Читать книгу New Year Escapes - Leslie Kelly - Страница 18

MAXIMO got off the phone with the casino manager and cursed. Not because the problem at the casino hadn’t been easy to solve—that issue had been handled in only a few minutes—but because of the unsatisfied desire that was still raging through him.

He couldn’t believe he’d almost had sex with Alison outside by his pool, with all of the speed and finesse of a very horny schoolboy. He had never, ever lost control with a woman like that before. He had always taken time when romancing a woman. Selena had never wanted it any other way. She had always needed candles, a dimly lit room. He had always spent at least an hour arousing her body before he’d even considered taking things to their natural conclusion.

But with Alison there had been no romance, no candles. He’d been ready to plunge into her without a full five minutes of foreplay. And what foreplay there had been was clumsy, driven by an intense need, not any kind of skill or consideration. He didn’t know this part of himself; the part that only Alison seemed to be able to bring out in him.

He was a man who prized his control. He always thought things through, always led first with his mind before jumping into action. And yet, Alison, his beautiful, bewitching fiancée, the woman who was pregnant with his child, robbed him of his ability to think coherently.

It was the unknown that was causing his body to respond this way. It had to be. He had desired her from the first moment he’d seen her and every night since then he’d dreamed of her, her smell, the touch of her soft hands, and the wet press of her lips over his body. There was no way the fantasy would live up to the reality, though, because it never did.

He needed to take her, to know once and for all what her desire for him would taste like, know what it felt like to be inside her, know what sounds she would make when he brought her to completion. And once the mystery was solved, the edge would be worn away. It had to be.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted her, and he knew for certain that she wanted him with the same ferocity, that she was just as hungry as he was. And he wasn’t going to allow her to deny it any longer.

Alison scrubbed the chlorine from her skin and wished she could wash away the imprint from Maximo’s touch half as easily. No such luck. Even with the scalding water from the shower coursing over her body, she could still feel the impression of where his hands had touched her, teased her, where his mouth had seared her. She shivered despite the heat and shut the water off.

During her shower she’d decided that she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done with Max. She was entitled to sexual pleasure if she wanted it. And that was a massive admission in and of itself. She was embarrassed, though, because she’d totally lost track of time and place, and anyone could have walked right up to them and she would have been much too lost in what they were doing to notice. Maybe Maximo, with his stable of previous lovers, was sophisticated enough to deal with something like that. He could probably turn it into a saucy anecdote and laugh about it with his sophisticated friends. Not her, though. She just didn’t have the experience for that, which just went to prove how out of her league Max was.

Ashamed as she was to admit it, she’d looked him up when she’d been on the computer in the office, and she’d seen the kind of women he’d had in his life. Even before his marriage to the supernaturally lovely Selena, he’d had a very high taste level where his girlfriends were concerned. All of them were high-profile models, actresses, socialites, and all of them had been tall, thin and gorgeous. They weren’t the kind of women to run and hide from sexual attraction. They were the kind of women who would pounce on it and tame it, take what they wanted and enjoy doing it.

She realized that she was clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles were white and she slowly released them.

She’d never considered herself a coward. On the contrary, she’d always been prideful about how brave she thought she was. Brave and sensible. Sensible enough to protect herself, keep herself from coming unraveled and completely dependent on someone. Brave because she’d gone out and learned to stand on her own feet, made things happen for herself.

And she’d been the biggest, delusional idiot.

She’d been a coward. She hadn’t dealt with anything. She’d completely walled off a portion of herself so she wouldn’t have to deal with all of the complications that might result from a relationship.

She’d denied any sort of desire for companionship, totally squashed her sexuality, and all the while she’d been congratulating herself for being so strong. It wasn’t strength that had led her to do those things, it was fear. And that was a bitter pill to swallow. She wasn’t much better than her mother. It was just that her general wariness was preemptive rather than a response to something that had happened to her. The result, however, was much the same. Oh, she might not subject everyone to lengthy, vitriolic speeches about men and how you couldn’t trust them, but she carried that belief inside of her. If she wasn’t careful it was going to poison her.

