Читать книгу One Night: Sensual Bargains: Nine Months to Redeem Him / A Deal with Benefits / After Hours with Her Ex - Maureen Child, Jennie Lucas - Страница 13
ОглавлениеHIS TONGUE SWIRLED hot and tight against my nipple, and I shivered beneath him. He nibbled with his teeth, drawing me more deeply into his mouth. My breast felt full and heavy and taut beneath his hands. I felt his hips grind against me.
Moving to my other breast, he squeezed the aching nipple, tasting the exquisitely sensitive nub with a flick of his tongue. He took it fully into his mouth, suckling me. And all the while, I felt the hard ridge of him between my legs.
Drawing back, he ran his hands down the sides of my body. I felt his heat and weight pressing me into the comforter and soft white pillows of the king-size bed. Unlike the soft stroke of his hands, his lips were hard, searing mine as he gave me a kiss that had no tenderness, only fierce demand.
His fingers tangled and twisted in my hair, tilting my head so he could plunder my mouth more deeply. All my memories, all my regrets, faded into the past as I dissolved into lust—so purely alive, so purely desired. I kissed him back with all the trembling pent-up desire of my whole life.
The bristles of dark hair that covered his chest and forearms and his legs—and everywhere between—brushed roughly against my naked skin. He held me with ruthless, raw masculine power.
I felt his enormous hardness between my legs, brushing against my lower belly as he moved against me. His tongue twirled around mine as he kissed me, flicking the edges of my bruised mouth before he moved lower, kissing along my throat, working his way downward. Pressing my breasts together with his hands, he thrust his tongue into the crevasse between them, and I gasped. His breath was hot against my skin as he continued to kiss downward...down my belly and then...
Abruptly, he moved up to suckle an earlobe. My nipples felt taut almost to the point of pain as I felt the brush of his muscled chest. He moved to the other earlobe, still moving his hips sensuously against mine.
“You’re—teasing me,” I panted accusingly. I felt his smile against my neck.
“Yes,” he murmured against my skin. “I intend to make you weep.”
Slowly, delicately, he lifted my palm. He kissed the hollow, then moved his head to suck each fingertip, one by one.
I’d never thought of fingers as erogenous zones but feeling the warmth of his mouth on each fingertip, the hot wet swirl of his tongue, the hard pull of his teeth, I shook beneath him. He repeated it on my other hand, delicately sucking on each finger until I was dizzy and gasping for breath.
Slowly, he moved down my body. I felt his hot lips and wet tongue against each taut, aching nipple. His tongue swirled, his hands cupping each full, heavy breast. With a gasp, I closed my eyes, gripping the comforter.
With deliberate, agonizing slowness, he again began to move down my naked body in a trail of hot kisses. My eyes flew open in the semidarkness of the bedroom when I felt his hands move low, over my hips, running lightly over my thighs. When he brushed feather-light over the hair between my legs, I audibly choked out a gasp.
He lifted his head up lazily. “Just wait.”
Lowering his head to my belly button, he flicked it with his tongue, inside it, inside me. But even as I shivered, his mouth moved down farther.
And farther.
Running his hands over the swell of my hips, he lowered his head between my legs. I felt the warmth of his breath right there and gave a sharp gasp, gripping his shoulders as my head tossed back.
But he made me wait. Made me want. He just kept moving down my legs, all the way, down to my feet. Parting my knees, he stroked the hollow of each foot, gently massaging it, causing a different kind of pleasure to spiral up my body. He pushed my legs farther apart. Stroking up my calves, he kissed the hollow beneath my knee. I gripped his shoulders, my eyes squeezed shut.
Using his shoulders, he roughly spread my thighs all the way apart.
My breathing was ragged as I gripped the comforter, trembling beneath him. I felt the heat of his breath on the tender skin of my inner thighs. Shivering, I tried to scoot away, though I wanted it so badly. He held me down firmly. His hands pressed my legs wide. He lowered his head with agonizing slowness, making me hold my breath until I thought I might faint—
I felt the hot, wet stroke of his tongue against my slick core, and gave a muffled cry. He paused, then licked me again, this time lapping me with the full width of his tongue. As my hips twisted helplessly beneath him, he held me down, forcing me to accept the pleasure as I nearly writhed with agonized need.
