Matched To Mr Right

“What if I called you...Dannie?” He drew it out and in that silky voice, it swept down her spine and coalesced in her core with heat. “It’s the key to intimacy, isn’t it? You let Tommy call you that. The two of you were very cozy.”

She cursed under her breath. How dare he turn her on while accusing her of dallying with Tommy? “He’s twenty-four, Leo. I’m old enough to be his...older sister. Stop being such a Neanderthal.”

“So that’s your objection to Tommy? His age?” Leo slid off the settee and advanced on her, slowly enough to trip her pulse. “What about Dax? He’s my age. Maybe you’d like him better.”

“What’s this really about?” Boldly, she stared him down as he approached, determined to get past this barrier she sensed he’d thrown up to avoid the real issue—she’d failed at being the wife he needed, on all levels. Somehow. “You’re not threatened by Tommy. Or Dax. You’ve been weird all evening. If you’ve got a problem with me, lay it out. No more smoke and mirrors.”

Only a breath away, he halted, towering over her. Without heels, she wasn’t that much shorter than he was, but his presence—and his dark, intense mood—overwhelmed her.

“You know, I do have a problem with you.” His gaze traveled over her and that’s when she saw the vulnerability he’d hidden behind a mask of false allegations. “You’re still dressed.”

Baffled, she cocked her head and studied him. Hints of what he was so carefully not telling her filtered through. All at once, she realized. He was threatened by other men and conversely paralyzed by his conscience, which had dictated that he wouldn’t touch her until she was okay with what he could give.

His body language was equally conflicted. His fingers curled and uncurled repeatedly, as if he wanted to reach for her but couldn’t.

She was his wife. But not his wife, in the truest sense.

Her heart softened. He wanted something he had no experience with, no vocabulary to define. And she’d been trying to force him into admitting his needs by sharing his bed and denying him the only outlet for his emotions that he understood, assuming her way was best.

Well, this was all new to her, too, but she wasn’t above changing course to give him what he needed.

Their connection was already there. Instead of waiting on some murky criteria she doubted either of them could verbalize, she’d just show him.

That was a good enough reason to strip for him.

Dannie locked her gaze on his and reached up to her nape to unclasp her dress.

* * *

Leo was acting like an ass.

Knowing it didn’t give him any better ability to control it, or to eliminate the constant spike of lust when he caught sight of his wife. Seeing her laugh with another man had generated something ugly and primal inside.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like how he’d focused so much energy and attention on this deal with Tommy Garrett and then spent the night sulking in the corner instead of using the opportunity to do his job. His wife had picked up the slack. His wife. Once again, she’d kept the importance of the evening front and center while he wallowed in jealousy.

How dare she be so perfect and imperfect at the same time?

A few more fingers of scotch might have dulled the scent of strawberries. But he doubted it. When he was this close to his wife, nothing could dilute the crushing awareness.

Daniella’s fingers danced across the back of her neck. His gut clenched as he realized what she was doing, but the protest died in his throat as her glittery dress waterfalled off her body, catching at the tips of her breasts for one breathless second. Then it puddled on the floor, baring her to his greedy gaze.

A beautiful, half-nude vision stood before him. Daniella, in all her glory. Fire raged south, ravaging everything in its path to his center, numbing his extremities and nearly bringing him to his knees.

It would be fitting to kneel before a goddess.

“Daniella.” His raw voice scraped at his throat and he cleared it. “What are you doing?”

He knew. She was doing what he’d been pushing her to do. But she was supposed to slap him. Or storm out. Or push him in kind, the way she always did. As long as she punished him for being an ass, any response would have been fine.

Except this. And it was a far more suitable penance to get exactly what he asked for.

“I’m eliminating the problems,” she said, head held high. “All the problems.”

That was impossible, let alone this way. “Put your clothes back on. I’m—”

Actually, he had no clue what he was. Nothing could have prepared him to feel so...ill equipped to be in the same room with a woman who radiated power and sensual energy.

