Читать книгу At His Service: Millionaire's Mistress - Кэтти Уильямс, Kelly Hunter, Cathy Williams - Страница 14

DIDI’S breath snagged mid-chest. She gulped in air. ‘I said … we … both needed one another …’ Oh, cripes … with Cameron’s hands covering hers covering her breasts and his gaze hotter than hell’s kitchen that did not come out sounding the way she’d intended. ‘I mean I think we need to discuss … I nee—have to explain …’

Her words—indeed her entire brain function—seized up as he lowered his head again. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you shut up for a bit?’

His breath feathered across her brow, her cheeks. She could smell fresh winter rain on his clothes, the foresty scent of his aftershave. As if her head were being manipulated by some invisible puppeteer, it tilted up, her lips opening of their own volition. Waiting, trembling …

She had a glimpse of eyes, dark and bright with purpose, a frown of concentration—or was it something else?—between heavily lowered brows before his mouth met hers once more and her eyes slid shut.

This time his tongue didn’t linger around the edges of her mouth, it delved inside, seeking, exploring, finding hers. His flavour filled her mouth. She already knew how he tasted but this was more. Now she experienced, not only the flavours of peppermint and coffee, but the exhilarating essence of desire that slid like sun-warmed silk over her tongue, her teeth, inside her lower lip.

His hands left hers to better hold her head, to whisk his fingers over cheeks and jaw, leaving her own hands free to touch his shirt, absorb its crisp feel against her fingertips. To feel the steel muscles of his stomach tighten as she flattened then curled her hands against him.

To feel the quickened tempo of his breathing, his chest expanding as his hands left her head to slide over her shoulders, the shh as they shimmied over the towel, warmth from his palms stroking her, lower, lower. Her limbs turned to jelly, her brain liquefied and she felt herself dissolving against him. Total meltdown …

He lifted his head the tiniest bit. ‘Do you need me, Didi?’ he murmured, seduction oozing from the words.

She heard herself murmur something unintelligible back. Was that her voice all deep and drowsy and detached, as if it came from somewhere outside her?

‘Do you need me to touch you …’ she jolted, her hands whipping back to hug the security of her towel when she felt his fingers curl under the hem to touch the bare flesh of her thigh ‘… here?’

Her eyes snapped open to find his eyes focused on hers. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Holding her breath as his hand glided towards her inner thigh, calluses at the base of his fingers creating a delicious friction and sending shivers spiralling from his touch. Moisture swamped her most feminine place.

His hand changed direction, sliding slowly, inexorably towards the source of that moisture, every second an exercise in torture, every inch a scandalous pleasure. She sucked in a breath but there wasn’t any oxygen, only hot airless space filled with his scent. Then her breathing stalled completely as his thumb found the source of her heat, the pinnacle of her pleasure.

‘Or maybe you need me here …’ He prodded the swollen knot of need with gentle pressure.

‘Ah-h-h …’ Oh, yes, right … there. She shuddered on the edge of the world, unable to look away from his eyes glittering in the muted light from the bathroom. His facial muscles bunched, his lips firmed, then curved ever so slightly in the knowledge that he’d taken her to the brink of no return with a single flick of his wrist.

It was humiliating to realise that at this moment the man had total and absolute control over her mind and body. But somewhere in her semi-coherent brain a fragment of sanity still clung. ‘No,’ she whispered, knowing her eyes made a liar of her. Knowing the engorged knot throbbing wantonly against him made a mockery of her.

He wiggled his thumb. ‘Your body’s sending me an entirely different message.’

‘My body doesn’t want to listen to reason,’ she said over a parched throat. ‘I don’t even like you.’

A brief hesitation, then his lips stretched into a smile, and she realised he didn’t care one way or the other. ‘Since when did that stop two people from enjoying such a mutually satisfying experience?’ he said reasonably, continuing to stroke her moisture as she rocked helplessly against him.

She swallowed. Yeah, since when? Over his shoulder she saw a gibbous moon sail silently from behind a high-rise, bathing the room in silver light.

‘Didi.’ He removed his clever hand to tilt her face to his, thumbs rasping over her cheeks, eyes dark with intensity. ‘I played along with you, didn’t I? Don’t you want to convince Veronica I’m the real deal?’

‘I think we managed that a few moments ago.’

‘Ah, but tomorrow morning she’ll be expecting to see the afterglow in your smile.’

‘Afterglow …?’ Her breath caught as every internal organ leaped up and changed places.

‘I promise,’ he said. Low and smooth and sexy. Confident. Arrogant, even.

And she had no doubt he could deliver. She shuddered even as she willed those talented fingers to find their way beneath her towel again.

