The Wrong Husband (Marriage by Contract #1)

Chapter 1

Emilia

Iwas married.

My husband a.k.a. my sister's ex-boyfriend, was sleeping next to me in a bed in a suite at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.

Initially, we were having a good time. He was drunk and I was a little tipsy.

Next thing I knew we were saying, "I do" and Elvis pronounced us husband and wife.

I was in love with Damian Archer. Had been since I was a child and my father started to work for Archer Galleries. I'd been five and Damian had been fifteen. Love at first sight. Instalove. Crazy about you kinda love. I'll die for you love.

I decided I'd wait for Damian. Eventually, he'd notice me and fall in love with me.

It didn't work out that way. Damian did fall in love but not with me. He fell madly in love. 'Balls deep, I will fuck you until I die' kind of love with Bianca.

My sister and Damian were together for three years. There were ups and downs. They broke up and made up right away. This time they had been broken up for over a month and there was no sign of reconciliation.

I didn't know what happened. I never knew what happened with my sister. Bianca and my mother were a team; and I was on a need to know basis…and I needed to know nothing. My father was an island unto himself.

I was the loser sister, the Invisible Miss Winters. So, when Damian paid me attention, what was I supposed to do? My knees went weak, and I was a slobbering mess. When we wandered off onto the strip and ended up at Silver Bells Wedding Chapel, Damian joked (on his knees), "Marry me, Emilia. I'm heartbroken. Heal me, babe."

Babe? Yeah, so wrong thing to focus on. I should've focused on the heartbroken part. My sister had broken his heart. I should've had better sense than to say what I did.

"Of course, I'll marry you."

There was no excuse. I wasn't that drunk, but I pretended, even to myself, that I was. This man was giving me everything I had ever wanted in my twenty-three years—I couldn't say no.

I shouldn't have done it. He was drunk, still sore about Bianca. I took advantage of him.

God! Why did I have to marry him?

Because you're a horrible person. You stole your sister's boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend. No stealing was involved, I told myself petulantly.

I hadn't expected to see Damian in Vegas. I was here for a meeting. I worked for my mother and Bianca, they were co-CEOs of Make Me Beautiful, a chain of salons that catered to the rich and famous. Chain was maybe inappropriate—they had three salons, one in San Francisco, one in Oakland, and the third in Santa Clara. I didn't think they should've opened the two salons, which they did in quick succession, burning through money.

This was why I was working for them—helping them because they couldn’t afford to hire a proper buyer.

I was in Vegas to meet with distributors and while I was getting a drink at the Bellagio, in walked Damian Archer and my panties melted away.

Now, he lay on his stomach, his face turned toward me.

He was beautiful. Steel-gray eyes. Long lashes. Olive complexion, thanks to Marcela, his Spanish mother who had a temper to match. I wanted to touch him but didn't feel I had the right even though we were now married, even though last night we had sex.

I had sex with Damian Archer!

I was mortified and thrilled all at the same time.

I'd given him my virginity. Now, I'm not one of those girls who thinks her virginity is some gift. I wanted to offload it years ago, but the Invisible Miss Winters simply couldn't get her act together and date, couldn't find a man to be interested enough in her to fuck her.

The sex with Damian had been amazing. Or maybe this was how sex was supposed to be. What did I know? What I did know was that I hadn't expected to have one orgasm the first time I had sex and instead I had three. Count with me: one, two, three.

One with his fingers. One with his tongue. One with his cock.

I had expected pain and there was some of that but honest to God, this was sex that romance writers write about. The kind of sex that makes readers reach for their vibrators.

"I want you, babe."

Again, with that babe. I hated it when he called me that. He called all his women babe. Except Bianca. He called her Sweet Bianca.

"I want you too, Damian."

God, I was so na?ve. I should've said something sexier but that's all I could get out of my mouth.

He took my dress off, the one I'd been wearing all day for work meetings. It was a beige sheath Anne Klein bought on sale that hung on my body like almost all clothes did. I didn't have curves like Bianca. I was flat…to the point that when someone did notice me like they did in high school, I went from Invisible Miss Winters to Ironing Board Miss Winters. I preferred being invisible.

He squeezed my breasts and I whimpered. His eyes glazed over. "You're so fucking responsive, Em."

"It's you," I whispered. I was so turned on that I thought I'd die.

He lay me down naked on the bed and kissed me. It was our second kiss. The first was when Elvis told us we could after we said we do.

This kiss was deep. His mouth was soft and hard at the same time. How often had I watched his mouth and wondered what it would be like to kiss him? He tasted like leather and smoke; like aged whiskey.

My nipples pebbled and my pussy got wet. I'd never kissed a man this way. I'd kissed…some guys had even groped around, but nothing had felt like this. I felt hot and cold at the same time, like a fever was burning inside me.

