Remy stared at the bottle in his hand. Don’t do it. You’re flying later.

  “You don’t love him?” There was a fine rattle in the depths of his chest.

  She lifted a culpable face, then said defensively, “He doesn’t love me, either. It was an arrangement that had benefits for both of us.”

  Remy quickly saw how pairing with a name like Bellamy would have fixed a lot of Hunter’s PR problems. He didn’t know what she would have gained that couldn’t have been achieved through the various business mergers they had already announced, though.

  For some reason, learning that it had been a marriage of convenience, not real feelings, made him furious. He had accepted Hunter marrying her because his friend had had some terrible blows in life. Hunter deserved to be happy. At heart, he was a decent man, and Remy had known Hunter would treat Eden with care and respect.

  But he hadn’t loved her? Not even a little?

  Was Hunter even sorry that he’d treated her so badly today?

  There was a loud pop and the stopper flew across the room, hitting the ceiling before it dropped to the carpet.

  * * *

  Eden instinctively covered her head, watching as Remy swooped for a glass. He caught the foam as it began to overflow and offered the flute to her.

  Her throat was an arid wasteland, but she waited for him to pour a glass for himself. He only set the open bottle back in the ice.

  “Aren’t you having any?” she asked.

  “I said I’d fly you to Toronto,” he reminded her stiffly.

  “Right. So I can get back to work.” She let out a long, heavy exhale, thinking of the marriage contract she would review. The agreements she and Hunter had signed were contingent on their marriage being finalized, but surely something could be salvaged.

  All her problems were supposed to be solved by now! This champagne in her hand ought to be a celebratory toast for saving the family legacy. Of winning.

  The bubbles stung her nose and the alcohol was sour on her tongue.

  “You’re going back to work?” Remy had found the stopper and moved to plug the neck of the bottle. “I would have thought you had time booked for a honeymoon. Can’t you use it to regroup?”

  “That’s what I resent the most right now! I’m not getting the honeymoon I was promised.” She’d been pushing herself like mad, her vacation time the carrot at the end of the stick. Now she would have to work harder than ever not to lose everything.

  Remy had gone very still.

  Her words hit her ears.

  “I mean swimming and reading.” She gulped down another mouthful of cold, sizzling wine. “In Greece. I’m not hitting on you again, if that’s what you think. I didn’t in the first place. I’m babbling because I’m nervous. Leave if you want to. I’ll phone Quinn to come get drunk with me and restart my life in the morning.” With a giant hangover, but so what?

  He cocked his head. “Why are you nervous?”

  Because he put her on her back foot with questions like Why are you nervous?

  “It’s not the most comfortable thing to be trapped with someone who hates me.”

  “I don’t hate you.” His stoic expression didn’t quite disguise the flash of forceful reaction behind it. “That is the issue, Eden. I should hate you. Or at least want nothing to do with you. It’s not that easy. It never has been,” he muttered and moved to the window, showing her only his rigid back.

  She sagged, but not with relief. Not when she was nursing anxiety that this could be some ploy he had decided to enact.

  “Can I ask you something? Will you please be honest with me this time?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know who you were,” he said starkly, guessing what she was going to say. “I know why Micah thinks I was trying to use you. Our families have history. I don’t want to get into that, but what happened at the nightclub, when we kissed—that was basic, mutual attraction.” He turned his head to pin her with the golden spike of his gaze. “It was mutual, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She took another sip to dampen her whisper-dry throat.

  “But nothing can come of it, Eden. That’s why I didn’t interfere between you and Hunter. I’ll see you home because it’s the decent thing to do, but that’s all this is.”

  “Then we’ll never see each other again?” She didn’t hear the pang in her voice so much as feel it as it felt like a shard of glass lodged in her chest. At least when she was marrying his best friend, she had thought she might run in to Remy now and again. She had known she would hear about him through Hunter and know he was well.

  Why did that matter so much to her?

  She realized he hadn’t answered her. He stood so still, so very still.

  Her pulse throbbed unevenly in her throat as she replayed her own words in her head. We’ll never see each other again. A rushing sound filled her ears.

  “Remy?” She could hardly speak. “Am I deluding myself? Is it just me?”

  “Eden.” Her name was an imprecation. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “Don’t what? Don’t tell you how I feel? Don’t be honest? Why not? What do I have left to lose?”

  “You have nothing to gain.” He swung his head around and his flashing gaze warned her to stay silent.

  Even so, the words left her.

  “I think about you all the time. I always have.” They didn’t come out in a burst, but in a soft, faltering trickle. The emotions behind them were a river, though, one that brimmed its banks and flooded the room, soaking everything with her truth. “This is the first time you’ve properly spoken to me since Paris. If you had said something before today, I wouldn’t have let the wedding get this far—”

  “Damn it, stop. You want honesty?” He rounded on her, but his voice was fatalistic. “I want you, Eden. It sits inside me like a black hole that swallows up everything else. It eats at me so I feel empty all the time. Hungry.” He set his fist against his diaphragm. “It hurts. I wanted to kill him for marrying you and now I want to kill him for scorning you. This is hell.”

