Waking Up Married Read online

  Pearly-white teeth sank into the soft swell of her bottom lip before pulling free and he stopped breathing altogether.

  “Megan.”

  She sighed. “I’m starving.”

  For a beat he stared down at her. And then those fingers tightened and she gave his lapel a little shake. “Star-ving.”

  A single nod.

  Food.

  Yeah, he was pretty hungry too. For something, anyway. So it was time to stop staring down into her pretty, freckle-kissed face.

  “Right.” Downing the rest of his glass in one swallow, he handed off the empty to a passing server. “Then I’m your man.”

  Seven hours earlier...

  He’d thought it couldn’t get any better than the laugh. But then he’d heard the laugh coupled with the squeals of delight and gotten an eyeful of Megan’s sensational and perfectly displayed backside. Shimmying in some victory dance as her winning machine counted up at the far end of the waffle buffet their surprisingly reliable cabbie had recommended.

  Damn.

  She’d caught him by surprise. Again. Lulling him into too easy a conversation and then giving up the details of her life as easily as this machine had given up her winnings. All it had taken was the right question at the right time, and she’d opened up, revealing new insight into the engaging creature he’d managed to capture for the night.

  She was a self-proclaimed recovering romantic. A woman who believed in love but had discovered through a lifetime of experience the heights of that particular romantic elevation to be beyond her reach. And she’d accepted it, wasn’t interested in the futility of an unattainable pursuit. She was a brainiac beauty. A freelance software engineer, successful in her own right. Confident where it counted and modest in the most appealing ways. Independent to an extreme and unafraid to buck convention when it came to the achievement of her goals. Kind, funny and sexy.

  Now he stood behind her, their latest round of cocktails set aside—which maybe wasn’t such a bad thing considering the kind of detours his head had been taking—as he shrugged out of his suit jacket, giving in to the absurdly out-of-place bit of possessive insanity going nuts thinking about anyone else seeing this heart-shaped perfection.

  “Here, put this on,” he said, slipping it over her shoulders.

  “I can’t believe it!” she gasped. “I never win. I never, ever, ever get lucky like this.”

  Connor grinned, watching as the bare length of her arms disappeared within the sea of his coat. Reaching over, he adjusted the lapels, telling himself she’d looked cold. Then before he gave in to the temptation to linger near that tantalizing V of feminine flesh, or God forbid let his knuckles skim the softness there, he moved on to cuff her sleeves. Rolling up the arms until the slim band of her wristwatch shone beneath the flashing lights of her winning machine. It was a delicate band, but a little plain. The way he’d mistakenly thought about her, when really this girl glittered like a diamond.

  “Carter,” she said breathlessly, those blue eyes watching where his thumb stroked across the sensitive pale skin of her inner wrist.

  “Connor.” What the hell was he doing?

  Her eyes lifted slowly, following the line of his arm, across his shoulder, to the top of his tie and then his mouth.

  Did she have any idea how seductive those few beats of time were when he could all but see her mind working through the possibilities of where her gaze lingered.

  This woman was hot. And sweet. And smart. And funny.

  And she was staring at his mouth like it looked better than vanilla vodka and white-chocolate liqueur.

  Like maybe, after all, she might want a taste.

  Or even more.

  Another beat and her eyes met his.

  “Connor,” she corrected, the good judgment wrestling in those blue pools, barely holding out against temptation.

  Damn, he liked the way she said his name. Especially when she got it right.

  He had an excellent idea for helping her remember too.

  Repetition. And positive reinforcement—the breathless, moaning, pleading kind.

  Hours of it.

  He could push—turn on the seduction and he’d have her.

  This flirtation he’d been playing at was nothing. For every easy compliment, he’d kept a physical space between them. For every suggestive line, he’d avoided eye contact. Because he’d known—had a sense about what could be between them, and he’d steered clear of it. Only, now...he wanted more.

  Shaking his head, he glared at the half-empty glass on the counter beside them. Your fault.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, he put the arm’s length back between them, the easy smile. The just-for-fun.

  Moments later they were outside in the night air, surrounded by the bright lights, the drifting foot traffic and steady stream of cars. “You just cracked two machines in a row. We ought to head back to the casino and find you a real jackpot. Or would you like to try something different, like roulette?”

  A deep sigh left her pretty mouth. “I don’t think so. For someone who doesn’t win very often, I’m happy to be coming out ahead the way I am. I don’t want to push my luck.”

  “Something else in mind?” he asked. But he already knew, having seen the flash of resignation in her eyes.

  Goodbye.

  He didn’t want the night to end, but she had a plan, after all. He respected her for it. Admired the sense of priority, forethought and commitment she’d put into it. Hell, that plan was probably half her appeal.

  “I’ve had a really good time tonight.” Megan shifted in front of him, her gaze skating away as her fingers slid down the lapels of his suit jacket, to where they idly played with the top button.

  “Me too. Of course, this is Vegas. It’s still early.”

  Her eyes pulled back to his, flickering only once to his mouth. “Early morning.”

  And then her shoulders were straightening, her features falling into an altogether too-polite expression. “And I’ve got a big day ahead of me.”

