Will the international spy be able to keep his own wife safe from herself?
William and Mariana Wilson Smith have embarked on the most critical mission of their lives: marriage. Living on opposite ends of the country has them off to a rocky start. The plucky Los Angeles publicist and sexy Connecticut arborist – billionaire and spy – fan the flames of passion at a distance, but separation leads to misunderstandings and miscommunications. As Mariana’s own misadventures leak into his secret world, things get even more turbulent between them.
Mariana gets her hands on a little book belonging to one of Will’s gorgeous female agents and sets off to crack the secret code inside. As she deciphers the text, she learns more about the woman’s dangerous mission and about one of her husband’s oldest foes.
The last thing Will needs on his list of things to worry about is a willful wife who has decided to practice the arts of espionage without a license. Mariana swiftly lands herself in hot water. If she’s not careful, she’ll wind up in grave danger. Their love goes through trials by fire as these newlyweds test each other’s limits. Mariana insists on holding her ground. Will is set on being in command. For her own good, and his peace of mind, he will get Mariana to obey.
This is book two in The Billionaire Spy series and can be enjoyed independently.
Publisher’s Note: This contemporary romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, action, adventure, sensual scenes, and power exchange. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.
Will rose like a lion who had been waiting to spring all day and finally caught sight of his prey. In four long strides, he reached her at the room entrance, picked her up off the ground, spun her around, and put her back down. He took her face in his hands and he gave her a deep, demanding, probing kiss. His breath was on fire. A growl formed deep in his belly.
He picked her up again, this time throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her down the hall to the four-poster bed. He dropped her down on the mattress, so hard that the springs complained. Then he went to work undressing her, unbuckling her belt, pulling her ivory slacks off her legs, then casting them on the floor.
“Will,” she said.
He snarled, tore at the knot in his tie to loosen it, and pulled his shirt open without minding the buttons. His sculpted chest and abdomen glowed blue and gold in the dim light coming through the French doors of their terrace. His muscles were flexed as if he were getting ready for a fight. He tore her new bone white and lavender print silk blouse open. Another expensive garment of hers he’d ruined in this way. She knew better than to complain just then. A look of consternation came over his face as he stared at her breasts. Mariana realized she’d picked out a white lace shelf bra that morning, rather than one of her front clasp sheer bras that Will had so taken a liking to.
He pulled down on the bra’s cups with both hands, exposing her naked breasts, framed and lifted by the fabric underneath. Okay, Mariana thought his expression said, That works. He brought his mouth to her nipples, biting and sucking on them hard, and pressed his hand to the gusset of her white panties, giving her clit a pinch through the fabric.
“Oh, God, Will,” she moaned.
His growl intensified. Will kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks and belt, dropped his slacks and briefs to the floor, and stood over her, erect, taking a deep breath. His intensity took her own breath away. Then he tore off her panties. In the time it took Mariana to get some air back into her lungs, he had lifted up her bottom from the mattress and pulled her to the edge of the bed. With a heavy grunt, he thrust himself deep inside of her. The sensation she had longed for all these days—of him filling her, stretching the limits of her sheath—sent an electric charge running through her pores and left her head reeling. She moaned.
He bent over her on the bed, thrusting deep inside of her. Her legs wrapped around his middle to bring him closer. Then he raised his back and grabbed her hips, pulling her bottom off the mattress, and thrust harder and faster. Her inner walls quivered and contracted around his manhood, squeezing the orgasm from him. After he was spent, he brought his face near hers, an intense glare filling his dark, green eyes.
“Hello to you too, Mister Wilson,” she said, breathless, still feeling the aftershocks of the earthquake he had forced into being between her legs.
“What the fuck did you do to your hair?”
She pushed up on her elbows, bringing her nose to his.
“It’s a bob. Do you like it?”
He didn’t answer right away but shook his head. “Two miserable weeks apart, and it’s like I’m married to a different woman.”
“No,” she said. “It’s still me. Just perkier.” She was feeling a bit wicked, and much more relaxed, so she added. “Although, if you did think I was a different woman, I should be jealous that you just fucked her brains out.”
“Shower,” he said, kissing her before pulling out of her. “Now.”
She rose from the bed and followed languidly behind him, enjoying the view, as he stepped into the large shower stall. He got under the rain showerhead, the water running in rivers that made his muscles glisten, gathering at the marked V of his lower abdomen. She could watch him like this for hours.
“Get in, little one,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the limestone and frosted glass. “I want to check that hairstyle from behind.”
“Now?” she said. “It’s a bit messy, given the tussling it just took.”
“I’ll show you a tussling,” he said. “Come here.”
“You look like a wet Greek god,” she said, running her fingers over his chest.
“You look like a wife who’s due for a hard spanking,” he said, taking all the fun out of the shower stall.