JACQUELINE BAIRD – Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride (страница 16)

Her eyes flew open. It was no dream—it was Anton lying over her, the morning sun highlighting his blue-black hair, his dark molten eyes scorching through to her soul promising paradise and it was way too late to resist. She didn’t want to resist. She wanted him, burned for him. She felt the velvet tip of him against her and raised her pelvis, pressing up to him.

‘You want me?’ Anton husked throatily.

‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she moaned.

His hands curved around her thighs, lifting her, and in a single powerful thrust he filled her. He thrust again harder and faster as her body caught his rhythm and they rode a tidal wave of sheer sensation. Emily climaxed in seconds with a convulsive pleasure so intense it blew her mind, and Anton followed, his great body jerking in explosive release.

Later when the tremors stopped Emily felt a wave of shame at her easy capitulation. She opened her eyes and lifted her hands to push at his chest; instead she found them gathered in one of his. He lifted his other hand and she felt him brush a few tendrils of hair from her forehead.

‘You okay, Emily?’

‘As okay as I will ever be as long as I am stuck with you.’

‘Hell and damnation.’ He swore. ‘We had a fight yesterday. It is over, done with. The two people we were fighting over are dead—that is the reality. Now we move on.’

‘The only place I want to move is out of here.’ She couldn’t help herself. He had cold-bloodedly deceived her, and he rubbed her up the wrong way with his blasted superior tone and his flaming arrogance.

‘Your trouble is you can’t admit that you want a man like me, can you?’ he grated, bending his head and crushing her mouth under his. Then he pulled back to look into her eyes.

‘You can’t face reality, that is your problem; you want love and sweet nothings, a fairy tale, when anyone with any sense knows the love you imagine does not exist.’

He ran a hand through his rumpled hair, and swung his legs off the bed to sit looking down at her, totally unconscious of his nudity.

‘Sexual chemistry brings a couple together, they marry and after a year or two the lust is burned out, but usually there is a child to cement the union. For a man it is a natural instinct to protect the mother and child, and in most cases a moral duty that ensures a marriage lasts.’

Emily listened in growing amazement. ‘Do you actually believe that?’

‘Yes.’ He stood up, stretching like a big, sated jungle beast, and turned to glance down at her. ‘Mind you, from where I am standing I can’t imagine ever not lusting after your naked body.’ And he had the nerve to grin.

Emily grabbed the sheet and pulled it up over herself, blushing furiously. ‘You are impossible.’

‘Nothing is impossible if you try, Emily.’ The amusement faded from his eyes. ‘That is what marriage is all about,’ he stated. ‘Having realistic expectations.’

He was completely sure of himself, his powerful, virile body magnificently naked, and she could feel her insides melting just looking at him, and in that moment she realized she still loved him … always would … and it saddened and infuriated the hell out of her.

‘And you’re the expert? Don’t make me laugh,’ she snapped.

‘I will certainly make you cry if you keep up this ridiculous fight. We can be civil to each other, the sex is great and we can have a good marriage, or you can turn it into a battlefield—it is up to you. I need a shower; you can join me, or make your mind up before I come back.’

There was only one answer, Emily realized.

Being civil and having sex … That was Anton’s idea of a perfect marriage. She could do civil and sex, and a lot more. He had said he had not intended telling her what he thought of her father, but his temper had got the better of him. Well, maybe she could convince him he was wrong about her father. Not now, not with a boatload of guests, but when they were finally alone.

He had said he would do anything to keep her. Maybe there was hope for their marriage, maybe he cared about her a lot more than he was prepared to admit … and pigs might fly …

The bottom line was, even if she proved her father had nothing to do with his sister, she could not escape the fact that was the main reason why Anton had married her.

Anton emerged from the bathroom and Emily hastily sat up in bed, dragging the cover up to her chin.

His only covering was a white towel slung precariously around his lean hips. And as she watched he moved to open one of the large wardrobes that covered one wall, withdrew something and turned.

