Claimed by the Millionaire: The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition. Michelle Celmer
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and spun around. Tristan stood there, gorgeous as always. “Why are you in my house?”
“You gave me a key, remember? I am your fiancé.”
She made a face at him in the mirror. “Just for pretend.”
“Sheri.”
He said her name in a stern tone that told her she was pushing too hard. But she didn’t want to back down. She was tired of pretending, and the only way for that to stop was for Tristan to see her as more than a lover and an assistant. She was pretty sure that’s all he saw when he looked at her.
“What?”
“What is the matter with you this morning?”
She shrugged. If he’d demanded an answer or kept pushing her, she could have gotten angry and then used her anger to keep the truth at bay.
“Answer me. Please.”
“No.”
She reached for a pair of platinum bangle earrings and slipped them into her ears. Tristan came up behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in low so that his gaze met hers in the mirror.
“What is wrong?”
She bit her lower lip, afraid of saying too much. But suddenly she realized that the changes she made were all superficial and deep inside she was the woman she’d always been. And that woman wanted more.
“I don’t want to be your fake fiancée. And frankly, I can’t understand why this isn’t real.”
Tristan would be damned if he was going to have this conversation with her. He’d been dodging the same questions from Gui, who had warned him that toying with a woman’s emotions was only going to lead to trouble. And Christos, who didn’t know the engagement wasn’t real and thought that he had made a great decision. Since Christos’s marriage to Ava, the man thought all anyone needed to be happy was a wife.
But Tristan knew better. He wasn’t toying with Sheri’s emotions, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to really marry her. He knew himself well enough to know that there were only certain things he could control. And surprisingly Sheri was one of them.
He bent his head to nibble on her neck in the spot he knew was sensitive. She undulated under his hands and reached back to put her arms around his neck, turning her head to the side until their lips met.
He hated not waking up with her every morning. He suspected that was why he still wasn’t ready to move on from her. He had yet to spend an entire night with her, save for that first one on Mykonos. And he hadn’t appreciated it then.
“I thought you were in a hurry this morning,” she said, turning in his arms.
“Just to see you.” Her dresser surface was clear except for a small jewelry box. “Are you wearing panties?”
“Yes,” she said. “I tend to wear them when I’m going to work.”
“Take them off.”
“Ask me nicely,” she said.
And Tristan leaned down to take her mouth with his, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. He caught her earlobe between his teeth and breathed into her ear as he said, “Please.”
She shivered delicately, her hands clenching on his shoulders before she stepped back half an inch. “Okay.”
She tugged the short hemline of her dress higher and lowered a pair of whisper-thin white cotton panties. She balanced herself by putting one hand behind her on the dresser as she stepped out of her underpants.
The movement thrust her breasts forward. The high, round neck of her tunic didn’t show nearly enough of her chest for him. He reached for the belt at her waist and unhooked it, letting it fall to the floor.
He lifted her up on top of the dresser and pushed her tunic dress to her waist. She parted her legs and he groaned her name. Blood rushed through his veins, pooling in his groin.
She continued smiling up at him as she leaned back on her elbows. “Was this what you had in mind?”
“Almost,” he said, pushing her dress even higher until her breasts were bared to his gaze. The bra she wore had thin lacy cups and he could see the distended nipples peeking through the lace. He leaned down and licked them both.
Her legs shifted restlessly around his hips. Though it had been just last night, it felt like an eternity since he’d last held her in his arms.
He’d been aroused since he’d entered her house. She reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Her mouth opened under his and he told himself to take it slow, but slow wasn’t in his programming with this woman. She was pure feminine temptation and he had her in his arms. He slid his hands down her back, finding the clasp of her bra and undoing it.
He grasped her buttocks, pulling her forward until he was pressed against her feminine mound. He felt the humid warmth at her center through the fabric of his pants and reached between them to caress her. She shifted more fully into him.
The fabric of her dress, bunched under her arms, just covered her breasts as she breathed heavily. He saw the hint of the rosy flesh of her nipples and lowered his head, using his teeth to pull the loosened fabric away from her skin. He ran the tip of one fingertip around her aroused flesh. She trembled in his arms.
Lowering his head he took one of her nipples in his mouth and suckled her. She held him to her with a strength that surprised him, but shouldn’t have.
Her fingers drifted down his back and then slid around front to work open the buttons of his shirt. He growled deep in his throat when she leaned forward to brush kisses against his chest.
She licked and nibbled and made him feel like her plaything. He wanted to let her have her way with him, but there was no room here, no time for seduction or extended lovemaking.
He pulled her to him and lifted her slightly so that her nipples brushed his chest. Holding her carefully, he rotated his shoulders and rubbed against her. Blood roared in his ears. He was so hard, so full right now that he needed to be inside of her body.
He caressed her creamy thighs. God, she was soft. She moaned as he neared her center and then sighed when he brushed his fingertips across the entrance to her body.
The area was warm and wet. He slipped one finger into her and hesitated for a second, looking down into her eyes.
She bit down on her lower lip and he felt the minute movements of her hips as she tried to move his touch where she needed it.
He was beyond teasing her or prolonging anything. He needed her now. He swept her dress over her head and tossed it on the floor. She shrugged out of her bra and he lifted her off the dresser, turning her to face its mirror.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
“I want you to watch us as I make love to you.” She murmured something he didn’t catch. “Bend over slightly, ma petite.”
She did as he asked, her eyes watching his in the mirror. “Take your shirt off, please. I want to see your chest.”
He smiled at her as he shrugged off the shirt she’d unbuttoned. His tie was tangled in the collar, but he managed to get them both off. He took out the condom he’d put in his pocket this morning and donned it quickly.
“Hold on and keep your eyes on mine in the mirror.”
“Yes,” she said.
He covered her with his body. Their naked loins pressed together and he shook under the impact.
He cupped her breasts in his hands then slipped one hand down her body, finding her wet and ready. He adjusted his stance, and then entered her with one long, hard stroke.
She moaned his name, still holding his gaze. He bit softly at her neck and felt the reaction all the way to his toes when she squirmed in his arms and thrust