“Please,” I whimpered, hardly knowing what I was saying. Barely realizing that I was speaking at all. “Please.”
He gave a low laugh.
Pushing me wider, he worked me with his tongue, lapping me with the full width one moment, then using the tip to swirl tighter, ever tighter, against the hard aching center.
He slowly pushed a fingertip inside me. Then two. As I held my breath with pleasure, he stretched me wide with his thick fingers, while licking and suckling me with his tongue.
My body was on fire, my back arching from the bed. I’d lost the ability to take a full breath. I twisted beneath him, no longer trying to get away, merely to end the sweet torment. I’d never imagined it could be like this—pleasure to the point of pain— Higher—tighter—
I heard a building scream from a voice I’d never heard before, a voice I would only later realize was mine. My eyelids half closed as I left the earth and exploded past the sun.
As I gasped for breath, Edward moved quickly, bracing himself with his hands on either side of my hips. Positioning himself between my legs, he thrust himself inside me. His full length. All at once, thick and hard, ripping through me with jarring pain.
With a choked gasp, I pushed on his hips, wanting the pain to stop. He held still inside me. Then, as my grip on his hips loosened, he slowly began to move again. He pulled back, then slowly filled me again, giving me time to grow accustomed to the size of him. He filled me, stretching me inch by inch, slowly, sensuously; and the red haze of pain turned orange, then pink, then began to bubble and fizz like champagne. My body, which had been briefly limp on the bed, began to quicken again, to grow taut and tense with new desire.
Gripping my hips with his large hands tight enough to bruise, he thrust harder, until he was riding me rough and fast. My back again began to arch off the bed as he filled me deep and hard, stretching me to my limit, and beyond....
With a curse, he abruptly pulled out. I opened my eyes, nearly hyperventilating with need.
Looking at him in the slanted moonlight on his enormous bed, I saw he’d opened a condom and was peeling it over his huge length.
“I forgot,” he said grimly. “I never forget.”
My mouth suddenly went dry. “Then is it possible—”
“It’s fine,” he growled. Leaning forward, he kissed me passionately, until I forgot to worry about anything, until I forgot my own name. “Look at me.”
I did. Our eyes met as he pushed back inside me, inch by throbbing inch. I gasped. As the pleasure built, I started to close my eyes, to turn away.
“Look at me,” he repeated harshly.
Against my will, I obeyed. Our eyes locked as he thrust inside me. I felt every inch of him as he filled me, then increased the rhythm, shoving harder and faster as he gripped my hips. Tension coiled low and deep inside me, building tighter and tighter.
It was shockingly intimate to watch his face. Almost more intimate, even, than having him inside me. I felt the muscles of his backside grow tense beneath my hands, tense with the strain of holding himself back so tightly. Why did he hold back? Why?
Then I knew.
For me.
He thrust roughly into me, swaying my breasts as our sweaty naked bodies slid and clung together. He thrust again, so deep he impaled me. And something inside me suddenly spiraled out of control, rising from ash like a burst of fire. I was consumed by it, then exploded like a phoenix. I screamed, and heard his answering growl, as he clutched my hips tight enough to bruise. With a hoarse cry, he filled me with one last brutal, savage thrust, then collapsed over me with a groan.
I held him in the moonlight on the bed, this powerful giant of a man who’d overwhelmed me with the sweet torment of pleasure, now weak as a kitten. Closing my eyes, I cuddled him to my body, my heart in my throat.
I’d never imagined sex was like this, never.
“See?” Still panting, Edward nuzzled my neck. His voice was filled with masculine self-satisfaction as he traced his fingertips down my cheek. “I told you.”
“What?” I choked out, holding him closer, never wanting to let him go.
His dark blue eyes smiled sleepily into mine. “That I would make you weep.”
Astonished, I touched my face and found he was right. He’d made me weep. It was the first time.
It wouldn’t be the last.
* * *
Sunlight poured golden through the windows as Edward woke me with a kiss. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I said a little shyly, yawning. Our bodies were still naked, our limbs intertwined. I felt amazingly, blissfully sore in all the right places.
We’d made love three times last night. After the explosive first time, we’d slept in each other’s arms until at midnight we’d decided we were hungry. Putting on robes, we’d gone down to the dark, empty kitchen to hunt for a snack, giggling like naughty teenagers.
