She shook, fighting not to climax, and held up her arms.

  He loomed over her, bracing on his elbow. She bent her legs, catching her lip with her teeth as he guided himself into position.

  It struck her that this was how many a bride felt on her wedding night. Eager and apprehensive. Aroused, but feeling a little awkward at how brazen this act was.

  “Second thoughts?” he asked, flashing his eyes at her, perhaps sensing her tension. “We can stop.”

  “I don’t want to stop. I’m wishing I was good enough at this to ruin you for anyone else.” Her eyes stung. Her throat and chest heated at how true that was.

  “What makes you think you won’t?” His face tightened as he shifted slightly. His flesh prodded for entry.

  She made herself relax, but her hands tightened on his shoulders.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, perplexed.

  “No.” A little. Maybe more than a little. “I’m nervous. Oh.” There was a startlingly real sensation as his thick shape forged into her. The stretch stung quite a lot. She bit her lip again.

  He froze. “This is hurting. I’ll stop.”

  “No, I want this. Please keep going.” She touched his back, urging him.

  He pressed a little more insistently, watching her with concern.

  The sensation was remarkable. So intimate, she blushed. So intense, she trembled. It hurt, but she experienced a silly rush of pride as she took him in. He filled her so deeply, his pulse seemed to beat within her. The sensation of being joined with him in such an indelible way brought bright tears to her eyes.

  “Eden,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “It’s okay. The hurt is fading. I like how it feels.”

  Myriad emotions flickered across his expression. “Damn it. Are you a virgin?”

  “Are you mad?” she asked with apprehension.

  “I’m—” He was braced on his elbows and hung his head so his scorched laugh of disbelief huffed against her chin. “Why would you do this? Make your first time me?”

  He lifted his head and searched her gaze for answers. There were a thousand facets in the hammered gold of his eyes. Astonishment and suspicion, exasperation and tenderness, and such humbleness that he made her mouth quiver.

  “Do you really have to ask?” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes. “No. No, I don’t.” He cupped her cheek and set a very gentle kiss on her lips. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

  Irony tickled at the corner of her mouth. He would hurt her. Maybe even devastate her. It was inevitable, given the deal they had struck to arrive at this point. He wouldn’t hurt her physically, no more than the discomfort she had just suffered. She could tell he was remorseful about that. He was treating her as though she was made from eggshells, holding himself so carefully within her and kissing her so softly that it was a tiny bit frustrating.

  In an hour or a day, however, he would turn his back and pretend they had never done this. That would crush her far worse than being publicly thrown over had.

  At least they were together right now. She could provoke his rumbling purrlike growl as she stroked the back of his neck and ran her hands down his back. Her tickling exploration across his buttocks provoked a slight thrust of his hips, causing pressure against her most sensitive places, teasing her back to the intense arousal that had made her beg to have him inside her.

  She instinctually widened her thighs and rubbed them on his hips, riding them up to his waist. Another shimmer of joyous sensations followed.

  Now the noise he made was hedonistic and possessive. He gathered himself as he withdrew slightly and returned.

  “Oh,” she breathed, so dazzled by pleasure, he seemed to exist in a halo of dancing lights. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

  “Me, either,” he said gravely, drawing out his next withdrawal and thrust, making them both shudder under the power of it.

  Eden lost herself to their lovemaking then, allowing the sheer cataclysmic pleasure of flesh moving within flesh to consume her. Nothing about it felt awkward anymore. It was like the most graceful dance, the most natural union. There was no tracking who caressed and who moaned, who kissed and who caught a sharp breath.

  She could have lived forever in this wondrous place, but they were mere mortals who could only withstand so much. As the intensity redoubled on itself, the pleasure heightened to such levels it was excessive. She quivered on the edge of climax.

  “Let go.” His voice was a rasp of command and plea and exaltation. “I’ll come with you.” He thrust once more and golden light engulfed her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ON HIS FINAL THRUST, Remy experienced a release unlike any other. It took all his control to keep from bruising her with his grip on her shoulder as molten heat and shivering silk and intense pleasure consumed him. It was so good, he nearly blacked out. His blood and nerves and bones were infused with sweet, sharp possessiveness and deep gratitude that this had happened. Mine. Finally.

  Yet not. Even as his shaking frame sank weakly upon her, his haze of satisfaction was disturbed by... He couldn’t call it remorse. Regret? Yes, but not because they were making love. Nothing about this felt wrong. No, he already regretted it could be only this. Once.

  And it was over.

  His heart was still trying to steady itself as he gathered his strength to lift his weight and withdraw from her. It had to happen, but the act was akin to stepping out of his own skin. His muscles were shaking, his body still damp with their combined perspiration. Everything in him resisted leaving paradise.

  She drew in a startled breath as his relaxed erection slipped f—

  He swore bluntly at the rush of cool air on his damp flesh.

  “What’s wrong?” Her hands dropped from his shoulders and her body went stiff with wariness.

  “The condom broke.” Why had he trusted freaking novelty skins with Honeymoon Helper stamped on the foil?

