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Her fingers curled against his chest, her hand a pale starfish against the dark material of his suit jacket, and he found himself covering it with his own.
‘What we’re going to do for our honeymoon, for a start.’
With an effort, he dragged his thoughts away from the sensation of her breasts pushing against his torso, which was resulting in a punishing hardness in his groin. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘We take my plane wherever you want to go and stay in five-star luxury along the way.’
‘Not the best idea.’ She shook her head. ‘I think that will be counter-productive.’
‘Meaning?’
‘It will continue to make you look like some aimless playboy with more money than he knows what to do with and no general purpose in life.’
‘You may or may not be aware that wherever in the world I am, I work—and I work hard,’ he said coldly. ‘It is possible to do such things remotely these days.’
‘I know it is. But there will be no real focus for me, will there?’ She shrugged and seemed to find it difficult to meet his eyes. ‘It’ll just be all about...sex.’
‘It’s a honeymoon, Emily,’ he pointed out.
‘But not a real one,’ she reminded him sharply.
‘Are you telling me you’re unhappy about the idea of having wall-to-wall sex? That’s certainly not the impression you’ve given me so far.’
‘That’s not what I’m saying at all. But I’m still going to be working for you—and when we decide to call time on the marriage, I want to have achieved what I set out to achieve. Call it professional pride, if you like.’ She waited until the Argentinian ambassador had danced past them with a complicated sashay of his hips. ‘Do you remember my original brief to you in Melbourne?’
‘I’ve scarcely thought of anything else,’ he said sardonically.
‘When we talked about simplifying your life, you decided to sell off your home in France because, if you’re planning to be based in Argentina, it makes no sense for you to have a base in Paris. So couldn’t we...couldn’t we use the honeymoon to go there—and afterwards maybe go to your estancia?’
‘Why?’
Because although I know it’s a kind of madness, I want to see some of the different facets of your life. I want to glimpse the private man behind the glossy façade. I want to see your homes—not just the fancy and impersonal five-star hotels you seem to spend your life in.
But Emily had no intention of revealing her foolish thoughts to him, so instead she gave a careless shrug. ‘It might be an idea to choose whichever sentimental items you want to keep before your Parisian apartment goes on the market. It might be very satisfying to tidy your life up like that.’
‘I can think of only one thing which will satisfy me right now,’ he growled. ‘And it has nothing to do with the marketing of property and everything to do with the removal of your clothes.’
‘Alej Sabato! You are outrageous!’
But he paid her half-hearted protest no heed, dancing her smoothly out of the ballroom and into the discreet elevator, which had exclusive access to the hotel’s newly designed honeymoon suite. The elevator doors had barely slid shut before he pushed her up against a rose-tinted mirror, his hand sliding inside the bodice of her wedding gown as he started to kiss her.
‘People will notice we’ve gone,’ she gasped against his urgent mouth, as, blindly, he jabbed at the top-floor button with his finger.
‘Who cares? We’re married, Emily. This is legal.’
There was champagne on ice and roses everywhere but the moment their suite door swung closed, their only focus was on pulling at each other’s clothes. His suit hit the deck and her wedding dress lay abandoned on the carpet and soon they were naked on the great big honeymoon bed—save for the coronet of roses still pinned in her hair.
Emily could see her wedding ring glinting gold as Alejandro pulled her into his arms, his eyes a blaze of green as he began to plunder her mouth once more. ‘Oh,’ she said breathlessly, as his hand slid searchingly over every naked curve, his unsteady survey of her flesh making it feel as if he were discovering her by touch alone. As if it were an eternity since they’d lain together rather than a matter of days. His name trembled on her lips. ‘Alej.’
‘Shh...’
Afterwards she was glad he had quietened her because hadn’t she felt a compelling urge to tell him how much she’d missed him during their days apart—and if she started indulging in that kind of revelation, who knew where it might end? So she kissed him hard instead, mounting her own survey of the flat planes of his magnificent physique—perfect save for the jagged scar on his back, which he had refused to discuss. Her orgasm came quickly—powerfully intense as it racked through her body in a way which made her feel momentarily helpless. Did her choked mewl of fulfilment touch something inside him? Was that why his arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her hair before groaning out his own shuddering pleasure?
She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes again, it was to see early stars already beginning to pepper the sky outside the un-shuttered windows. Still sleepy and caught in the half-world between wakefulness and slumber, her mind drifted around tantalising pathways. Was it possible they could make this marriage work? she wondered fleetingly. Could they compromise somehow? Forget about the bad stuff and concentrate on the good stuff and learn to love one another all over again?
‘Are you awake?’ she whispered.
‘I am now.’ Alej rolled over and studied her. Awake and already hard and wanting more—for that was the effect she had on him. The effect she’d always had on him. He ran his fingers over her pale and quivering body, watching her nipples harden as he scratched his nails lightly over the soft fuzz of hair at her groin, before dipping his head to it.
‘Alej?’ she said, in a voice which sounded slurred although he knew she had drunk nothing stronger than water at the reception.
