Millionaire Mavericks: The Oilman’s Baby Bargain. Michelle Celmer
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He couldn’t think of a single other thing he would rather be doing. He took her by the wrist and guided her hand under the covers to his erection. “Does it feel like I don’t want to?”
A smile crept across her face as she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed. The sensation was so erotic he nearly lost it.
“I want you, Mitch,” she whispered.
That was all the convincing he needed. He caught her behind the neck, pulled her to him and kissed her.
One second Lexi was lying across Mitch’s chest as he tangled his fingers through her hair and ravaged her mouth, and the next she was flat on her back on the bed looking up at him. The change of position was so swift it left her breathless and dizzy. Or maybe it was his kisses that were doing that. She just prayed, as he pressed his weight against her, caressing her skin with his hands and his mouth, that he didn’t feel her trembling. She didn’t want him to know how terrified she had been that he might reject her. She had no clue how to play the role of vixen, how to be the aggressor, but if she was going to convince him this was a real marriage, if she was going to make him fall in love with her, she had to play the part. What kind of wife would she be if she didn’t please her husband sexually? Especially on their wedding night.
Although right now, he seemed to be the one doing all the pleasing, and she had almost forgotten how impossibly wonderful it felt to be close to him. How he made her feel as though she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.
“I thought we were keeping this relationship outside the bedroom,” he said, nibbling his way down her throat. On the contrary, it was her intention to keep him in bed as much as humanly possible while they were in Greece.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he added. “Just mildly confused.”
“We both have needs,” she said. “I figure, if we have to be stuck with each other, why not enjoy it?”
He grinned down at her. “Lexi, isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“You know what I think?” she asked, and his brow perked with curiosity. “I think you talk too much.”
His grin turned feral. “And I like the way you think.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her for a slow, deep kiss. They caressed and touched each other until she felt as though she would go out of her mind. She wanted him inside her so badly, she actually ached.
“Make love to me,” she told him. “Right now.”
Mitch looked up from the nipple he’d been teasing with his tongue. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“Maybe you could do it a little faster?”
“What’s the hurry?”
All she knew was that it felt as though there was a big empty space inside of her that she was desperate to fill. He must have seen the desperation on her face because he opened the drawer on the bedside table and pulled out a condom. At her questioning look he said, “Doesn’t hurt to come prepared.”
She didn’t tell him there was no point, that the damage was already done.
He rolled it on, then entered her with one slow but purposeful thrust. She gasped at the stinging sensation as her body stretched to accept him.
Concern filled his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she lied, because it was a good hurt. Since that night at the hotel, she’d had the constant and nagging feeling that something was missing. She had felt…incomplete. Now, with their bodies joined, she finally felt whole again.
She arched up, taking him even deeper inside of her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Mitch groaned and grasped the bedcovers. It gave her a thrilling sense of power to know that he was losing control, and she was making it happen.
He rolled over so that she was on top, straddling him, their bodies still joined. Now that she was up here, she was unsure of what to do. What if she did it wrong and made a fool of herself? What if she was clumsy and awkward, and couldn’t satisfy him? “Mitch, I don’t—”
“Yes, you do,” he said, as though he had complete confidence in her. “Just do what feels good.”
She braced her hands on the mattress on either side of him and rose up, but she went too far and he slipped out. She made a noise of frustration, but Mitch didn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t worry,” he said, guiding himself back in like it was no big deal. This time he rested his hands on her hips to guide her. “Take it slow.”
She began to move slowly, eyes closed in concentration. At first, she was so afraid to make a mistake, focused so completely on her every move, she wasn’t able to let herself enjoy it.
“Relax,” he said, arching his hips up to meet her downward thrusts. They slipped into a slow, steady rhythm, and she began to lose herself in the sensation, in the sweet friction, until it began to feel as natural as breathing.
This was the way she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Acting on impulse, living by instinct. Doing things just because they felt good.
“Open your eyes,” Mitch said, and when she did, when she looked down at him, she could see that he was barely hanging on.
With his eyes locked on hers, he reached down to where their bodies met and stroked her. Pleasure rippled through her from the inside out and an orgasm that was almost shocking in its intensity locked her muscles. She threw her head back and rode out the sensation, and through a haze she heard Mitch groan, felt him tense beneath her, his fingers digging into her skin.
Limp with satisfaction, Lexi collapsed against his chest, their hearts pounding out a frantic beat together. It just kept getting better and better. She had never felt as close to anyone in her life as she did to Mitch tonight.
This was going to work, she assured herself. Everything was going to be fine. But as he rolled her over and began kissing her, making love to her all over again, she couldn’t help feeling like a fraud.
Mitch woke the next morning and reached for Lexi, but her side of the bed was empty. He glanced over at the clock, surprised to see that it was after eight. Jet lag had his schedule all jacked up, because he never slept a minute past 6:00 a.m., even on weekends. He sat up and looked groggily around the room, thinking that maybe Lexi had just stepped into the bathroom, but he could hear the clatter of pots and pans and dishes in the kitchen. He caught a whiff of something that smelled like breakfast, but he knew he must be imagining it, unless she had hired a cook after all.
He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and walked to the kitchen. Lexi stood by the stove, poking at something in a frying pan with a spatula. On the counter sat a plate with some sort of sausage.
She cooked?
Beside her, the state-of-the-art dishwasher was open and there were actually dishes inside. He didn’t think a spoiled heiress even knew what a dishwasher was, much less knew how to use one.
Was it possible that he’d misjudged her?
“Good morning,” he said.
She turned to him and smiled a sweet smile that made him believe she was genuinely happy to see him. “Good morning.”
She was wearing the silk gown she’d had on last night and her feet were bare. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. She looked young and sweet and pretty, but from the neck down, she was all woman. Full and firm breasts, perfectly proportioned hips. He had to fight the urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her back to bed. Having a little occasional fun was one thing, but they shouldn’t overdo it. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I made breakfast.”
“Starved,” he said. They had skipped dinner last night. “Can I help?”
“I’ve