He shut his eyes.

Strip yourself as bare as your body, she’d suggested. But his wife’s simple act of disrobing, of making herself vulnerable, had accomplished that for him, even while he was still fully dressed.

Everything about her touched him in places no one had ever dared tread.

This night was not going to end well. She wanted something he couldn’t allow himself to give her. Once that bottle was uncorked, he’d focus on nothing but Daniella and lose his drive to succeed. Then he’d fail her—and himself—on a whole different level, which he could not accept.

“Leo.” The softness in her voice nearly shattered him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

He did. God help him, but he couldn’t resist. His gaze sought hers, not the gorgeous bare breasts there for his viewing pleasure. His eyes burned with effort to keep them trained straight ahead.

“I would never—” she emphasized the word with a slash of her hand “—dishonor you with anyone else, let alone a friend or a business partner. I respect you too much. I’m sorry if I behaved in a way that made you question that.”

Her words, sweetly issued and completely sincere, wrenched that hollow place inside. He’d been treating her horribly all night for who knew what reason and she was apologizing. “You didn’t. You were just being a good hostess.”

A very poor depiction of how absolutely stellar a party she’d thrown. She deserved far more than degradation at the hands of her husband. Far more than the absent, unavailable man she’d cleaved to.

“I really hope you think so.” Her expression warmed. “You’re the only man I want. Forever. That’s why I married you.”

The sentiment flowed like warm honey through his chest. This was the kind of romantic nonsense he’d gone to EA International to avoid. But then, wasn’t she describing exactly what he’d asked for? Fidelity and commitment? It just sounded like so much more than that from her mouth, so deep and profound.

What was he supposed to do with that? With her?

“Don’t you want me, too?” she asked, her voice dropping into a seductive whisper that funneled straight to his erection.

“So much more than I should,” he muttered and regretted saying it out loud.

“Then come over here and show me.”

His feet were rooted to the carpet. It wasn’t going to be just sex. Maybe just sex wasn’t possible with someone he’d made his wife.

Regardless, he’d married Daniella, and consummating their relationship meant they were embarking on forever at this very moment.

Part of him strained to dash for the door, to down the rest of the scotch until the unquenchable thirst for Daniella faded from memory. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the other part that compelled him to accept everything she was offering him, even the alarming nebulous nonphysical things.

“So the touching moratorium is lifted?” he asked. “Or is this the precursor to another round of rules?”

Apparently he wasn’t finished lashing out at her. If he infuriated her enough to leave, they could go back to circling each other and he’d put off finding out exactly how weak he was.

He didn’t want her to leave.

“This is about nothing more than being together. Do whatever feels right to you.” She spread her arms, jutting out her perfectly mounded breasts. His mouth tingled and he imagined he could taste one. “Standing here in nothing other than a tiny thong is turning me into Jell-O. I’d really like it if you’d kiss me now.”

“A thong?” He’d been so focused on her front, the back hadn’t even registered. The feel of silk beneath his pinky when he’d pushed past the fabric at her waist during the party rushed back and he groaned.

Slowly, she half turned and cocked a hip, bare cheek thrust out. “I wore it for you. Hoping you’d pick tonight to make me your wife in more than name only.”

He was so hard he couldn’t breathe. Let alone walk. Or kiss. Neither was he ready to cross that line, to find out how far she’d suck him down the rabbit hole if he gave in to the maelstrom of need.

Her lips curved up in a secret, naughty smile. Palms flat against her waist, she smoothed them downward over the curve of her rear, down her thighs. “If you’re not going to touch me, I’ll just do it myself.”

Provocatively, she teased one of her nipples with an index finger. Her eyes fluttered halfway closed in apparent pleasure and he swore. Enough was enough.

She was serious. No more choices, rules, games or guidelines. She wanted him.

It was too late to address all the lingering questions about the status of their relationship or how this would change it. It was too late to imagine he’d escape, and far too late to pretend he wanted to.

Daniella was going in the lover box. Now.