It had to change. She was crippling herself. Ironic, since she’d always been so terrified that losing a lover would do that to her, and she’d done it to herself.

She wasn’t ready to rush headlong into falling in love, but maybe …

Maybe she could fulfill her desire for Max. Those women in the magazines, the women who had dated Max before his marriage, knew that sex wasn’t love. Knew it and reveled in it. They didn’t suppress that part of themselves, not like she had done for so long.

She exited the bathroom and went into her connecting bedroom, sinking onto the bed, holding her towel tightly around her naked body. She was such a hopeless case for Max that even the rough abrasion of the terry cloth over her bare skin was turning her on.

It had always been easy to act aloof around men. She hadn’t really wanted any of them. There had been a few times when she’d really liked someone, felt a kind of bitter melancholy over not pursuing anything serious with them. But this, what she felt for Max, was a consuming hunger that was with her all the time. A spark that smoldered in her belly, ready to burst into flame when Max so much as looked at her.

The fact that they were engaged to be married, that they were having a baby together, was the biggest thing holding her back. If she could just indulge in a fling with him, one night of passion maybe, just so she could experience it, so she could exorcise this thing that had flared so strongly between them, then she would more than happily jump into bed with him.

But the fact remained that they were engaged, and they were having a baby. And those were very, very permanent ties.

But her body was still screaming for the release she knew only Maximo would be able to give. She just didn’t know if she could fight it anymore. Or if she even wanted to …

She stood from the bed and crossed to the massive closet on the other side of the room. It was packed full of designer clothing, all chosen by a personal shopper without Alison present, since the paparazzi had made shopping an impossibility. Every last article was beautiful, and a lot more revealing than anything she would have chosen for herself.

Sliding her hands over the fabrics she stopped at a midnight-blue silk dress with a low halter neckline and a floaty, knee-skimming hem. It was an extremely sexy dress, one she’d privately vowed never to wear as she’d hung it up in the closet. But now … now it seemed perfect.

She pulled it out quickly before any doubts or fears could invade and talk her out of it. She hadn’t known what she was planning until that moment, but, even though she might think she was stupid in the morning, she was committed. She was going to seduce Prince Maximo Rossi.

The glow of the candlelight bathed Alison’s skin in golden warmth. And there was a lot of bare skin on display. Her barely-there midnight-blue satin gown clung to her every curve and showed off the swell of her breasts, her lovely shoulders, her perfect legs. And when Maximo had pulled her chair out for her and she’d turned to look before sitting, he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from her perfect, rounded derriere.

Dinner had been an exercise in torture. She had savored every bite that she’d put in her mouth, making sensual, delighted noises and darting her slick pink tongue out to catch any flavor that had lingered on her lips. He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting any other woman in his entire life. And she wanted him, too. Yet something was stopping her from taking the final step.

She certainly didn’t kiss like an inexperienced woman; she kissed like a woman with highly developed passions, a woman who knew what she wanted, knew what her lover would want. And yet she seemed to take sex very seriously. Or at least the prospect of heartbreak. But Maximo knew from experience that there were some women who simply couldn’t divorce sex from love. Perhaps the idea of sleeping with a man simply because she desired him was something she was having trouble coming to terms with. But then, she was the one who claimed she hadn’t been interested in love and relationships, and he couldn’t imagine that she’d been planning on living a celibate existence. She was far too sexy, far too sexual, for that.

He nearly groaned out loud when she lifted her dessert spoon to her lips and licked the last remnant of chocolate from the silver surface, her pink tongue so tempting, so provocative that he could have almost found his release just watching her work the spoon in that slow, sensual way. It was way too easy to imagine that tongue on his bare skin.

“What’s your stance on love?” she asked, lowering the spoon and setting it on the table.

“I’ve been in love. I don’t believe I’ll ever love anyone besides my … Selena. I don’t want to love anyone else.” Not because he was so attached to her memory, but because nothing about it had been worth the pain he’d endured. He’d lost Selena several times over. In the end, an impenetrable wall had gone up between them, and he hadn’t been able to reach her anymore. He hadn’t been able to protect her, from her grief, from death. He had no desire to ever go through that kind of hell again.

