BLURB
The conclusion of the surprising love story begun in Dirty Sexy Player.
I didn't have a plan for him.
He was the means to an end, a workaround to the cruel terms of my father's will that would allow me to inherit his company.
I hadn't planned to fall for him.
I hadn't planned to enjoy every minute of our wedding, hadn't planned to gasp his name so many times that night, hadn't planned for the sexy games on our honeymoon.
He didn't plan for his secrets to come out.
And neither of us planned for heartbreak.
I didn't have a plan for him.
He was the means to an end, a workaround to the cruel terms of my father's will that would allow me to inherit his company.
I hadn't planned to fall for him.
I hadn't planned to enjoy every minute of our wedding, hadn't planned to gasp his name so many times that night, hadn't planned for the sexy games on our honeymoon.
He didn't plan for his secrets to come out.
And neither of us planned for heartbreak.
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As soon as we were in our suite, the bomb exploded, the bomb being Elizabeth. “We’re alone now, so just tell me straight. You knew I was always going to France. If you wanted to be with me, you had to know it would involve living there. Is that not something you’ll even consider? Is it Sabrina? Is it Reach? Is it Donovan? Because if it’s fucking Donovan who’s keeping you from—”
I grabbed her hands, which were flying in midair as she yelled, and pulled them behind her back at her waist as I cut her off with a searing kiss, my tongue plunging into her open mouth, robbing her of oxygen.
When she was thoroughly kissed, her lips pliable, her body sagging in my arms, I let her go.
“I’m tired, Elizabeth. I’m not discussing fucking anything tonight.” I took off my tuxedo jacket and threw it on the desk. Then I began working on my cufflinks. “What I think we both need now is to release some tension.”
Her spine straightened, her neck growing longer as she stared at me in shock. “You think we’re going to have sex now?”
I loved how she made it sound disgusting, like she wasn’t interested, even when I’d just been kissing her and had felt the lean in her body, had tasted the desire in her mouth.
Two could play the indifference game.
I shrugged. “I’m fucking someone tonight. If you want it to be you, you better take off your dress.”
Her mouth slammed shut, and she only seemed to consider it for two seconds before she was fumbling with the zipper at her back. She struggled with it, but I didn’t help her. It made me stiff to watch her frantically trying to strip down, just because I told her to. Just because she thought I might find a better offer if she didn’t.
Like there was a better offer than her.
Like there was anyone but her.
I didn’t take my eyes off her as I unbuttoned my vest and tossed it to the side with my jacket. I’d loosened my tie by the time she got her dress undone. It fell to the floor and she was left wearing a strapless corseted bra, one that had a low back so it couldn’t be seen with her dress on, and matching lace panties—both in a white ivory so virginal and bridal it seemed dirty.
Jesus, she was a fucking wet dream.
And she was my wife.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
With over 1.7 million books sold world wide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. She is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She's also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn't do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
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