‘So what is it to be, Emily?’ he asked, and discarded the towel, giving her a full-frontal view of his toned bronzed body, and stepped into a pair of Grigio Perla aqua shorts.

Emily recognized the brand because she had seen the James Bond movie that made them famous. On Anton they looked even better than the star of the movie. Fascinated by the sheer masculine perfection of his physique, she simply stared.

‘I asked you a question.’

‘What? Oh! Yes.’ She was so mesmerized by the sight of him, she replied without thinking.

‘Good,’ was all he said as he pulled a polo shirt over his head. ‘Make yourself decent. I’ll send the chief steward in with your breakfast, and you can have a chat with him. He knows how the weekend works. It is a pretty casual affair, but if there is anything you want to change just tell him.’

Who was it said fascination is the very absence of thought, the denial of reasonable brain function? Emily wondered. She was so mesmerized by Anton she could not think rationally.

‘I will see you on the pool deck when you are ready. Friday everyone tends to laze around until lunch. Then go ashore, the men to check out the cars and the women to shop. Later we all meet here to eat and then sail along to St Tropez for those who want to hit the Caves du Roy nightclub, a favourite among a few of our guests.’

He strolled over to the bed, and held out a credit card. ‘Take this—you will need it later.’

She took the card and turned it over in her hand. Mrs Emily Diaz was the name inscribed.

She looked up. ‘How did you get this so quickly?’ she asked, no longer mesmerized but mad. Anton was so confident in his ability to get exactly what he wanted in life, including her, she realized bitterly.

‘I arranged for the card to be forwarded here the day we married, as I did your passport,’ Anton said, a hint of a satisfied smile quirking his wide mouth.

She affected a casual shrug. ‘You’re nothing if not thorough,’ she said coolly. But inside she was seething with a mixture of emotions, from hate to love and, yes, lust, she admitted. But her overriding desire was to knock the smug look off his face.

‘Thank you. But I don’t need your money; I have enough of my own.’

‘You won’t for much longer if you insist on this confrontational attitude,’ he drawled with a sardonic arch of one brow. ‘Give it up, Emily. You’re my wife—act like one. I’ll expect you on deck in an hour to take care of our guests.’

The timely reminder of his hold over Fairfax Engineering knocked all the defiance out of her. ‘Okay.’

She watched him walk out. He really was quite ruthless, and she had better not forget that. But if he thought she was going to be a meek little wife he was in for a rude awakening.

The number of gorgeous women lining the pit lane came as a shock to Emily. She would not have thought that so many women were keen on motor racing to bother coming for the time trials. She said as much to Max, and he gave her a grin.

‘It is not the cars they are interested in, but the men—they are motor-racing groupies.’ He chuckled. ‘Pit Ponies.’

‘Oh.’ It had never occurred to her, but now she saw exactly what he meant. No wonder Anton was such a passionate fan of motor racing. Fast cars and fast women lined for his delectation, she thought scathingly.

Personally she hated the scene. The noise was horrendous, the choking smell of oil took her breath away, and she cast a baleful glance at Anton. He was standing by a low-slung racing car having an animated discussion about the engine with the chief mechanic. He looked almost boyish in his enthusiasm and at that moment, as if sensing her scrutiny, he turned, his dark eyes clashing with hers. He smiled and in a couple of lithe strides was beside her. ‘So what do you think? Isn’t this great?’

‘Put it this way,’ she said dryly, ‘I can see now why they call it the pit. The place is full of men, noise, and stinks of oil and super-charged testosterone, and if it is all the same to you I think I’ll go back to the yacht.’

He grimaced. ‘You’re right—it is probably not the place for a lady. Max will take you back, and I’ll see you later.’

Back on the yacht, she heaved a sigh of relief when she learnt most of the guests had gone ashore. ‘I’m going to change and have a swim,’ she told Max and headed for the cabin.

She had spent yesterday being polite to their guests, and playing the perfect hostess. The nightclub in St Tropez had been a real eye-opener, all the beautiful people—she had recognized a famous American film star and a chart-topping singer to name just two. She had drunk champagne and smiled until her face ached and had hated every minute.