Читать книгу Modern Romance December 2016 Books 5-8 - Annie West - Страница 17

CHAPTER FIVE

FORTY THOUSAND FEET above the South China Sea and wanting to break the hours of interminable silence, Sophie turned towards the brooding figure who was seated beside her. ‘I’m surprised you don’t have bodyguards.’

Rafe looked up from the papers he’d been reading, his eyes narrowing, clearly irritated at having been interrupted from the work which had consumed his attention since they’d first boarded the aircraft. ‘Why the hell should I have bodyguards?’

Sophie waved a hand to encompass all the luxurious fittings of his private jet. ‘Why not? You travel like a royal. You’re rich as Croesus. Aren’t you worried that somebody might kidnap you and spirit away your vast fortune?’

His grey eyes glittered. ‘I have a black belt in both karate and judo,’ he said silkily. ‘I’d like to see somebody try.’

Sophie absorbed this as he picked up his papers again and she stared at the white clouds billowing outside the aircraft window. Her comparison hadn’t been made lightly. Their journey from Poonbarra had been so smooth that at times it had felt like being part of a royal convoy again. Yet she’d been sad at having to say goodbye to the Outback station where everyone had just accepted her as she was. To them she was an ordinary woman who’d learnt how to cook and mop floors and use a dishwasher. She had been dreading the moment of confessing her identity to Andy and the other men, knowing it would change everything. But she had been wrong, because they’d acted as if it meant nothing. They’d gruffly told her they wished she weren’t going. And hadn’t tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the car had left Poonbarra for ever, her feeling as though she was leaving behind a peace and a freedom she would never know again?

They had flown in a light aircraft to Brisbane airport, where Rafe’s private jet had been fuelled and ready to go. He’d made her telephone her brother and tell him that she was flying to England under his protection. And although Myron had been angry, his relief at being able to speak to her after so long, and knowing she was ‘in safe hands’, was almost palpable. And now they were flying towards the UK and it felt unreal. It was unreal. She was going to England to meet the family of a man who clearly couldn’t stand her—and she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do afterwards.

Her heart sank. Everything had been fine until he’d turned up at Poonbarra. She’d thought she’d have another couple of months before she needed to make any major decisions about her future, but Rafe Carter’s seduction had changed everything. Should she ask him about flights to Isolaverde once the ceremony was over? She stared at his proud, carved profile. Maybe not right now. Why not prepare herself for what lay ahead instead?

She cleared her throat. ‘Maybe you should tell me something about your family.’

He looked up, his face not particularly friendly. ‘Like what?’

‘A few facts would help. Who’s going to be at this Christening. That sort of thing.’

Answering questions of a personal nature was an activity Rafe habitually avoided and, besides, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to Sophie. He was still angry with her. For her deception. For not telling him who she really was. For coming onto him and failing to tell him she was a virgin.

Yet his body was refusing to listen to the disapproval which was clouding his mind. The single thought which consumed him was how much he wanted to have sex with her by daylight—with the sun streaming in through the cabin windows and illuminating her creamy body. His throat thickened as he imagined her arching that elegant back, those long legs stiffening helplessly as she came. He didn’t usually bring lovers on long-haul flights because being trapped in an enclosed space for so many hours meant the possibility of boredom was very high. But for once there had been no other option.

Pushing his erotic thoughts away, he met the questioning look in her eyes.

‘It’s my nephew’s christening,’ he said shortly.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘So is it your brother or your sister who is the parent?’

‘My half-brother. Or at least, one of them.’

‘Right. And how many half-brothers do you have?’

With a barely stifled sigh of irritation, Rafe put down his pen. ‘Three. Or at least, three that I know about,’ he answered. ‘And a half-sister named Amber.’

‘Gosh. That’s a lot. How come?’

His instinct was to snap back: how do you think? Until he remembered that her privileged life had probably protected her from the worst excesses of relationships—of children born in and out of wedlock and illicit affairs which wrecked marriages.

‘Because my father liked women. Ambrose Carter was something of a darling in his day, which is probably why he married four times and why I have so many half-siblings. There’s Amber, Chase, Gianluca and Nick—he’s the one who’s just had the baby—or rather, his wife, Molly, did.’

‘Are they’re all going to be there?’

‘Everyone except Chase. He’s in South America, halfway up the Amazon. Molly’s parents are both dead.’ There was a split-second pause. ‘But her twin sister is going to be there. Like I said, it’s complicated.’

‘Okay.’ She shifted her gaze to his. ‘And does your father—Ambrose—have a good relationship with his children?’