“So you don’t think you’re going to meet someone else?” she asked, her copper eyes deadly serious.

“I’m marrying you. You’re the only ‘someone else’ there’s going to be.”

“But if you did want someone else would you tell me?”

“I won’t.”

“But if you did,” she persisted, “would you tell me? I don’t want to be played for a fool, Max, and I really don’t want to be cheated on.”

“I would tell you. You have my word that, if we were to enter into a physical relationship, I would never even entertain the thought of being unfaithful to you.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened by the pool,” she said slowly.

Tension knotted his muscles and the fire in his stomach was starting to rage out of control.

She raised her eyes to meet his and he was struck by how dark they’d gotten. She was aroused. He was definitely familiar with the signs, and his own body was more than ready to take hers up on its blatant offer.

“I want to make love,” she said, her voice steady. If he hadn’t spotted the slight tremor in her delicate hands he would have never known she was nervous.

“You wanted to make love by the pool. You wanted to make love that day in your room. In fact, you wanted to make love that first day in Turan, but you pulled back every time.”

“I know. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” She rose from her chair, moved to stand in front of him, then leaned in and he was transfixed by her beauty, by the clear, pale skin of her flawless face, by the creamy swells of her breasts spilling over the skimpy neckline of her dress. Splaying her hands over his chest she explored him, ran her fingertips over his muscles. He sucked in a sharp breath, his body so close to the edge he was in danger of going right over.

“I want you,” she said softly, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. He let her control the kiss, let her explore his mouth slowly, her tongue moving tentatively over the seam of his lips. When they separated she was panting, and he realized he was, too. “I trust you. I’m certain of that now.”

“And you needed to trust me?” he asked, running his fingers through her silken, strawberry hair, reveling in her softness, her femininity.

“Yes. The attraction between us is so strong … I’ve never felt this way before and it scared me. It still scares me. But now I know you aren’t going to use it against me.”

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, either,” he said roughly, hating himself for needing to be honest, especially if it might make her change her mind again.

“I know. I don’t want to fall in love with you, either. But I do want your respect. I wanted to make sure you weren’t just going to play with me, and no one wants to get cheated on, or abandoned.”

He cupped her chin. “I swear to you that I will never leave you. And I will never humiliate you, or disrespect you, by taking another woman into our bed.”

“I believe you.”

She sank onto his lap and twined her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. “My whole body aches for you,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Mine, too,” he said, taking her hand and placing it over his erection, showing her how much he wanted her. She moved her hand over his length, her expression so full of awe that he couldn’t help but take stupid masculine pride in it.

“I think we should take this upstairs.”

“The table looks fine to me,” he growled, not knowing where this feral, uncivilized desire came from, not knowing what he could do to control it. She revealed something inside of him he hadn’t known existed. And he didn’t want to tame it; he wanted to unleash it.

“One of the staff could come in,” she said breathlessly.

He pressed a kiss to the elegant line of her neck. “Now that we don’t want. This is definitely a two-person party.” He nuzzled the tender spot just beneath her ear-lobe and reveled in the feminine sigh of pleasure she rewarded him with. She was so eager, so responsive, and he loved it.

Alison slid from his lap, her heart pounding wildly. She’d done it. She’d committed to doing this. And she wasn’t sorry for it at all. She wanted him. Needed him in a way that shocked and terrified her. She didn’t know this wild, wanton version of herself. She felt as if she could do anything with him, could let him do anything to her. She trusted him with her body, wholly and completely, and the prospect of doing that only excited her.

As he stood from the chair and took her hand, his eyes burning with erotic intent, she wished, for the first time in her life, that she’d had sex with someone at some point, just so she wasn’t going into this blind. Maximo had lots of experience—she’d seen the evidence of that thanks to the photos of the parade of women he’d dated in his early twenties, and he’d been married for seven years. She didn’t even have a lot of kissing experience to recommend her.

