Page 123 of One Wealthy Wedding

“Don’t come,” he rumbles. His fingers plunge in and out. “You can take it. Don’t think about how hot it is that I’m filling you up, that you’re making a mess of me. Don’t think about how my come is drying on your skin.”

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“Don’t come, baby. Don’t come.”

He tongues me again, swiping over my clit, and I’m there. My stomach is tight and my legs shake, and then he twists his fingers just right, and I soar off the edge. Falling and falling, except this time, Theo’s there to catch me.

He presses his face to my thigh, and I thread shaky fingers through his hair. Our breaths heave in unison.

I don’t want him to go. My nails scrape against his scalp and he sighs. I never thought it could be this good with someone, but of course it is with Theo. He’s a protector, a giver, and that extends to bed.

When he finally looks up at me, a smile plays on his lips. “Dirty enough for you?”

I laugh. I can’t help it.

“What are we doing, Theo?”

He stands, naked and proud, and pulls me off the lounger. “We’re doing the list.”

Right. The list. Items I’ll do with my fake husband, who I definitely won’t fall for, and who definitely won’t break my heart again.

Sure.

37

Cat

Just a few days later, we’re in Monaco. The hotel George booked is the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. It’s in the middle of everything, with a massive terrace overlooking the square. There’s a full dining table in our suite, two rooms with king-size beds, and clusters of couches and tasteful floral arrangements in the living room.

“There’s a hot tub out here.” I poke my head out of the terrace door. The air is warm and salty here. People are enjoying afternoon coffees in the square below.

“I know,” Theo says.

I look back at him, where he’s making an espresso. “You’ve stayed here?”

“A few times.” He shrugs. “The hot tub in Jonah’s suite is better. Bigger.” He gives me a naughty smile. “The jets are positioned just right.”

“You are the worst,” I mutter, but a shiver runs through me.

“I’m creative,” Theo says. He comes up beside me and passes me an espresso. “You’re going to need this.”

“Why?” I eye him suspiciously. “What’s on the debauched agenda?”

“Just shopping today,” he says.

“Shopping? You’re coming too?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” His smug look says he has some tricks up his sleeve, but that he’s not going to let me in on the joke. “We need to see and be seen.” He downs his coffee in one gulp. “Lorenzo doesn’t believe us. We’ll have the event at his casino, but other than that, we’ll be flaunting this relationship all over Monaco. He basically told me if I were serious about you, we’d be noticed by the tabloids."

I make a face, before I blow on my espresso. “I’m sorry I’m such a crappy actress.”

He smiles. “If someone asks how we met, what are you going to say?”

“That you were my friend as a teenager,” I say. “I’m a bad liar. We established this. What did you want me to say? What have you been saying?”

His eyes turn serious. “I’ve been telling people that I was in love with you. That we were star-crossed lovers, and when I finally got my chance, I took it.”

His words spike agony below my ribs, wrap around my heart.

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