I lean against the plush leather of the limo delivering us back to Caesar’s Palace, unable to believe I actually went through with it. I’m officially Mrs. Holly Karas, and tonight is my wedding night—or maybe to be more accurate, my wedding morning, as it’s New Year’s Day in Nevada now too.
I look at the man seated across from me. Creighton Karas.
I just married a billionaire. Granted, the prenup I read on the jet during our flight made it very clear that those billions are largely to remain his, regardless of the outcome of our marriage. If things fall apart, I’ll have to refer to Section 39, subsections (a) to (zz), which list possible causes of the “dissolution” and the accompanying formula to calculate what I walk away from this union with.
Nearly fifty pages, and I read the entire thing. I was screwed by one contract, and I wasn’t looking to get screwed by both this man and his contract. With my community college drop-out status, it isn’t surprising that reading it mostly confused the crap out of me. If my adrenaline wasn’t continually dumping into my system due to the looks Creighton kept giving me, I probably would have fallen asleep. Regardless, I’m guardedly confident that I understand enough to hope that I’m not missing anything obvious.
Creighton made a call to his lawyers as soon as we walked out of the twenty-four-hour wedding chapel. They now have their hands on a copy of my contract with Homegrown, courtesy of the e-mail I forwarded Creighton, and are going over it with a fine-tooth comb.
Apparently now that the task is in competent legal hands, he considers the matter handled. And for tonight, I don’t think there is anything more I can do either. My phone has stayed off because I don’t want to face the voice mails that surely wait for me. So instead, I focus on the present.
It’s my wedding night.
Oh my God.
What the hell am I doing?
Aside from my one night with Creighton, I’ve been with exactly two other guys—my high school boyfriend, and a friend with benefits who was a regular at the bowling alley. With my high school boyfriend, I was lucky that he got it in the right hole on the first try. It hurt the first time, and all the times after that weren’t a heck of a lot better. My friend with benefits was an improvement, but nothing like the night I had with Creighton.
Because of my prior lack of positive experience in the bedroom department, I’ve never considered myself a very sexual creature. Which is why agreeing to the label’s crazy scheme with JC wasn’t a huge problem in the beginning. But as the months wore on, something changed inside me. It probably has something to do with all the sexy books I read on the road while I’m touring. And the sinfully hot—and taken—man I’m touring with.
My Christmas Eve one-night stand was supposed to be just that—one night. And now I’m married to him. Every time I think about my current situation, I wonder if I’m crazy.
“You’re awfully quiet over there, my darling wife,” Creighton drawls.
“Please don’t call me that if you’re just trying to make fun of me.” My voice sounds small, even to me.
His eyebrow lifts, and perfectly formed lips lift into a smirk. “Why would I make fun of you?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, trying to throw off his spell. “It’s been a long day, and I’m still trying to catch up with everything that happened.”
His playful expression fades, and I brace myself for whatever he’s going to say next. Creighton’s behavior hasn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy so far, and his words have been decidedly no-bullshit.
“You don’t need to catch up with anything except sleep for the rest of the night.”
Shock courses through me. “We’re not . . . I mean, you’re not planning on . . .”
Goose bumps prickle my skin at his appraising look.
“The next time I fuck you, Holly, I want to make sure you’re with me one hundred percent. I will accept nothing less than all of you, and right now your mind is a million miles away.”
He’s right. My thoughts are on the other side of the country, wondering what kind of hell I’m going to have to pay for this decision. And also a little at home, wondering if I’ll end up on a bus back there if I fail to please my new husband.
I don’t want to see this look of disappointment on his face. I want to see the heat that brought me almost to the edge of orgasm before I even followed his commands to strip naked. There’s nothing I can do right now to deal with the fallout of the decision I’ve made, but I can try to make whatever we might have here work for both of us.
“Besides, I have all the time in the world to wring orgasm after orgasm from your body until your legs are so weak you can barely stand.” His expression heats. “And plenty of time to train you to take my cock exactly the way I want—in every way, but first between those fuckable lips of yours.”
All thoughts of anything but the forbidden things he offers are wiped from my mind. I want to see the approval I saw in his eyes that night, and that I heard in his voice when he opened the door at the Plaza. Something in his dominant nature snapped the pieces of my sexuality into place, and I want to revel in that feeling. Now.
I slide off the seat and drop to my knees.
Creighton stares down at me, and that dang eyebrow of his rises. “You praying, Holly?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. I’m taking your cock exactly the way you want it.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, just reaches up to press the limo’s intercom button. “Keep driving until I tell you to stop.”