Читать книгу Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin - Jennie Lucas, Anna Cleary - Страница 18

AS THEY went up the elevator of the Cavanaugh Hotel to the $20,000-a-night presidential suite, Roark realized he was shaking.

Oh, my God, when had he ever wanted a woman like this?

When had he ever wanted anything like this?

He stopped in front of the hotel room door, looking down at her. Her hazel eyes were clear and serene, like pools of cool water in a Canadian forest, reflecting the green and brown of the wilderness and vivid blue of the sky.

Unable to look away, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. He closed the door behind them with a kick.

He carried her across the marble floor of the foyer, beneath the enormous crystal chandelier, and across the six-room suite into the master bedroom. He set her gently to her feet. Through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, he could see the stark beauty of Central Park. Black trees twisted patterns against the white expanse of snow.

He took off his black coat. He peeled off her white wool coat and gloves and scarf, dropping them to the floor. He started to take off his black shirt, but found himself distracted when she started to do the same right in front of him.

Her hazel eyes never left his as she slowly unbuttoned her black jacket, revealing a lacy black bra beneath. She unzipped the back of her skirt and let it fall. He saw black lace panties and black stockings held up by a garter belt.

Stockings? A garter belt …?

Who was this woman? She was modern, young, a countess. And yet she was an old-fashioned fantasy, a 1940s bombshell. The more time he spent with Lia, the more he wanted her.

It was why he’d realized he wanted her for longer than just a night. He wanted her in his life until he’d had his fill.

For the first time, ever, he wanted to keep a woman with him on his travels.

Roark swallowed, and his hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt as he watched her. Lia was truly a woman who’d be feverishly desired by every man, no matter the age or time.

Kicking off her black high heels, she put one small foot on the bed and unclasped the first garter. Without looking at him, she rolled the black stocking slowly down her leg.

His breath came in hoarse little gasps.

Dropping the first stocking to the carpet, she repeated the process with the other leg. He licked his lips, unable to look away.

She finally turned to face him. She took a deep breath, and for the first time, he saw the blush on her cheeks, the tremble of her hands. She was nervous.

Somehow that was the sexiest thing of all.

Lia clasped her hands together, tucking them behind her back. Then she looked up at him with a sensual smile, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Roark’s heart pounded. How was it possible that he was the only man who’d ever touched her—this most desirable woman on earth? A woman so powerful and yet so vulnerable. So strong and proud and mysterious, yet utterly honest.

How was it possible that a woman like this existed anywhere beyond the realm of male fantasy?

She took a deep breath, suddenly shy. “What … what do I do now?”

It was all the invitation he needed.

Roark ripped off the last buttons of his shirt, pulled off all his clothes. With a growl, he lifted her up in his arms. “I’ll take it from here.”

He placed her tenderly on the soft bed. He moved down to kiss her lips, stroking her bare arms. He kissed down her throat, stroking every inch of her body with his sensitive fingers. She touched him back, timidly at first, then with greater confidence. He relished feeling her hands on his skin.

He relished it far too much.

But after eighteen months of frustrated desire, he wanted to take his time, to enjoy her. To take her slowly. Until he was utterly satiated with this complicated, sexy-as-hell, mysterious woman….

How long would that take?

She had to come with him to Hawaii and Tokyo. He would convince her. He had no choice. One day would not be enough. He’d kill any man who tried to take her from him now.

At this moment Roark never wanted to let her go.

He stroked and kissed her shoulders, her belly. Cupping her breasts together with his hands, he pressed his face between them. She moaned softly beneath him.

He pulled off the black lace bra.

He unhooked the garter belt.

Slowly he rolled her black panties down her thighs and dropped them to the floor. She closed her eyes. He could feel her tremble beneath his hands.

She was in his power. The thought intoxicated him.

He had taken her virginity so brutally and breathlessly in Italy. Now he had a second chance to be the lover she deserved. For the next few hours she was his prisoner in this hotel suite, and he was determined to make her feel better than she’d ever felt in her life.

He would show her what making love could really feel like.

