Page 45 of Marrying the Enemy

This was what she had been afraid of, but in the throes of this pleasure, there was no fear, only glorious indulgence. He was driving her toward a wall. Driving them. The barrier might break when they hit it or they might be the ones to shatter. Either way, she was desperate to get there and urged him on with agonized gasps and the cut of her nails and the eager tilt of her hips.

“Evie,” he said again. This time it was almost a curse. His heartbeat pounded against her breast and his ragged breaths stirred the hair near her ear.

They weren’t going to survive it, but here they were. The world was fracturing and cracking and exploding. Perhaps they flew into the sun. Either way, she was nothing but white light. She and Dom were no longer physical or separate. They were made of the same, singular, eternal energy.

Then ecstasy crashed over her, ripping her breath from her body in a cry of sheer joy. His shout joined hers and the shock waves of his own culmination slammed up against hers.

They clung to each other, sweaty and groaning and lost to the maelstrom.

Eve only had one thought—that this would happen again and again for the rest of their lives.

Eve woke with a start, naked in the wide bed in the stateroom of Dom’s yacht. Sunshine and mahogany hit her eyes. A tropical breeze came through the open windows, dancing across her skin where it wasn’t covered by the sheet.

She was on her stomach and lifted her head to look for Dom.

He sat slouched against the headboard, also wearing only the corner of the sheet as he thumbed the screen of his phone.

This is my life now, she thought with sweet excitement.

She would fall asleep sated and wake to the sexy vision of his bare chest and sensual mouth, his stubbled jaw and the lazy, possessive gleam in his eye as he slid a look toward her.

“I thought we made vows,” she said with mock indignance.

Both of their phones had been blowing up by the time they’d landed in Miami. Eve had spoken briefly with her mother, who was concerned on many fronts.

“Your father is very upset with Nico,” her mother had said. “He didn’t want you to know about his doctor visits.”

“Can I talk to him?” Eve had asked with trepidation.

“He’s still in with Nico. Let him calm down first.”

She’d then exchanged a few texts with her other brothers, both of them asking if she “had” to marry Dom—implying they presumed she was pregnant.

After that, she and Dom had turned off notifications, promising not to check them until they were on dry land again.

“My purser informed me that my sister is in Jamaica, visiting her husband’s family,” Dom explained.

“You spoke to the purser like that?” She flicked her gaze to the naked, muscled thigh poking out from beneath the draped sheet.

“He used the intercom, so, yes. I did.”

She was falling in love with that laconic humor of his.

Wait. No, she wasn’t. She scrambled to catch her slipping heart. Evie, don’t.

Dom brought his phone to his ear. “I got your message. We’re in the Caymans, but we can fly over for the afternoon. Is Ingrid with you?”

The woman’s response was muted and puzzled. “No. Why would she be?”

“It was just a question. We’ll see you later.”

He ended the call, then looked to Eve with an unreadable expression. With a single fingertip, he guided her hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “And so it starts.”

She bunched the pillow under her chest, hugging it. “Who’s Ingrid?”

“My stepmother.”

“Why were you asking if she’d be there? Are you worried she’s going to hate me?”

---