His hands moved over my body. "I don't know what to touch first. Tell me how you like to be touched."

I licked my lips. "I don't know," I confessed.

"What does that mean?" he asked softly.

I swallowed. "Never had sex before."

He got up then and stood at the foot of the bed staring at me. His expression was…angry. Yeah, he was furious. Was he upset that I hadn't had sex before? Well, everyone starts out a virgin. I wasn't that special. Or maybe I was too abhorrent. My inexperience was distasteful to him.

"Damian?"

He blinked. "Yeah, babe."

He started to take his suit off, all the while he looked at me like I was a puzzle he needed to put together.

When he was relieved of all his clothing, I breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to happen. He wasn't going to leave me naked and walk away. He wasn't going to reject me.

He got on the bed, his face tight like he was exerting an immense amount of control on himself.

He parted my thighs and I flinched.

His hands tightened and I knew he'd leave marks. I relished it because it told me he felt something for me, felt passion.

"Birth control?" he asked huskily. His fingers caressing my pubic curls. If I'd known I'd be getting married, I would've gotten a bikini wax, but elopement had not been on my bingo card…like ever.

"Yes, I'm good," I murmured. I had endometriosis and the doctor had recommended an I.U.D. to make my periods less painful.

He watched me as his fingers probed me. I winced. I wasn't tiny. I had used a vibrator before but there was something about his warm finger invading me. My breathing was ragged.

He pulled his finger out and brought it to his mouth. I gasped when he tasted my juices with his eyes closed. "God, Em, you taste like fucking heaven."

He called me Em. I liked that. Much, much better than babe.

"I do?" I whimpered.

He touched me again and this time, painted my lips with my juices. He crawled on top of me, nestling his erection between my thighs.

"Taste yourself, darling."

He kissed me. His taste mixed with mine and my hips surged, trying to find surcease.

"Shh, Em, this is your first time, baby. We go slow. We take our time." He dropped a gentle kiss on my mouth and trailed his hand over my torso.

He squeezed my breasts again and then suckled a nipple into his mouth. That warm suction made me all but come off the bed.

"Damian," I cried out. This was so amazing. How did I not know how incredible this could feel?

"I know, sweetheart. I know." He stroked my nipples with his tongue, nibbled on them until I was thrumming with pleasure and agony.

He cupped a breast with one hand and moved the other between my legs, watching me. His gray eyes intense, focused.

"You're so wet, Em. All for me?"

"Yeah," I laughed jerkily, "Don't see anyone else here."

"And no one else will see this," he growled. "Okay?"

"Okay." I didn't want anyone but Damian. If he wanted us to be exclusive, we would be. I mean, we were married and all that. As soon as that thought invaded my mind, it took over. Oh God, what had I done. I had married Damian Archer. Of all the dumb things to—.

"Em, honey, stay with me," he crooned as he stroked my labia. "Come back to me."

His voice was like a magician's, and I relaxed, loosened.

He slid one, then two fingers inside me. "I'm going to take care of you. Don't worry about a thing.”

I nodded. I had no idea what that meant.

"You trust me?"

"Yes," I whispered. I did with everything I was.

"Good girl." He kissed me again, ferocious this time. Our tongue clashed like we were both hungry—and I didn't even know hunger like this existed. I was holding onto him, my hands all over his back, his hips.

"It's going to be so fucking good between us," he crooned. "But I need you to stay still. Can you do that?"

I nodded. I'd do anything.

"No moving. Or I'll lose control."

He slid down my body, watching me the whole while. And then he parted my pussy with a hand and inserted two, then three fingers inside me. He began to pump and as he did, he explored my cunt.

I moaned. I couldn't stay still.

"Em, you want to come, love?"

"Yes," I gasped.

"Then no moving."

I licked my lips and he smiled at me. "You're so beautiful, baby. You're doing so well."

I sobbed because his fingers curled inside me, feeling me up, claiming parts of me that had never been touched before. I was dissolving and my hips wouldn't stay still.

"I can't."

"I know, love. I know." He kept looking at me and his eyes were as aroused and excited as I felt—and they pushed me further into sweet delirium.

"I want to take your pussy, your mouth, your ass…all of you. I want you so full of me and my cum that every time you walk, you'll feel me."

No one had ever spoken to me this way and when he added a fourth finger, I fell apart, screaming, my eyes closed. I sobbed at the waves crashing inside me. I'd never come this way before. It had never been like this before.

He held me, kissing my face, my neck, murmuring to me. "Em, baby, you're so beautiful when you come. I want to see it again."

"I can't," I moaned.

He crawled down and spread my thighs. His hands then cupped my ass, holding me up. His mouth latched onto my pussy. I lifted up and rocked against his mouth like a wanton, like someone I didn't recognize.