Roark kissed her hard, and she matched him with passion of her own. When he drew away, he stared down at her. Licking his fingertips, he swirled them against her breasts, making smaller and smaller circles until he centered on the peak of her taut nipples making her gasp. He lowered his mouth to taste her, suckling each side. He kissed down her flat belly, stroking the inside of her thighs with his powerful hands, making her tremble beneath him.

“Oh, Roark,” she choked out.

He wrapped his hands beneath her backside, holding her close to him. Pushing her legs apart, he flicked his tongue inside her, making her twist and sway. He felt the hot sweat of her skin, heard the quick pant of her breath.

And he smiled. Sliding on a condom, he lifted his body above hers.

But he didn’t push inside her, not immediately. Instead he teased her. He felt her body arch to meet his as she instinctively tried to bring them closer, but he resisted. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead with the effort of not thrusting inside her. He moved slowly against her, tempting her until she gasped and pleaded wordlessly for release.

Finally, when she could take it no longer, he pressed inside her, inch by agonizing inch. But he didn’t close his eyes at his own wave of pleasure.

Instead he watched her.

Watched the way she sucked in her breath, biting her full bottom lip. Her mouth was smeared with red lipstick, bruised with hard kisses.

He watched the way her eyelids fluttered. Her beautiful face turned up blissfully as if she heard choirs of angels. He watched the fervent movement of her lips as she soundlessly gasped his name.

With each slow thrust, sliding his hips in rhythm to the center of her pleasure, he watched her. Until she started to tense and shake beneath him. Then he rode her. Deeper. Faster. He never closed his eyes. He never looked away from her. When she finally cried out her release, their eyes locked, and lightning went through Roark’s body, exploding him into a million chiming pieces.

His angel.

Being with her was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Afterward, he held her. He wanted to be close to her. He stroked her as she dozed in his arms.

He’d never wanted a woman to sleep in his bed.

He himself had never been unable to sleep because he wanted to just stare at the woman he’d bedded.

Lia’s beauty and power and goodness held him. He watched the slanting warmth of the afternoon sun leave a glow on her closed eyes, on her lips curved in a gentle smile.

She was perfect, he thought. The perfect woman. The perfect mistress. The perfect wife.

Wife?

He’d never thought he would marry, but looking at her now, he had the sudden desire to possess her forever. To keep her solely for his own use and pleasure. To make sure no man could ever, ever touch her. Permanently.

For the first time in his life, he could understand why a man would want to take a wife.

He’d never wanted any woman like this. Roark had always been determined to stay free.

Now, for the first time, ever, he suddenly had found a woman who wouldn’t commit to him. And all he wanted to do was pin her down.

He tried to push the thought away. He couldn’t get married. He wasn’t the marrying sort. And even if he was, Lia wouldn’t marry him.

She wanted a home. She wanted a child. She wanted love.

What could he possibly offer her to compensate for everything he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give her?

“Lia,” he whispered, stroking the inside of her bare arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw her face light up with a smile on sight of him. And something inside his heart beat faster.

“Lia,” he repeated, then swallowed.

Marry me.

Give up your desire for home and a family and love. Be mine. Give yourself to me.

“Yes?” she said, stroking his rough cheek and looking up into his eyes tenderly.

But he couldn’t speak the words. Him, marry? Roark, take a wife? The idea was ridiculous! He’d spent his whole adult life avoiding commitment and emotional attachment. He wouldn’t give that up now for some momentary lust.

Asking Lia to travel with him was already more than he’d ever asked any woman. It would be enough. It had to be enough.

He would make it be enough.

And he lowered his head to kiss her.

Lia had barely caught her breath from their first lovemaking session when he woke her.

But as he kissed her now, moving his hands against her naked breasts, she felt her body tense with instant desire. He was already rock solid against her. She timidly reached down to explore the most masculine part of his anatomy in a way she never had before, and he jumped beneath her touch. With a growl, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all.

