Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Trap

His lip quirked. “Not this time.”

The silence pulsed with an undercurrent of danger. The sizzling sexual tension lit between them, causing her to scooch back one inch away from him. Just an inch. “Oh. Well, good, because I’m not the in the mood. I’ve had a crappy day.”

“Me, too. I’m about to change that.”

She heard a thump and realized he’d toed off his shoes. The elegant fabric of his shirt barely contained his broad chest and muscled arms. Maggie curled her fingers to curb the urge to explore each hard angle of his body. She barreled on. “Michael, we have to talk. I want to go home.”

One brow lifted but he remained silent. He slowly unraveled his navy-blue tie from the knot, slid it around his neck, and let it drop. “Why?”

Her mouth fell open. “Um, let me think about this. Because this whole trip has been a disaster. Because I’m miserable, and you’re miserable, and we’re making a mess out of your family. Because I hate lying, and I can’t spend one more day pretending to be your loving, dutiful wife. I’ll come up with an excuse. Say someone died. A long-lost cousin or uncle so I won’t feel guilty. I think we made our intentions known to be married by a priest, and I’m sure we can keep up the ruse until Venezia’s wedding.”

Michael cocked his head as if listening, then slowly slid the hair tie from his hair. The strands shimmered around his face and fell to his shoulders. The gesture made her thighs clench in agony as wet heat rushed to her center and throbbed. She itched to photograph him—a powerful, dangerous male contained in a civilized suit. God, he was beautiful.

She chattered on with a mad effort to reign in the red-hot want that speared her. “In fact, if you really want me to, I’ll come to Venezia’s wedding. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep my side of the bargain.”

She stared helplessly up at him, certain some type of game was being played but she was not a party to the rules.

A slow smile curved his lips. “Running scared, la mia tigrotta ?” he drawled. “I’m disappointed. One night together and you already can’t handle it?”

She gasped. “You’re the one who can’t handle the truth, Count. I’m tired of pussyfooting around you like the rest of your family. It’s time you wake up and face the way you view your sisters and admit you love control so much you’ll do anything to keep it.”

“You are correct.” His fingers flicked open the first few buttons of his shirt.

She blinked. A swirl of black hair. Deep olive skin. Flat nipples on a mass of muscle. “Huh? What did you say?”

“I said you are correct. I spoke with my sisters and begged for their apology. I agree with everything you said today in the conference room.”

Stunned, she just stared as the buttons kept opening. A washboard stomach. An intriguing dark line that disappeared beneath the buckle of his pants. Her mouth watered and her brain fogged. He untucked the shirt from his pants so it fell completely open.

“What—what the hell are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Taking you to bed.” The shirt hit the floor. His hands worked on the belt buckle, then slid it through the loops. Then he undid his zipper.

Her gaze roved greedily over the male perfection before her. He put his hands on his hips. “Come here, Maggie.”

Her heart pounded so hard her blood strangled, then pumped madly in an effort to keep up with her hormones. “Huh?”

“Hmm, I should have done this a while ago. Who would’ve thought you’d ever be speechless?” He snagged her hand and pulled her off the bed.

Dumbstruck by the sexual electricity from the touch of his skin on hers, she allowed herself to be led so she stood before him.

“Let me be clear, la mia tigrotta . I’m taking you to bed. I’m going to strip off your clothes, bury myself deep inside you, and make you come so many times the only word from your lips will be my name, begging me to do it all over again.” He sank his fingers into her hair and tugged. Then he loomed over her, his eyes hotly promising her every decadent, lustful pleasure she could take. “ Capisce ?”

“I, I don’t think, I—”

His mouth stamped over hers.

Her mind may have needed a moment to recover, but her body bloomed and opened under his command. She took every silky stroke of his tongue and demanded more as she dug her nails into his shoulders and hung on. In minutes, her clothes were stripped off.

The sensual taste and smell of him flooded her nostrils. Already, her body grew wet and fiery hot, aching for him to fill her. He growled low in his throat and fit himself quickly with a condom. This time he urged her onto her hands and knees, dragged her thighs apart, and plunged.

She cried out at the delicious sensation of tightness and bucked upward for more. The deep penetration left her nowhere to hide. Maggie panted as she tried to keep something back for herself, but as if he sensed her withdrawal, he reached under and rolled the tips of her nipples between his fingers, slowing his pace. Each deliberate, easy thrust pushed her closer to the edge but didn’t give her enough to fly over. She moaned and tried to speed him up.

His warm breath rushed over her ear. “Want something?”

She shivered. “I hate you.”

He laughed low. “I love you in this position. You have the most beautiful ass.”

He circled his hips and did something that should be illegal. “Michael, please.”

“Stay.”

She tried to process his words but her body ached and every inch throbbed. “What?”

He nibbled on her ear and caressed her breasts. “Stay with me to the end of the week, mia amore . Promise me.”

Closer and closer. The orgasm was just out of reach, and she craved him like before, wanted him to pound inside of her and claim her. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

He murmured in satisfaction, grasped her hips, and gave her everything. The climax came hard and fast, and she shook in the aftermath. He shouted her name and followed, and they sank onto the pillow, Michael holding her close as if he would never let her go.

Michael stroked her naked back as she stretched into the caress. A deep satisfaction coursed through every cell in his body and reminded him once again that Maggie Ryan finally belonged to him.

Her open, carnal response blew away any other encounter he’d ever had. The warning deep within shimmered inside the locked box, but he refused to spoil the moment by worrying. Somehow, they’d work things out. After the lure of the hunt with a beautiful woman ended in bed, Michael always experienced satisfaction. What blew his mind at the moment was the fierce sense of completion that flowed through his veins. As if he had finally met his other half.

Dios, he must be loco.

Leave it to him to pick a woman who’d make his life a mess. The inner voice whispered the truth in mocking format. She’d also bring a sense of joy and zest and challenge he craved, no matter how hard he fought to settle with an easier woman. It was as if his passion on the race circuit translated to the women he longed for. Wild, untamed, contradictory, and stubborn. He remembered the adrenaline rush of handling such power, riding it around the curves and keeping the vehicle barely under control. Maggie reminded him of the same thrill. She courted the full range of his emotions that were normally locked up and reserved in a civilized manner. His past had finally caught up with him.

And he was happy.

Suddenly, Maggie shot up out of bed. Hair messily falling over one eye, bare-breasted, she gazed in horror at the closed door. “Oh, my God, your mother! Carina! I was loud, I forgot they were in the house.”