A Very Fake Fiancée: The Fiancée Charade / My Fake Fiancée / A Very Exclusive Engagement - Nancy Warren

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up, the deluge soaking. The world tilted as Gemma found herself lifted and cradled in Gabriel’s arms. Two long strides and they were inside. The sharp thud of the door slamming behind them punctuated the wild turn the night had taken.

      Gemma’s feet found the floor and Gabriel’s jacket slipped off her shoulders. She registered the faint clunk of her phone, which was in the jacket pocket. She dragged chilled fingers through her hair, which clung to her skin like damp seaweed.

      Gabriel stayed her hand. “Let me do that.”

      In contrast to the fury outside, his touch, as he smoothed her hair back into some semblance of order, was gentle and deliberate. But it wasn’t what she wanted.

      It had been six years since they had made love, years in which she’d been busy and fulfilled with work, study and parenting, but where, essentially, she’d remained alone.

      She had tried to resurrect her dating life, but somehow she just hadn’t had the enthusiasm for any of the very nice men she had occasionally dated. As hard as she’d tried she hadn’t wanted anyone, until now. One glance from Gabriel and every nerve ending in her body had been humming.

      With fingers that felt clumsy and inept, she dragged at the buttons of his shirt until it hung open over a broad chest and mouthwateringly tight abs. He shrugged free of the damp shirt, tossing it on the floor, then pulled her close and kissed her.

      His hands framing her hips, he walked her backward. The quality of the light changed as they traversed the lamp-lit sitting room and entered a darker, quieter room.

      An enormous bed, piled with pillows and draped in an ornate, burnished coverlet, floated on a sea of dark oak floorboards, dominating a bedroom that was an arresting mixture of modern severity and lavish excess.

      She felt the loosening of her dress as the zip released. Anxiety gripped her at the thought of being naked with Gabriel after all this time, of the mechanics of making love after years of being emotionally and sexually closed down. She might have been stuck in a time warp, but he hadn’t, and her inadequacies were abruptly choking.

      She sensed his frown rather than saw it. “What’s wrong?”

      “It’s been a while.”

      “How long?”

      She ducked her head against his shoulder, her face burning. “Since—the pregnancy.”

      He pulled her close, fitting her against the muscled contours of his body and the awkwardness shimmered into heat. Soothed by the dimness, she eased her arms out of the shoulder straps and let her dress drop to the floor.

      His fingers threaded into her damp hair, tilted her face back so he could look into her eyes. To her surprise, his mouth was quirked in a half smile. “Don’t worry. You might have forgotten, but I haven’t.”

       Nine

      When he murmured that there was no rush, that they could take their time, she reached for a trace of the old levity, the fun side of her that had shriveled when the custody situation with Sanchia had blown up. “Are you telling me you’re slow?” Her own experience was that he was fast, hot and selective.

      “Not where you’re concerned.” He grinned as he dipped his head and nibbled on her lobe, and her brain temporarily froze.

      Emboldened by the humor and the sweetness, she leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his waist and soaked in his heat, his delicious scent.

      She felt her bra strap release. In a definitely slick move he dispensed with the bra, leaving her in just her panties, and cupped her breasts. Her breath hitched in her throat. “That was sneaky.”

      He grinned, making her heart flip. “You should know by now that all guys are sneaky.”

      Bending his head he took her breast into her mouth. Sensation hummed through her, coiled low in her belly, and any awkwardness sizzled out of existence.

      Gabriel lifted his head, fierce satisfaction registering. A split second later he picked her up and placed her on the bed then peeled out of his trousers before joining her.

      Gabriel fully clothed was impressive; naked, he was beautiful. And, for the moment, hers. He let her touch him and shape him and learn the intriguing planes and angles of his body, the hard muscle and hair-roughened skin.

      Keeping her close against the furnace heat of his body, he reached into the drawer of a bedside cabinet and found a condom. Lightning jagged through the sky, illuminating the room as he sheathed himself. Seconds later, when she stretched herself on him, the tension that had been slowly building wound unbearably tight.

      His gaze locked with hers as he gripped her hips and she logged the fact that, as controlled as he was, Gabriel had been keeping his desire rigidly in check.

      With easy strength he rolled so that he was on top. Tension coiled as she felt him lodge between her legs, the heavy pressure, the weight of him anchoring her to the bed.

      Rain spattered on the wall of glass, filling the night with the rhythm of the storm. Heat and dampness seemed to explode, and suddenly the deep, achy throb low in her belly, the humid heat of the night was too much. Coiling her arms around Gabriel’s neck, she pulled him closer, pressing up against him. With a hoarse groan and one heavy thrust he was inside her, the night dissolving, one with the wild storm, as they clung together.

      * * *

      Long minutes ticked by while they lay entwined. The storm passed, leaving behind a dripping quiet and the heavy roar of surf hitting the white sand beach below the house.

      Gabriel pulled her close. This time he took charge, making love to her with a slow intensity that took her breath.

      Long minutes later, sleep tugged at Gemma along with the knowledge that now that they had made love, it was going to be impossible to keep Gabriel at arm’s length for the duration of their fake engagement.

      Heat shimmered through her at the thought that they could make love again, that Gabriel wanted her. Making love had been a mistake: she’d known it, but it was too late now. The damage was done.

      Her priority now had to be to concentrate on the professional aspects of the new job, which meant no sex. She needed to establish a working relationship with Gabriel that would fulfill the part he wanted her to play but that would not compromise her new job or her emotions.

      Creating a professional distance was going to be tricky, especially with her willpower at such a low ebb, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t coped without sex before.

      She could do it, but after tonight she was aware it would take all of her acting skills.

      Her last conscious thought was that the first thing she needed to do was leave. If she woke up with Gabriel they would make love again, which would be counterproductive. For now she would sleep, just for an hour....

      * * *

      Gabriel waited until Gemma’s breathing evened out before gently disengaging himself from the arm draped across his midriff and climbing out of the rumpled bed.

      The room was filled with a pressing darkness, barely penetrated by the glow of a single lamp out in the lounge, but even so, he could clearly make out Gemma’s form. Against the burnished coverlet, her pale skin glowed like a pearl and the rich flood of red hair, leached of its color, looked like ebony on his pillows.

      He studied the pure line of Gemma’s profile and the fierce need that had overtaken him earlier reasserted itself.

      He wanted her, and he now knew how much she wanted him. The minute he’d kissed her earlier in the evening, the intervening years had seemed to dissolve, the chemistry instant and explosive.

      Snagging his pants from the floor, he padded through to the bathroom, freshened up and pulled on the trousers. After draining a glass of water in the kitchen, he found Gemma’s canvas bag where she’d left it in the wine cellar

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