In one stride, he crossed the space between them and swept her up in his arms. He swallowed her gasp a moment before his lips captured hers. Crushing her against him, he leaped into the carnal desire she’d incited all night. Actually, since that first glimpse of her on the stairs at their wedding. Every moment in between.

Their mouths aligned, opened, fed. Eagerly, she slid her tongue along his, inviting him deeper. He delved willingly, exploring leisurely because this time there’d be no interruptions.

He was going to make Daniella his, once and for all. Then he’d recover his singular concentration and no more deals would slip away as he daydreamed.

The taste of her sang through his veins and instead of weakening him, she gave him strength. Enough strength to pleasure this woman until she cried out with it. Enough to grant her what she’d been begging for. Enough to make love to her all night long.

He’d hold on to that strength, because he’d need it to walk away again in the morning. It was the only outcome he’d allow, to delve into the physical realm without losing himself in it. Just tonight, just once.

Leo broke the kiss long enough to pick her up in his arms. Carefully, he laid her out on the bed and spent a long moment drinking in the panorama of his wife’s gorgeous body. All that divine skin pleaded for his touch, so he indulged himself, running fingertips down her arms, over the peaks and valleys of her torso and all the way down to her siren-red toenails.

He glanced at her face. She was so sensuously lost in pleasure, his pulse nearly doubled instantly.

She shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she got up on her knees and pulled his tie free. “Hot. For you.”

Then she slid off his jacket and went to work on the buttons of his shirt, watching him as she slipped them free.

Finally, she’d completely undressed him. Taking her in his arms, he rolled with her to the middle of the bed and picked up the kiss where they’d left off.

Her lips molded to his and his mind drained as her warm body snugged up against him. They were naked together, finally. Physically, at least.

Almost naked. He skimmed a hand down her spine and fingered the thong. Silky. Sexy. She’d worn it for him. If he’d known that, the party would have been over at about seven-thirty.

Her palm raced across his skin in kind and her touch ignited an urgency he couldn’t allow. He’d take as little pleasure from this as possible. Otherwise he’d never leave the bed. It was a delicate balance, made more complicated by the fact that no matter what she’d said, she still wished for something cataclysmic out of this.

He’d make it as physically cataclysmic as he could. That was the best he could do.

Still deep in her mouth, he yanked off the thong and then explored her torso with tiny openmouthed kisses until he reached her core. There, he licked her with the very tip of his tongue.

“Leo,” she gasped, which only drove his urgency higher.

“You taste like heaven.” He wanted more and took her nub in his mouth to nibble it gently, then harder, laving his tongue against it until she writhed beneath his onslaught.

Mewls deep in her throat attested to her mindless pleasure and then she cried, “More. I’m about to come,” which was so hot it shoved him to the brink.

His erection pulsed and he clamped down, aching with the effort to keep from exploding. He drove a finger into her wet core, then two, and tongued her and she arched up as she clinched around him, shattering into a beautiful climax.

He rose up and tilted her chin to soak up the sated, satisfied glint in her eyes as he gave her a minute to recover. But not too long. When her breathing slowed a bit, he guided her hands upward and curled them around the top edge of the headboard.

If she touched him, he’d lose all his hard-won control.

“Hold on,” he murmured, and she did, so trusting, so eager.

He parted her thighs and slowly pushed into her. Rapture stole across her face, thrilling him. She enveloped him like a vise, squeezing tight. She was amazing, open, wet.

His vision flickered as Daniella swamped his senses.

More. He thrust into her. Again.

Desire built, heavy and thick, and he thumbed her nub, circling it. Heat broke over him and he ached to come but needed her to come first. To prove he wasn’t weak, and that he could still resist her.

“Daniella,” he ground out hoarsely, and she captured his gaze.

He couldn’t break free.

Everything shrank down to this one suspended moment and her bottomless, tender irises ensnared him, encouraging him to just feel. And he did feel it, against his will, but heaviness spread alarmingly fast through his chest, displacing what should be there. Against all odds, she’d wrenched something foreign and indefinable and magnificent from his very depths.