The hot tub of desire in his eyes swirled and swallowed her up. ‘Why don’t we find out what this thing between us is all about?’

‘This thing?’ This angsty, itchy thing that hadn’t given her a decent night’s sleep since she’d met him? ‘The thing about “things” is they get complicated and someone ends up getting hurt.’

‘It doesn’t have to be complicated.’ He paused. ‘Unless there’s someone else?’

She glared at him, her back stiffening, shoulders tensing as Jay’s image flitted through her mind. ‘Would I be standing here naked with you if there was?’ Sweet heaven, naked with Cameron Black.

He must have read her wistful expression because he looked into her eyes and said, ‘Who was he, Didi?’

‘Just a guy I … thought I loved.’

‘He hurt you. He’s scum.’

She bit her lip. ‘I’m over him. And I don’t want to talk about him.’

She tried to pull away but he held her fast. ‘Neither do I.’ He tightened his fingers on her cheeks. ‘As I said, we can keep this simple. This time we know up front how it’s going to be—no one gets hurt.’

She shook her head. ‘We have a working relationship—’

His finger on her lips stopped her. ‘Work’s for tomorrow. So stop analysing, stop talking and for Pete’s sakes relax …’

The knot in the towel came undone at his touch. Cool air breathed over her body, a stunning contrast to the heat emanating from his gaze as the towel slid to the floor. He took in every curve, from the hollow at the base of her neck where her pulse beat like horses’ hooves, the fullness of her breasts swelling beneath his scrutiny, her waist, the flare of her hips.

‘You’re a work of art yourself, Ms O’Flanagan.’ His voice was smooth and sensual and Didi could imagine he used that self-assured tone with women all the time. But there was something in his eyes reflected in the moon’s silver light that hinted at that innate vulnerability she’d seen that night in the ladies’ loo before he blinked it away.

He reached out. One fingertip brushed against her neck, over her left breast to draw a circle around the stiff nipple. Another.

Oh-h-h. Her already aroused body hummed with unbearable tension. Seeing him clothed while she stood as naked as a Greek statue was unspeakably erotic. A few more seconds of this protracted torment and she was likely to snap.

‘Relax?’ She managed, barely, to get the word out. ‘Right now this work of art is fraying at the edges.’

His hitherto solemn expression transformed to a grin. ‘That so?’

‘Damn right.’ Don’t think about whether this is a wise decision. Because even if she did, she didn’t think she could pull back. Long-suppressed need asserted itself. She took a step closer so that their bodies were a shiver away and poked his chest. ‘In fact it’s in danger of disintegrating …’ Her fingertip discovered a shirt button, found the edge of his shirt, wiggled through to find hard, hairy skin. ‘It needs serious attention. Now.’

She emphasised her demand by closing the gap and bumping her body against his. To explore the sensation of cotton against her breasts, the ridge of belt buckle, the coarser weave of fine skin-warmed wool along her thighs.

To spread her prickling palm against the front of his trousers and soothe the itch along every inch of his hard, hot length.

It didn’t soothe—neither her nor him. The itch was a virus spreading through her body, as powerful as it was contagious. His sexy grin vanished, he jerked beneath her hand and a sound, something between a growl and a groan, erupted from his chest.

Then she was being swept up in the hard strength of his powerful arms and deposited in the middle of his bed. She lay, breathless and waiting as she watched him yank the shirt over his head, buttons popping.

He toed off his shoes. Undid his belt. His zipper being lowered was the only sound in the room, then his trousers pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them. Naked with that magnificent erection jutting at her, he transformed from urban sophisticate to primeval man.

She was in awe. Aroused, yes. Apprehensive, definitely. But, watching his long thighs with their dusting of dark masculine hair flex as he climbed onto the bed with her, she was mostly in awe.

He straddled her, gripped her wrists, holding them above her head, and looked into her eyes. ‘Leave your arms there,’ he instructed. The only body parts touching were their hands and his knees against her hips. Then he slid to the bottom of the bed and pushed her thighs apart.

And the world ceased to exist.

Only the feel of his tongue, moist and warm, leaving a damp trail that cooled in the air as he worked his way from instep to ankle, to the inside of her knee. Higher …

She might have come right there, right then, but he only skimmed the place yearning for him most and moved on to suckle each of her nipples gently with teeth and lips and tongue, teasing them into stiff, aching peaks. And all the while his hands were moving, touching, exploring, fingers gliding up the inside of her arms to twine once more with hers.

That simple connection, the joining of hands as he looked into her eyes … She closed her eyes to block him out. No one had ever made love to her like this before. No one had ever made her feel this way before. But uncomplicated sex was all she was looking for, she told herself, and so was he—they’d both just admitted as much.