  She covered her mouth, pressed back into the sofa by his vehemence. By his suffering.

  “But it can’t happen. Accept it. I have.”

  “It’s just us here.” The words slipped out of her, impetuous. Desperate.

  A distant part of her urged her to show some sense. She knew Micah would never forgive her for so much as getting in Remy’s car, but they had had something in Paris. It had been interrupted and the not knowing what could have been had left her with an ache of yearning that had stalled her in some way. If she couldn’t have Remy then it didn’t matter whom she married. All men were the same because they weren’t him.

  “No one would know,” she added.

  “Damn you, Eden!” He walked past her, snatching up his duffel on his way to the door.

  “Remy!” She shot to her feet and cried his name exactly as if he was striding off the balcony and into Niagara Falls.

  He stopped and stood there for one, two...three beats.

  He dropped his bag and his hand shot out to slam the inner latch across the door so it couldn’t be opened from the outside. He turned.

  “I don’t pick up women. Some of my relationships have been shorter than others, but I have relationships, Eden. I can’t have one with you, though. Do you understand that? This would only be today. An hour. We couldn’t tell anyone. Ever. If Hunter found out—”

  “If Micah found out,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I don’t care about any of that. I really don’t.”

  “After this, it goes back to the way it was, like we didn’t even know one another. Is that really what you want?” His face twisted with conflict.

  “No,” she confessed with a chasm opening in her chest. “But I’ll take it.”

  He closed his eyes, swearing as he fell back against the door with a defeated thump.

  “Come here, then.”

  * * *

  Eden ran across and he stepped forward to catch her. She was off her bare feet, secure in arms she hadn’t known long enough to miss, but she had. When his mouth landed on hers, she was home.

  Bright sunshine filled her, searing away her skin from the inside out so all she felt was him. His mouth drank at hers as though he was parched beyond reason. They were both wild and greedy and joyous. It was such a brilliantly perfect kiss, her eyes stung with emotion.

  “Tell me you’re sure,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  “I’m sure. Don’t stop.” She touched his jaw, steering his mouth back to hers.

  How could a mouth, a pair of lips, be so firm yet so soft? So demanding, yet so giving? She reveled in the way he kissed her, as though she meant everything to him. This was what she had longed for the most. This feeling like she was The One.

  In the same way that he was The One.

  A thumping, terrifying urgency stalked around her as she clung to him, but she ignored it, letting herself sink into this moment. She memorized the feel of his strong shoulders beneath her palms and the soft abrasion of stubble coming in on his chin. His hands slid across her back, petting and massaging and pressing her into him, as though he wanted her impression to remain against his front forever.

  She wriggled and stood on her toes, trying to get closer still. Her robe loosened and her thighs felt the rough fabric of his trousers.

  He kept saying her name—“Eden, Eden”—as though he couldn’t believe she was real. His mouth went down her neck and she flicked her tongue against his earlobe. His breath hissed and she smiled.

  Then his hand slid between them and tugged at her belt, pulling it completely free. He drew back and watched her reaction as he let her robe fall open.

  She didn’t flinch with shyness. She probably should have. She wore only a slash of bronze lace across her hips, no bra, but she had been his all this time, if only he had noticed. If only he had grown solemn and his chest had shaken, while his reverent gaze slid down.

  His hand rested on her bare hip while his thumb traced the edge of lace. It was barely a caress, but her stomach sucked in and she grew light-headed. A flicker of satisfaction touched the corner of his mouth.

  She brought up her hands to begin releasing the buttons on his shirt, one by one.

  He didn’t move, letting her do it in her time. He held her gaze and the only sound was their uneven breathing and the muted thunder of the falls outside.

  When she spread his shirt and splayed her hands across his firm abs, his breath rattled. He cupped the back of her neck and drew her in for a new kiss, one that was hot and slow and made her toes curl. Her bare breasts met the hot surface of his chest and such a hard jolt of pleasure went through her, she sobbed with delight.

  His smile flashed once, then his eyelids grew heavy with need. He kissed her again, deeper, sliding his tongue against her bottom lip and into her mouth. Her knees shook and the rest of her went limp.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, stroking his back and learning the landscape of his spine and shoulder blades and the shape of his backside through his trousers.

  It struck her how natural this felt, considering she’d never been this naked with anyone before. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and let her body tell him how much she enjoyed the roaming of his hands beneath the robe, how much she craved more. So much more.

  He cradled one of her breasts and slid his lips down the front of one shoulder, halting with his hot breath bathing the swell. He swore softly. “I don’t have a condom.”

  “There’s some in the bedroom.” Andrea had stoked the impression of newlyweds in a hurry to consummate their nuptials. The hotel had delivered.

  Eden stepped back and folded her robe closed, then took his hand, leading him to the basket beside the bed. Erotic ideas had filled her imagination when she had glimpsed the candles, massage oil, ruffle-edged blindfold, lubricant and condoms.