Only one thing could encapsulate it, one word. “Dannie.”

It left his mouth on a broken plea and she answered with a cry, convulsing around him, triggering his release. He poured all his desire, all his confusion—and what he feared might be part of his soul—into her, groaning with sensual gratification he’d never meant to experience.

Daniella had taken his name, taken his body. Taken something primal and physical and turned it into poetry. The awe of it engulfed him, washing through his chest. He wanted to mark every page of her again and again and never stop. And let her do the same to him.

Intellectually, he’d realized long ago that one small taste of her would never be enough. But the actual experience had burst from its neat little box, crushing the sides, eclipsing even his wildest fantasies.

He couldn’t allow himself to indulge like that again. Otherwise his wife would swallow him whole and take every bit of his ambition with her.

Nine

Dannie awoke at dawn tangled with Leo. Her husband, in every sense.

Muscles ached and begged to be stretched so beautifully again. Above all, her heart longed to hear him say “Dannie” with such raw yearning as they joined. Like he had last night, in that smoking-hot voice.

The bedroom-sharing plan deserved an award.

Leo was still asleep, but holding her tightly against him with his strong forearms, her back against his firm front. The position seemed incongruous for someone so determined to remain distanced. But in sleep, his body told her what he couldn’t say with his mouth.

He craved a relationship with her, too. The yearning bled from him in waves every moment she spent in his company. It was all over the good deeds he did behind the scenes, which she no longer believed were designed to avoid emotional investment.

He just didn’t know how to reach out. And she’d gladly taken on the job of teaching him.

As he guided her toward her full potential as his wife, she’d done the same, pushing him to keep opening up, giving him what he needed. She’d keep on doing it until he embraced everything this marriage could be. The rewards of being the woman behind the man were priceless.

She hated to disturb him, but his front was growing firmer by the moment and it pressed hot and hard against her suddenly sensitized flesh.

Heat gathered at the center of her universe and her breath caught.

Involuntarily, her back arched, pushing her sex against his erection. She rubbed back and forth experimentally. Hunger shafted through her. Oh, yes.

Then his whole body stiffened and his hands curled against her hips, forcing her to be still. Awake, and obviously not on board with a round of morning love.

Wiggling backward, she deliberately teased him without words.

“Daniella,” he murmured thickly. “Stop. I forgot to set my alarm. I have to go to work.”

“Yes, you do.” She wiggled again, harder, and he sucked in a ragged breath. “Ten minutes. I’m so turned on, I’m almost there already.”

Cool air rushed against her back as he rolled away and left the bed without another word.

Her heart crashed against her ribs as he disappeared into the bathroom. The shower hummed through the walls.

Nothing had changed between them.

Last night had meant everything to her. But she’d vastly overplayed her hand. Instead of viewing it as a precious stepping-stone toward a fulfilling marriage, Leo seemed perfectly content to sleep with her at night and ignore her the rest of the day.

Exactly what he’d warned her would happen.

She had no call to be disappointed. She’d given him what he needed and hoped it would be the beginning of their grand, sweeping love affair. It obviously wasn’t. She’d dropped her dress, pushed him into making that final move and, for her effort, got a round of admittedly earth-shattering sex. She’d even given him permission to do whatever felt right.

At what point had she asked for anything more?

Since the I dos, she’d put considerable effort into preventing screwups, convinced each successful event or household task solidified her role as Mrs. Reynolds.

It never occurred to her the real screwup would happen when she invented a fictional future where Leo became the husband of her dreams.

Flinging the covers up over her shoulder, she buried herself in the bed, dry-eyed, until Leo left the bedroom without saying goodbye.

Then she let her eyes burn for an eternity, refusing to let the tears fall.

Her stupid phone’s musical ringtone split the air. Leo.

Bolting upright, she bobbled the phone into her hands. He was calling to apologize. Tell her good morning. That it had been a great party. Something.

