Читать книгу A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle - Кэрол Мортимер, Catherine Spencer - Страница 12

GRACE took a deep breath as she stood on the terrace of Maksim’s Dartmoor estate, staring out at the snow-dusted fields. They’d left the London rain far behind. Here the moors were wide and haunted beneath the last rays of fading red sun. A thick white mist was blowing in from the sea.

Tears fell unheeded down Grace’s cold cheeks. The sound of her mother’s happy crying still echoed in her ears as she tucked her cell phone back into her bag.

She’d done it. She’d told her mother that she would save the house from foreclosure. Now Grace would make sure her family never worried about money again. She took another deep breath, grateful beyond words that she’d found her strength. That she’d found herself.

Thanks to Maksim.

Maksim, who’d treated Grace like a princess. She’d never have imagined that any man, let alone someone so handsome and powerful and rich beyond belief, would treat her that way.

Now Grace realized she should accept nothing less. She would never settle again.

She wanted the fairy tale.

She turned from the wide terrace overlooking the carefully tended classical garden and returned through the back door of his eighteenth-century country house. Maksim was waiting.

The inside of the house was every bit as Gothic and misty as the moors outside. Perhaps because the fifty rooms had no furniture—just white translucent curtains that seemed to move against the windows even when they were closed, twisting eerily in an invisible draft that no human skin could feel.

She’d called her mother outside on the terrace, where the cell phone reception was better, and where she could have privacy. She didn’t want Maksim to know how desperate she’d been for money. She didn’t want him to think of her as someone who needed saving.

She’d been proud to save herself.

She wanted Maksim as her equal. As her friend. As her…lover? She could barely move her lips to form the word, but there it was. Her secret.

She wanted him as her lover.

She wanted him for the fire he sparked inside her. For the way he’d somehow made her become the woman she’d always dreamed she could be. For the dreams suddenly coming true around her, like roses blooming full and red amid the breathless hush of winter.

Grace walked back through the empty salon. Painted cherubs looked down at her from the two-hundred-year-old painting soaring high above the enormous chandelier.

This house was beautiful, large…and lonely.

No one lived here, Maksim had told her. He’d bought it to use as his weekend escape, but he’d been too busy with work to bother visiting. The caretaker and his elderly wife, who resided in a nearby cottage, were the only ones who’d entered the estate for the last several years.

Until now.

The house seemed happy to finally have company, she thought, then nearly laughed at her own ridiculous thought. The house was happy?

What was it about houses that made people so batty?

Grace wiped her eyes as she approached the dining room. She felt like an idiot for crying because she was happy, but as foolish as it sounded, she felt as if her family—as long as they had their home—could survive and be strong.

She entered the dining room, then stopped in shock.

The room was dark, lit by the fire in the marble fireplace—and by dozens of white pillar candles of various sizes and shapes on the floor.

Maksim was lighting the last candle as she entered. He was darkly handsome, wearing a black shirt and black pants. He looked up at her, then straightened as the expression on his handsome face changed to concern.

“You were crying,” he demanded.

“Houses,” she sniffled, looking with wonder at all the candles. “They don’t make a family, except they do, don’t they?”

He frowned. “You’re not making any sense.”

Laughing through her tears, she shook her head. “I’m just happy. I needed money for my house. Thanks to the raise, I’ll have it.”

“Good,” he growled. “About time you moved out of Barrington’s basement.”

He’d misunderstood her, but she didn’t correct him. Moving out of Alan’s house was a good idea, and as soon as her family’s home was secure, that was exactly what she intended to do.

Blowing out the match and tossing it aside, he put his arms around her. “Now leave his office and come work for me.”

“Mixing business and pleasure would be a bad idea,” she whispered.

He stroked her chin. “I’ll buy you a house as your bonus. Any house you want.”

She looked around the eighteenth-century country mansion mischievously. “Really? Any house?”

He laughed, then he kissed her. His lips were warm and passionate. She felt his rough chin against her skin as his tongue stroked hers, luring her, intoxicating her. She pressed her body against his. When he pulled away, a little sigh escaped her.

