In Bed With...Collection

His wife.

Then he was trailing kisses down her throat, to the breast he hadn’t touched yet, covering it with the hot excitement of his mouth, sucking it erotically, pumping pleasure through her in delicious spasms, building a craving for more and more.

‘I want you to have my child,’ he said, moving to her other breast, sliding his hand down to caress her stomach in circular sweeps, as his mouth played sweet havoc and her mind flashed images of…

His child.

His child in her womb, his child at her breast…the baby she’d love to have…with this man as the father…the man she’d secretly thought would be the best father.

And now he was kissing her stomach, as though he was imagining his baby in there, and his hand was between her thighs, stroking them apart, making room for him to come to her again, exciting the need to have him there. Such intense sensations of pleasure, demanding the fulfilment only he could bring, but when he moved again, it was to drive the need higher, his mouth closing over her sex, setting her on fire with the exquisite brushing of his tongue, the desire for him quickly reaching exploding point.

She heard herself cry out for him, begging, pleading, desperate for him to answer the ache inside her, and he responded immediately, filling her with a glorious rush of satisfaction as he plunged himself deeply into the quivering place that yearned for him.

It felt so good, so right, and she revelled in every stroke of him inside her, loving the hard fullness that kept pushing the pleasure of his possession higher and higher until she felt herself shattering around him, moving into a sea of bliss, and he rocked her there, bringing wave after wave of beautiful feelings that spread through her entire body. The spasms of euphoria kept coming even after he had climaxed and they were simply lying together, luxuriating in the intimate peace of needs fulfilled.

Feather-light fingers stroked the curve of her spine. His cheek rubbed over her hair. She felt his warm breath fan her temples as he spoke, gruffly demanding a reply from her. ‘Say you’ll marry me, Sunny.’

Marry him.

It was a huge step to take. Her still-floating mind struggled with the enormity of it, hardly believing it was real. It was still difficult to believe all she’d done with him was real. But here she was, lying naked on a bed with him, having been brought alive sexually to a fantastic extreme she had never imagined possible. Nevertheless, this…this hasty plunge into intimacy, did not warrant a hasty plunge into marriage!

‘Bryce…’

She hadn’t even called him by his first name before! The unfamiliarity of that alone had her hauling herself up to look at him, face to face…this man who seemed intent on marrying her…Bryce Templar, the CEO of Templar Resources, whom she had thought so far removed from her normal life, the idea of a marriage between them had been inconceivable.

His green eyes were simmering with pleasure in her. A sensual little smile curved his lips. ‘You’re even more beautiful with your hair all tousled,’ he murmured.

He thought her beautiful? Her hair was probably a tangled mop with all the threshing around she’d done in the heat of passion. And that memory brought a flush to her face.

‘We’ve barely met,’ she rushed out, embarrassed by her terribly wanton behaviour.

‘So?’ He stroked her hot cheek, his eyes smiling reassurance. ‘What has time got to do with anything? When something is right, it’s right.’

The conviction in his voice eased her troubled sense of having acted out of character. This was different—what anybody could excuse as extraordinary circumstances.

‘You might not feel it’s so right tomorrow,’ she said cautiously, still finding his proposal too stunning to really accept it could be genuine.

‘Sunny, you said you wanted a partner. So do I, and everything about you feels right to me.’ His eyes flashed absolute conviction as he added, ‘And I don’t believe you’re the kind of woman who’d go to bed with a man you didn’t feel right with.’

That was true. She’d never been promiscuous, and one-night stands were definitely not her scene. It was a relief to hear him reading her correctly. Although she’d never been hit by such overwhelming lust before. But lust wasn’t love, more an instinctive thing running right out of control. She couldn’t believe getting married should be based on instinct. There were many more factors involved in making a partnership work well.

‘We’re even in the same business,’ he went on. ‘All the more to share with each other, understanding what’s involved in our lives.’

She’d thought she had that with Derek. It should be a plus in a relationship. But then she’d believed a lot of things about Derek—for months!—and only found out differently this past week. What seemed right could turn out very wrong indeed.

‘And I want a child,’ Bryce Templar pressed. ‘A child who is wanted just as much by its mother. That’s you, Sunny, isn’t it? You want to be a mother.’

She couldn’t deny it.

‘We’re not getting any younger,’ he pointed out. ‘How old are you?’

No harm in answering that question. ‘Twenty-nine.’

‘I’m thirty-four and I don’t want to be an old father. The sooner we make a baby, the better.’ He cocked a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Any chance we might have already made one?’

It shocked her that protection had not entered either of their heads. Unsafe sex… ‘I hope you’re not a health risk,’ she shot at him.

He laughed. ‘No, I’m clean. And I have no doubt you are, too, Sunny York.’

She sighed her relief. ‘Well, at least I’m on the pill.’

‘Why not throw the pills away?’ His eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘We can try again. All night…’

Just like that? Plunge into pregnancy with him as the father? Her fantasy answered? Yet fantasies were one thing, realities quite another. People didn’t make life commitments, virtually on the spur of the moment. She frowned at him, thinking that stopping contraception would be a very reckless decision, especially when she was feeling all at sea about what had already happened with him, let alone what he had in mind now.

‘Do you really want that, Bryce?’ she queried, uneasy with the way he seemed to be rushing decisions that shouldn’t be hurried. It still sounded strange, using his first name, yet she could hardly call him Mr. Templar in this situation.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said decisively, a gleam of determination in his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t play you false about such serious things, Sunny. You’re the woman I want as my wife, in every sense. Give me my way and we’ll be married tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’ She shook her head dazedly.

‘Easily done in Las Vegas and I see no point in wasting time.’

‘I’m on a flight home to Sydney in the morning.’

‘You don’t have to be on it. And I certainly don’t want you on it. In fact…’ He reached for the telephone on the bedside table. ‘…I’ll make arrangements for your luggage to be packed and brought here.’

‘Bryce!’ she cried, grabbing his arm, totally rattled by how fast he was moving.

He shot her a piercing look. ‘Do you want to go back to that hotel, Sunny?’

And break up what was happening here?

Run into Derek?

‘No.’ She withdrew her hand, fluttering a helpless gesture. ‘It’s just…’

‘Leave it to me. I’ll fix everything.’ He grinned at her. ‘How about running us a bath while I make the calls? I’ll notify the Sydney manager that you’re staying on and I’ll get the hotel staff to pack everything for you and get it delivered here. Okay?’

Sunny took a deep breath.

It felt as though Bryce Templar was taking her on a wild roller-coaster ride and it was scary to think of where it would lead next, yet to get off…without knowing more…and the grin on his face made him so attractive, inviting her into his private and personal world, delighted to have her with him.

Besides, getting on the plane with Derek in the morning was not a happy prospect, seated next to him on the flight to L.A., then the long haul to Sydney. Arguments, stress, wondering what might have been if she’d stayed…

‘Okay,’ she echoed, the word torn out of her need to escape a miserable return to Sydney, as well as the strong temptation to stay right where she was with Bryce Templar, at least long enough to see what the end of the ride might be like. ‘But what about my ticket home if…’

‘Do you imagine I wouldn’t make good on that for you, should you want to go?’ he cut in quietly.