Page 5

MARIA

I go through the wedding like I'm in some sort of trance, my legs faintly quivering still, and everything else appearing washed out besides the man at the end of the aisle waiting for me.

Distantly, I can see that the quickly thrown-together ceremony is beautiful, with white and yellow flowers scattered across the sands and an arch made from lake driftwood.

A long white carpet leads to the arch so I don't get sand in my shoes, and the smattering of chairs lining each side of the aisle are surprisingly full.

No one I know is here besides my father, who is dabbing his eyes as he starts to escort me to my new husband, but Xavier must have instructed his family to spread out so it wouldn't look so strange.

He's so thoughtful. He even found a way to drain almost all of the tension living in me before the ceremony. Except now there's a whole host of other emotions swirling inside of me, all stemming from how good his mouth had felt on mine … and between my legs.

I barely notice anything other than Xavier, but his father standing next to him catches my eye as well.

Xavier had no groomsmen, but like me, his father stands with him, and it tugs at my heartstrings a little.

I met the man yesterday, and it was like all the puzzle pieces about this fly-by-night matrimony had fallen into place.

Salvatore Romano is tall like his son, and the breadth of his shoulders told me he had probably been broad in his youth, too.

Illness had taken that from him, and he is thin and pale, but still strong enough to be next to his son on his big day.

He had been kind to me when I spoke to him yesterday, taking both my hands in his and telling me over and over again how happy he was to welcome me to the family.

Xavier told me when we were alone again that his father had been a hardass before he got sick, but the illness had softened him up.

The obvious affection between the two men and the joy on Salvatore's face made this farce feel almost worth it. If nothing else, I can see why Xavier is willing to go to any lengths to make him happy, even marrying a stranger.

Well, we're a lot less strangers after what just happened in the bedroom, at least.

I managed to clean my makeup up, wipe my lipstick off Xavier's face, but my hair was unsalvageable.

I pulled it down from its updo and ran damp fingers through the stiff curls until they fell into soft waves.

It looks intentional enough that no one will be able to suss out what the groom and I had been up to less than an hour ago.

Or at least I hope so.

The aisle seems a million miles long, but finally we make it to Xavier, and my father hands me off, sniffling audibly as if he doesn't know this is all bullshit. Xavier smiles, his teeth bright white, and the quivering in my legs intensifies.

Oh, it's going to be a long, long day.

The ceremony is short and sweet, our vows identical and generic, but it gets the job done. I’m infinitely glad we already kissed and then some earlier, because it took most of the nerves out of our 'kiss the bride' moment, even if we both lingered longer than necessary.

Xavier and I still haven't had time to talk about what happened between us, but I have to keep reminding myself there will be plenty of time for that later.

Once the ceremony is over, the hired staff switches everything over, adding tables, a small bar, and a carefully assembled table of hors d'oeuvres. In a flash, a glass of champagne is shoved into my hand, and before I can blink, Xavier is gone, and I’m stuck talking to his numerous distant relatives.

I rehearsed our agreed-upon story—meeting at one of my father's restaurants, falling head over heels for each other at warp speed—and I happily tell it over and over again, sneaking bites of smoked salmon crostinis and cucumber sandwiches when I can.

Everything is happening so fast, I don't even have time to process that I'm married.

I'm Maria Romano now, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, and that's who I'll be for the foreseeable future.

I'm glad for the chaos, because if I think about it too long, it makes me feel like I'm going to panic.

There is no sit-down dinner or speeches, and our first dance is a quick spin across the sand while the same string quartet that played me down the aisle plucks out something slow and sweet.

Finally, people start to depart, and Xavier is next to me, linking our fingers together in a way that seems much too familiar for how long we've known each other.

He leans his head down to whisper into my ear, "It's time to go. Let's get the hell out of here."

In another flurry of activity, Xavier leads me through the thinning crowd to my room, where I shimmy out of the dress, lay it gently on the bed, and change into something more comfortable for the flight.

It's another dress, still white, but soft and flowing down to my knees.

Casual and breezy, which is the opposite of what I'm feeling right now.

The bags had been packed last night, and all that's left to do is follow Xavier out to the waiting car and let the driver take us to the airport.

