Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby

Wild excitement burned every one of her doubts to cinders. She took another fateful step forward and fearlessly pressed her pelvis against his jeans, lifting her chin defiantly as she slowly circled against him. She was so taut with need, so tired of fighting it, there was no resisting the urge. She wanted what they’d started the other night. Hot sex?

Yes, please.

His hand clamped on her butt, holding her in place hard against him. She shivered at the fierce, close contact. His eyes hadn’t left hers—his were dark, the pupils like black tunnels and she wanted to go the length.

His other hand slowly slid up the back of her thigh, his palm pressing firm but at the same time his fingers massaged her muscles—as if he couldn’t help but caress. Hot, tight, yet softening inside, she gazed up at him. His expression seared as he stroked higher up her thigh, stealing up under her skirt—still not high enough. She wanted absolute intimacy. His erection dug into her stomach and twisted her tighter so she leaned right against him, letting him take her weight, letting him feel how pliant and willing she was.

He cupped the curve of her butt with both hands now—one outside her skirt, one underneath. She wanted him to slide his fingers inside her underwear, wanted him to tease her, take her. She’d lie with him on the sweet-smelling grass and satisfy this elemental longing. Here, now. They’d finish it.

But she didn’t move more, didn’t lift her mouth up to kiss him. She didn’t sweep her hands over his chest. She was spellbound, lost in the glittering intensity of his eyes and the banked ferocity within them.

There was so much control in him. But it was close to tearing. She wanted it torn. The other day she’d been the one to break. It was his turn and she was waiting for it, holding his fierce gaze with a defiant dare in her own. Something rippled through him—surely not a tremble? A split second later he flinched, every muscle hardening. The spasm hit his hands too—his fingers pinched and he swore.

Victoria gasped but smiled as he thrust against her. Satisfaction surged as he bent his head—a kiss, completion, was only a sigh away.

‘Victoria?’ A row of trees over, the wedding planner’s high-pitched call pierced. ‘Has anyone seen the calligrapher? Is she still here?’

Once again Liam’s fingers dug into her flesh. He thrust against her in another powerful move before stepping back and releasing her completely. She only just caught her balance.

‘Lucky escape,’ he ground out through gritted teeth.

Not lucky at all. ‘Lia—’

‘You want more than this,’ he whispered harshly. ‘But this is all there is.’

‘Victoria?’ The wedding planner sounded closer. ‘I’m here. Just coming,’ Victoria called out.

Well, she would have been. Instead she stood watching Liam stride away from her, from the chateau, his broad hand kneading the back of his neck as he went. Anger apparent in every line of his body.

A thin thread of satisfaction pulled her mouth into a frustrated curve. Yes, he might have wanted her to get Aurelie’s work done. He might still hold a torch for Aurelie. But he still wanted her, Victoria. And he wanted her a lot.

Who was she kidding to think it had been anything more than sex? What drew them together was fire. Rampaging lust and hormones. Where, for whatever reason, their bodies were feverishly attracted.

It was just sex. And wasn’t that all she wanted? Just sex. She didn’t want another relationship. He most certainly didn’t. It didn’t fit with his lifestyle. He’d been right to offer the one night. He’d been honest.

She hadn’t. She’d been confused. But things couldn’t be clearer now.

Did she really want to spend the rest of her life wondering? Was she going to pass up the chance to be with him—even for a short time—a second time?

This wasn’t roses and rings and happy ever after. That wasn’t in her plan. She wanted to build her company. And she wanted to be like any other normal woman in her twenties. She was free. If she wanted a fling, she could damn well have a fling. He was here for a few days. There’d be no anxiety about seeing him unexpectedly in the future. What better chance did she have of some fun? And of getting rid of this old ‘what if’ obsession.

Her blood zinged. High on the hit of sensual confidence and assertiveness, she went back into the chateau.

‘Is there a problem?’ She found the planner.

‘Not at all, I wanted to know if you had some business cards on you. I might find them handy.’

Victoria’s confidence multiplied more. ‘Of course.’ She gave the woman a stack, but she couldn’t ignore the sizzling sensation in her blood. Not any more.

She went into the marquee, the tables already set for the wedding. She found the card that she’d had to write five times before getting it right—Liam Wilson—in that flourishing swirl. She flipped it over to the blank side. And in very ordinary writing, with a ballpoint pen she borrowed from one of the minions, she wrote a bald message.

SIX (#ulink_cf75e899-4834-5c9a-9099-a47c4f892d62)

In the foulest mood imaginable, Liam pulled on his jacket. He’d actually tried to do the right thing. He’d left Victoria to get on with it. She didn’t want complication—not even for a night.

