected, locked, unable to look away even if she wanted to.

Tension crackled between them as she wavered between yanking her hand out from under his to re-establish equilibrium and closing the short distance between them and straddling his lap.

‘You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’

A soft, wistful sigh escaped her lips, a sigh filled with hope and fear and wishes that things could be different for them, that this could be a real wedding night in every sense of the word.

Mustering a smile, she said, ‘And you’re still the charmer.’

He winked. ‘Is it working?’

‘Depends why you’re trying to charm me.’

‘Ah…the million-dollar question…’

Rather than releasing her hand, his thumb traced slow circles on the back of it, grazing her knuckles, dipping into the grooves, sending heat spiralling through her body.

Her eyes drifted shut, as if she could block out his touch and what it was doing to her body, but if anything the sensations increased tenfold.

Every nerve ending snapped to attention with every minute caress, every muscle liquefied with the barest brush of his thumb, and when he stroked her fingers from knuckle to tip the tension strumming her body coalesced into a fiery yearning that had her leaping off the bed like he’d prodded her.

‘I’m really tired.’

His knowing gaze told her he knew exactly why she’d retreated, yet thankfully he didn’t push it.

‘Okay then. Do you want to have supper? I can get Room Service to bring us up something, or would you prefer bed?’

To her endless embarrassment, she blushed and scooted around to the other side of the bed, the very mention of which made her feel like a schoolgirl jilted by the high-school jock.

‘I’m not hungry.’

She slid under the six-hundred-thread-count sheets. The sooner she feigned sleep, the sooner she could avoid looking at his delicious body and wishing he were supper.

‘You sure?’

His deep, husky tone had her imagining warmed honey drizzled across his torso and strawberries dipped in chocolate nestled in his navel and she swallowed, at serious risk of drooling.

‘I’m sure. Now, if you don’t mind, I need some rest. So scoot.’

‘Huh?’

‘The couch?You know, that thing next to the table over there?’

He shook his head and sent her his best puppy-dog look, the one he’d perfected back in high school, the same one that melted her heart.

‘I can’t sleep on that. It doesn’t convert into a sofa bed, it’s two feet too short and has rocks under the cushions.’

‘Well, you can’t expect me to sleep there!’

And she’d be a fool to consider letting him share the bed. By the longing look he cast at the bed, she wouldn’t have much choice.

‘Red, as attractive as you look in the contraception-on-legs robe, this bed is big enough to fit four people. I’m sure we can share without getting into too much trouble.’

She almost would have believed him, if the last few tension-filled minutes hadn’t happened. They might’ve agreed to a sex-free wedding night but, with her belly tumbling with nerves, her skin prickling with heat and the rest of her buzzing from repressed need, she knew trouble was only a tumble in the sack away.

But what choice did she have? She couldn’t subject him to a sleepless night, it just wouldn’t be fair. Or mature.

She could do this. Sharing a bed with Nick would be like having a friend over for a slumber party. And guaranteed she’d be the one spending a sleepless night!

‘We can put pillows down the middle if you think that’ll help.’

He grinned, a fully-fledged teasing grin that mocked her, and she briefly wondered what had happened to her bath pep talk. Lying in the giant bed with the sheets almost pulled up to her neck like a blushing virgin screamed prude and not the sassy city girl she liked to think herself.

Why couldn’t she share a bed with Nick and consider it in a non-sexual way?

Because she wanted him! Bad.

That was when it hit her.

If she couldn’t tell him what she wanted, what if she showed him by giving him a little bit of that teasing he was so good at?

She sat up straighter, allowing the sheet to dip, revealing the robe’s gaping neckline, and sent him a smile that could’ve tempted a eunuch.

‘No pillows needed. I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.’

To her surprise, his cocky grin slipped, as if he hadn’t expected her to agree with him, let alone flirt right back.

Oh, yeah, this could be fun!

‘You better not grope me in my sleep,’ he muttered, sending her an almost hopeful look she’d do exactly that.

‘Hands off, remember?’

‘In that case, move over.’

Okay, so they’d settled the sleeping arrangements fairly painlessly. Good. This wouldn’t be too difficult.

Think slumber party. Think friends. Think harmless fun. Easy.

However, the instant she dropped her guard, Nick did something to shock her all over again.

‘What are you doing?’she shrieked as he undid the zip on his jeans and shucked out of them, standing next to the bed wearing the sexiest, briefest pair of black silk boxers she’d ever seen.

‘I’m getting ready for bed. You don’t expect me to sleep in jeans, do you?’

‘N-no, but don’t you own PJs?’

He shook his head, looking proud of the fact as she struggled to keep her gaze averted from those boxers and the lean, muscled legs beneath them. Sheesh, he looked good enough to eat—and she definitely wouldn’t go there!

‘Too hot. Besides, you should be grateful. I usually sleep nude.’

That shut her up as she closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

Her slumber-party theory wasn’t working, not with Nick standing there in his underwear. His very sexy underwear.

‘Trying to imagine what I’d look like, huh? Well, if you open your eyes, I can give you a demo—’

‘No!’ she yelled, her eyes flying open against her will in the faint hope he’d go through with his threat. ‘Just get under the damn sheets and keep your underwear on.’

‘Your loss.’

He had the audacity to shrug out of his T, toss it on a chair and slide in next to her, sending a dazzling smile in the process. Cocky, brash and totally shameless.

The next ten hours were going to be hell. Or heaven, depending how she looked at it, and right now, with an amazing expanse of broad, tanned chest on display, heaven seemed uncomfortably closer to the mark. ‘’Night, Red. Pleasant dreams.’