‘As much as each mother would allow.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘Because a child’s welfare is primarily down to the mother, isn’t it? And the kind of woman who marries a man for the size of his wallet probably isn’t going to be the kind of person who puts her child’s welfare first.’

Sophie hesitated. ‘And was...was your mother that kind of woman?’

‘You could say that.’ His laugh was bitter. ‘My mother was the kind of woman for whom the term gold-digger might have been invented.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why be sorry? It’s the hand I was dealt and I learned how to play it.’

‘And was it...tough?’

For a moment he thought about ignoring her probing questions, until he reminded himself that he was over this stuff. He shrugged. ‘A lot of her behaviour was thoughtless and I was left alone to fend for myself a lot of the time. But something like that is probably outside your level of understanding.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Presumably you’ve always been protected from the more sordid side of life.’

Sophie hated his assumptions—the same ones people always made. As if the material wealth which accompanied a royal title made you immune to the pain and hurt every human being had to contend with. As if you lacked the imagination to realise what most people’s lives were like. ‘Yes, I’m just a poor little rich girl,’ she said. ‘Scratch my skin and I’ll bleed oil.’

‘If you’re trying to play on my sympathy, Sophie, don’t bother.’

‘I doubt whether you’ve a sympathetic bone in your body,’ she bit back. ‘ People think it’s so easy, being a princess. That you swan around all day wearing a diamond crown.’

‘Poor you,’ he mocked.

She glared at him, wanting to make him see the reality, wanting him to understand instead of being so damned judgemental. ‘Try to imagine never being able to go anywhere without people knowing who you are. Everyone listening to what you say so that they can tell their friends—or a reporter—what they thought you meant. Imagine people watching every move you make. Analysing you. Assessing you. Obsessing about your weight. Working out where you bought your outfit and how much it cost and deciding that colour makes you look washed out, or plain, or fat—and then writing a whole article about it. Imagine everyone knowing that you’d been saving yourself for your fairy-tale prince, only he decided at the last moment to have his fairy tale with someone else and their new baby.’

‘I can imagine that must have been difficult,’ he conceded.

She stared down at her bare hands, before lifting her gaze to his once more. ‘Imagine suddenly realising that the sweet woman you bought a pair of earrings from is now using your photograph on her website to promote her brand.’

‘Oh, I can imagine that pretty well,’ he said, and suddenly his voice hardened. ‘Somebody who wasn’t everything they seemed. Ring any bells, Sophie?’

Sophie met the accusation which burned like hot steel from his eyes. ‘I thought I explained why I didn’t tell you who I am.’

‘I’m just amazed that I fell for your story,’ he said. ‘Amazed I should have thought you were different from any other woman with your lies and subterfuge. And you aren’t, are you? So maybe it’s time I started treating you in the way I know women like to be treated...’

She didn’t realise what he was going to do until he pulled her across the seat onto his lap and her eyes widened as she felt the hard throb of his erection pushing against his trousers.

‘Rafe?’ she breathed uncertainly.

‘Do you like that?’ he taunted.

She wanted to say no, but she couldn’t—even though she didn’t like the look in his eyes. But the hot rush of desire flooding through her body was powerful enough to make her forget about his anger and his mockery. All she wanted was to press her groin against that throbbing ridge of hardness which had brought her so much pleasure last night.

‘Rafe,’ she said again, her voice sounding thick as she struggled to get the word out.

‘Shh. You don’t have to say anything.’

Deliberately, he tilted his pelvis, so that she could feel his erection pushing against where she was hot and wet and aching, and Sophie’s throat dried. It was scary and exciting all at the same time. It was making her aroused, but, more importantly, it was blotting out the pain of thinking about Luc’s new baby, which she wasn’t over—no matter how hard she tried to be.

‘I’m still very angry with you, Sophie,’ he said softly. ‘But that doesn’t stop me wanting you. Can you feel how much I want you?’

She swallowed. ‘I...yes...’

‘And you want me, don’t you? Even though you’re trying very hard not to?’

Hating him for his perception, Sophie found herself powerless to push him away. ‘Yes,’ she said, between gritted teeth.

‘Then we’d better do something about it, hadn’t we? And very quickly, I think.’

Now the excitement was unbearable. Sophie felt honeyed heat rush to her groin—but social conditioning went deep as he spread his fingers over one aching breast. ‘The...crew?’

‘Don’t worry your pretty head about the crew. They’re trained never to disturb me unless I call them. Satisfied?’ he questioned, rucking up her T-shirt to reveal the cotton bra she’d bought at the discount store, and Sophie gasped as he cleaved his thumb across a nipple which was straining frantically against the thin material. ‘Because I’m sure as hell not.’