Naughty indeed. One minute Edward’s hand was reaching for the bread box, the next it was beneath my silk robe, and the minute after that he pushed me against the kitchen wall. The fact that we could have been discovered at any moment by Mrs. MacWhirter or the other servants just made it more dangerous. Ripping my belt loose, he’d taken me against the wall, wrapping my legs around his hips as he thrust hard and deep, until I gripped his shoulders in a silent cry. It was fast. It was rough.
It was delicious.
After a quick meal of sandwiches and cake in the dark kitchen, giggling and whispering, we’d gone back upstairs. We were both so sweaty, we decided to take a shower. I don’t know how this happened, either. One minute he was shampooing my hair, and I was standing on my tiptoes, reaching up to shampoo his. He playfully flicked some lather on my nose, and in retaliation, I smacked his butt really hard. He grabbed me, and two seconds later, he was shoving me against the shower’s steamy glass, murmuring words of desire against my hot, rosy skin as he made love to me beneath the scorching stream of shooting water.
I shivered, remembering. Even now, as he held me in the morning light, Edward was looking at me hungrily, and I felt my body respond.
Had he been watching me sleep, waiting for me to wake? I hoped not. I’d been dreaming about him. We’d been having a summer picnic in the garden. The sky was blue, the sun warm, and flowers were in bloom around us. He’d held me close on the blanket, and when I whispered that I loved him, his dark blue eyes had lit up. I love you, Diana, he’d said.
What if I’d been talking in my sleep? He would freak out if he knew. “I hope I didn’t wake you up by snoring or, er...” I blushed. “...talking in my sleep.”
“No,” Edward growled, rolling me beneath him. It seemed he hadn’t woken me to talk. “You slept like the dead. Another two seconds and you would have woken up with me inside you.”
“It doesn’t sound like the worst way to—” He covered my mouth with his own, thrusting smoothly inside me. He was as hard as if we hadn’t made love three times already; I was as wet as if he hadn’t brought me to aching, explosive climax again and again.
If the other times had been passionate or rough, now, as he took me in the golden light of morning, he was tender, even gentle. How could we still be so unsatiated, so hungry for more? I grasped his shoulders tight, digging into his skin with my fingertips, holding my breath as he pushed deeper into me, until six thrusts later we were both sweaty and crying out and clutching each other.
He pulled me close, kissing my temple.
“What you do to me...” he whispered against my sweaty skin, and my soul expanded into every inch of my body. I sighed, closing my eyes and pressing my cheek against his warm, hard-muscled chest. It felt so right to be in his arms. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t thinking about the past or the future. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
It was after noon by the time we woke again. “Good afternoon,” he whispered now, smiling as he kissed me.
“Good afternoon.” I sighed, then stretched across the bed. “I hate to get up.”
“So don’t.”
“I’m hungry.” I smiled, then my smile faltered. “And I have a lot to pack.”
“Pack?” He frowned. “For what?”
“For home.”
“You’re leaving?”
He sounded indignant. An unwilling laugh lifted to my lips. “You fired me.”
“Ah.” Relaxing, Edward looked thoughtful. “Fired is such a strong word. Made redundant is more accurate. By your own hard work, I might add.” He tilted his head. “Now, you’re probably asking yourself, what kind of heartless bastard would cut someone out of a job right before Christmas?”
“Um, you?”
He laughed. “You’ve been paid in full. While you were on your walk yesterday, I had my secretary deposit your entire promised salary—the whole year’s worth.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He looked amused. “You really should pay more attention to your bank account.”
“You’re right,” I said. Tell me something I didn’t know. “Well. Um. Thanks. I guess I’ll go pack...”
“Don’t go.” He grabbed my wrist. His voice was low. “I want you to stay with me. Through the New Year, at the very least. Not as my employee, but as my—”
“Yes,” I blurted out.
Snorting, he lifted a dark eyebrow. “I could have said slave.”
I gave him a crooked grin. “Then definitely yes.”
“Thank God,” he said softly, smoothing tendrils of hair off my face. “One last week of holiday,” his lips turned downward, “before I go back to London.”
My stomach growled. Standing up, I walked naked across the room and picked up my silk robe. I tied it around me. “What’s in London?”