Only she’d come onto him in the alleyway of the garden and torn his resolve to bits. She wanted to spend time with him. Really? What a horrific joke. Sure, he could text her. Tease her. Talk to her over the phone. But get him into the same airspace as her and all he wanted to do was kiss her. He couldn’t see straight for wanting her. Lust in another league from anything he’d ever experienced.

He’d enjoyed his relationship with Aurelie. But in truth most of the time they’d been a couple, they’d been apart. Him competing in one ocean, her surfing in another. It had been convenient and easy and he’d always been able to walk away.

It had nearly killed him to walk away from Victoria in the garden this morning. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling tied. Even if it was only a sexual bond.

He frowned at his reflection. Today his suit gave him a social veneer, but in reality he worked in a competitive, ruthless, isolated world. He was away for weeks, months at a time. The only relationship that could possibly survive that was with one very tough chick. Victoria wasn’t anywhere near tough enough. He feared he’d tangle up her emotions. He knew he’d done that to Aurelie for a while— by taking what he wanted and not giving her enough. It eased his guilt, and pleased him, that she’d gone on to find what she needed with another, better man. Love— and that security and grounding.

Liam didn’t do grounding. Liam did freedom—sailing fast over the water. He didn’t want to feel as trapped as he had all his childhood. All he’d ever wanted to do was sail and keep on sailing. It wasn’t a family gig. It wasn’t a safe gig. And he didn’t want to be dependent on anyone else. He liked to be alone. Just like his father. They were not family men. He wasn’t having a kid only to ignore him the way his father had ignored him. And he would, because being on the water was the most important thing to him.

Victoria had always tried to give all of herself to everyone else—doing what she thought she had to to keep their affection. She had needs he couldn’t meet. She’d be unfulfilled. And more importantly, she knew what she wanted now and she was going for it and he wasn’t going to get in her way.

But he still wanted. And so did she. She’d wanted him back then—he’d seen it written all over her face. There was the irony. To anyone who’d bothered to look, her emotions were obvious. It was just that Oliver hadn’t looked— not hard enough. Nor had her parents.

Oliver had cared more about himself than he did about her. And as a result her confidence had been crushed. She’d got less than she deserved.

But Liam too was so much less than she deserved. He couldn’t give her the security he believed she still wanted. She’d been hurt already. Any kind of a relationship with him would see her hurt again.

But he could give her physical pleasure. He could show her. He ached all over wanting to give her that. He snorted at his own arrogance. So shallow. The best thing he’d done was shut it down and walk away.

Two hours later he watched Aurelie and Marcus exchange vows and wondered about Victoria’s wedding. How had she looked on that day? His stomach cramped. He’d never been able to imagine it. He’d avoided all mention of it amongst his friends of the time, certainly avoided any pictures.

Now jealousy of that past wedding boiled in his gut. He really needed to sort his head out. He’d go back to the coast early and train hard.

He followed the other guests through to where the tables were set, the silverware gleaming in the candlelight. Her calligraphy marked each guest’s place. It was overwhelmingly romantic. He sat and picked up the card bearing his name. Victoria’s letters were pretty and polite and flourishing. He ran his thumb along the edge of the card and then flipped it over. He suddenly felt as if he’d been shot straight into the sun. What was written on the back was penned by the same hand, but the flourishing swirls were absent.

One night. Tonight. Everything. Agreed? V.

* * *

Victoria poured herself a glass of wine. So much for hitting the club scene and finding a social life. Or even a sex life. She didn’t get dressed up, she stayed in her old shorts and work tee with a thin cotton robe over the top and sorted her desk. She had a new project, she’d get on with that—forget the past and take on the future. But she couldn’t help wondering what Liam was thinking as he watched Aurelie say her vows to another man. Victoria’s stomach twisted. How hard that must be. She shouldn’t have left him that message. As if he’d want to see that at Aurelie’s wedding? What had she been thinking?

And she’d not heard from him. What if someone at the table read it? They wouldn’t understand it, right? Good thing she’d only left her initial, not her full name.

Mad with her idiocy and annoyingly one-track thoughts, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and gathered the materials needed for the two-day job that she had all of the next week to do. But she needed to keep busy tonight. She’d keep very, very busy.

Forcing concentration took huge effort. She took her watch off, put her phone in a drawer in the bathroom, put her favourite song on replay and wouldn’t let herself move from her desk. For hours.

Eventually she settled into it. For this project she needed to be extra precise and neat. It was just what she needed.

The thud on her apartment door who-knew-how-long later killed her heart. Three seconds later it started beating back at a frenetic pace that had her breathless. She stood, glancing out of the window as she did. It was still reasonably light, not that late into the evening at all. So it wouldn’t be Liam. The wedding party would only be starting.

Whoever it was pounded on her door again just as she got to it. She opened it, took one look at him and had to lean against the jamb because her legs went so weak. Tuxedos made any man look good; the effect on Liam was mind-blowing.