So she concentrated on his warm masculine scent, the friction of hot skin on hot skin. Every movement, every murmur, every breath, invoked a different sensation, a new experience in delight. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her, but the grip of his fingers held her fast.

Cameron didn’t want to loosen his grip, even when he felt her resistance. ‘Not yet,’ he whispered against her ear.

He had her right where he wanted her, with her hard little nipples prodding his chest, her heart beating out the wild rhythm echoing his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind it mystified him that someone as individual as Didi, as opposed to him as north and south, should match him in any way.

She was all compact curves and sinuous limbs. Fire roared through his veins, hammered in his groin. The urge to plunge into her wet heat without further preliminaries and satisfy himself slammed into him like a fully loaded cement truck on steroids. But he’d barely started. He wanted to see the passion build in those silver eyes, to watch her come undone beneath him—and he had to unlock their hands to do that.

He banked the fire, let it smoulder through his system. Slow. Freeing her to do her own exploring while taking her with him on his leisurely tour of discovery. As he brushed his lips over skin as smooth as satin—a cheek, a shoulder, the softer flesh of her neck, each with their own unique fragrance and texture.

She might be somewhat naïve but she wasn’t shy—a surprise given her innocent pixie-like charms. He hadn’t counted on the ability of those small deft fingers to fan the embers into a red-hot need with such swiftness.

Another surprise. He didn’t need women, he enjoyed them. And when the enjoyment faded, so did the relationship. Only Kat had managed to inveigle her way beneath his defences. His hand tightened a little over Didi’s breast. Never again.

What had happened with her ex-lover? he wondered, watching her eyes turn to pewter as her fingernails scraped over his nipples, a tease of pleasure, a hint of pain. He slammed the thought to the back of his mind. But he couldn’t shake the uneasy, unfamiliar feeling it evoked. Jealousy? Hardly.

His fingers tightened again on her flesh and an overwhelming need to possess her now seized him, tossed him high where there was only heat and need and greed. Forget slow—skimming the dip of her belly, he plunged three fingers into her tight wet centre.

She arched into his hand, writhed against him, eyes glassy and unfocused. ‘Yes!’

At her urgent demand, he levered himself up, swung a thigh over her hips, and, taking his weight on his hands, he looked down at the woman beneath him. My God, she looked beautiful in passion. ‘Protection.’

Her mouth rounded into a soft ‘Oh …’ and she stared at him, her gaze sharpening. ‘Yes-s-s …’ She trailed off and their fast unsteady breaths mingling in the tight space between them were the only sounds in the room’s silence. Her eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t …’

‘Of course I have.’ He shifted slightly, pulled open a drawer in his night-stand and withdrew a foil packet.

‘Of course you have.’ A crisp edge to her tone—and her eyes—as she watched him rip the foil, roll on the condom. As if she thought he got laid by a different woman every night of the week.

‘Didi.’ Taking his weight on his hands again he positioned himself above her. ‘It’s you and me. Only you and me.’ Terms and conditions yet to be negotiated.

He waited a beat, every muscle in his arms quivering, every pulse-point hammering. Saw her understanding and acknowledgement, then, with a groan that seemed to come from some uncharted place inside him, he entered her in one long deep thrust.

She was different, was all he could think as he began to move inside her. Hotter, faster, it swept him up until everything faded except her body clinging to his, the fragrance of her fresh-soaped skin, her wet tightness surrounding him, accepting him. Claiming him.

He felt her teeter on the brink then shudder, her inner muscles drawing him deeper, further, harder until he dived over the edge with her.

Hours later, as dawn painted the clouds purple and gold behind the skyscrapers, Cam watched Didi’s gold lashes rest on her cheeks. Not only was she beautiful in passion, he thought, but also in repose. If he could take the image from his brain, scan it into his computer and have a master painter recreate it, it could hang in the most prestigious art galleries of the world.

He watched her sigh, then snuggle into the quilt, and a small smile touched her lips, as if she was dreaming happy dreams. At some point they’d climbed beneath the covers. The room was warm, he couldn’t resist—he lowered the quilt so that they were both naked from the waist up and he could get a look at her breasts dusted in the new day’s light. He couldn’t resist some more and blew on them gently, making them pebble as he watched.

His sex stirred. He wanted her again, with dawn’s light smattering pink into her silver eyes. She was the most responsive woman he’d ever had. Sure he’d had women who knew a few good tricks in the bedroom, but they’d performed them with the polished ease of practice. What Didi lacked in polish she more than made up for in a delightfully naïve spontaneity.