“My job.”
“You really have to go?”
“I’ve been gone too long. My cousin Rupert is trying to convince the shareholders he should take my place.”
“Sounds like a jerk.”
“He’s a St. Cyr.”
“Then definitely a jerk,” I said teasingly, but he didn’t smile back. I hesitated. “But why does it matter?”
“What do you mean?”
I motioned around the bedroom. “You seem to have plenty of money. I figured being CEO of the family company was a sort of honorary title, you know....”
“Like a sinecure—getting paid for doing nothing?”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you. But you don’t seem keen to get back there. If you don’t need the money, there’s nothing forcing you to do it, is there?”
He scowled. “St. Cyr Global was started by my great-grandfather. I’m the largest shareholder. I have a responsibility....”
“I get it,” I said, but I didn’t.
Edward looked away. “Come on. Let’s see about breakfast.”
Mrs. MacWhirter was making bread in the kitchen, and it smelled heavenly. The housekeeper’s eyebrows rose almost all the way to her white hair when she saw me still in my robe, with Edward looking tousled in a T-shirt and sweatpants that clung to his chiseled body. There could be no doubt about what we’d been up to. But she recovered quickly when Edward meekly asked if we’d missed any chance of breakfast.
“Missed? I’ll say not! With everything?”
“Black tea for me, if you please, Mrs. MacWhirter. And extra tomatoes.”
“Of course. And Miss Maywood?”
I found it impossible to return her gaze without blushing. “Everything, please. With extra toast and jam. Coffee with cream and sugar. Please, thank you, if you don’t mind, you’re so very kind....”
Edward grabbed my hand, stopping me before I could babble any further.
“We’ll be in the tea room,” he said firmly, and drew me away. A moment later, we were in a bright room with big windows facing the garden and beyond that, the sea. A brisk fire was going. I blinked when I saw the rose-colored carpet, the chintz pattern of the wallpaper.
“Whose room is this? You can’t have designed this.”
His jaw tightened. “It was my mother’s.”
He’d never mentioned her before. “Does she visit often?”
“She died last year,” he said shortly.
“I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t be. As far as I’m concerned, she died long ago. She left when I was a child. Ran off with an Argentinian polo player when I was ten.”
“Oh,” I breathed.
It was a good reminder of the lesson I learned as a child, he’d said. Never depend on anyone.
He shrugged. “Dad worked all the time, and traveled overseas. Even when he was home, he had a mean streak a mile wide.” He gave me a humorless smile. “The St. Cyr trait, as you said.”
My heart ached for the ten-year-old boy who’d been abandoned by his mother. Even though both my parents had died, I never had any doubt of their love for me. My heart twisted. And then I suddenly felt furious. “Your parents were selfish.”
His expression froze. Turning away, he threw himself into in an overstuffed chintz chair in front of the fire. “I was fine.”
I sank into the matching chair on the other side of the tea table. “Fine? To run off and leave you? Abandon you with a mean, neglectful father?”
“Well.” He gave me a wry smile. “I do wish Mum had told me the truth from the start. The day she left for Buenos Aires, she cried and said she was breaking up with Dad, not me. She promised she’d always be my mother and that the two of us would still be a family.” He looked away. “But within a year, her letters and calls began to dwindle. She stopped asking me to Argentina for Christmas. Not that Dad would have let me....”
“He wanted to spend Christmas with you?”
Edward shook his head. “He went to Mustique at Christmas with his mistress du jour. He just hated Mum and didn’t want to do anything nice for her. It wasn’t just that. Antonio didn’t want me at his house, really. He just wanted Mum.”
“That must have been hard....”
He shrugged. “When I was fourteen, Mum had a new baby. She was so busy, and so far away. She quit phoning, or sending letters. It was easier just to leave me behind.” He barked out a laugh. “It all happened long ago. But I wish Mum had told me from the beginning how it would be.” He looked out toward the lead-paned windows, bright with afternoon sunlight. “Rather than letting me wait. Letting me hope.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, despising all the selfish adults who’d hurt him as a child. “Who took care of you?”
“The household staff. Mrs. MacWhirter, mostly. The gardener, too. But not for long. At twelve I went to boarding school.”
“Twelve?” I sputtered.