A bitter taste rose at the back of her throat when she saw Mom on the caller ID. She swallowed and answered.

“Hi,” she said and her voice broke in half.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Great, now her mother was concerned. Worrying her mother was the last thing Dannie wanted.

“Nothing,” she lied brightly. “I’m still in bed. Haven’t woken up yet. How are you?”

“Fine.” A round of coughing negated that. “Do you want to have lunch today?”

Oh, that would never do. Her mother would instantly see the hurt in her heart blossoming on Dannie’s face. She had to get over the disenchantment first. “I’ve got a few things to do. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’m leaving on the cruise tomorrow. Did you forget? I wanted to see you before I go.”

Yes, she had forgotten and it was a brutal reminder about what was important—her mother. Not Dannie’s bruised feelings.

Suck it up, honey. “I can rearrange my appointments. I’ll pick you up around eleven, okay?”

“Yes! I’ll see you then.”

Dannie hung up, heaved a deep shuddery breath and hit the shower to wash away every trace of Leo from her body. If only she could wipe him from her mind as easily, but his invisible presence stained the atmosphere of the entire house.

She fought tears for twenty excruciating minutes as the car sped toward her mother’s.

The driver paused at the curb outside her mother’s apartment and Dannie frowned. Paint peeled from the wood siding and weeds choked the grass surrounding the front walk. The shabbiness had never bothered her before. How was it fair that Dannie got to live in the lap of luxury but her mother suffered both pulmonary fibrosis and near poverty?

But what could Dannie do about it? She didn’t have any money of her own—everything was Leo’s. A nasty voice inside suggested he could pony up alternative living space for her mother in reciprocation for last night.

She hushed up that thought immediately. Leo hadn’t treated her like that. He’d told her what would happen on more than one occasion and she’d chosen to create a fairy tale in her head where love conquered all.

Her mom slid into the car and beamed at Dannie. The nurse had done wonders to improve her mother’s quality of life with daily pulmonary therapy and equally important emotional support.

“I’m so glad to see you, baby,” her mom gushed.

The driver raised the glass panel between the front seat and the back, then pulled out into the flow of traffic to ferry them to the restaurant. Dannie leaned into her mother’s cheek buss and smiled. “Glad to see you, too.”

What ills could she possibly have that Mom couldn’t make all better? The pricking at her eyelids grew worse.

Her mother’s hands on her jaw firmed. “Uh, oh. What happened?”

She should have known better—sonar had nothing on a mom’s ability to see beneath the surface. Dannie pulled her face from her mother’s grasp and looked out the window in the opposite direction. “Nothing. Leo and I had a little...misunderstanding. I’ll get over it.”

Probing silence settled on her chest and she risked a glance at her mother. She was watching her with an unreadable expression. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

Dannie half laughed. “Not in his opinion.”

With a sigh of relief, her mother settled back against the seat. “That’s good.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s planning to divorce me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

At least not yet. By all rights, her desperate mental reorganization of their arrangement should have resulted in a firm boot to the backside long before now. Yet, he hadn’t breathed a word about divorce, so apparently he still needed her for reasons of his own.

“Of course that’s a concern.” Her mother’s warm hand found Dannie’s elbow. “Fortunately, you married a solid, respectable man who believes in commitment. A very wise choice. You’ll never end up brokenhearted and alone like I did.”

Yes. That was the purpose of this marriage. Not grand, sweeping passion and a timeless love. This was a job. Wife was her career. Hardening her heart against the tiny tendrils of feelings she’d allowed to bloom last night in Leo’s arms, Dannie nodded. “You’re right. Leo is a good man.”

The muted sound of sirens filtered through the car’s interior a moment before an ambulance whizzed by in the opposite direction. She’d ridden in an ambulance for the first time not too long ago, on the way to the hospital, with her mother strapped to a gurney and fighting to breathe. When the bill came, she’d gone to the library that same day seeking a way to pay it.

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