  “They’re ultrathin,” she pointed out, trying to keep a straight face through her bemusement. “And vegan.”

  “And gluten-free, I hope?” He tilted the basket. “No handcuffs? It’s our honeymoon.”

  They both chuckled unevenly. Hers held an edge of helpless, hopeless sadness that this wasn’t such a thing at all.

  “The energy drinks are,” she pointed out. “Gluten-free. Gotta stay hydrated.”

  She leaned into him. He hugged her, but his expression sobered.

  “Don’t ask me again if I’m sure,” she chided. “I am. Aren’t you?”

  His next laugh was a rough exhale that held little humor and a lot of frustrated desire. “I want this so much it terrifies me.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t stick. She turned her face into his bare shoulder and kissed the hollow there, then lifted her mouth, yearning for his.

  With a groan he dragged her against his front. They sank back into the delicious pool of passion.

  Her sense of rightness expanded. It was odd how sure she was, given she didn’t know him that well. There was a tiny concern still hovering that he might be using her, but in this moment, she didn’t care if he was. He had been haunting her fantasies for years. If circumstances had been different, she had no doubt he would have been her first lover.

  If she had had that affair in her history, she might not have felt so boxed in by her impending marriage. At least this way, she rationalized, she would have the memory of the growling sound he made as she slid her hands up his sides and around to his back while she brushed her breasts against his chest.

  “Why do you smell so good?” His breath played across her shoulder before he dipped and stole a hot damp taste of her nipple. “Like cloves and...”

  Whatever he said was lost as he enclosed the tip of her breast and a moan of luxury rolled up from deep in her throat. The way he drew on her sent shots of heat fluttering through her belly and pulsing between her legs. She felt drunk on her own sensuality.

  She was so hot! She let the robe fall off her shoulders and he made a sound of gratification, straightening to drop his shirt. His eyes were molten gold as he shed his pants. His gaze was so bright, so illuminated by lust, it was hard to hold his stare, but she couldn’t look away. The throbbing between her thighs intensified.

  “Tell me what you like.” His fingertip traced the edge of lace beneath her navel then followed the seam at her hip. Slowly, slowly, he followed her bikini line, filling her sex with a heavy ache and a sensation of empty longing.

  He watched his own caress with narrow-eyed intensity, voice deepening to a gruff, animalistic sound. “I want you so satisfied that I ruin you for anyone else.”

  A catch of helpless laughter left her. He already had.

  His mouth twisted with self-deprecation. “I don’t know when I became such a Neanderthal. Somewhere between the living room and here.”

  He was still tickling at her bikini line, but now he brushed a light fingertip across the front of bronze lace, teasing the plump flesh beneath.

  “I want to taste you here. Take them off?”

  “You can. If you want to.” Her cheeks grew hot and her voice was a husk of itself. Her inhibition seemed to have equally eroded. She was shaking and barely able to stand, but she held very still as he eased down her panties to let them fall at her ankles.

  His nostrils flared and he took her hand, helping her step out of them, then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips, moving to the underside of her wrist and the inside of her elbow. He kissed her collarbone and the point of her chin, and his teeth scraped her earlobe.

  “Lie back,” he urged.

  She melted onto the bed and he followed. His hot weight blanketed her as he kept up those hypnotizing kisses. Each one was tender and inciting, making her soft and tense at once. She relaxed, but she wanted more. She needed more.

  “Remy.”

  “Not yet, ma chérie. I want to taste all of you.” He rolled her onto her stomach and continued brushing his damp mouth across her skin, tongue dabbing at her spine and into the hollow of her lower back. “You have dimples here, too,” he noted, kissing the top of each cheek.

  His lips touched the backs of her thighs, the backs of her knees...

  “Remy, please.” She rolled to face him and he ran his hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing her quadriceps.

  “I only have this once,” he said gruffly. “Let me do it right.”

  A jagged strike of lightning went into her heart. He leaned to press a kiss to her stomach, then shifted between her legs, easing one of her thighs over his shoulder.

  Her scalp tightened. Here again, she should have been more self-conscious, but he was so reverent, so confident and so unhurried.

  “Oh,” she groaned as he slowly tasted her, deepening his caress in increments, working zings of pleasure from her center outward, nurturing them into stronger and stronger pangs of delight. She writhed in pleasure, lost to the earthy joy of it.

  She was tempted, oh-so tempted, to let him take her over the edge like this. She was shaking, edging close to climax, but she wanted that other intimacy. The thing she’d been dreaming of for five long years.

  “Remy, please,” she moaned. “I want you inside me.”

  “I want that, too,” he growled. He shed his underwear, then stood on his knees over her as he applied a condom.

  He was very good at it, for a man who didn’t make a habit of hooking up.

  “Maybe, um, a little of the lubricant?” she suggested, suddenly nervous as she realized this might hurt. “It’s not flavored, is it?”

  “No.” He anointed himself, then caressed between her legs with his slick finger, making her bite her lip as desire rushed back to a level of near combustion. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”