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Are you using anything?”

  Her pupils seemed to explode, turning her dark brown eyes into inky black pools.

  “Birth control? No. We were pl-planning to start a family right away.” Her voice faded into a mumble.

  Because she was supposed to be doing this with Hunter. His best friend. On their wedding night.

  Remy found another handful of sharp curses and thrust himself from the bed.

  In the bathroom, he discarded the split latex and splashed cold water onto his face, trying to soak some rational thought back into his head, but it was impossible. Not when there was a new, even more disastrous mess in front of him.

  He wanted to crack his head against that idiot in his reflection. What the hell were you thinking?

  He hadn’t been, obviously.

  “Remy? Could I, um, have the bathroom?” The quaver in her voice wrung a fresh wince out of him. She was new to this and he was behaving like—

  He didn’t know how to behave!

  “Of course.” He went back to the bedroom.

  She was standing uneasily in the middle of the room clutching a pillow in front of her to hide her nudity. Maybe for reassurance. She had her thighs pressed tightly together and wore an expression of distress. Her eyes were smudged and smoky. Her hair was fraying out of its conchlike style and was curling behind her ears. The puffiness in her lips and the sleepy sensuality in her eyelids were erotic as hell.

  All he wanted to do was drag her back onto the bed they’d wrecked, but she brushed by him and muttered, “Thank you.” She threw the pillow on the floor as she closed herself into the bathroom.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a pained breath.

  When he heard the shower come on, he took a step toward the door, wanting to ask if she was okay. Was she hurt? Upset?

  Of course, she was upset. He had been turned inside out by this development.

  With a final, jaded curse, he dressed, then he straightened the bed and left the clothes he’d picked out for her on the foot of it. He spared a moment to examine the condoms. They were within their use-by date and were actually made by a reputable manufacturer. Maybe it had been the wrong type of lubricant?

  Did it matter? The condom had broken. That couldn’t be reversed.

  He went back to the living room and downed the wine that Eden had only tasted. It had gone flat and warm, but his need for a drink had overshot all his other concerns.

  He checked in with his pilot, who reported that the repair part should arrive any minute.

  I’ll need you to fly us to Toronto, Remy texted as he refilled his glass. Text Alister to send someone for my car. Alister was his personal assistant.

  The hotel would have to shuttle them to the heliport when the helicopter was ready, but so be it. Remy took another gulp of wine. At least it was cold this time.

  He was thinking about opening something stronger when Eden reappeared. Her face had been washed clean. Her hair was tidied smooth, but still in its arrangement. The bright colors of the skirt and top suited her, making her look more confident and put-together, countering the wary vulnerability in her eyes.

  “What happened to not drinking?” she asked as she noted the glass he held.

  “My pilot was supposed to drive my car back to Montreal. I asked him to fly us. Someone else will pick it up.” He topped up her glass so it wore a fresh head of bubbles.

  Her mouth... Damn, she had a pretty mouth, especially when she pouted it that way.

  “I’ve never needed one of those morning-after pills, but I think I can get one over the counter at a pharmacy. I texted Quinn that I would leave her key with the concierge. When she gets here, she can take me.”

  His heart lurched. “I can take you to a pharmacy. Is that what you want?”

  “For Quinn to take me?”

  “To prevent a pregnancy?”

  “It’s what you want.” The dignity in her voice fractured.

  He held his glass so hard it might have shattered in his fist.

  “What makes you think that?” he asked.

  “Wasn’t that the point of the condom? To prevent a pregnancy? You’re obviously horrified that it broke. You’re pouring me alcohol—”

  “Forget that.” He snatched up the glass he’d poured and dumped the liquid into the bar sink. “I wasn’t thinking.” It was time he started thinking. He poured out his own. “I’m not horrified. I’m—” Seeing a reason to keep seeing her. That’s what whispered at him like a devil on his shoulder. “I don’t know how to react. This is a lot to process.”

  “It is.” She sank onto the couch, hands in her lap, sightless gaze pinning itself to the middle of the floor.

  She looked very young in that moment. Like the nineteen-year-old innocent he had met in Paris, the one who had looked at him with such bewilderment as her brother dragged her from the club.

  Into the silence, her stomach growled.

  With a pained sob, she set her hand across it and glanced at the abundant baskets of snacks.

  “Let’s eat. We’ll think better.” Remy started breaking into them, setting out rustic crackers on the dining table with spreadable cheese, tiny gerkins, stuffed olives and hummus. “Would you rather have room service?”

  “No. This is fine.” She collected plates and cutlery on her way to the table.

  They sat and wordlessly devoured the snacks.

  “I think we worked up an appetite,” he said wryly as he reached for another handful of deluxe trail mix. “Do you feel better?”

  “Yes, but now I want to bust into the one with chocolate.”

  He rose and brought it to the table. As an afterthought, he opened the door to the Juliet balcony so the sound of the falls and the mist-infused breeze floated in, then sat down again.

  “This is actually really romantic,” she murmured, wistfully staring at the falls. The corners of her mouth went down.