Once the car doors are shut, the quiet is so intense that it's almost distressing. I look up at Xavier, sitting beside me in jeans once more, with my heart in my throat.

"I can't believe everything that just happened."

"Believe it, wife." He grins wickedly. "You're stuck with me."

"I guess so." I sigh dramatically, glancing up at the driver before staring out the window. "When we're alone, should we … talk? About … you know … before the ceremony."

"No. There's no need." His tone is clipped. "Life is too short for regrets. You're mine now, Maria, and if we behave as husband and wife in all ways, then so be it."

"But, like … you want to? Or was it just a spur-of-the-moment thing?"

Xavier's hand lands on my bare knee, and he lowers his head to my ear, whispering the words, "I want to, Mrs. Romano, and there's something you should know about me.

" His teeth graze the shell of my ear, and I'm wracked in shudders, my core tightening as I squeeze my legs together. "I get what I want."

Six hours later, we land in Cozumel, and if I thought Xavier was difficult to resist in overcast Chicago, it's going to take an Olympic level of restraint to resist him here in paradise.

That is, if I even want to try .

We're whisked to the resort in under twenty minutes, and I'm too busy taking in the gorgeous view to worry about anything else. When the driver pulls up to the hotel, my mouth drops open.

"Oh, wow," I breathe. The place is gorgeous, crafted from white stone and littered with palm trees, overlooking the aquamarine water of the Caribbean.

It's been a long day, and the sun is setting over the water, making it look like it's on fire.

Was it really only this morning that he was in my bedroom, making me come apart at the seams?

"It's something, isn't it?" Xavier asks, his voice low. His hand is on the small of my back, guiding me as we walk through the lobby, and the warmth of it seeps through my sundress.

"It sure is," I manage to reply, not quite sure what we're talking about anymore. It feels like every nerve in my body is tuned to Xavier, and he knows it.

We've only got a few days here, and I haven't even questioned why a honeymoon was necessary for a sham marriage, but everything is different now that we've given in to our mutual attraction. It certainly hasn't made our marriage any more real, but it's definitely complicated.

At least it keeps my mind off how bizarre this all is. I'm supposed to still be furious, but I'm having a hard time even being slightly annoyed with the smell of the ocean in the air.

Our suite is a penthouse overlooking the sea, with large windows that open up to let the breeze in.

There's a huge bed covered in white sheets that looks like heaven, a private balcony, and an enormous soaking tub.

While I lean on the balcony railing and take it all in, Xavier quickly deposits our luggage, and my pulse kicks up a notch when I feel him come up behind me.

I swallow when his arms come around me, one huge hand splayed over my stomach while the other traces a path up my ribs .

Suddenly, my breezy little dress feels like way too little fabric to actually separate me from Xavier. But did I even want it to in the first place?

"It's gorgeous," I say, not turning around. "The ocean looks so blue."

"Mm," he rumbles in agreement, his lips ghosting over the back of my neck. The hand on my ribs has drifted lower, gathering my dress up so he can caress the skin of my leg. My thighs clench involuntarily, and I feel my pussy pulse with need.

I swallow hard. "How long did you say we have here?"

"Two days."

"Not very long," I gasp as his teeth graze over my pulse point.

"Long enough for us to consummate this marriage. Over…" —his hand slides forward under my skirt, until his fingers rest over my slit beneath my panties— "and over."

I'm unraveling, and the fact that we're so exposed on the balcony makes it even hotter. "Xavier, we're not?—"

"Maria," he interrupts. "We both know what this is. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy this attraction while it lasts."

Xavier acknowledging that this is all fake hurts a little, even though I've been telling myself the same thing. But I push it away, not wanting to lose this moment of delicious connection. "Right."

"So let me get you off against this railing," he whispers in my ear, sending tingles down my spine. "Let's enjoy this honeymoon before we get back to reality."

"I … yes. Yes, please."

His mouth is on my neck again, teeth scraping over my skin as his hands push up my dress and drag my panties down my legs. My breath is coming fast, my skin electric everywhere he touches me. The air smells like salt water and Xavier's expensive cologne, and all I want is to give in.