Paper Marriages: Wife: Bought and Paid For / His Convenient Marriage / A Convenient Wife

‘I am not completely primitive,’ he said coldly.

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ she muttered under her breath, and, without a word, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his long body. His head bent and his mouth closed over hers with brutal savagery, forcing her lips apart in a kiss that shocked her into numb submission.

‘That is primitive, my sweet wife.’ Solo’s eyes narrowed in a slow, raking appraisal of her slender form. ‘You need to know the difference, because what happens next is your choice, but don’t try my patience. I waited four years for you, and then another four days—symbolic maybe, but too long.’

She tilted back her head; her eyes, flashing with anger, clashed with his darkening gaze. ‘Very symbolic—four is the number of the devil in Japanese culture,’ she shot back defiantly.

‘Then as you have labelled me a devil, you silly girl…’ he grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger, and she could see the cold fury in his silver eyes… ‘I am quite prepared to act like one. I would hate you to be disappointed,’ he declared with mocking cynicism, his other hand sweeping around her back, and before she knew it his fingers had swiftly unzipped her gown.

‘I am not silly or a girl.’ She slapped his hand from her face and jerked free. ‘You saw to that,’ she hissed, burning with resentment and trying to grab at the front of her dress.

‘And you loved every minute of it,’ he declared sardonically, and, catching her hands, he held them wide, and to her utter humiliation the pearl-strewn gown sank to pool on the floor at her feet.

She heard his sharply indrawn breath and for a long moment he simply stared. ‘I have been longing to do that since the first moment I saw you in that dress.’ Solo’s voice lowered to a husky murmur as his eyes roved over her delicate features and lower to her firm breasts, the tiny waist, and the small white lace briefs that barely saved her modesty.

Struggling to free her hands and burning with embarrassment, she used the only weapon left to her and lashed out at him with her foot, connecting with a shinbone. But in seconds she was powerless to move as he linked her hands behind her back in one of his, hauling her hard against him and raking his other hand through her hair, sending rosebuds careering to the floor. ‘Let me go,’ she gasped, wriggling ineffectively in his grasp, the atmosphere suddenly raw with tension.

Solo laughed softly. ‘Never.’ His silver eyes held her furious green gaze, his teeth gleaming in a devilishly menacing smile. ‘And you don’t really want me to.’ His gaze flicked down to her breasts heaving with her recent exertion, and back to linger on her slightly swollen lips, and then her hair.

‘Your hair should always be loose.’ Threading his fingers through it, he smoothed the silky mass down over her shoulders in an oddly tender gesture. ‘That’s how I always picture you.’

A warm tide of colour washed over her body—that Solo pictured her at all was a surprise to Penny, given the women he had enjoyed, and she was rather flattered at the thought. His face was close and there was something mesmerising about his silver eyes, his deep, husky voice.

She felt his hand at the nape of her neck, urging her head back as he lowered his own, and he brushed her mouth with his with an almost reverent gentleness, so different from what had gone before that she sighed her relief, the fight draining out of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as with practised expertise he kissed and caressed her silken skin until every cell in her body pulsed with aching need.

She felt herself being swept up in his arms and deposited on the wide bed, and the soft warmth of silken sheets at her back.

‘That’s better, my beautiful bride.’ And Solo’s warmth was withdrawn.

Better for whom? Her eyes flew open. Solo had shed his shirt, and was stepping out of his trousers. With fast-beating heart, she stared at him; his bronze body, all taut muscle and sinew, left her breathless. She gulped. ‘What are you doing?’ she cried inanely, casting him a nervous glance.

‘Well, if you haven’t guessed by now,’ Solo drawled, his silver eyes gleaming wickedly, ‘your education is sadly lacking,’ he mocked, and he had the nerve to chuckle as he lowered his long body on the bed and curved an arm around her shoulders. ‘But no matter, I will soon rectify your lack.’

