Desperate for More, Part I

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PROLOGUE

That initial meeting in the Caribbean four months ago seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, she was Mrs. Christian Grant, wife of the heir to the Grant billions – and she couldn't have been more unhappy.
. . .

"Christian please, we don’t have to continue this charade," Kingston pleaded. "Neither one of us is happy. Just let me go."

"It's not that simple my darling Kingston," Christian said, looking at her through half-hooded eyes. "There's never been a divorce in my family. We are the Grants don't you know," he said sardonically. "I won't bring shame to my family's name. Not now. Not ever. How would it look if my wife – even an ex-wife – was out on the street, struggling to make ends meet?"

"My family has never been in the tabloids for anything but our good deeds. I plan to keep it that way. Besides, my dear, there's no pre-nup between us. That's a testament to your incredible beauty, by the way. You bewitched me on that island you know," he said, moving towards her. "And, why shouldn't I enjoy all the advantages of your wifely beauty."

Kingston backed away from him.

Closing the few feet between them, Christian lightly lifted a lock of her chocolate brown curls. She could smell the cognac on his breath. She loved the smell of cognac on him.

"I've never desired a woman the way I do you. Your lips were made for kissing," he said, lowering his head and taking hers to prove his point.

"Your breasts fit perfectly in my hands," he said, running his hands over the silk blouse she wore, where the peaks of her engorged mounds betrayed her by making their presence known.

"And this," he said, lifting her billowy skirt to ease his fingers inside her womanhood, "is where heaven is. I find heaven every time I bury myself in you," he said, crushing her lips as he swirled his fingers inside her.

Kingston groaned and gave in to the sensations overtaking her. "Christian, oh Christian."

"Yes love," he said as he pulled away from her. It took every ounce of his control not to take her right there on the centuries-old desk.

"While we may not have the perfect marriage," he said, as she fought through the drug of passion he'd brought on, "there is one area in which we've always been perfect."

"But you can't build a marriage on sex!" Kingston said desperately, regaining a modicum of her faculties.

Grabbing her in a bone-crushing kiss, he said, "Tell yourself that when you scream my name every time we make love."

"You're my wife, Kingston. And come hell or high water, you'll stay my wife," he said as he lightly ran a finger across her kiss-bruised lips.
. . .

Kingston slumped down into the leather swivel chair. Christian was right; the passion between them was undeniable. But it wasn't enough – not when she wanted so much more. But how could she have it when he believed all she married him for was his money?
. . .

Christian felt like an ass, refusing to give Kingston a divorce. She desired him; there was no doubt about that. And he wanted her – so much more than in his bed.

Their impromptu wedding in the Caribbean had been the happiest day of his life. They'd only known each other a week, but he'd never felt that it was a mistake. But being back in New York had changed everything.

He'd do anything to make her happy and if a divorce was what she truly wanted, he knew he'd eventually give it to her. But, first he wanted a chance to prove to her that their union could be so much more if they gave their fledgling love a real chance.
. . .

She was strapped financially.

He was trapped socially.

They were entangled in a love where they were both … Desperate for More, but could they trust each other enough to fight for it?