Baby for the Billionaire(11)

His tongue gave her strokes of pleasure, his hands sliding down to her hips and pulling her up against him, his body telling her he was a man who wanted, and that she was the woman to give.

And then he eased back.

And the world righted itself … slightly.

He lifted a strand of hair off her cheek. “Want to take a shower?” he asked huskily, his blue eyes holding a dark glitter.

“Er … together?”

He eased into a smile. “Is that an offer?”

She felt her cheeks wash with pink. “No.”

He leaned back further, his eyes softening with understanding. “You’re shy?”

She swallowed past her dry throat. “Only the first time,” she whispered, hoping he’d take the hint so she wouldn’t have to say it in words.

“And after that?” he teased.

“I don’t—”

He chuckled and stepped back before she could finish. “Don’t worry. I’ll shower in my old room so that you can have some privacy.” He strode away but stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder, his eyes no longer teasing. “This time.”

Sasha stood there until she no longer heard his muffled footfall on the carpet along the landing.

She slowly exhaled. Oh God. How could she know if she would be shy after she made love with him? She’d never made love with any man.

She was a virgin.

And a virgin who’d never felt anything for any man what she had felt for Nick all those years ago.

Nick whose kiss had blown her away just now. How could their wedding kiss earlier today have felt so different … so mild … yet this one be so mind-blowing?

This was like the kiss in the gazebo.

And unlike the episode after the gazebo, Nick wouldn’t be going off with another woman. She would be the woman in his bed tonight. And all the nights ahead.

For now.

With a shaky hand she managed to unzip her dress and step out of it, carefully placing it over a chair. Then she headed for the shower, aware she was leaving behind more than her wedding dress. Tonight she was going to be a married woman in every sense of the word.

But would Nick even notice?

Or care?

Thankfully, when Sasha came out of the bathroom Nick was nowhere to be seen. Feeling awkward, she took off her silk robe and slipped beneath the covers in her nightgown, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

In the lamplight she lay there for a few seconds looking like she’d been mummified, then gave a nervous laugh. Make that petrified.

Of Nick?

No, she was being absurd. Nick would never physically hurt her. Realizing she was letting her nerves get the better of her, she sat up against the pillows, only just managing to cover herself with the sheet a moment before Nick opened the door.

His gaze flashed over her. “I see you’re already in bed.”

She blinked, suddenly confused. Should she have sat on the brocade chair instead? Or stood by the window? What was the protocol on one’s wedding night of a marriage of convenience?

“I thought this was where you’d want me.”

“Oh, it is.” An intense look filled his eyes. “I’d want you anywhere, Sasha.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“It’s exactly what I meant.”

“Nick—” She stopped speaking as he came toward her carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He wore a navy bathrobe, his long legs bare and masculine. She could feel herself grow hot.

“I like the way you’re looking at me,” he said huskily.

Her gaze darted away, then back as she tried to get some sort of mental balance. “It feels strange being here like this with you,” she said, her excuse lame but all she had.

“Why?”

She should tell him now.

She took a deep breath. “Perhaps because I—”

“Hell, you don’t think of me like a brother, do you?”

His question took the wind from her sails. She blinked. “No.” That was the last way she’d ever think of him. Hadn’t those two mind-blowing kisses told him that, if seven years between?

“That’s a relief.” He was joking but she knew the question had been partly serious.

He held out a glass of champagne toward her. “Here, this should help you relax a little.”

Grateful for something to do, she accepted it and took a sip, letting the bubbles slide down her dry throat. Perhaps drunk was the way to go, she mused, then dismissed the thought. If she were drunk she might say too much.