Rachel Bailey - Claiming His Bought Bride / Seducing the Enemy's Daughter - Claiming His Bought Bride / Seducing the Enemy's Daughter

And he knew it, had planned it this way.

Being this close was playing havoc with her mind and body, and he knew that, too. Wherever she was, part of her focus always seemed to be reminiscing about their lovemaking, trying to block those memories, or wondering about making new memories….

She could walk into that bathroom now, drop her pajamas and robe and slip into the shower. He’d welcome her, pull her close under the spray, perhaps languidly soap her up, running a hand over her glistening skin, and she’d slide her tongue along his strong jaw, down his throat, then—

No. She groaned as she faced away from that side of the suite and dragged herself back from the brink. That would only increase her involvement—and more than instinct told her she was too deep already. She couldn’t fall in love with him again. It almost destroyed her last time. Never again would she fall for a man as self-serving, morally bankrupt, and as much of a workaholic as Damon Blakely.

She sighed and slid a glance toward the bathroom. Of course, she had to admit she loved the way he looked at her as if she were a rare delicacy. Loved the way he walked into a room and his presence instantly dominated it. Loved his troubled heart that he kept so guarded and hidden, even from himself. Loved the way his skin felt under her hands, under her mouth.

But, regardless of whether her heart remained intact this time or not, she knew one thing for sure: contrary to popular wisdom, love was not nearly enough.

Her mother had loved her father and the results had been devastating, for both of them and for her, their only child. She’d been notified a week after her fifteenth birthday that they’d died in a road accident. They said her mother fell asleep at the wheel and ran off the road.

Lily’s hand went to her mother’s silver heart pendant hanging on a fine silver chain around her neck. It was the sum total of her inheritance from her parents—the only item of value in their possessions.

She gripped the silver heart tighter as she wondered again if her mother had reached breaking point and seen no other way out. She’d cried for them and herself, but had been grateful they’d sent her to live with Gran three years earlier.

Supposedly the change had been to give her a chance to stay in one place, but Lily had always known that her grandmother had demanded she be sent to her. Her parents, like two kids on an adventure, lacked the will to disobey Gran, whose own backbone was pure steel. Lily had been offered occasional sympathy over the years as the girl given up by her parents. But even at twelve Lily had seen the situation clearly—Gran had rescued her and Lily would be forever grateful.

The years with her parents had been unpredictable and confusing, and had left her craving stability. They said one thing but meant another. Their well-meaning inconsistency was one of the reasons she understood the way Damon’s mind worked. He’d promise her the world, but he always ended up getting what he wanted.

Words were easy for her parents, for Damon. Actions told the real story. Damon’s priorities were the only ones that mattered to him.

She would never live that way again—it was soul-destroying to feel valueless.

More important, she would save her baby from that environment. Already, she loved this tiny person too much to subject it to the emotional torment a life with Damon would surely bring.

The water stopped and she sat bolt upright, listening to the sounds of Damon moving about in the bathroom. A cold sweat broke out over her skin. The man in the bathroom was her husband. The thought hit her with sickening force. She’d gone through with it. She’d married Damon Blakely. They’d exchanged vows of love, fidelity and commitment. Vows neither of them intended to honor.

Jitters all the way to her fingers and toes replaced her fatigue. She’d really done it.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Room service.” The call made her stomach rumble. How long since she’d eaten? Too long. She stood and padded out to open the door.

Three men in maroon-and-gold uniforms stood waiting behind multilayered trolleys. Lily’s jaw dropped. What in the name of heaven was this? There must be enough food here to feed the entire floor! She stood back to let them pass.

The first two men pushed their deliveries past her, parked their trolleys beside the pale pink marble table and began laying out linen and cutlery. The third man gave her a slight bow on the way past and left his trolley a little behind the others.

“Dessert,” he said, looking at her and then at a spot over her shoulder.

Lily turned to see Damon coming through the bedroom doorway, tying the sash on the large white hotel bathrobe that draped his frame, midnight hair damp, feet bare on the thick carpet. She remembered how her hands followed the trail of hair down his chest, hard stomach and lower. Dizzy with lust, she could do no more than lick her dry lips.

How would she resist this man if, when, he made that inevitable concerted effort to seduce her? He would try and she must resist no matter how much she craved his touch. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to reestablish her ground rules after they made love even once. She had to remember that he had an ulterior motive. She was his ticket to BlakeCorp.

“Ah, the food’s arrived.” His voice was a low rumble that soaked in and touched her deep in her bones.

Damon reached into the robe’s pocket and withdrew several folded notes, which he gave to the men in turn. The first two bowed and left the room; the third looked down at the tip and grinned. “Thanks, Mr. Blakely.”

Damon closed the door behind them, then leaned back against it, a hungry smile stretching his features. But his eyes were on her, not the food.

An answering quiver raced through her body. She couldn’t let the false intimacy created by their paper marriage alter her decision to not sleep with him. And from the look on his face, he would turn every inch she gave him into a mile and then some.

Trembling, she turned back to the food, fussing with the place settings with unmanageable fingers.

“No need to be scared of me, sweetheart.” She imagined— felt —him walking up behind her. When he spoke next, he was right behind her, his breath lifting the sensitive hairs by her ear. “I’m not the big bad wolf.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

The heat from his body seeped into hers, turning her bones to warm honey. If only their relationship was un-fettered—as it’d been before the will, before her pregnancy, before he’d broken her heart—she would be free to lean back into him and take what he offered. The pleasures he could bestow went beyond anything she expected to experience again. She shuddered with the desire her body remembered too clearly. If only she could have just one more sample—

As if reading her thoughts, Damon placed a butterfly kiss behind her ear, sending a delicious shiver across her skin. Then another kiss and another shiver. She opened her mouth, knowing she should protest, but before she could speak, he nipped at her earlobe and sucked it into the decadent heat of his mouth.

Lily stifled a groan, almost lost, barely able to form the thought that she should move away, but his warm breath rippled sideward to her cheekbone, and she caught the fragrance of toothpaste—fresh mint mingling with his own scent.

“God, what you do to me,” he whispered.

What she did to him? Within short minutes of his ministrations she was ready to fly to the moon with him. She leaned back against his body, desperate to learn he was as affected as her. Just for a moment, she told herself. And, oh, he was. His arousal pushed against the small of her back.