‘You have a vastly inflated ego,’ Penny snapped back, his mockery infuriating her again, but the sight of his naked body had a debilitating effect on her anger. He was even more beautiful, more awesome than the picture that had haunted her sleep for the past few nights—incredibly handsome and with a body to die for. The trouble was she knew just how he could make her feel; her temperature was already shooting off the scale at the warmth of his naked thigh against her own.

‘No, merely a vast experience with the female sex.’ A smile quirked the corners of his mobile lips. ‘Which I am putting completely at your disposal, Penelope mine.’

He was teasing her—the devil thought his vast numbers of lovers were amusing! Penny tore her gaze from the latent sensuality in his grey eyes. ‘I am not yours; in fact, I think I hate you,’ she grated, not for a second admitting she was also madly jealous at the thought of all his other women.

‘You know the cliché: hate is akin to love, but at least hate is an emotion.’ Solo loomed over her, supporting his weight on one elbow, but his hand still curved round her shoulder. With his other he held her chin, his silver gaze burning into hers, his expression solemn. ‘Indifference is the real killer, Penny, I know.’

For a second a fleeting shadow seemed to dim his glittering eyes, and Penny had the odd idea the powerful domineering male she had just married looked vulnerable. Quickly she dismissed the idea. Solo was a typical Alpha male, and she doubted if anyone, male or female, could ever be indifferent to him. Whether it was love, hate, admiration, envy, lust or jealousy, he aroused strong emotions simply by being Solo Maffeiano.

‘And whatever else you are,’ his deep, husky voice continued temptingly, ‘you are not indifferent to me, Penny, cara.’ His thumb and finger brushed down her throat, and lower until his palm cupped her breast and the tantalising fingers tugged very gently at the nipple. ‘My bride and soon my wife.’

Penny did try to resist, but his touch ignited a burning hunger within her she was helpless to deny. Warmth coursed through her veins, and with a low, inaudible groan, her eyes wide and luminous, she stared up at him. Wife, and he was her husband. Why deny her own feelings? She wanted him, and which emotion fuelled the craving she did not care any more. Instinct told her despite her naivety that Solo would be a hard act for any man to follow.

Reaching up, she traced the hard line of his jaw with her fingers, and up into the silken black hair at his temples. The marriage might be for all the wrong reasons, and, if she were not pregnant, would almost certainly be brief. She had no faith in her ability to keep and hold a man like Solo, even if she wanted to, but for now he was her husband.

‘My husband.’ She murmured the words out loud, and he grasped her hand and pressed a hot, hard kiss into her palm.

‘Yes. Oh, yes,’ Solo said huskily, and her eyes widened into huge pools of helpless longing as he lowered his head. His lips traced her own with incredible tenderness, exploring and teasing and urging her response. ‘We can dispense with these.’ He raised his head and she felt his hand peeling her briefs from her body. ‘I want you naked against me,’ he rasped. This time Penny reached for him.

She ran her fingers through his hair and urged his head down. She gave a shaky sigh and parted her lips, her tongue seeking the hot interior of his sensuous mouth. She felt his great body shudder against her, and suddenly he moved onto his back, leaving her stunned, and screaming with frustration.

‘I want to take this slow,’ Solo rasped, his breathing heavy. ‘It’s your wedding night.’

Why should he dictate the pace? He dictated everything else, Penny thought in a wild bid for independence. Pushing up, she leant over him, her mouth briefly seeking his before withdrawing teasingly and nipping at his lower lip. Fierce, primitive pleasure swept through her and she was caught up in a desire so intense nothing else mattered. She eased back and deliberately trailed her long hair over his wide shoulders, glorying in her feminine power over him.

‘Our wedding night,’ she amended, and bit lightly into his shoulder, her slender hand stroking through the soft, black body hair of his chest, her fingers scraping over a pebblelike male nipple with tactile delight.

Her green eyes wide and wondering, she traced the arrow of black hair that angled down to his groin, fascinated by his aroused flesh. Her body quivered in delight at the capitulation of his. She wanted to touch him, taste him, wallow in his masculine beauty, his virile power, and Solo let her for a while… until her pink tongue touched the vulnerable velvet skin.

