The Twelve-Month Marriage Deal. Margaret Mayo
to our parents, but there’s still plenty for us if we’re to make this marriage look genuine.’
‘But it isn’t genuine,’ she retorted with another flash of her spectacular eyes.
‘No one is going to know that,’ he cautioned, his silver eyes growing fierce. ‘No one. Do you understand?’
Elena nodded. Nevertheless her eyes warred with his. ‘I should tell you now that I’m not a good actress.’
‘You won’t need to be,’ he growled, and forgetting the warning he had given himself earlier, he hooked a hand lightly behind her neck and lowered his head to hers.
Elena had known what would happen when he kissed her again. It was why she had kept her distance, why she had not let him see by the merest movement of her eyes that she was turned on by him. And now it was too late.
The instant his mouth touched hers she went up in flames. Without conscious thought her lips parted and the feelings that raced through her were volcanic. It was as though her whole body had erupted. As though it had been waiting for this moment all its life and was going to take full advantage.
When Vidal felt her response he groaned and deepened the kiss, instantly setting off a further chain reaction until her whole body felt reborn, newly sensitised, dangerously explosive.
One tiny part of her couldn’t believe that this was happening and warned her to back away now. On the rare occasions she had thought about marriage she had had the ideal man in her head. She wanted someone with the same ambition as herself, someone prepared to launch out in a new direction and take chances. She had worked hard and surpassed her wildest dreams.
Vidal had worked hard too, very hard, extremely hard in fact, but he had remained in the banking industry, following his father’s footsteps, and that in anyone’s eyes would have made him boring.
And yet boring was most certainly not a word she associated with Vidal. How could a man who looked as good as he did be uninteresting? How could a man who twisted her nerves to screaming point be dull? Or who kissed her with dangerous gentleness? He was the devil incarnate. A man sent to test her, to bend her to his will without her even realising it.
His kiss was not just a kiss. It was a kiss to surpass all kisses. His mouth was not hot and hard, it wasn’t demanding even. But it was all the more treacherous because of its gentleness.
It was she who wanted more, who wanted to feel the fire in him, the urgency, the evidence that he truly desired her. Because how could they go through with this marriage if he didn’t?
As if her wishes had somehow transferred themselves to him, Vidal’s long, strong fingers moulded the back of her head, urging them closer and harder together. His kisses became more demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth, tangling with her tongue, encouraging her to do the same to him.
With her whole body now on fire Elena knew that if they had been anywhere but here she would have begged him to make love to her. She couldn’t have helped herself. He had awoken the animal inside her. Indeed she might not have had to beg because one glance at his face and she saw her own torment echoed there.
It was not until the car slowed to a halt that they pulled away from each other and Elena couldn’t help wondering how they were going to sit at their dinner table and pretend that they didn’t want to be in bed.
She was almost afraid to look Vidal in the eye, but he had no such compunction. ‘I think,’ he said softly, a meaningful smile curving his lips, ‘that I’m going to enjoy being married to you, Elena Valero.’
Chapter Four
VIDAL knew that bedding Elena before their marriage was out of bounds—no matter how much he wanted her, and that was one hell of a lot. His body was tortured with need and ached so much that he felt he would go out of his mind.
After that kiss—the all-important, ground-breaking, manic kiss in the back of his car, when he had felt a whole host of raw emotions, when she had returned it with a fiery hunger of her own—Elena had frozen on him, making it very clear that she did not want a repeat performance.
Whether she had scared herself by her instant reaction he did not know, but he certainly had no intention of keeping her at arm’s length after their wedding. Dios! He wasn’t made of ice. How could a man keep his hands off such a woman who besides torturing him with her sizzling, supple body could kiss so hotly and willingly?
It had been the most surprising, the most amazing kiss. One he had never expected, but which had given so much of herself away. Elena was certainly a hotblooded woman with the potential to carry them both into a world where nothing mattered except erotic sensations and mind-blowing sex. He had the feeling that with Elena he would experience something new every day, something incredible and exciting, and his tortured mind was already spinning away to a planet of its own.
They had spent the evening talking about their wedding and he had spent the night dreaming about her deliciously tempting body next to his, making electrical, uncontrolled, unstoppable love, and he consoled himself with the fact that he would have a whole year of this undeniably stimulating pleasure before he finally got her out of his system.
Which he had no doubt he would. He fancied her like hell, but marriage—long term? It would never work. From what little he had gleaned from her sister she had moved to America to have a good time. She’d felt no commitment to family. Which in his eyes meant that she wouldn’t make a good wife or mother. Which was just as well because he wasn’t ready to settle down yet.
A lover, yes, an instantly excitable lover, but no more. And he had twelve months of spectacular lovemaking to look forward to. Elena in his bed every night, himself inside her. She had the potential to be like no other lover he’d ever had. Everything in him cried out for fulfilment.
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