“It was good for me. Built character and all that.” He sighed. “I used to get homesick for Cornwall. I’d daydream about hitchhiking back here so the old gardener could take me out fishing. He also taught me how to catch a ball, tie a reef knot. Old Gavin was great.”
“You called him Old—to his face?”
“Everyone did. To distinguish him from his son. Young Gavin.” He sighed. “But his children had grown and moved away to find jobs, and Old Gavin missed his grandchildren. I promised if he’d just wait, when I grew up I’d create a factory near Penryth Hall that built things for adventures, so there’d be plenty of jobs for everyone. All he had to do was stay.”
“Things for adventures?” I queried.
“Blow darts and slingshots and canoes. Come on, I was ten.”
“Did you ever do it? Create the factory?”
“No.” He looked away. “Old Gavin emigrated to Canada, to be with his daughter. A few months after that, I was at boarding school. He didn’t keep his promise. I don’t have to keep mine.”
“Oh, Edward...” I tried to reach for his hand. But he wouldn’t accept either my hand or my sympathy.
“It’s fine,” he said roughly. “I was lucky. I’ve learned not to count on people. Or make promises I can’t keep.”
Mrs. MacWhirter came bustling noisily into the room, followed by a maid, both of them carrying trays. As they set down china cups and napkins and solid silver utensils, Edward smiled at the housekeeper. I realized that the older woman, gruff as she could be, was the closest to family he had. She poured Edward’s black tea and my coffee, set down our plates and left us.
I looked down hungrily at my breakfast, with eggs, toast, beans and grilled tomato, and a type of bacon that tasted like ham. I loved it all. I slathered the buttered toast with marmalade, then took a delicious crunchy bite. We ate in silence, sitting together near the fire. Then our eyes met.
“I don’t blame you for never wanting to depend on anyone,” I said softly. “Why would you? People lie, or love someone else, or move to Canada. People leave you, even if they don’t want to. Even if they love you.” I paused. “People die.”
For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. He stared at me. “You’re not going to argue with me?”
I shook my head.
“I’m surprised,” he said gruffly, watching me. “Most women accuse me of having no heart.”
I thought of my kindhearted father, a professor, who’d died suddenly in an accident when I was in third grade, and my mother, who’d filled my life with roses and sunshine before her long, agonizing decline. They’d never have chosen to leave me, or each other. But they’d had no choice. In spite of their fervent promises. “Maybe you’re right,” I said in a small voice, looking down at my plate. “Maybe promises are worthless. All we have is today.”
His hand took mine across the table.
“But if we live today right,” he said quietly, “it’s enough.”
The air between us suddenly electrified, and my hand trembled beneath his. Slowly, he started to lean across the tea table....
Mrs. MacWhirter coughed from the doorway, and Edward and I pulled away, blushing like teenagers who’d just been caught kissing.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” she said, “but I wanted you to know I’m getting ready to leave. The rest of the staff has already gone.”
“Fine.” Edward cleared his throat. “Good. I hope you have a nice holiday.”
“Yes, indeed, sir,” Mrs. MacWhirter said warmly. “The staff wanted me to thank you for the extra large Christmas bonus this year. You’re always so generous, but this one topped it all. I nearly fell over when I opened the card. Sophie said she’s going to surprise her boyfriend and take him to the Seychelles for Christmas. I’m going to get my sister that new roof, and I’ll still have some left to put by. Thank you.”
“It’s the least you all deserve for putting up with me,” Edward said. “Especially over the last few months. I haven’t always made it easy.”
Her lips lifted into a smile. “You haven’t been so very bad as all that. Considering all you’ve been through...” She hesitated. “I needn’t go to Scotland for Christmas, you know. I could stay over the holiday, if you think you might need me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said sharply. “You’ve been talking about visiting your sister for months. You get the week off, as always.”
“But in your current state...who will take care of you?”
“Miss Maywood.”
She eyed me dubiously. “What about in the kitchen?”
“In the kitchen,” he said gravely, “as in all areas.”
He didn’t meet my eye, and a good thing too, since I could barely keep from laughing.
“In that case...I’m off.” Mrs. MacWhirter looked relieved. “Happy Christmas, Mr. St. Cyr, Miss Maywood. Take good care of him,” she added with a beady glint in her eye.