Sitting up in bed, he placed her on his lap facing him. Sliding on a condom, he lifted her up in his strong arms, then lowered her over him, impaling her slowly, inch by inch. He held her tightly in his lap, with her legs wrapped around his body. He rocked back and forth, causing her breasts to brush against the dark hair of his chest. She felt her sensitive core slide slickly against his lower belly as he moved deeply inside her. Almost immediately, she tensed and cried out.

“Thirty seconds,” he said, sounding amused as he brushed away the strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Let’s see if we can make you last longer than that.”

For the next hour he tortured her with pleasure.

He rolled her on top of him on the bed, showing her how to find her own rhythm, to control the pace and the intensity of his thrust. He tipped her back onto the bed and lifted her leg over his shoulder to show her how deep he could be inside her. He tasted her with his tongue. Played her with his skilled fingers. Made her writhe … made her beg.

But every time she would start to tense and feel the deep shake coming from within, he would abruptly stop. And he would move away, changing the rhythm. Until she was nearly weeping with the frustration of agonized desire.

He teased her like this for a full hour. And the entire time, he was rock hard and huge for her. How could any man last like this? How?

And how long did he intend to torture her?

“Please,” she finally begged, tears streaming down her face. “Just take me!”

He looked down at her with dark eyes full of tenderness and gave her a wicked half grin. “I think you can handle another few hours.”

“No!” she said fiercely, and then with sudden strength, she pushed him back against the bed. She climbed over him and lowered herself upon him. She held his wrists back against the pillow as he gave a soft gasp.

“My turn,” she whispered in his ear. Using all the skills he’d taught her, she started to ride him. He tried to protest, but she ignored him, forcing him to thrust inside her again and again until he, too, started to tense and writhe.

Finally he breathed, “Lia, stop. Lia, I can’t keep on like this. Slow down … oh, my sweet girl …” But against his protests, she kept riding him, moving her hips faster and forcing him deeper inside with every thrust. Until finally he tossed his head back and with a mighty roar he exploded inside her, shaking and trembling beneath her. In the exact same instant, she cried out as the spiraling pleasure took her so high that it nearly made her pass out.

With a shuddering breath, she collapsed against him.

For a long time, she wasn’t even sure how long, he just held her. But gradually she came back to awareness. She felt him stroking her back. She opened her eyes and saw that he was awake, staring at her. As if he couldn’t get enough of her.

And she wanted him.

Not just in bed.

But in her life.

Forever.

She realized with a sudden shock: she was falling in love with Roark.

No! she thought in desperation. I can’t fall in love with him! She desperately tried to remember all the reasons she had to hate him.

But all she could think of was the stark vulnerability she’d seen in his face when he’d told her how his family had died in the fire. How his own grandfather had despised him and not even allowed him to love a nanny. How since he was seven years old he’d never had a real family or home …

But he doesn’t want those things! she told herself fiercely. He doesn’t want a wife. He doesn’t want a child!

It was so hard to keep silent about their baby. She wanted to tell him so badly that it was choking her.

But she couldn’t risk Ruby’s happiness on a father who didn’t want her. And she didn’t want to force Roark into a responsibility he didn’t want.

If she were truly starting to care for Roark, she told herself, she had to keep the secret. She had to give him the freedom he wanted.

And, a tiny voice whispered, if he knew how you’ve lied all these months, he would hate you.

She closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze that ripped through her defenses, that ripped through her soul.

She was falling in love with Roark.

And she had to let him go.

She glanced at her diamond-crusted Piaget watch. “Two o’clock,” she whispered. Ruby would be waking up from her nap. She took a deep breath. “It’s late. I have to go.”

“Late?” He moved beneath her. “Our flight across the Pacific doesn’t depart for two hours.”

“No.” She started to sit up. “I’m sorry. This afternoon is all we can ever have. I can’t travel with you. I can’t risk …”

Can’t risk my child’s heart on a father who doesn’t want her.

Can’t risk you hating me if you knew what I hid from you.

He stared at her. “Lia, don’t do this.”

She briefly closed her eyes, gathering her strength. “You said if I came to your bed of my own free will, you’d let me go.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Lia, wait.” He took a deep breath, then looked her straight in the eyes. “If you won’t be my mistress … then be my wife.”