His Bride by Design. Teresa Hill
sweetly, with a kind of power and control that drove her crazy at the same time it left her in complete awe of him.
He could seem so cool, so reasonable, so strong. Was this some sort of game to him, a corporate takeover he’d planned out in minute detail and executed to perfection? But then she caught a glimpse of his face, his eyes, and she saw. He was burning up inside, as desperate for her as she was for him.
Was he still desperate for her? Had he missed her? Thought about her? Could he possibly want her back? At this, the worst moment in her life?
She lay there beneath him, in complete awe, her head still spinning, that perfect, hot, hard body of his pressing into hers, which was positively purring with pleasure.
He’d finally stopped teasing. Now he was kissing her for real, his body thrusting ever so slightly against hers in time with the thrust of his tongue in her mouth, everything about this, about him, as exciting as ever.
He could have her clothes off in seconds. She knew it. She could be naked beneath him, wrap her legs around him, open herself up to him in every way, and he could be inside of her, hers again, at least for a few moments. She wanted it, and so did he.
It would be so easy, and so good.
And then they’d be right back to where they’d started, everything that had gone wrong between them still there for them to deal with. She couldn’t trust him. She knew it. She’d caught him with a model named Giselle, seen it with her own two eyes, and that had finally been the end of her and James.
Chloe drew in a big breath of him, of everything he was, everything she felt, everything she’d missed so much about him, and somehow found the strength to turn her head away, to break the kiss, kill the moment.
He went still on top of her, slowly raised his head and looked down at her, passion blazing from his dark, beautiful eyes, along with a million questions. And he had that dazed look that had her thinking he was as confused as she was.
Had this really happened? Were they sure it wasn’t all a dream? A bizarre but very good one?
“You saved me from the brides?” she asked tentatively.
He cocked his head to the side, looking truly worried, then carefully, slowly, raised himself off her to sit by her side. His hand came to her face, tenderly working its way over her head, his eyes searching.
“Chloe, are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not really. I was dreaming about my show. Did you see the video? It’s all over the internet. Everyone’s watching.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
“The way Bryce kept turning in a circle to try to get away from Eloise’s fingernails, and how her veil floated around them in circles, so you saw the whole thing through this gauzy haze, even the blood?”
“Yes.”
“If they made horror movies for fashion designers and brides, that’s what it would look like.”
“Chloe, you’re scaring me,” he said.
“And that dress? I loved that dress. I loved it more than any other dress I’ve ever designed, because I looked great in that dress. That was going to be my wedding dress. Why did it have to be that dress Eloise was wearing when it happened?”
“I don’t know, Chloe. I’m really sorry. About everything.”
“All I have left is the sleeve. Bryce grabbed at Eloise to get her off of him, and all he got was the sleeve. He just ripped it off the dress. Robbie found it on the runway after everyone left and brought it back to me. It’s all I have.”
“You made it once. You can make it again,” he tried.
“No. Not after what happened. It’s cursed, too, like me.”
“Chloe, you are not cursed,” he insisted. “You know that.”
“My poor dress. Do you think it ended up in jail with Eloise? Because I just hate thinking about that beautiful dress being dragged across that filthy floor at the jail. Do you think maybe you can bail a dress out of jail? And leave the person wearing it there?”
“Chloe?” He looked really scared then, like she was freaking him out. She tried to get up, but he wouldn’t let her. “Not now, okay? The brides are still downstairs. We need to wait a while, until they leave.”
“Okay. I don’t want to see them again. They were mean brides.”
“Chloe, did any of them hit you? Other than the one who got you here?” He touched her poor cheek. “Did anyone hit your head?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“I think so.” She was with him, in her bed, even though that made no sense. “In my house. In my bed.”
He smiled encouragingly. “Good. You scared me for a minute.”
So it had happened. It was real.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Why was he here? Why did he care? Why was he being so nice to her? Why had he kissed her like that? She thought he hated her, if he felt anything at all for her anymore. She’d hated him as best she could for as long as she could, because that was the best way to get over him, to try to forget him. Not that it had worked all that well.
“Chloe, have you been getting any sleep the last few days?” he asked, looking like he wanted to haul her off to the hospital and have her head examined, at the very least.
“Not much,” she admitted. “I keep having nightmares. Very strange nightmares.”
“Okay, maybe you just really need to sleep,” he said, forcing a smile. “How about this? You stay here, close your eyes, and I’ll stay right here until you go to sleep.”
He took a couple of pillows and piled them up against the headboard, kicked off his shoes, pulled off his tie and suit coat, then sat down on her bed, settling her against his side, her head against his chest.
“I just … I don’t understand,” she said one more time.
“I know. Just go to sleep. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
It was the sweetest, most welcome thing he could have offered her. Rest, peace, safety, with him right beside her, watching out for her, just like in her dream.
He waited until she was asleep, and then waited a little bit longer, taking it all in. Being in her bed again, kissing her, holding her, wanting her so bad he ached with it. The smell of her, the joy, the absolute chaos, all still there, all just the same.
Except she was more vulnerable now than she’d ever been, and he’d come charging in like a man who had every right to be here and to protect her, sweeping her off her feet and fighting his way through a frenzied matrimonial mob to save her.
It was the charging-in thing, the every-right-to-be-there thing she’d most certainly object to, once she wasn’t dazed and sleep-deprived and maybe concussed. He hadn’t been able to find any evidence of a head injury, but she certainly seemed a little out of it, even for Chloe.
James was tempted to stay with her, but he had no idea what might still be happening with the riot downstairs. So, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he disentangled himself as gently as he could, leaving her asleep, curled up against a pillow instead of him. He tucked covers around her like she was a child who needed to be protected from the cold, smoothed down her hair, kissed her forehead.
Then he dragged himself away.
Downstairs in the kitchen he found Addie and Chloe’s twin cousins, Robbie and Connie. Adam was still there, too.
They all looked up as James entered, giving him the thorough once-over. Too late, he straightened his tie, smoothed down his jacket and then his hair, trying