“Let me take care of you, Grace,” he murmured against her skin.

“I don’t want you as my boss,” she managed to say. “And I don’t want your money. I just want you.”

His eyes flickered.

“And I take care of what is mine,” he growled.

She was his? The idea of his possession was like a warm blanket wrapped around her. He cared about her. Hadn’t he proved that last night when he’d let her go? He could have easily made her a one-night stand, but instead he was wooing her. Courting her in this romantic way.

And she was starting to care about him more than she wanted to admit.

He sat down on a thick white blanket on the floor near the fire. He patted a spot next to him. “Sit down,” he said, quirking a seductive eyebrow. When she did, he handed her a flute of champagne.

“Sure, you have champagne,” she teased. “But what about furniture?”

Reaching into the hamper, he held out a chocolate-covered strawberry. “I don’t need a bed for what I intend to do to you.”

She opened her mouth obediently, and he fed it to her. Then she took the next strawberry from the basket and returned the favor. As he suckled the rich chocolate from the lush fruit, he never took his gaze from hers.

She shivered. When she finished the flute of champagne, he took it from her without a word. Gently brushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck. She closed her eyes, shuddering with desire as he nibbled his way down her throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

And for no good reason, she felt like crying.

“Thank you,” she said, opening her eyes to look directly into his. “Thank you, Maksim.”

His dark eyes looked surprised. “For what?”

She looked past him, to the translucent white curtains and lead-paned windows overlooking the winter twilight. Shaking with the force of her emotion, she looked into his face.

“It has been a hard few years for my family.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know what to cling to anymore. Didn’t know what to believe in.”

Maksim looked at her steadily above the shimmering firelight. His eyes were deep smoke, his strong jawline shadowed with bristle. Surrounded by the flickering white candles on the floor around them, he looked like a dark king from a medieval fantasy.

“Now I do,” she said softly, then took a deep breath. “I can believe in you.”

He blinked. Hard.

Clenching his jaw, he looked away.

“I’m no saint,” he said in a low voice. “I told you from the beginning. I’m selfish. Ruthless.”

“You’re wonderful.” Reaching her hand up to his rough chin, she gently turned his cheek until he looked at her. “I’ve never met a man like you before. You claim to be selfish and even cruel, but you’re not.You’re a good man, Maksim.You don’t want anyone to know it.You think it’s weakness,” she said softly. “But I know your secret.”

She felt him tremble in her arms. He took a haggard breath, briefly closing his eyes before he looked down at her. His dark gaze shot through her soul. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Grace. So determined to see the best in people even if they don’t deserve it.”

“Because of you.” She licked her lips with sudden nervousness. “For the first time in my life, I feel brave. Brave enough to…”

Her words dwindled off as the expression in his dark gaze changed, became fired with heat. He stroked her cheek, looking down at her. Their bodies were so close. She could feel every inch of hard muscle, all the strength of his power. Their eyes were interlocked, and in that moment she could hardly say where her soul ended and his began.

“Grace…”

Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her. It was a kiss of anguish and longing and such tenderness that a little whimper escaped her.

Then a Russian curse exploded from his lips. He suddenly pushed away from her.

Rising to his feet, he paced in front of her, clawing his hands through his dark hair.

“What is it, Maksim?” she whispered, staring up at him from the blanket. It was the second time he’d pushed away from her. Was something wrong with her? Something about the way she kissed that he didn’t like?

Insecurity went through her. She thought of what Alan had told her, that Francesca only agreed to a fake engagement to make some other man jealous.

What if Maksim still loved Francesca?

“It’s all right,” Grace said miserably. “I understand. I’m not the one you want.”

When he spoke, his voice was low. Harsh. “You think I don’t want you?”

“It’s all right, truly.” She shook her head, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “I’m not remotely your type—”

Falling to his knees, he grabbed her upper arms so tightly that they bruised.