A glance at his bedside clock warned him it wasn’t going to happen now. He was due at the office for an early meeting and before he left he wanted answers. She’d promised them this morning. Then they were going to have a discussion about what they expected from this new direction their relationship had taken. And it all had to happen before they could leave this room because her sister would be waiting.

He leaned over, brushing his lips over hers. ‘Wake up, Didi.’

Didi drifted on a tide of contentment. As she surfaced contentment turned to wariness as a deep voice and memories of last night dragged her awake. She opened her eyes.

Cameron Black.

She’d spent the night in his bed.

And didn’t her body know it? she thought as vaguely pleasant aches and twinges in various places made themselves known.

‘Good morning,’ he murmured.

Had she ever woken to a more mouth-watering sight than that of Cameron sporting nothing but morning stubble and a smile? ‘Good morning.’

Morning. The feeling of well-being faded and tension grabbed at her belly. Their little whatever-it-was was over and now she’d have to live under his roof—and his gaze—and endure the consequences of what they’d done. And there was still the problem of Veronica.

Suddenly all too aware of her nakedness, she dragged the quilt up to her chin, then, shoving a hand through what must look like porcupine hair, she sat up. ‘What time is it?’

‘Six-thirty.’ He played with the ends of her bed hair and there was a twinkle in his eye when he said, ‘We have a few things to discuss, Fairybread.’

‘I was going to get to that. Fairy bread?’

‘You know, buttered and covered in sprinkles and cut into tri—’

‘I know what it is—what I don’t know is why you called me that.’

‘Because it’s pretty—’ he kissed her nose ‘—it tastes sweet—’ he moved lower to nuzzle her neck ‘—and it was the best I could think of at short notice. We need to get our story straight before we face the dragon lady.’

She saw his amusement sober as he shifted away creating a space between them, but her mouth was dry and she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘Any chance of a coffee?’

‘No. For all we know, your sister could be prowling the apartment looking for evidence to put me away.’

‘More like she wants to catch me out,’ Didi said. ‘She knows this isn’t real.’

His brows rose and something intimate crossed his expression. ‘After that performance last night?’

Her cheeks heated. That was just it—it was only a performance. As for the rest … how he’d taken her to heights she’d never been … she couldn’t think about that now.

‘Why would she want to catch you out, Didi?’ he asked quietly.

‘My family …’She steepled her hands at her lips. She wished she could put on a robe, anything to cover her vulnerability, but she couldn’t bring herself to climb out of bed naked. ‘My parents are … well off, my older sister’s married to a …’ pompous ass ‘… wealthy owner of a string of luxury yachts.

‘I never fitted in. You’ve seen my sister—tall, elegant, poised, sophisticated. Like my parents. They despaired of me right from the start. They wanted me to take piano lessons and study multiple languages. I wanted to use Mum’s silk brocade curtains to make clothes, learn origami and study art.

‘When I finished school I spent a couple of years overseas. But when I came back my parents said if I didn’t go to uni I was on my own. So I found a boarding house on the cheap side of the city and got a job in a café. I took casual employment for the next couple of years, including stocking supermarket shelves and kitchen hand.’

‘And somewhere along the way you met this guy who messed you up.’

She sighed, staring at the ceiling. ‘I thought he was serious. Turned out there was someone else—that there’d always been that someone else. Which is why I don’t want a serious relationship ever again.’

There had been too many painful memories of her broken heart and humiliation in Sydney. ‘I decided to come to Melbourne to make a fresh start, so I told my parents I’d got a job in an exclusive gallery with a luxury apartment to boot.’

His chest hair rasped against her shoulder as he slid an arm around her in wordless support.

‘She’s just come to gloat. I couldn’t let her. I just couldn’t. Not when I saw an opportunity. I’m sorry I went behind your back.’

He dropped a kiss on her head. ‘I’ve got a strong back.

How do you want to play it today?’

‘Keep up the charade that we’re … involved—’

‘Lovers,’ he reminded her. ‘And it’s not a charade. Not any more.’

‘Until she leaves this afternoon,’ she finished, her cheeks heating as her body reminded her in all kinds of ways of the fact that, no, it hadn’t been a charade.

She felt him shift again, then he tilted her face to his. In his eyes something flickered and sent her pulse scrambling. ‘Didi, how do you feel about extending this arrangement a little longer? Say, two and a half weeks?’

‘What do you mean?’ She tried to keep her voice even, her expression neutral.

But she knew what he meant and blood pounded through her veins. A ball of fire lodged behind her breastbone, shooting flares up and down the length of her body.

He wanted her, here. In this bed. And she didn’t need rocket science to work it out.

If she wanted, for two and a half weeks she could be Cameron Black’s live-in mistress.