On the other hand, he would make it good for her. He would know what he was doing. At her age, after having received exams from gynecologists and OBs and having the artificial insemination done she doubted there would be much of a barrier for him to deal with, if there was one at all. And that, coupled with all of his experience, would probably lessen any discomfort she might feel. And, with any luck, he might not notice.

She nearly laughed at that thought. Of course he would notice her inexperience. There was no way she was going to be able to fake some kind of blasé sophistication. Not when his touch just about melted her.

But his hand felt so good, so warm encircling hers that it was hard to care too much. He held on to her as he led her up the stairs, took her to his bedroom. There was no turning back now. And she didn’t want to.

“Alison.” He closed the door behind them and pulled her to him, bringing her up hard against his masculine chest. She spread her hands over his pecs, running them down his flat stomach, feeling the ridges of his ab muscles through his shirt. She’d never explored a man’s body like this before, never took the time to appreciate all of the delicious differences between men and women.

He kissed her again, his mouth hard on hers, and she parted her lips willingly, meeting each thrust of his tongue with her own. He slid his hands over the silken material of her dress, over the curve of her buttocks and down her thighs. He gripped the hem of the skirt and began to pull it up slowly, bunching the slippery fabric in his hands until he had it drawn up to her waist. He moved one hand down over her rear end again and he groaned when his hand touched bare skin. His obvious appreciation thrilled her, and combined with his touch sent a shock wave of need rocketing through her.

He released her dress, keeping his hands beneath the fabric. He gripped the sides of her thong panties and dragged them down, kneeling before her on the floor as he removed them. She lifted one foot to step out of her underwear and wobbled slightly, but he steadied her by holding tightly to her hips.

He leaned in, his breath hot against the silk fabric as his mouth hovered over her slightly rounded stomach. “So beautiful.” He laid his palm flat against her belly, the expression on his face so reverent, so awed, that it made her throat tighten with emotion. He leaned in and kissed her there, and she felt as if her knees would have buckled if she hadn’t been held firmly in his strong grip.

Standing again he kissed her lips, her neck, her collarbone. She wasn’t even aware that they’d been moving until the back of her knees came into contact with the edge of the bed. He lowered her slowly to the soft surface, his hard length brushing her hip as he joined her on the mattress.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, reaching around and untying the flimsy knot that held the halter top of her dress in place. He pushed the fabric aside and revealed her breasts.

He’d seen her before, out at the pool, and already knowing that he liked the way she looked bolstered her confidence. He cupped her breasts, teased the aroused tips. She tilted her head back onto the pillow and just enjoyed his touch, relished the knot of arousal that was tightening in her pelvis. She could just stay like this forever, with him caressing her, lavishing attention on her body.

She let out a moan of disappointment when he abandoned her breasts, his hands skimming over her curves, still clothed in the thin silk of the dress. He pushed the fabric up again and exposed her naked body to his gaze. She hadn’t been embarrassed for him to see her breasts, but having him so close to a part of her only her doctor had ever seen had her blushing hotly.

“Max.” She was about to ask him to turn the bedroom light off, but the warm press of his lips on her thigh stalled the words. And when he parted her legs and ran his tongue along her inner thigh she lost her command of the English language entirely.

She fought to regain some control, some kind of command over her senses. Impossible when she felt as if all of the feeling inside her were too big to be contained by her skin, when she was certain she might shatter into a million pieces. A needy moan escaped her lips and her body trembled as he moved closer to the place where she was wet and aching for him. She didn’t have control anymore; she felt as if she might fall from the earth and float away, as if there was nothing holding her to the bed.

She gripped the sheets, tried to focus, tried to find some shred of sanity, because this, what he was doing to her, making her feel, was terrifying. She couldn’t temper it, couldn’t lead it, or plan it. But she felt her hold slipping, felt herself ready to plunge over the edge, and if that happened she was afraid she would go on falling forever.

“Let go, Alison,” he growled, pressing a hot kiss just above her feminine mound. “I want to make you lose control.”

She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see. “No.”

“Yes. I want you to stop thinking. I want you to feel.” He ran his tongue over her flesh, flicked it over the sensitive bundle of nerves and continued down, dipping inside of her. Her hips came off the bed and he gripped them tight, holding her to him, not letting her escape. “I want you to come for me.”