“Not want you? God! Not want you?” he exploded. “All I can think about is taking you, Grace. In the bed, against the wall, on the floor! Not want you? I want to spread your thighs beneath me. I want to caress and suckle and taste you until you explode and shake around me. I want you and every second I physically hold myself back from making love to you is killing me!”

His voice echoed against the soaring ceilings of the empty dining room as it slowly sank in. He wanted her.

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

He cradled her face in his hands. “Because you are the only sunlight I’ve known for years,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t extinguish that warmth in you, Grace. I can’t let the world go dark and cold without your light.”

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

Clenching his jaw, he nodded.

“Don’t be.” She took a deep breath. “After my bad experience with Alan, I’ve decided love is totally overrated.” She wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk her heart again. No matter how Maksim made her feel. She reached out to stroke his rough cheek, tracing her fingertips down his throat. “I promise you can’t hurt me….”

He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t,” he said harshly.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just kiss me.”

Their eyes locked.

With a groan, he surrendered.

His lips brushed hers, then bruised her. The rush that spread through her body was unimaginable. He yanked off her coat. He pulled off her oversize brown cardigan. His hands moved urgently over her plain white shirt, undoing the buttons rapidly, pulling the last one until it ripped. He dropped the shirt to the floor and looked at her in the firelight.

“I will try to go slow,” he whispered, visibly shaking as he touched her bare skin. “But the way you affect me, Grace…”

He kissed her again, reaching his strong arms around her, and her white cotton bra fell to the floor. Then suddenly his shirt was off, as well, and pants and skirt all disappeared in a frantic tumble.

And suddenly he was standing before her.

She’d never seen a naked man before. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the firelight. Candles were glowing all around them in the darkness of the empty mansion as she gently reached her hand to stroke him.

He shuddered, jumping beneath her touch.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

He gasped. Gathering her up in his arms, he laid her gently beneath him on the thick blanket in front of the fire.

She felt the hard muscles of his masculine body, so much bigger and stronger than she would ever be, and as he stroked her naked body in front of the fire she arched beneath his hands. He slowly kissed down her neck, between her breasts, down her belly.

Did he mean to…? He couldn’t possibly intend to…?

Moonlight traced the translucent, gauzy curtains. A sudden frozen rain rattled the windows as he pushed her thighs apart.

Lowering himself between her legs, he kissed the inside of her thighs, slowly licking higher and higher. Her cheeks burned and she tried to scoot out of his grasp, but he held her.

Spreading her wide, he tasted her.

Her nipples tightened so painfully that she gasped aloud. A thousand zinging sensations went up and down her body like lightning shooting out of her fingertips, her toes, her hair. Every nerve was on fire, and she twisted beneath him.

His tongue changed width and pressure, lapping her widely then swirling lightly against her aching nub. She felt dizzy. She was breathless as her body tightened in agony, wanting…wanting…

She cried out as the first burst rolled through her like thunder, starting low and deep inside her and sweeping through her body until she screamed. At that moment he moved his body and pushed himself inside her.

For an instant the pain was wrenching, but pleasure immediately rode behind it, making her shudder in rhythmic contractions around him. As he thrust inside her, she heard his low gasp. With agonizing slowness, he pulled back, then thrust again. She whimpered as increasing pleasure built inside her. Then her hips rose to meet his as he rode her.

He filled her completely. Slowly, steadily, deeper and deeper until he seemed to reach her very heart. The intensity was too much, pleasure so great it was almost pain.

She looked up and saw his hard masculine body over hers, his chest laced with dark hair and his muscles glistening with sweat in the firelight as he thrust inside her. His eyes were closed. She saw the agony on his face as he held himself back, forcing himself to move slowly. His handsome face was taut as he gasped with every slow, deep thrust, filling her to the hilt.

Maksim.

Her prince.

Her lover.

Her…love?

As if he’d heard her thought, he opened his eyes. Their gazes locked, their souls linked. And as he pushed inside her one last time, her world shattered into a million pieces. She shuddered and shook with him so deeply inside her, deeper, deeper, until she felt like she was being ripped in two by his brutally hard body. Her body arched with electricity as she exploded and gasped out his name.