"Damian." I couldn't stand it, and he knew it because he didn't stop. His mouth was like magic, taking me where his fingers hadn't, where I didn't think it was possible to go.

I put a hand over my mouth, and he lifted his head. "Let me hear you, Em. Tell me how good I make you feel."

He took my clit between his teeth and the pain felt amazing, so good. "Yes. More. More."

He soothed my clit with the flat of his tongue, traced across, moving back and forth. I knew about oral, of course I did. I watched porn. But this…this in real life was something else. Sex this amazing couldn't be healthy. It was probably like French fries, taste so good, and at the same time so bad for your cholesterol.

"Em…," he called out. "Baby, come back to me."

I blinked.

"Where were you?"

"I think your tongue is like French fries?"

He chuckled and then licked me again. "You've got to explain that, darling."

"This feels so good it must be bad for me. Like fries."

"Let me show you how bad it can get," he whispered and stroked over my clit again.

The orgasm began deeper this time, way, way, way deeper and when I came, I squirted all over him.

"God, Em, you're so fucking sexy," he said as he lapped my juices up.

He didn't give me time to recover. "I can't wait. I need to be inside you."

He surged on top of me. He bracketed my face in his hands, his gray eyes looking into my lackluster brown ones. Bianca had blue eyes like my mother. I had my father's boring eyes. Not my words, my mother's. I should close them, so he doesn't get turned off. I should—.

"No, keep your beautiful eyes open. I want to see what I do to you."

I did as he asked and what I saw in his eyes was mesmerizing. He wasn't faking it. He wanted me. He really did.

"This will hurt," he warned.

I smiled because Damian Archer was going to be inside me. The enormity of that…well, it was breathtaking.

Invisible Miss Winters had finally been seen by Damian. It was like the universe was giving me everything that I'd ever wanted. "I know. It's alright. I want it to."

I felt his erection at my entrance, and I moaned.

"I can feel how ready you are for me," he murmured. I lifted my hips, wanting to rub my clit against him, wanting that friction.

He slammed his mouth on mine and drove into me. The shock of penetration was like a bomb going off inside me. I moved my hips, not with pleasure but discomfort, pain.

He didn't let me scream because he'd locked my mouth with his. He lifted his head for an instant and I couldn't help the tears that were flowing down my cheeks. This hurt so damn good.

"Oh, Em, oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

I shook my head. "No. It feels…it's…there's pain but so much else."

"It'll get better," he said hoarsely.

"It already is," I groaned out.

Damian lifted up but didn't move, letting me adjust to him. He cupped my face and stroked my lip with his thumb. "I need to move, sweetheart."

"Yes, please."

He smiled. He took my hands and locked our fingers together, pressed them to either side of my head. He watched me as he pumped in and out of me. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned when he was balls deep inside me.

"I need to come." I had no idea where those words emerged from because I'd never even thought there would be a world where I would say such things to any man, let alone Damian.

He pulled out completely and then slammed back inside me. He didn't stop this time, didn't slow down, just kept pounding into me. His cock was hitting that spot inside me, the same spot his fingers had stroked and caressed, that same spot that was on fire.

"No other man has touched you," he muttered as he let go of my hand. "You're fucking mine, Em. Say, you're mine."

"Yours," I mumbled and felt my whole body lift away from me when his hand reached between us and found my clit.

"Come with me, come with me," he chanted and right before I felt him explode inside me, he pinched my clitoris.

Everything went dark for a long moment.

When I surfaced from what I knew was intense pleasure, his face was buried in my neck. He was breathing hard. Nothing had ever felt this good before.

It took a while, but he lifted his head and looked at me. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded and then smiled. "Very okay."

And that was when he shut down. Suddenly, he pulled out of me and went into the bathroom.

What the hell did I do?

He came out and tilted his head toward the bathroom. "You should get cleaned up.”

I should? Yeah. I had his cum flowing out of me, so I should.

I didn't know why he was angry all of a sudden. I didn't want to know because I suspected it had something to do with Bianca. Now that he'd had an orgasm, his head had gone to where it normally went to—the love of his life.

I took a shower because I was crying, and I wanted to drown the sobs with water. I had the best experience of my life and right after, I felt my heart breaking.

By the time I got back to the room there were fresh sheets on the bed. I didn't ask how he managed that. I could imagine he had housekeeping come pronto and get rid of the sheets that had blood and semen on them. God! That was embarrassing.

He was in a pair of black boxers, and it made me dizzy to look at him. The man was sex on two legs. Before I could eye fuck him some more, he held up two pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"What?" I asked, tightening the complimentary hotel white terry robe around me.

"Ibuprofen. For the pain," he said gruffly.

"Pain?"

"Em, it was your first time. It's going to hurt later on."

I took the pills and washed them down with the water he held.

I didn't have my things here. Did he want me to leave? Go back to my room? I looked around to see where my clothes were so I could wear them and do the walk of shame.