Then suddenly, with a husky growl of need, he pushed her onto her back, held her hands down by her sides, and kissed her with a wild, passionate hunger that melted her bones. She trembled, the blood flowing hot and thick through her veins, as he trailed his lips down to the gentle swell of her breasts and with sensual delight he suckled each one in turn. She writhed as his mouth began an evocative journey to discover every pulse point, every erogenous zone, with an expertise that made every atom of her being spark with incredible heat.

With the air scented with sex, their breath mingled in a branding kiss as they lay, silken skin on skin.

Finally Solo knelt between her thighs. ‘You’re mine, Penny, my wife,’ he said with an animalistic growl of triumph, and then in one deep thrust he possessed her. Penny arched up to him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder and his side, anything she could cling to as he drove her on and on into an explosive sunburst of heat and light.

* * *

‘Good morning, Penelope.’ Penny tried to stretch, and came up against a hard male thigh; she opened her eyes, and saw Solo grinning down at her. Her whole body blushed scarlet as the events of the night came rushing back.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Solo asked, his hand slipping beneath the silk sheet to curve around her breast.

Catching his hand with hers, she looked up into his handsome face. Black curls fell over his broad brow and a five o’clock shadow darkened his strong jaw, making him look tough but endearingly dishevelled. ‘Not much, as you very well know.’ There was no point in denial; they had made love countless times through the night.

His silver eyes gleamed down into hers with wicked amusement. ‘Well, we could stay in bed a little longer, if you are still tired.’ And they did.

Three days later Penny stood and watched as Solo locked the cabin door and walked towards her. It had been the most perfect three days of her life. They had gone swimming naked in the sea, and made love on the sand, taken out the boat and gone fishing with Penny demanding Solo put back any fish he caught. He had dropped one on her and then washed the fish smell off her in the shower, or so he had said, but it had just been an excuse to make love again.

She looked around the tiny bay, a tear forming in her eye. And she finally admitted what she had subconsciously known all along: she loved Solo, always had and probably always would, but she would never dare tell him. She was his only for as long as he wanted her body, and the tear fell.

‘Ready, Penny?’ Solo’s long arm wrapped around her waist and turned her around to face him. ‘Hey, what is this?’ He flicked the solitary tear from her smooth cheek.

‘The thought of the flight back to England.’ She sighed. ‘And I was wondering if I will ever get back here again, it is so beautiful.’ She told him half the truth.

Solo looked at the woman in his arms, and his heart expanded in his chest. Penny did like his sanctuary. ‘Of course you will.’ He kissed the tip of her nose and led her to the car. ‘If I have to I will drive you back and forward to England, whenever you want.’ In fact he would drive to the ends of the earth for Penny.

The ludicrously emotional thought made him stop in his tracks and he let go of her. Solo knew himself that it was only with burning ambition and ruthless self-discipline that he had become the successful man he was today. Emotion played no part in his life.

‘Solo…’ Penny laid a hand on his arm. He looked ill—he had gone white beneath his naturally tanned complexion, the skin pulled taut across high, arrogant cheekbones. ‘Solo…’ Ice-grey eyes surveyed her, and every nerve in her body tensed.

‘Get in the car, Penny.’ he said harshly. What had he done? She hated him, she was only with him now because he had given her no choice and she needed his money to keep her young brother and that damned old house.

It irritated the hell out of him that from the moment he had seen her he had wanted her with a fierce, consuming hunger that had nothing to do with logic, but everything to do with lust. It angered him that he who had always prided himself on the ability to control his passion couldn’t control it with Penny.

Her wide green eyes were staring warily up at him; her lush lips, still swollen from early-morning lovemaking, trembled slightly. He reached out a finger and traced the soft curve of her breasts revealed by the blue sundress she was wearing, and saw her catch her breath. He could take her now; without conceit he knew he was a good lover and he had taught her well. He had never met a more wildly responsive woman in his life. Penny was like a kid in a sweet shop, but he recognised it was because sex was new to her, and what was worse he also knew that her need was nothing like the wild hunger that ate at him.