The Tycoon's Socialite Bride by Tracey Livesay

Author:Tracey Livesay [Livesay, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, General, Historical, wealthy heroine, arranged marriage, bargain, across the tracks, inerracial romance, women's shelter, marriage of convenience
ISBN: 9781622664924
Google: TbCfAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00HY09X52
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-02-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The shortest marriage in DC history.

Then there wasn’t a moment to lose.

Marcus unlocked the door to his house, his thundering pulse making conversation impossible.

She was here. Finally.

Feeling impulsive, he lifted her up into his arms.

“What are you doing?” Her voice rose, pitched high in surprise.

“Carrying you over the threshold. It’s tradition.”

Once inside, he spun her around with a flourish to shut the door. Her laughter rang full of joy, only to trail away as he slid her slowly down his body. Her breasts against his chest, his hardness against her belly as her feet settled on the blond hardwood floors with a click, filled him with something beyond comprehension. They stood still, their gazes never wavering.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

When he’d made his proposal, he hadn’t imagined any complications. He’d suggested a simple business transaction and never doubted his steadfastness in its pursuit. But now, he could feel the shift in his focus as he divided his energies between his need for the Holcombe and his desire for Pamela. He was so close. David Holcombe wanted to see his letter of intent. And yet his mind was full with the woman in front of him. His gaze dropped to her lips and his finger followed, gliding over its pouty plumpness.

She moved, dipping her head and backing out of his arms.

Disappointment slammed through him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes had taken on an unfocused quality, clear signs that she wanted him. Yet she kept pushing him away. Was his blood not blue enough? His last name not prestigious enough?

He wanted to curse. Instead, he placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her forward into the great room. Her eyes swept from the oversize plasma TV mounted on the wall above the fireplace to the large windows that showcased the C&O Canal.

“It’s a beautiful home, Marcus.”

“Thank you.” Aesthetically, it was true. But he took no satisfaction from its appearance. He lived here, but his office, where he spent the majority of his time, was a better representation of his tastes. He shrugged. “Make any changes necessary to help you feel at home here.”

She turned to look at him. “That’s very generous, but based on what David said, I may not be here long enough for it to be worth the effort.”

Her dismissive tone irked him. He’d given her freedom to redecorate his house, something he’d never considered before, and she’d turned him down. Maybe she thought he wasn’t worth the effort?

“Let’s see what happens.”

He watched her as she moved through his place, her fingers trailing along the surface of the antique sofa table and the back of the brown leather sectional. His eyes fastened on those long, slim digits. As they caressed the supple fabric of the drapes, he imagined those fingers sliding through his hair, feathering over his chest, stroking down his abs…

And lower.

Giving in, he swore under his breath, then stripped off his jacket and threw it over a chair.

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