Matched To Mr Right. Kat Cantrell

of strawberries. But he doubted it. When he was this close to his wife, nothing could dilute the crushing awareness.

      Daniella’s fingers danced across the back of her neck. His gut clenched as he realized what she was doing, but the protest died in his throat as her glittery dress waterfalled off her body, catching at the tips of her breasts for one breathless second. Then it puddled on the floor, baring her to his greedy gaze.

      A beautiful, half-nude vision stood before him. Daniella, in all her glory. Fire raged south, ravaging everything in its path to his center, numbing his extremities and nearly bringing him to his knees.

      It would be fitting to kneel before a goddess.

      “Daniella.” His raw voice scraped at his throat and he cleared it. “What are you doing?”

      He knew. She was doing what he’d been pushing her to do. But she was supposed to slap him. Or storm out. Or push him in kind, the way she always did. As long as she punished him for being an ass, any response would have been fine.

      Except this. And it was a far more suitable penance to get exactly what he asked for.

      “I’m eliminating the problems,” she said, head held high. “All the problems.”

      That was impossible, let alone this way. “Put your clothes back on. I’m—”

      Actually, he had no clue what he was. Nothing could have prepared him to feel so...ill equipped to be in the same room with a woman who radiated power and sensual energy.

      He shut his eyes.

      Strip yourself as bare as your body, she’d suggested. But his wife’s simple act of disrobing, of making herself vulnerable, had accomplished that for him, even while he was still fully dressed.

      Everything about her touched him in places no one had ever dared tread.

      This night was not going to end well. She wanted something he couldn’t allow himself to give her. Once that bottle was uncorked, he’d focus on nothing but Daniella and lose his drive to succeed. Then he’d fail her—and himself—on a whole different level, which he could not accept.

      “Leo.” The softness in her voice nearly shattered him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

      He did. God help him, but he couldn’t resist. His gaze sought hers, not the gorgeous bare breasts there for his viewing pleasure. His eyes burned with effort to keep them trained straight ahead.

      “I would never—” she emphasized the word with a slash of her hand “—dishonor you with anyone else, let alone a friend or a business partner. I respect you too much. I’m sorry if I behaved in a way that made you question that.”

      Her words, sweetly issued and completely sincere, wrenched that hollow place inside. He’d been treating her horribly all night for who knew what reason and she was apologizing. “You didn’t. You were just being a good hostess.”

      A very poor depiction of how absolutely stellar a party she’d thrown. She deserved far more than degradation at the hands of her husband. Far more than the absent, unavailable man she’d cleaved to.

      “I really hope you think so.” Her expression warmed. “You’re the only man I want. Forever. That’s why I married you.”

      The sentiment flowed like warm honey through his chest. This was the kind of romantic nonsense he’d gone to EA International to avoid. But then, wasn’t she describing exactly what he’d asked for? Fidelity and commitment? It just sounded like so much more than that from her mouth, so deep and profound.

      What was he supposed to do with that? With her?

      “Don’t you want me, too?” she asked, her voice dropping into a seductive whisper that funneled straight to his erection.

      “So much more than I should,” he muttered and regretted saying it out loud.

      “Then come over here and show me.”

      His feet were rooted to the carpet. It wasn’t going to be just sex. Maybe just sex wasn’t possible with someone he’d made his wife.

      Regardless, he’d married Daniella, and consummating their relationship meant they were embarking on forever at this very moment.

      Part of him strained to dash for the door, to down the rest of the scotch until the unquenchable thirst for Daniella faded from memory. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the other part that compelled him to accept everything she was offering him, even the alarming nebulous nonphysical things.

      “So the touching moratorium is lifted?” he asked. “Or is this the precursor to another round of rules?”

      Apparently he wasn’t finished lashing out at her. If he infuriated her enough to leave, they could go back to circling each other and he’d put off finding out exactly how weak he was.

      He didn’t want her to leave.

      “This is about nothing more than being together. Do whatever feels right to you.” She spread her arms, jutting out her perfectly mounded breasts. His mouth tingled and he imagined he could taste one. “Standing here in nothing other than a tiny thong is turning me into Jell-O. I’d really like it if you’d kiss me now.”

      “A thong?” He’d been so focused on her front, the back hadn’t even registered. The feel of silk beneath his pinky when he’d pushed past the fabric at her waist during the party rushed back and he groaned.

      Slowly, she half turned and cocked a hip, bare cheek thrust out. “I wore it for you. Hoping you’d pick tonight to make me your wife in more than name only.”

      He was so hard he couldn’t breathe. Let alone walk. Or kiss. Neither was he ready to cross that line, to find out how far she’d suck him down the rabbit hole if he gave in to the maelstrom of need.

      Her lips curved up in a secret, naughty smile. Palms flat against her waist, she smoothed them downward over the curve of her rear, down her thighs. “If you’re not going to touch me, I’ll just do it myself.”

      Provocatively, she teased one of her nipples with an index finger. Her eyes fluttered halfway closed in apparent pleasure and he swore. Enough was enough.

      She was serious. No more choices, rules, games or guidelines. She wanted him.

      It was too late to address all the lingering questions about the status of their relationship or how this would change it. It was too late to imagine he’d escape, and far too late to pretend he wanted to.

      Daniella was going in the lover box. Now.

      In one stride, he crossed the space between them and swept her up in his arms. He swallowed her gasp a moment before his lips captured hers. Crushing her against him, he leaped into the carnal desire she’d incited all night. Actually, since that first glimpse of her on the stairs at their wedding. Every moment in between.

      Their mouths aligned, opened, fed. Eagerly, she slid her tongue along his, inviting him deeper. He delved willingly, exploring leisurely because this time there’d be no interruptions.

      He was going to make Daniella his, once and for all. Then he’d recover his singular concentration and no more deals would slip away as he daydreamed.

      The taste of her sang through his veins and instead of weakening him, she gave him strength. Enough strength to pleasure this woman until she cried out with it. Enough to grant her what she’d been begging for. Enough to make love to her all night long.

      He’d hold on to that strength, because he’d need it to walk away again in the morning. It was the only outcome he’d allow, to delve into the physical realm without losing himself in it. Just tonight, just once.

      Leo broke the kiss long enough to pick her up in his arms. Carefully, he laid her out on the bed and spent a long moment drinking in the panorama of his wife’s gorgeous body. All that divine skin pleaded for his touch, so he indulged himself, running fingertips down her arms, over the peaks and valleys of her torso and all