  “Big day of attending.”

  “Yes. And making up elaborate lies about our night together.” This time her grin was pure imp. “Give Jodie and Tina something juicier to chew on than each other.”

  “Wow, you’re going to lie about me?” he asked, settling his hand at the small of her back as they approached the curb in search of a cab. “I’m flattered.”

  Nothing available, but one would come along any minute.

  Megan shot him a wry smile. “Actually, probably not. I want to. It would be so great. But lying gives me hives. Even for a good cause like keeping the peace at my cousin’s wedding, I’m not sure I’d be able to do it.”

  “So you’re one of those perpetually honest types?” he asked as they walked in the direction of the casino where they were staying.

  “Pretty much. Not always convenient. But I guess it keeps me out of trouble most times.”

  Uh-huh, but if she didn’t stop worrying that sexy bottom lip between her teeth—nothing would keep her out of the trouble he had in mind.

  Only, then she noticed the way he was watching her, and looked away.

  He didn’t want to lose her attention. Not yet. “With women like Tina and Jodie, I’m thinking not saying anything at all would be as effective as telling them what a stallion I am—which, incidentally, is one hundred percent accurate. Leave them to stew in their curiosity. Speculate to their hearts’ content. And give them nothing.”

  “Oooh, it’ll drive them insane,” she gasped, nearly bouncing beside him and making him wonder how deep her wicked streak went. And if it ever blurred the line into naughty. “God knows their imaginations are more colorful than mine.”

  Giving in to another smirk, he offered, “I could help with that.”

  He was joking. Mostly.

  Megan stopped and shook her head, the straight ends of her hair brushing softly across her shoulders. “I’m sure you could.”

  Even beneath the lights and glitz of t
he Strip, he could see the rise of a deep blush in her cheeks, read all the subtle signs of hesitation as they came. He could see her talking herself out of every maybe, what-if, just-a-few-more and only-this-once idea popping into her pretty head. He could feel the tension as she wrestled with her conscience about extending a night they’d both enjoyed.

  He knew she wanted to... “But you have a plan.”

  Honest. Intelligent. Funny. Independent. Megan was all that and more, with the kind of practical approach to love he couldn’t get out of his head. Eyes to the sky, he pushed out a long breath—that stopped abruptly when his focus caught on the neon sign flashing over her right shoulder.

  She had a plan...but maybe it wasn’t the only one.

  * * *

  God, she didn’t want the night to end. But there was only one place it could go. And as much as the idea of falling into this man’s bed appealed to her, it wasn’t how she lived her life.

  It didn’t matter that he seemed more soul mate than stranger. Or that she’d never be in a position to let go like this again. If she gave in, she’d regret it tomorrow.

  And when she thought about this night, she didn’t want there to be any regrets.

  So she swallowed and did what she had to do. “I have a plan.”

  The words opened an emptiness inside her, different from the one that had been so much a part of her every day.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Carter.”

  His mouth tilted in another one of those unreadable half smiles.

  Tempting. So tempting.

  “Megan, about your plan.” He caught her elbow in a loose hold. “There’s one thing I’m curious about.”

  Facing him, she asked, “What’s that?”

  His fingers slipped from her elbow down her arm in a soft caress and, catching her hand in his, he tucked it low against her back. Stepped in and, dropping his stare to her mouth, murmured, “Just this.”

  And he kissed her.

  At first, the shock of contact was all she could register. And then the slow, back-and-forth rub of his mouth against hers. The firm pressure. The gentle pull. The low-level current riding all the places they touched.

  Yes.

  Just this.

  The perfect end to a night she wished didn’t have to.

  Seconds later there was a breath between them—passing back and forth in a soft wash of warm and wet.

  “Connor,” he murmured, close enough she could almost feel the vibration on her lips.

  Megan blinked, but didn’t step back as she peered up into his eyes. “What?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped. “Wanted to make sure you remembered my name.”

  “Connor.” She sighed, closing her eyes to savor the moment just a little longer before she left. “That was very nice.”

  Catching her with a crooked finger beneath her chin, Connor brought her gaze back to his. When their eyes met, she had to blink. It wasn’t the bittersweet sort of resigned longing she felt that was shining in his eyes. Not by a long shot. It was cocky arrogance and a sharply focused anticipation.

  “Not really,” he said, curving his hand so it cupped her jaw. “That was getting you used to the idea.”

  Her lips parted to protest, but before she had the chance to backtrack or reword her response, he’d swooped in again. Closing the bit of distance between them without hesitation. Taking her mouth as if it was his to do with as he pleased, making it his own in a way that had Megan’s hands rising of their own volition, her fingers curling into his tailored shirt, her moan sliding free of her mouth and into his. There wasn’t anything even remotely nice about this kiss. It was hot. Explosive. Consuming and intense.

  It was the kind of kiss for behind closed doors. The kind she’d never in her life believed she would have allowed to take place in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. But then, she’d never been faced with the need to break away from something so damn good.

