Virgin Mistress, Scandalous Love-Child

And every accidental brush of his fingertips made her feel fire in her veins. How could she fight her own desire? How? She swallowed, trying to control the pounding of her heart as she glanced through the back window.

“Timothy—”

“He’ll have a headache.” His teeth gleamed in a feral growl. “He deserves worse.”

Why? What had Timothy done? But she didn’t have the nerve to ask. She had far more pressing issues to worry about. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the airport.” He sat next to her as the driver pulled away. She could feel his thigh pressing against hers through the layers of her wedding dress.

He looked down at her, his eyes black as onyx. Then he gave her the heavy-lidded half smile that had led so many women to ruin.

“Now,” he said, “you belong to me.”

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