“This isn’t like you,” he stated, backing her into a corner.
Paisley placed her hands on his firm chest and stared up at him. “Marrying for anything less than love isn’t like me, either, yet here we are. I think I look damn good, thank you for noticing.”
Lucas placed a hand on either side of her face, caging her in even more. With her own hands trapped between their bodies, Paisley tried her hardest not to curl her fingers into him in an instinctive attempt to feel more.
His rich, masculine scent enveloped her just the same as if he fully wrapped his arms around her body. The man exuded power without saying a word and Paisley knew if she didn’t keep her mind sharp and her heart guarded, she’d find herself falling for him once again.
And she wasn’t so sure she’d ever fallen out of love to begin with. Leaving him certainly hadn’t been her idea, but her hands had been tied and as much as the move had hurt, she’d known Lucas had needed to get away from her to achieve his goals.
Wasn’t that the old saying? If you love something set it free? Well, she’d done exactly that and look how all of that turned out. She was in Vegas in the tackiest outfit she could find, ready to sell her soul.
Lucas leaned in closer, and his warm breath tickled the side of her neck at the same time he trailed his fingertip down the low V of her dress between her breasts. Shivers raced through her and there was no way she could ignore the trembling. Her body was clearly betraying her when all she wanted was to stay in charge. So much for that.
“My little conservative minx.” He trailed his lips over her neck, traveling from one side to the other. “You think I’m upset about this? You’re mine, Tart. Let anyone look, but I’ll be the one touching you, pleasuring you.”
Paisley closed her eyes, unable to stop the visual images from rolling through her mind. Lucas continued feathering that fingertip across her heated skin, and she cursed herself for playing games. She should’ve shown up in something with a high neck and full sleeves. But no, she’d wanted tacky, yet sexy as hell just to be spiteful.
“If we’re done playing games, let’s go make this legal.”
Before Paisley could take a breath, Lucas covered her mouth with his. His body pressed hers against the wall, and she barely had time to register the glorious contact before her body arched to his and he slid his hands up her bare arms. He curled his fingers around her shoulders and urged her even closer.
The power from his touch, his strength, had her knees going weak, but the way he kissed her...there were no words. There was something passionate, hot, yet gentle about him.
Lucas slid his lips gently across hers before easing back.
“Just wanted to practice the whole kiss-the-bride part,” he said with a smirk. “You ready to become Mrs. Lucas Ford?”
Ready? Now that she was here, Paisley worried she’d gotten in over her head. But despite everything, she trusted him to find the truth.
Paisley smiled wide and patted his cheek, ignoring her thumping heart from that heated kiss. “I’ll keep my own name, but thanks for the offer.”
* * *
The woman was going to be the death of him. If she didn’t kill him with that smart mouth, that damn svelte body wrapped in lace would surely do the trick. The only parts of her flesh he couldn’t see were the areas a skimpy bikini would cover.
Paisley had the ability to order any wedding gown in the world and she’d chosen the most ridiculous, sexiest jumpsuit. Damn it if he wasn’t even more aroused and intrigued at her snarky act. At least this wouldn’t be a boring marriage.
He was counting on her being just as fiery in bed.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
At the officiant’s word, Lucas circled her waist with his hands and pulled her hips to his, instantly capturing her lips. Much like moments ago in the hallway, Paisley melted against him. She had always been a passionate woman and now he was going to get to experience that all over again.
Paisley broke the kiss and flattened her hands on his chest. “I think that covers it,” she stated with a breathless sigh. “I’ll take a nice bottle of prosecco in my suite, please.”
Lucas dug his fingertips into the dip in her waist. “We’ve barely begun,” he murmured. “And it’s not your suite. It’s ours.”