The ring is not enough . . . . . . not if, like Paris Montague, you come from a long line of women who know how to marry. In her family, the unspoken rule has always been: never wed someone who's not as well off as you, and her mother wants her last unattached daughter to find a wealthy "Mr. Right" right now. But Paris is doing just fine with her no-strings-attached relationship with her sexy secret lover, Tyson. The man may not have money, but he knows how to push all the right buttons! Then JaBari Nolan enters the picture-rich, charming, and oh-so-fine, with definite husband potential. But Paris can't shake the feeling that there's something shady going on with the all-too-perfect Mr. Nolan. Time's running out, and Paris is going to have to choose between sweet Tyson and seductive JaBari. And maybe "up" is not the way to take it . . .

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Marrying Up

Chapter One

Torture

His tongue was warm. Paris gasped, then arched her back as Tyson moved gently down one thigh and then up the other. It felt so good it was like torture. Tyson knew how to please her and, right then, she wanted to enjoy him for that. She would worry about the rest later, the baggagethat came with being intimate with someone this way.

A moan escaped her lips, and her legs tensed. Paris gripped his head with both hands, her fingers digging into his chin-length locks. She twisted them between her fingers, holding on as if they were a lifeline that could keepher head above water and save her from drowning.

Paris and Tyson were in the hotel where they always met, downtown, overlooking the lake. She had told herself that the last time was the last time, but Tyson and his charms had once again proven too much for her to resist. It was a historic place, the kind with no thirteenth floor and hidden passageways rumored to have been built by Lyndon Johnson. Antique-like furnishings were crammed into an old-fashioned room retrofitted with modern fixtures where gas lamps used to be. Marble and mahogany meet glassand chrome.

A vanilla-scented candle was burning. His favorite. The gentle scent mixed with that of their lovemaking. Paris's clothes were carefully folded across the back of the desk chair, his strewn across the floor. Tyson didn't speak, but his actions conveyed his message loud and clear. He had no intention of letting her get out of that hotel room without a struggle. He was trying to do everything she liked, extra well, to try and convince her to stay. Where did you say you had to go? He exhaled and looked up at her, hisalmond-shaped brown eyes full of questions.

Paris answered his questioning eyes. "I have to meet my mother. I promised I would be there." His unspoken offer was tempting, but Paris knew how important it was to her mother that she show up.

They never went to his place. It was too small and very guylike. Sparse. And the bed was too hard for Paris. It made her parts fall asleep.

She never invited him to her place either. That would be too intimate, and Paris had no desire to get that close. It was her unspoken rule.

"Uh-huh." Tyson buried his head between her legs again, and Paris squirmed, pushing him away.

They tussled for a minute until Paris managed to turn over onto her stomach. Tyson lay on top of her, his head on her behind. He reached up and cupped her breasts from underneath.

"Paris?"

"Hmmm."

"You sure you can't stay? I could make it worthwhile."

Paris chuckled. She knew his deep brown eyes would have that look in them again, the one that said it was time for her to go. Her watch was on the Victorian nightstand by the bed. She reached over and picked it up to check the hour for the fourth time.

"I'm sure you will, but if I stay here any longer, you know that Alexis will be calling me. I don't want to explain our business to her either. You know how she can be."

"That cousin of yours is far too nosey," Tyson said. He had listened to many of the things Paris had told him about Alexis over the past few months. He wasn't sure he would like her if he ever met her.

"She is also my best friend. And since you haven't met her, that means you do not have license to talk about her." Paris regretted her words the minute she said them but was unable to help her defensiveness. Alexis was almost perfect, at least in her family's eyes. She was almost married tothe right kind of man from the right kind of place. That made her one step ahead of Paris.

Paris pushed a little, and Tyson rolled off her, sliding onto the bed. Paris let her eyes roam over him, taking him in as he sat up. He was beautiful.

He ran his hand through his hair, training his locks back into place. His hair fell down, framing his squarish jaw as perfectly as a professional job on a museum print.

His chest was covered with light hair and chiseled. She liked that, too. The little silver ankh he wore around his neck on a black string found its place and rested perfectly in the middle of his chest.

"You could stay if you wanted to, you know. Or I could go with you." He paused. "Better yet, you could come back. I rented this room until tomorrow." His sly smile hinted at his mischievous thoughts.

She shook her head. "You know how it is. No can do."

They'd had the same understanding for a while. They had made the segue from casual friends to lovers a little more than four months ago. Paris liked him, but the relationship had gone as far as it was going to go.

She planted a big sloppy kiss square on his mouth and ran her hand over his chest. He was sexy and rugged. Too bad he can't get it together otherwise, she thought.

"Hair is looking good."

"You should lock, too. It liberates you."

Paris shook her head. "Can't. Too straight. Who says I need to be liberated anyway?" She flipped her head, and her straight hair moved obligingly.

He reached up and touched it. "There is no such thing as too straight. Everyone can lock. You got enough African in you."

He liked to refer to her African-ness, the part of her she had been taught to ignore all of her life. She rolled her eyes. "You are good at changing the subject."

Tyson obviously knew her well enough to be onto her ways. He didn't take her bait. He wanted to make her uncomfortable and was not ready to give up that easily ...

Excerpted from Marrying Up by Nina Foxx
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