The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child / For Business...Or Marriage?: The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child / For Business...Or Marriage?. Rachel Bailey
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was already so close to the peak again that for a moment, she tried to hang on, to make this last as long as she could. if this was all he offered her, this one night, then she wanted to squeeze every last drop of beautiful pleasure—every moment of this intimate contact with her Nico.…
But his sensual invasion continued, took her higher, and his hand slid between them, to where their bodies joined, and with a skilled flick of his thumb her body imploded in sparkling glory, melding, merging with him, with the universe.
Within moments, Nico followed, then lay beside her, gasping for air.
“I don’t think I can move,” she whispered. Boneless, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to move again.
His eyebrow arched. “You’d better recoup quickly,bella, because you’ll be telling me you want me again very soon. All night long, in fact.”
And when he reached for her, she surprised herself by moving to meet him, her recovery complete already.
Tomorrow she’d analyze how this night changed things between them, but here and now was for one thing only, and she met his kiss, his hands, willingly, ready for whatever he had planned.
Five
Nico woke slowly, wrapped around Beth. He blinked at the early morning sun slanting through the windows, feeling warm and content for the first time in years. Other women hadn’t given him anything like this, nor had financial success.
He pressed his face into her neck, smelling her alluring musky scent. Beth and heat and sex and wanting him. God, he’d missed this. Missed her.
Ever since she sold herself to his brother.
The contentment he’d felt only moments earlier evaporated, leaving the dark, heavy ache that had been his constant companion for five years. The ache of betrayal. Every muscle tense, he edged away from her sleeping form.
He’d badly needed one more night with her, but that had to be the end of it. He could never allow a relationship with her again.
Beth sighed in her sleep, nuzzling into the white pillow, her tousled pixie-cut hair partly covering her face. She looked so innocent as she dreamed in his bed, so vulnerable. A spark of doubt flared in his heart—could he walk away? Something in his chest shifted. Would she misunderstand their night together and expect more? Would she be hurt when he left?
He shook his head to clear it of worthless sentimentality. This was the woman who’d walked out on him without a backward glance. He would not let himself be fooled again. Clenching his jaw, he slammed the door to his heart closed. He wasn’t the same trusting person he’d been. He’d made sure of that, had built barricades and fortifications around himself that no one had penetrated. And they never would.
Without making a noise, he slipped from the room, grabbing his trousers on the way. He dialed the concierge while he zipped his pants.
“Good morning, Mr. Jordan. How may I help you?”
“I’d like a cab.” He glanced at his watch. Ten past eight. “To arrive in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m afraid there was a big event at one of the wineries last night and all the taxis are on airport runs. I rang them a few minutes ago for another guest and they said there’ll be a two-hour wait.”
Nico swore low and hard.
“Would you still like me to make the booking?”
“No, I’ll organize something else.” He hung up and rubbed his still-sleepy eyes with the heels of his hands. He should have thought of that—it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known about the function. Hell, he’d attended the damn thing with Beth.
He’d have to take her home. How could he face her after the night they’d shared—drive her all the way home, then say goodbye at her door? When he’d woken ten minutes ago, he’d come dangerously close to forgetting her betrayal—he couldn’t make that mistake. A clean break—sending her home by cab would have been perfect.
He’d just have to create a clean break himself.
He stalked back to the bedroom, slid on a shirt and leaned against the door frame as he buttoned it. The sight of her sprawled under his sheets triggered his groin to harden for her again, bringing back memories of the night before under those same sheets. And in the shower. And against the wall.
He bit back a groan. It was over and he needed her gone ASAP—before he did something stupid, like crawl back into that bed and make love to her again.
“Beth,” he croaked. Then cleared his throat and called again. “Beth.”
She stirred and stretched and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her. Slowly, she sat up and the sheet fell to expose breasts he’d worshipped last night.
“Nico.” One hand pushed her hair from her eyes and her lips curved into an uncomplicated smile. He tightened his mouth and watched the warmth and joy suddenly vanish from her expression and he knew she was aware things were different this morning. She blinked and gathered the sheet to cover herself.
He blew out a hard breath. “I’ll drop you home.”
She nodded, cynical understanding in eyes as blue as the ocean’s depths. “Of course.” She sighed, then cast a look around the room. “Just let me get dressed, or would you prefer to throw me out on the street wrapped in a sheet?”
He stared blankly at her. She was trying to get a rise out of him, but he wouldn’t let her get the upper hand—she’d had it five years too long. Realizing his hand was clenched, he deliberately released it.
“Your decision.” He shrugged to show her how little it meant to him. “I’ll be downstairs, starting the car.”
He grabbed his keys, phone, wallet and a jacket before slipping on his shoes. Then he walked out the door, not letting himself turn back. He hated that she still had so much power over him that he couldn’t even trust himself to stay in the same room as her and not make love to her again. But in five long years, he’d never let anyone—especially a woman—have any power over him. Beth had taught him the danger in that.
He pulled on his jacket in the elevator down to the underground car park. When the doors opened, he strode over to the Alfa and thumbed the keyless lock. After sliding into the driver’s seat, he began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. How long would she take? Maybe she’d string out getting dressed to make him wait. To take back control. The old Beth wouldn’t have done that.…
His stomach dropped as he amended the thought—the person he’d thought she was wouldn’t have done that. How much of the persona she’d shown him had been real and how much fabricated? The question had tormented him to the brink of madness when she’d first left, but he’d buried it so deep that the only times he’d allowed himself to ruminate over it was when he woke in the early hours of the morning after dreaming of her.…
The elevator pinged its arrival and annoyingly, his pulse spiked. If that was her, she would have done little more than slip on her clothes before following him. The doors slid open to reveal Beth in the peach gown she’d worn the night before, her hair not brushed. Desire stirred at her just-from-bed look, but he suppressed it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by lust now.
She walked toward the car, her heart-shaped face expressionless, as if she’d erected a wall of protection around herself as effectively as he’d done only minutes earlier. She sat in the passenger seat, head regally tilted, refusing to make eye contact with him.
Good. His hands tightened on the wheel before he turned the key and the car roared to life. He didn’t want small talk, either.
They traveled the short distance to her house in complete silence, the mood inside his car icier than the cold winter morning outside. The town was quiet this early on a Sunday morning, but he supposed it was never as busy as any place he’d lived. Its lines of suburban