"I have something for you to sleep in." He pointed to the closet, outside of which hung a sexy black negligee.

He wanted me to sleep here with him? That was a good thing, right? He wasn't kicking me out.

"How? When?"

"I got it at the hotel boutique," he explained.

"Do you want me to go back to my room?" I asked.

He cupped my cheek. "No. It's our wedding night. Sleep with me."

He sounded more determined than happy. He regretted it, that much was obvious.

What did he regret more, the sex or the wedding? If we hadn't had sex maybe we could have just annulled the marriage. I almost rolled my eyes at myself. We could still annul the marriage. This wasn't the Victorian times where we had to prove that I was untouched and virginal.

"Thanks," I replied lamely, still staring at the lingerie.

"Let's get some sleep."

I was still in that stupid negligee. It was beautiful. Lacy and comfortable. La Perla according to the label. I couldn't afford things like this. I had a regular job. My family had money, but it was their money. My father was the CFO of Archer Galleries, an art and antiquities juggernaut, in the same league at the Sotheby's.

Damian was the CEO of Archer Galleries Worldwide, while his older brother Duncan managed the European business and Dean the Asian. His parents were officially retired but still involved as board members.

My mother and sister were entrepreneurs in their own right. Their salons weren't successful…yet, but they were well on their way according to everyone.

I was a struggling artist.

I had a small loft apartment on the wrong end of Market Street in San Francisco. It was more studio than apartment.

So far, I'd managed to win a few art awards and get my work into non-descript galleries. My parents had never thought I was a good enough artist. It stung because my father's business was art. But it was what I loved, and my teachers and various mentors told me that my surreal style was intense and thought provoking. They advised me to keep honing my skill.

When my mother and sister asked me to work for them because they didn’t have the funds to hire employees, I'd had a job offer with Sotheby's to restore art. It was what I wanted to do. But family came first so I turned down the job.

My relationship with my mother and sister wasn't tight—but I hoped that if I helped them with their new business we would become close; that they asked me meant they trusted me.

Instead of working on Renoirs, I spent a lot of time talking to distributors, making sure the products used in the salons were organic and were delivered on time. It was a hard job and took a lot out of me, but I still made time for my art. I was hoping that when I had a collection of fifteen paintings, I could create a portfolio and take it around to galleries. One day, I would get my chance.

Just like I had gotten a chance to be with Damian.

Obviously, it was all a big mistake and the minute he woke up he'd tell me that we needed to get this sham of a marriage annulled. I knew that. But I'd touched Damian and he'd been inside me.

His eyes opened then as if he could hear my thoughts. He looked at me still half asleep. I could literally see his brain process my presence.

"Good morning," I whispered and smiled tentatively.

"When's your flight?" he asked.

"In three hours."

"Maybe you should get ready."

I frowned. "Ah…Damian, I'd like to talk about last night."

He sat up. "We will. Let's do it when we're back at home, yeah?"

"Wouldn't…ah…wouldn't it be easier to get the…thing annulled or whatever right away?"

He stared at me like I'd asked him to dance at Chippendales in a tutu. "Annulled?"

I licked my lips. "Look, you were drunk and…I know you don't want to be married to me."

He arched an eyebrow. "And how would you know that, Emilia?"

The way he said my name was sexy. I wasn't even wearing panties, but they were melting wherever they were.

"I just…I mean…you were with Bianca and…," I sighed, "Look, you and Bianca break up and make up all the time. Let's just fix this so no one has to know about it. Or…maybe it's not even legal. Is it?"

"It's legal."

He got out of bed. His black boxers cupped his very fine and tight ass. It was like a dream to have him like this with me. Like a fantasy come true.

"Okay."

"We need to obviously fix this," he remarked.

"Yes."

"I'm assuming you don't want to stay married to me?" He sounded unsure and I was certain I was in a scene in a movie, and I didn't know my lines.

Any minute now the director was going jump into the scene and scream, "Cut."

"Do you want to stay married to me?" This was the strangest question I'd ever thought I'd ask anyone…and I was asking it of Damian.

"We're married," he said matter-of-factly. "You don't want to miss your flight, Emilia. I'll see you in San Francisco. Let's say tomorrow at ten in my office and figure this out."

I climbed out of bed myself, suddenly feeling tired, exhausted, emotionally drained. What was going on?

"We'll discuss logistics. Do you need the bathroom?"

I nodded.

"Go ahead. What's your room number? I'll get someone to pack up your things and bring them here."

I was too tired to argue about a stranger going through my things, so I just gave him the number and told him the key was in my purse.

As he walked out of the bedroom, I called out to him, "Damian. Are we really married?" I asked inanely.

He didn't smile. He looked serious and irritated. "Yes, Emilia, we're really married. Now, get ready."