He continued his intimate assault, pleasuring her with his lips, his tongue, as he whispered exciting, erotic words. He pushed one finger into her tight passage and moved it in rhythm with his tongue.

A moan rose in her throat and she couldn’t do anything to stop the needy sound from escaping.

“That’s right, Alison,” he whispered. “Let go. You can let go. I’ve got you.”

Her mind blanked, all thoughts of control, all of her worries, falling away. And she really could only feel. She felt as if she was reaching for something, something beautiful that shimmered before her, just out of reach. She moved against him, edging toward the nameless need that had taken over her whole being. And finally she touched it.

Her mouth opened on a soundless cry and she arched up as her orgasm washed over her. Her internal muscles pulsed around his finger in waves of endless pleasure that seemed to go on and on.

When it was over she was self-conscious again, where before she’d been so lost in her pleasure that she hadn’t really stopped to realize that she should be embarrassed about what he was doing to her.

“Don’t,” he said, deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Don’t?”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He shrugged the shirt off then removed his pants and underwear in one fluid movement.

She could only stare, openmouthed at the vision of masculine perfection he’d unveiled. That muscular chest was bare for her again and she ached to touch him, to taste him. And then her gaze dropped to his erection, thick and fully aroused, and she forgot her embarrassment. How could she be embarrassed when she could see for herself how much he’d enjoyed doing that for her? When she could see how much he wanted her still? Men couldn’t fake a reaction like that, and she couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of feminine pride over his obvious desire for her.

He stood up from the bed and moved over to the dresser where there were several pillar candles set out. She took the opportunity to admire his tight male butt, her arousal almost unbearable despite the orgasm she’d just had. He grabbed a lighter from the top drawer and picked up one of the candles.

“What are you doing?” she asked, craving his skin against hers, craving his touch, his kiss.

“Setting the mood,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile.

“There’s no time for that,” she said, shimmying out of her dress. “I need you. Now.”

A feral growl rose up in his throat and he crossed to the bed in three quick strides. Then he was covering her, gently pressing her legs apart with his hair-roughened thigh. She kissed him, moved against him, rubbed her breasts against his chest. She loved being naked with him, skin to skin, their bodies twined together. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. She was completely out of control, and yet she was safe. With him she was safe. No matter what. She knew it instinctively, even if she didn’t know why.

He rubbed his shaft against her slick opening. She was so wet, so ready for him after her first mind-numbing orgasm that she didn’t feel any pain when he started to ease into her. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was tense, the tendons in his neck strained with the concentration it took for him to go slow.

She looped her calf over his and urged him on. In one quick motion he thrust inside of her to the hilt. She felt too full, the stretching sensation uncomfortable, but not painful. She shifted, trying to ease some of the pressure.

He pulled away and then pushed into her again and she felt her body adjusting, felt her muscles expanding to accommodate him. And when he thrust into her for a third time all of the discomfort was gone. She moaned with pleasure, the sweet feeling of impending orgasm beginning to coil in her pelvis again.

“Oh, Max,” she breathed, arching against him, meeting each of his thrusts.

He buried his face in her neck, his movements wild, hard. Wonderful. Neither of them were quiet, both of them whispering words of encouragement, letting the other one know how good everything was. And when she felt ready to go over the edge again she jumped willingly.

If her first orgasm was a release, this one was an explosion of feeling. She couldn’t stop the hoarse cry that escaped her lips as she lost herself in her own pleasure wholly and completely. He thrust hard into her one last time and pressed a hot kiss to her lips as he came.

He held her until their raging heartbeats calmed, their bodies still joined.

“I didn’t know,” she said, dazed. “I didn’t know that losing control could be so … empowering.”

His lips twitched against her neck. “Was it?”

“Yes. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Was it your first orgasm?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

She hadn’t planned on telling him, but after that she knew there was no place for lying or even sidestepping the truth. “Yes. My first everything.”

Max was stunned by that admission. She’d been tight, so tight it had been a battle not to come the moment he’d thrust into her, but he’d been too lost in his own pleasure to question it.