“I will,” I murmured, feeling new appreciation for her, now that I knew she’d been caring for Edward since he was a child.
And I kept my promise, all right. I took very good care of Edward over Christmas week. Just as he took very good care of me. We huddled in the warmest rooms of Penryth Hall, lighting a fire with a Yule log, and watched the snow rise in the chilly wind outside.
We had sex for Christmas. Sex for Boxing Day. Sex for New Year’s Eve. In between, we had champagne, opened Christmas crackers, wore paper crowns and gobbled up a Christmas goose we’d prepared ourselves—Edward actually knew how to cook, somewhat to my surprise—and a great deal of trifle.
I’m not going to lie. It was a very naked week. Alone just the two of us, we barely bothered with clothes. Edward said it was more efficient that way, plus he just liked the look of me. We lit fires in every room, in every possible way.
Christmas morning, we made love beneath the tree and it was so explosive that at the critical moment, ornaments and tinsel fell on Edward’s head. Edward looked up with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“I’ve heard about choirs of angels singing,” he grumbled, looking at the angelic item that just had landed on his back from the very top of the tree, “but this is ridiculous.”
With a laugh, I pulled him back over me, and we wrapped ourselves in tinsel.
But on New Year’s Eve, as all the world looked with anticipation toward the bright, shiny new year, I felt building sadness, the sense that our time was running out. I tried to ignore the feeling, telling myself I should be grateful for the magical weeks we’d spent together. But all I could feel was misery, that soon Edward would return to London, to work long hours at a job he didn’t particularly like, and I would go back to California, to face the scandal I’d left behind, and see if I had the courage to try acting again. Just thinking of it made me want to cover my head with a pillow. And as for the thought of never seeing Edward again, never ever....
“Stop sighing,” Edward said across the table. “I don’t believe it for a second. I’m not going to fall for it again.”
We were sitting in the study, at a folding table we’d moved directly in front of the fire, where for the past hour we’d been playing strip poker. Caesar the sheepdog was stretched out on a rug beside us, ignoring us, clearly disgusted by the whole thing. I sat half-naked in my chair, wearing only panties, a bra, knee socks and Edward’s tie. Which probably sounds grim, where strip poker is concerned. But Edward had only his silk boxers left. He was sweating.
“Where did you learn to play like this?” he demanded, staring down fiercely at his own cards.
“Madison taught me,” I said sweetly. “We used to play all the time.”
His scowl deepened. “I might have known Madison was at the bottom of this.”
“Yeah.” I looked down at my own cards. I didn’t even have a particularly good hand, but due to my confidence—and the straight flush I’d had in the last round—he believed I might. Nothing except a miracle could save him now. Madison had taught me this much about acting—how to bluff.
Madison. I missed her, in spite of everything. I’d called my stepfather on Christmas, on set in New Mexico, where he was filming the latest season of his highly regarded cable TV zombie series. I would have tried to call Madison too, except Howard let me know she’d just left for some ashram in India, to cope with her explosively public breakup with Jason.
“She could use a friend, kiddo,” Howard had told me quietly.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” I’d mumbled. “She hates me.”
“No, sweetie, no. Well, maybe. But I think the person she hates most right now is herself.”
Edward’s cell phone rang, rattling violently across the table, drawing me out of my reverie.
“Saved by the bell,” I murmured. “Don’t think it will save you. Those boxers will be mine...”
But he was no longer listening. His jaw was tight as he answered the phone. “Rupert. What the hell do you want?”
Rising to his feet, he kept the phone to his ear as he stalked back and forth across the study, barking angry words into the phone—words I didn’t understand, like EBITDA, proxy fight, flip-over and poison pill. Whatever it meant, it made Edward so angry that he utterly forgot me sitting half-naked in the chair, staring up at him, wearing his tie. He just paced back and forth in front of the fire. Caesar lifted his head and watched his master walk to and fro, as bewildered and alarmed as I was.