  And then she wasn’t thinking about what she should be doing at all. Where she was. Or where she was going. There was only the hot press of Connor’s body as he pulled her closer. The skillful exploration of a part of her that suddenly felt like undiscovered country. The slow lick of his tongue against hers.

  Delicious.

  So good.

  Another wicked lick was followed by a slow, steady thrust, and she was lost to it. Her hands moved against the hard planes of his torso in restless anticipation of what more he could give her.

  She might regret this tomorrow...but not nearly as much as she would regret walking away tonight.

  When Connor pulled back, she was breathless. Hungry. Desperate.

  This time, the elusive tilt to Connor’s lips was gone. He drew a slow breath, his brows seeming to draw lower through every passing second until his eyes had become fathomless depths, so dark she wondered if, once she fell in, she’d ever make it back out again.

  “Okay, yeah,” he murmured, as though having reached some internal understanding with himself.

  “Yeah, okay,” she whispered, nodding. “But we have to go back to your room. I’m sharing a suite with Tina and Jodie.”

  Only, then his head lowered to hers, and he pressed a single slow kiss against her lips before moving close to her ear. “I’ve got an even better idea.”

  A second later his hands had clamped around her hips and she’d been hoisted over his shoulder, where she bounced with his long strides. Delighted by this show of caveman antics, she breathlessly laughed out a demand for an explanation.

  “I’ve got a plan...” he answered, confident and excited. “I’ll tell you about it on the way. It’s up here on the right.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE QUIET HUM OF THE SHOWER came to a stop, leaving only the silence of the villa roaring around him. Connor stared out over the bedroom terrace and private Caribbean blue pool below, trying to anticipate what he would face when his wife emerged from her steamy refuge.

  Megan had held it together through those first minutes of realization, even managing a few joking remarks between bouts of nausea—but as soon as she’d been strong enough to stand on her own, she’d asked for some privacy to clean up.

  And he’d been waiting since. Listening to the lock snap on the bathroom door as it closed behind him. Contemplating the single muted sob he’d heard before the echoing spray of the shower drowned all other sound. Piecing together the events, revelations and resolutions of the night before. Trying to reconcile them with the here and now of the morning.

  Megan wanted a lawyer.

  It had been the only definitive statement she’d made regarding their marriage in those few chaotic moments they’d spent ensconced in their marble-and-brass hideaway. Granted, she was probably as hazy on the finer points of the night as he was, but something possessive inside him was growling in outrage at the thought.

  She was his wife.

  She’d married him. And not on some lark either, but because she’d recognized the potential between them, same as him.

  So yeah, the alcohol may have played into the immediacy of his actions. But with every passing minute, the details of those critical hours they’d spent together and the woman he’d married sharpened in his mind, reaffirming his confidence in the decision to strike while the iron was hot.

  And no, the irony wasn’t lost on him that after his patient, methodical approach to finding a wife had failed with Caro—Megan had just dropped into his lap. Sure, sure, he’d had to sell her on the idea once he’d seen the sense in it. But he was a man with a knack for identifying opportunity and the skills to convey the benefits of said opportunity to others. He could size up a situation and break down the key factors, without waiting for the proverbial knock at his door or encyclopedic pitch most people required prior to taking action. And what he’d seen in Megan told him she was the kind of opportunity he shouldn’t kick out of his bed for eating crackers— or, more specifically, downing half Nevada’s monthly import of vanilla vodka in one night.

 
; Their agendas were simply too well aligned to ignore. The timing too right. The practical approach too perfect. And she’d been like-minded enough to see it and agree.

  Megan fit him to a T, so he wasn’t prepared to admit he’d made a mistake. Not yet anyway. Though he supposed the next few minutes would be fairly telling on that count. A bout of hysterics, for instance, would most definitely have him reconsidering his stance.

  The lock released with a loud click and Connor steeled his gut for what came next. Only, somehow the sight of Megan, towel dried, freshly scrubbed and swimming in a thick, oatmeal robe as she tentatively pushed a damp tendril from her brow, was something he had no defense against.

  She was beautiful.

  And the steady way she met his eyes proved she wasn’t a meltdown in progress. Though taking the rest of her body language into account—the crossed arms, one hand securing the overlap of panels high at her neck and the other wrapped tight around her waist—suggested she wasn’t quite ready to pick up where they’d left off the night before. She looked cautious. Alert. And cool.

  She looked strong, and it had his pulse jacking as much as the sight of those sexy little pink toenails peeking out from beneath the hem of her oversize robe.

  “Feeling better?” he asked, planting a shoulder against the sliding door rather than giving in to the urge to get closer. He wanted her comfortable. As quickly as he could make it happen.

  “Yes, thank you.” Clearing her throat quietly, she glanced briefly around before returning her attention to him. “I needed that. Needed a few minutes to get my thoughts together. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting out here, though.”

  Conscientious. Nice. “Not a problem. It’s been an interesting morning, and it started off a little faster than I think either one of us expected.”

  Her brows lifted as she drew a long breath. “It did, but considering our situation, that’s probably for the best. We’ve got a lot to cover in a short time.”

  And then before he had a chance to ask, that steady gaze filled with purpose and her thumb popped up like a bullet point as she began.