  He knew what she was thinking. If only this were real.

  “Eden—” He hesitated, but she needed to hear it. He needed to say it. “That was the best sex of my life.”

  An infinite number of emotions flickered across her expression. Amazement at his blunt honesty, shy pleasure at the compliment and profound self-consciousness that he would reference it so openly. Tremulous hope followed with something so naked, it stopped his heart. Then a shadow of anxiety as she remembered the consequences they might face. Finally, her mouth quirked with self-deprecation.

  “Me, too,” she said huskily.

  He snorted. But, yeah. It still didn’t compute that she had been a virgin.

  “How...?” She was twenty-four. Twenty-five? Peer pressure tended to push people into sex long before now. “You and Hunter were engaged.” His friend might not be a serial womanizer, but Hunter had had affairs. Amelia, for instance.

  “He was okay with waiting. So was I.” Eden set down the dark chocolate truffle she had bitten in half and wiped her fingertips on her napkin. “Before him, I didn’t date very seriously. I was busy with school and working with Dad. Also, Micah had convinced me that you had used me in Paris. It messed with my faith in my own judgment where men were concerned—Why are you mad?” She sat back.

  Remy tried and failed to erase the flare of temper from his expression.

  “The fact your brother thinks I would use a woman for any reason says more about him than it does about me. You realize that? Paris had nothing to do with y—”

  “Oh, my gawd,” she cried, throwing herself to her feet so fast her chair toppled. “If I hear one more time that Paris had nothing to do with me... No matter what you were fighting about, I was still in the middle of it! One second we were kissing, the next, you two were at each other’s throats. You two put me in the middle of it. And it’s the reason you and I can’t...” She waved between them, face flexing with anguish. “You’re in a cold sweat over a broken condom. Because you might become a father? Or because I might be your baby’s mother?”

  Her anger crashed against his own, but it allowed him to compress his simmering antipathy back into the box where he kept it.

  “It’s me. Isn’t it?” she demanded with a tap of one fingernail on the table. “Because Micah is my brother. Say it.”

  Because Micah was Yasmine’s brother. That was the shocking truth of it, but Remy had sworn to his father that he would keep that fact hidden. Forever.

  “Given the history between my family and Micah’s, yes. You and I are impossible.”

  “Why?” she cried. “Because of industrial espionage twenty years ago? That’s why you’re making me take a pill instead of—”

  “I’m not making you take that pill!” he interrupted vehemently, also flinging himself to his feet. “If you—” Such conflict gripped him, he could hardly breathe. “Whether you take a pill or not is entirely your decision.” He grappled for control of his voice. Of his composure. He was pro-choice all the way. “I’ll support you no matter what happens. I’m not afraid to become a father. I always expected I would be one. Eventually.”

  “But not with me,” she choked out with agony.

  He moved to grip the rail on the balcony. Maybe he’d been holding out for her, which didn’t make any sense whatsoever. He spun back into the room and closed the door.

  “What do you want, Eden?” he asked as calmly and rationally as he was able to. “Forget all the rest.”

  “You haven’t told me the rest!”

  “Indulge me,” he pressed. “Forget Hunter and Micah and even me. Ultimately, this comes down to whether or not you want to take a chance on being pregnant right now. On carrying a baby and delivering it.”

  Her mouth trembled. Her eyes glossed with emotion. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Not really,” he chided softly. “Everyone thinks there’s a perfect time or circumstance to start a family. We all want to believe we’re in control of our lives, but hell, look at Hunter. Life happens. Literally. Plans have to be adjusted.”

  “And you would adjust yours to accommodate me?” she scoffed. “Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe this entire conversation is moot.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “What is the timing like?”

  “My cycle?” She gripped her elbows. “I’ve always been a little irregular when I’m stressed. It’s been a really difficult year. I know I don’t want to have a baby by someone who resents me for it.”

  “With,” he clarified. “Not by, with me. I would never blame you for getting pregnant. There were two of us in that bed. If a baby comes along, it’s ours.”

  “Meaning you would want to be involved. See? That means I’m making a decision for both of us.”

  “No. If you let nature take its course and a pregnancy happens then, yes, I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way. But you’re the one who has to carry that pregnancy. Right now, you have to decide what’s right for your body and whether pregnancy is a chance you want to take.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t mean that. What if I decide to take the pill? Then what?” she challenged.

  He’d be disappointed as hell, but... “I’ll respect whatever choice you make, I swear.”

  * * *

  “No pressure.” Eden paced toward the window, but didn’t take in the view. Her attention was turned inward, her body still simmering with sensuality from their lovemaking.

  In that heated tussle, everything in her world had been utterly perfect. She could have existed in the aftermath of twilight joy forever, but he had sworn and pulled away, reacting with such fury, she had been flattened by rejection. And fear, as she realized what a precarious situation she was in.

  I’ll just take a pill had been her panicked thought in the shower. It was the great undo button, wasn’t it?

  It was also an action that couldn’t be undone, but she had been certain that was what Remy wanted her to do.