“And why is that, Alison? You’re a beautiful woman. A sensual woman. There wouldn’t have been anything wrong with you exploring that.”

“Control,” she said softly. “I never wanted to give anyone the power to hurt me. So I avoided relationships. Avoided sex.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She shifted in his arms and turned to face him, her copper eyes still cloudy with the aftereffects of her orgasm. Something that felt a lot like pride swelled in his chest. “You’re the first man that I wanted to be with. Before I … It scared me to think of being with someone like this. Being naked, not just physically, but in every way. But I trust you. I trust that you won’t hurt me,” she said simply.

He felt as if a steel band was clamping down hard on his heart. She’d been a virgin. She’d trusted him where she hadn’t trusted any man before. And what could he offer her but a cold, clinical relationship, void of any kind of sentimental emotion. She deserved more than that. But he just didn’t have it in him.

“I can’t give you love. I can’t give you the promises a woman should expect after her first time.”

“I don’t need any more promises. And we’re already engaged,” she said pointedly. “And what we have is better than love. We have honesty. We have a common bond.”

She was right. Love was no guarantee of anything, and they’d both seen that firsthand in life. He only hoped she wouldn’t have a change of heart. Virgins tended to take sex very seriously, which was why he’d always avoided them.

She slid her silky smooth thigh over his and her damp core brushed against his penis. He felt himself getting hard all over again. He wanted her. Already. Wanted her so badly his muscles were knotting with tension as he tried to hold himself back. But she’d been a virgin less than a half hour ago and he wasn’t going to hurt her by trying to find his own satisfaction again so soon.

She moaned and moved against him, her lips curved into a dreamy smile.

“Alison,” he bit out. “Be careful.”

“Why?” she asked, a full-blown smile spreading over her face. He found himself smiling back.

“Because you’re new at this and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me at all the first time.”

“But I can’t promise I’ll behave myself this time. It’s been a very long time for me.”

Her eyes widened. “It has?”

“I haven’t been with a woman since before Selena died.”

The stricken look on her face made his gut tighten. “Was this …? I mean … you don’t feel guilty, you don’t feel like …?”

“Do I feel like I betrayed my wife?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“No. It wasn’t about that. There was no woman that I wanted to be with. I’d dated casually and I had put that behind me. I was married for seven years and I still wanted the stability it offered. Yet I didn’t want to get married again, either. That didn’t leave me with a lot of options.”

“And then you got stuck with me,” she said, her smile sad now.

He shifted to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “I didn’t want to get married again because my marriage was such a disaster in the end,” he said, finally saying what he’d never before voiced out loud. “Selena and I no longer shared a bed, or much of anything else. There was no way for me to reach her anymore, and I stopped trying. Then she was killed in the car accident while I was away on business. I wasn’t even there to hold her hand while she died. It was my job to protect her, and I didn’t.”

“Oh, Max.” She buried her face in his chest as he cupped the back of her head, stroking her hair. “You couldn’t have protected her from that.”

“I should have been there for her. At the very least I could have done that. I could have tried harder to make her happy.”

“If she wouldn’t talk to you there was nothing you could do to make her. She chose not to share with you.”

“One person cannot bear all the blame when a marriage dissolves. She was fragile, and life forced her to endure things that would have wounded a much stronger person. I had a duty to my wife that I didn’t fulfill.”

Her expression turned fierce, a golden spark lighting her eyes. She put her hand on his cheek. “We have a duty to each other, Max. To make this work. I promise I’ll never close up like that on you. I won’t freeze you out. We’ll always talk.”

He kissed her softly on the corner of her lips, then more firmly as he rolled her underneath him. The feeling that swelled in his chest when she made that promise was far too much, far too intense. It shouldn’t matter. His relationship with Alison was about passion, and their baby. Nothing more. Emotions simply didn’t enter the equation.

But that simple vow kept pounding through him as he made love to her, fueled his desire for her. And when she cried out his name during her orgasm it pulled feelings from his hardened heart that he’d no longer imagined himself capable of.