Soleil stared down at the ring on her finger. She had jewelry worth a fortune locked in her safe at her home in San Francisco. Not one piece mattered to her the way that laminated, drawn-on paper jewelry did. She wanted time to inspect it. To look at it under the lights and see every detail. She couldn’t believe that Ice had managed to make it for her, or that he would have even bothered. Just looking at that laminated ring was one more reason to fall for her knight in shining armor.
She tried to put aside her guilt. She’d told him what she’d done. He insisted on taking the blame, insisted he’d gotten her drunk. He didn’t understand that she was one of those rare people who didn’t really get drunk. Maybe she was a bit tipsy, or pleasantly feeling the rush of the screaming orgasms, although more likely it was the real thing. But she knew what she was doing, probably better than he did. She was really afraid of what he was going to do in the morning, when he woke up and realized he had gotten married.
She took a deep breath and held on to him as tightly as she could, pressing her face against his back as they rode back to the bar where, apparently, they were planning to celebrate. She was all for that or just skipping the party and going straight for a hotel room and hot sex. This was still the fairy tale, and if she could have Ice for this night, it was going to be the best night either one of them had ever experienced, if she had her way. If she had the chance to keep him, she would move heaven and earth to do so.
Still, she did promise herself, in the morning she would tell the entire truth to him—that she didn’t get drunk and that she wanted to run off with him and she would handle the annulment if that was what he wanted. She was always responsible, and she always took responsibility for her actions. Ice was a good man, and he didn’t deserve to be trapped into marriage.
Ice liked showing off his woman, that was very, very clear. He wanted her to look sexy. He wanted her to focus wholly on him while others wanted what he had. Tonight was his night, and she was giving him the best of everything if she could. She was going to give him his fantasy, his fairy tale, because if anyone deserved it, he did.
Soleil made a spectacular entrance in her long white gown, walking like a model on a runway. She was used to walking in heels, and these were a good four inches high. The leather cutouts went up her ankle and partway up her calf. The heels made her legs look like they went on forever. With the chiffon skirt parted almost in the middle, her right leg showed all the way up her thigh. Catching glimpses of her left leg was just plain erotic and made her feel that way. She knew how to work a dress. She’d been wearing designer clothes since she was a teen.
Then there was that peekaboo fabric that went down the entire left side of her body. The dress had a halter top, with a dramatic slashing vee down the front so that the rounded curves of her full breasts showed to perfection. The material was draped over both breasts, yet moved as she walked, a sexy, erotic feel the designer had clearly created the dress for.
It was easy enough to feel sensual in a gown designed for that purpose walking in on a man’s arm, when that man was as gorgeous and as sexy as Ice, especially when he was looking at her with lust-filled eyes.
* * *
Ice thought she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. He loved walking into the bar with her, watching the faces of the bikers who were drinking and partying in true biker fashion. One by one they turned their heads and took in his sexy, elegant woman, who had eyes only for him. He stopped in the middle of the room, caught her to him and kissed the hell out of her.
His kiss was all about ownership. Possession. The moment his mouth touched hers, fire leapt between them. He couldn’t disassociate from the scorching flames pouring through his veins, a rush that was real. More than real. Heat swirled through him like a storm, racing to his lungs so he had to fight for air, to his heart, so he had to fight to keep from drowning in the depth of feeling she was creating between them.
He hadn’t known a man could feel so overwhelmed by a woman, or by his emotions for her. He didn’t have them. Not for outsiders. Not for women. He pretended to have them. His life was all about pretense, to his brothers, to his sisters. To himself. She was wrapping herself around his heart and invading his mind. This wasn’t pretense. This was as real as it fucking got.
No one got close to him. No one, especially an outsider, could see into his soul. That would be a mistake for both of them, yet she was doing just that. How? He didn’t know. He had to take control back. She didn’t have it. She was his. His possession. She would stay with him and keep the demons at bay, but on his terms. It had to be that way for his survival—didn’t it?
His hand slid down the enticing curve of her ass. He palmed the chiffon-covered cheek, knowing she was bare beneath the material. She didn’t try to move away from him or stop him. She hadn’t since she’d first entered the bar. He kissed her again just because she was so perfect, and he felt far more in control when he turned things between them back to sex. He could handle sex. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about sex, and he could keep her under control easily as long as they stuck to the plan.
“Come on, princess, the brothers set up a party for us. Drinks, cake, dancing. We won’t stay long.” He whispered it in her ear and then stepped to her side again.
The sides of her halter top had slipped just a little when he’d kissed her, when he’d moved his body tight against hers, so he could feel her hard nipples as he rubbed against her. The way he’d shifted his body had pushed one of the strips just a little more to the side, revealing the round curve of her tit and a shadow of her nipple. Just a glimpse. Sexy as hell.
As he walked toward the back room, he slid his hand under the chiffon swath and over that full, round curve. His thumb found her nipple and stroked. She looked up at him and smiled. He fucking loved that she didn’t push his hand away or cover up, even knowing her breast was partially exposed and anyone looking could see he was stroking and pinching her nipple. Making a statement. Showing her off. Making cocks hard but knowing she was going home with him. Just thinking about the way other bikers looked at her made his cock so hard he thought he might shatter. She had eyes only for him, and that turned him inside out.
The game room of the bar had been transformed. The cake was there for them to cut and the others to eat. How the hell that had been managed at the last second, he didn’t know. Maybe Vegas sold premade wedding cakes twenty-four/seven. Soleil’s eyes lit up and she smiled at him as if he were magic and had managed it all on his own.
Taking her hand, he led her inside the game room and immediately pulled her into his arms to dance with her to the blaring music. It was his kind of dance, holding her close, her body moving against his, his cock hard against her soft little mound while her head rested on his chest.
“You know what’s a huge turn-on for me, baby?” He placed his lips close to her ear, so his every word brushed caresses over her sensitive lobe. Warm air was a steady assault as well.