Page 39 of One Bridegroom Required!

This was wrong. She knew it was wrong for lots and lots of reasons—so why was she allowing herself to be swept along by the power of his kiss? ‘Stop it,’ she beseeched in a whisper against the softness of his lips, but it was a meaningless entreaty and they both knew it. ‘Stop it, Luke.’

‘Make me,’ he whispered back, following his words with a provocative little lick at the roof of her mouth, and Holly swayed in his arms, laced her fingers into the thick, gold-tipped richness of his hair as she had wanted to for so long that it seemed a lifetime of wanting. ‘Go on—make me...’

Very deliberately, he moved his hands from her narrow back and splayed them proprietorially over her buttocks, bringing her right against him. Then he slowly began to circle his hips in the most blatantly provocative way, letting her feel the hard, butting ridge of his desire.

She felt him, and jerked with a spasm of shock and excitement. ‘Luke...’ said Holly weakly, as his lips continued their relentless onslaught, overloading her senses until she could barely think at all, let alone think straight.

‘What?’ Moving one hand from her bottom, he allowed his fingers to trickle with agonising slowness up towards her breasts, and he heard her long sigh of surrender even as he felt her body melt against him. He opened his eyes and saw their reflection in one of the huge mirrors, their bodies glued together—and it turned him on unbearably.

She was wearing a long, flowing velvet skirt in richest burgundy and a floaty white chiffon shirt. With it she wore a matching burgundy bodice which fitted as closely as a glove, with lots of tiny, velvet-covered buttons all the way down the front. Her hair flowed like a river of copper curls down her back, caught back from her face by two tortoiseshell combs. With her white skin and emerald eyes, he thought that she looked as if she had stepped out of a painting from another century.

‘Luke, please...’ she pleaded, without knowing what it was she was asking him for.

He gave a low laugh tinged with passion and power. He had her right where he wanted her. ‘What?’ he whispered again, and Holly was too befuddled to hear the mocking tone which coloured his voice.

Luke turned his attention to the bodice, snapping open first one button and then another, making a small groan of frustration beneath his breath as he saw just how many buttons there were. This was going to take for ever and he didn’t want to wait. He wanted to tear the clothes from her body, to reveal those lush, creamy breasts and then to take them in his mouth and suckle them. Bite them and tease them until her head was thrown back and through dry lips she would be demanding that he take her, take away the remorseless aching.

‘God, your breasts are beautiful,’ he breathed, as another button flew open.

‘O-oh.’ She stumbled, as his thumb brushed over the velvet, tantalising the nub which was thrusting against the thick material.

‘Don’t you ever wear a bra?’ he wanted to know, his excitement rocketing as his fingers realised that there was no scrap of silk or lace to restrain them....

‘Never,’ she managed weakly. Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they moved possessively over his broad back, moving beneath his jacket and wantonly caressing the warm flesh through the silken shirt.

‘Don’t you know how much it turns men on?’ he managed, finding that he wanted to outrageously demand that she always wore one in future. Unless she was with him... He pulled his mouth away from hers then, fighting for sanity through the mists of his desire. He would have to take her upstairs right now, because if he didn’t...

A sudden banging at the door was like having a bucket of iced water hurled over her, and Holly found herself swaying in Luke’s arms, blinking up at him in confusion.

‘W-what’s that?’

Luke had razor-sharp reflexes which had been honed over years of working in the reserve, and he had swiftly rebuttoned Holly’s bodice and straightened it almost before she realised what was happening.

‘You have a customer,’ he mocked her darkly. ‘Remember? This is a shop.’

And Holly looked towards the door in dismay, where a stocky young woman stood looking in. Her eyes flickered towards Luke’s face for some kind of reassurance, but none was forthcoming. His features displayed all the disgust she might have expected from a man she had almost let make love to her in public. Oh, Lord, what had she done?

‘Hadn’t you better let her in?’ asked Luke, his voice as distant as the wind.

And Holly went to unlock the door.

CHAPTER TEN

HOLLY’S first thought was that the young woman who stood outside didn’t look a bit like a bride-to-be. Not just because she was plump—although plump brides tended to buy their dresses in the safe, anonymous atmosphere of the department store rather than specialist shops. Or because she wore no glittering engagement ring—lots of women chose not to wear those. Caroline, had not worn one, she remembered, wincing.

No, it was the woman’s general expression of harassment—she looked flustered and out of breath, and carried none of the satisfied glow of a woman about to choose her wedding dress.

‘Are you sure you’re open?’ she asked, as Holly pulled the door open, her soft cheeks growing pink. And Holly found herself blushing too, as she wondered just how much of that passionate little bout with Luke the woman had witnessed. And speaking of Luke...

She glanced over her shoulder. Why was he still standing exactly where she had left him, like a dark, immovable force? Their eyes met—his still angry and glittering with frustration, while Holly felt totally compromised by that outrageously effective demonstration of his sexual skills. He had ruthlessly manipulated her, almost... almost... She glared at him but still he didn’t budge.

‘Yes, of course we’re open,’ smiled Holly brightly. ‘Do come in.’

‘Thanks.’ The woman stepped into the shop and looked around, but again and again her attention kept coming back to the spotlit dress in the window.

Close up, Holly could see her plumpness couldn’t detract from the most beautiful pair of dark blue eyes she had ever seen, with lashes so long you could have hung your washing from them. Her skin was all berries and cream, and she had a thick head of glossy black hair caught back in an old-fashioned chignon.

‘I’m Holly Lovelace,’ said Holly, holding out her hand.

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