“And I’m telling you,” Edward bit out, “if you don’t pull this together the shareholders will never forgive...no, it was not my fault. I set it on target. It was fine in September.” He paused, then strode five steps before turning. His pace was almost a stomp as he said acidly, “Oh, I’m sorry, was it inconvenient to the company that I had to take a few months off when I nearly died? Even half-dead, I’m twice the man you...” He halted, grinding his teeth. “No, you listen to me....” A curse came from his lips that made me flinch. “If the deal is falling apart, you’re the one to blame, and the board of directors will see—” He stopped. His shoulders looked so tight that I was afraid of what he might be doing to the muscles of his shoulders and spine. He ground his teeth. “I know what you’re doing, you bastard, and it won’t work. St. Cyr Global belongs to me....”
I couldn’t listen anymore. Sliding miserably off the chair, I grabbed my clothes that had been flung so eagerly to the floor. Shivering, though I was near the roaring fire, I pulled his tie off my throat. Edward’s eye caught me, now standing in front of the enormous fireplace that was taller than me, and his expression briefly lightened as his eyes approvingly traced the scarlet lace bra and panties that had been a Christmas gift. From me to him. His forehead furrowed into a frown as, without answering his smile, I turned away and silently pulled on my long cotton sweater and black knit leggings.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he snapped, and clicked off the phone. Coming toward me, he said, “What are you doing?”
“That should be obvious,” I said.
“Take your clothes back off,” he said huskily, pulling me into his arms. “We’re in the middle of a game. There’s no reason for you to quit. You’re winning.”
Winning. The word made me shudder. Because when he was on the phone, talking to that man—his cousin?— Edward’s voice had sounded different. Harsher. Like someone who cared about winning. At any cost.
I’d come to see another side of Edward over the past few months. Even Jason Black, the man I’d thought I’d loved, now seemed like a pale shadow of memory compared to the devilish, sexy, arrogant man who’d become the center of my life. Edward knew the best of me—and the worst. For weeks now, I’d tried not to think about how soon I’d be leaving this magical place and returning to California, to face the real world. But now...
I pulled away from his embrace, avoiding his gaze. “You’re going back to London.”
“That multibillion deal I told you about is falling apart,” he said grimly. “I’m going first thing in the morning.”
“On New Year’s Day?”
“My cousin,” he spat out the word, “is trying to sabotage it. I’ve been gone too long. Once the deal’s back on track, I’ll get the stockholders together and see about eliminating him....”
“Eliminating?”
He snorted a laugh. “From the board of directors. What did you think I meant?”
I licked my lips. “Well...”
“You really do think the worst of me,” he said, sounding amused rather than offended. “But Rupert has a wife and young children he barely sees. I’d like to free him from all the pesky duties of COO, so he could devote more time to his family.”
“You could do that yourself,” I pointed out.
“Ah, but I don’t have a family,” he said lightly. Leaning forward, he kissed my nose. “I couldn’t be responsible for a houseplant.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sadly, it is.”
“What about Caesar?”
The dog lifted his head at hearing his name. Edward looked down at him affectionately. “This lazybones? You know he’s technically Mrs. MacWhirter’s dog, not mine. And she’ll be back from Scotland tomorrow. There’s no help for it.” Edward stared down at me grimly. “I need to go back.”
In spite of his words, as I looked at his body posture, I’d never seen any man less keen to do anything.
“I understand.” I kept my voice even, squaring my shoulders and trying to look calm, though I wanted to cling to him and whimper. “I’ll go pack my things.”
“Good.” He looked distracted. Geez. It’s not like I expected Edward to say he was wretchedly heartbroken, and that he’d miss me desperately, but...
I suddenly realized that was exactly what I’d expected. We’d had a torrid ten day affair, months of friendship before that, and I’d actually thought I meant something to him. In spite of the fact that he’d warned me that I wouldn’t. In spite of his warnings, in spite of my promise, I’d come to care for him. Really care.
I was so stupid!
Trembling, I tried to smile. “I’ll go see about the next flight to L.A.” I bit my lip. “It’s good timing, really. I should be thanking that cousin of yours. My stepfather invited me to spend a week on his set as an extra. It’ll be fun to be a zombie. And I’ve heard New Mexico is beautiful....”
Edward focused on me. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to London tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
I licked my lips. “So there’s no point in me staying here.”
“None.”
“Right.” I set my shoulders and tried to arrange my face into a calm, pleasant, totally unfazed expression. “That means this is goodbye.”
His dark eyebrows raised. “You’re abandoning me?”