Insecurity made her say it, even as he impatiently tugged the T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. ‘I expect you do this kind of thing all the time? Make love on planes?’

His hand stopped from where it had been just about to undo her bra and his eyes darkened with an emotion which went deeper than desire. ‘Don’t ask,’ he said. ‘And don’t project, because if you can’t enjoy this for what it is, then it isn’t going to happen. Understand?’

And suddenly she couldn’t bear not to do it. Who cared how many women had come before her, or how many would inevitably follow? Why couldn’t she just live in the moment and take what he was offering? And what he was offering was sex. Amazing and beautiful sex for the second time in her life. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’

He didn’t say anything more, just reached down to unfasten the button of her jeans before sliding the zip down and dipping his hand beneath the elasticated edge of her panties. His middle finger tangled luxuriously in the soft fuzz of hair there, before beginning to stroke rhythmically at her slick, wet flesh and she couldn’t stop the small yelp of pleasure she gave.

‘No!’ Frustratingly, his fingers stilled. ‘I choose my staff for their discretion, but I have no desire to provide a floorshow by having you moan out loud when I make you come,’ he ground out. ‘So either you enjoy this in silence or we’re both going to have a very frustrating journey ahead of us.’

His clipped words were so outrageous that Sophie was tempted to tell him to forget the whole idea, but the sensation of his fingers against her aroused flesh was much more tempting and suddenly the last of her pride shrivelled beneath the heat of her desire. Did he sense her capitulation? Was that why, with a sensual dexterity which dazed her in every which way, he laid her down on the floor of the aircraft and tugged her panties and jeans down to her ankles. She waited for him to tug them off but he shook his head and answered her unspoken question.

‘No. The jeans stay. You’ll be able to spread your legs for me, but only so far. It’ll make you feel...wicked, which is exactly how I’m feeling right now.’ He unzipped himself and pulled his trousers down, his erection springing free as he lowered himself down to position himself between her restricted legs. ‘You need to try dirty sex—’

‘D-dirty sex?’

‘Mmm.’ He stroked on a condom. ‘Surreptitious, partially clothed and very...’ he thrust into her suddenly ‘...urgent.’

He powered deep inside her and Sophie gripped onto his broad shoulders as her body began to accommodate his stroke. He was still almost fully clothed, she thought, yet somehow that only added to her mounting excitement. Some of what she was experiencing was the same as last night—that blood-racing exhilaration and rapid acceleration of pleasure—but some of it was radically different. And he was right. The fact that her jeans were restricting her movements only added to the excitement of what was happening. She was his prisoner, she thought weakly. His willing prisoner.

She lifted her face, her lips seeking his, eager for a kiss which would blot out the urgent cries which wanted to bubble up from her throat. But there were other reasons for wanting to kiss him. She liked the way his lips made her feel. Because even if it was nothing but an illusion, they made her feel cosseted. But it was too late for kisses because suddenly her body began to spasm and just as suddenly he began to buck inside her with a ragged groan of his own, as he made those last few, final thrusts.

She waited for him to say something which might imply an ending of the undoubted hostilities which were still shimmering between them. Something to acknowledge that what had just happened had been beyond fantastic. Again. He’d told her she didn’t have the experience to know that the sex was amazing, but she could just about work out for herself that it was.

‘Better go and freshen up,’ he suggested softly, giving her bare bottom a light tap. ‘And then I’ll ring for some coffee.

Her heart contracted with disappointment at his careless reaction but she made sure she didn’t show it, silently picking up her rucksack and carrying it to one of the bathrooms at the far end of the cabin. She emerged some time later, with her hair neatly brushed and a clean T-shirt tucked into her jeans, but the cursory gaze he flicked over her wasn’t particularly warm.

‘You’re going to need something to wear for the ceremony,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything suitable in your rucksack?’

‘Not a thing, I’m afraid.’ She forced a smile, wishing he would at least acknowledge the intimacy they’d just shared, instead of staring at her so coolly. ‘I left all my silks and satins behind at the palace.’

Rafe nodded as he reached for the phone. ‘In that case I’ll contact one of my assistants and arrange to have some suitable clothes brought to the aircraft when we land.’ He paused. ‘And in the meantime, perhaps you could find something to amuse yourself with for the rest of the flight. Something which doesn’t involve looking at me alluringly with those big blue eyes and asking personal questions. Because I have work to do and you’re distracting me, Sophie.’