“You just said there’s no reason for me to stay!”
“There’s no reason for you to stay at Penryth Hall,” he said with almost insulting patience, “because you’re coming with me to London.”
I stared at him. In spite of his almost rude care in speaking the words, it seemed he hadn’t said them carefully enough, because I still couldn’t understand them.
“You want me to come with you?” I said dumbly. “To London?”
“Yes-s-s,” he said, enunciating even more slowly. “To London.”
I tried to ignore the rush of relief that went through me, the pathetic joy in my heart that he wanted me, that the moment of separation could be avoided for a bit longer. “But what on earth would I do there?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I could hire you back as my physio.”
“Come on. You can jog now. You don’t need a physical therapist anymore.”
“Then,” he said huskily, “come as my full-time lover.”
“I’d live in London and just—spend time with you in bed?”
“Think of it as a vacation.”
“You won’t be on vacation. You’ll be working all the time.”
“Not at night.” He gave me a wicked grin. “I’ll be your toy boy then, what do you say?” He came closer. “You’ll have me all night. Isn’t that what you love about me?”
I love everything about you, I wanted to say. The way you touch me. The sound of your voice. The way you make me laugh. Everything.
But I knew it was the last thing that he wanted to hear. It was supposed to be a physical affair, nothing more. I looked at him in the flickering firelight of his study. He was still dressed only in silk boxers from our strip poker match, and my gaze lingered at his powerful torso, hard-muscled biceps and thickly hewn thighs. Sex was enough, I told myself. It had to be enough.
“Diana?” He was staring at me. I realized I’d taken too long to respond.
“Of course that’s what I love best,” I said, tossing my head. “What else is there about you to love?”
“Such a heartless woman,” he sighed, then drew closer. Nuzzling me, he cupped my breast through my thin cotton sweater. My nipples turned instantly hard, pressing up through the red lace of my bra, thrusting visibly against the sweater. He whispered, “Allow me to serve you, then, milady....”
Falling to his knees in front of me, Edward suckled me, pressing his mouth over my nipple. I gasped as I felt his hot mouth through the thin cotton and fillip of red lace beneath. His free hand wrapped around my other breast, then a moment later, he moved to that side.
My sweater disappeared, then the red lace bra. With a growl of satisfaction, he lowered his mouth to my bare skin. My head fell back, my eyes closed. His lips were hot and soft, satin and steel. When he drew back, I was shivering with need, just like the first time he’d touched me. As though we hadn’t been making love four times a day, every day, for the past ten days.
“So we’re agreed,” he murmured. Rising to his feet, he pulled me into his arms. “You’ll come with me to London.”
“I can’t just go there as...as your sex toy,” I said in a small voice, my stupid, traitorous heart yearning for him to argue with me, to tell me I meant more to him than that.
“I know.” He suddenly smiled. “London has a thriving theater scene. You can live at my house as you audition for acting roles.”
“Audition?” I said, trying to keep the fear from my voice.
“It’s perfect.” Running his hands down my back, he kissed my cheek, my neck. “By day, you pursue your dreams. At night...you’ll belong to me.”
Cupping my face, he kissed me, hot and demanding. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him back recklessly, ignoring my troubled heart.
I couldn’t give him up. Not yet. Not when I could still live in his world of passion and color and desire for a little while longer. I wanted to be the bold woman who wore red lace panties for her lover, and paraded around nearly naked. I wasn’t ready to go back and be that invisible girl again. Not yet. I needed to be in his arms. I needed to be with him, one moment teasing each other, playing like children, and the next bursting into flame in the most adult way possible. It reminded me of the old definition of love—friendship on fire...
No. My eyes flew open. I cared about Edward, sure. I liked him a lot. But that wasn’t the same as being in love.
I couldn’t let it be.
I like him, that’s all, I told myself firmly. We have fun together. It’s not a crime.
I pulled away. “All right,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “I’ll come to London.”
“Good,” he said, with a low, sensual smile that said he’d never doubted he could convince me. Leaning me back against the poker table, he got me swiftly naked beneath the bright heat of the fire and made love to me.
And so the next morning, under the weak pink light of the dawn, I was packed up in his expensive car, along with the rest of his possessions, and driven east across the moor. Toward civilization.
