Читать книгу His Seductive Proposal - Джанис Мейнард, Maureen Child - Страница 17

Olivia felt terrible. Kieran was being firm, but reasonable, and she was the one refusing to compromise. But how could she? Nothing Kieran suggested had any basis in reality.

At least they had solved the question of whether or not she and Cammie would go home. Olivia badly needed physical distance to recoup her equilibrium. If she stayed with Kieran much longer, she would end up agreeing to anything solely to see his smile and to feel his body wrapped around hers.

He had shed his suit jacket in the limo earlier, and had rolled up his shirtsleeves. To the casual observer he was a big city businessman taking a lunch break in the midst of a busy day. But Olivia knew better. Like a chameleon, he had assumed the camouflage that enabled him to get what he wanted.

Kieran Wolff might appear civilized at the moment, but in reality, he was a man’s man—steel-cored, physically honed, mentally sharp. Olivia had no doubt that he could accomplish anything he put his mind to… which didn’t bode well for her ability to hold out against his wishes in the long run. He might very well be planning to wear down her resistance by any means necessary… including intimacy.

She had little defense against him, though she’d tried to keep her distance. Men could have sex for the sake of sex. Why couldn’t women? If Olivia kept her head, she could enjoy the time with Kieran but not let her good sense be swayed by his magnetism.

Two choices, both risky. Leave and take Cammie away, provoking Kieran’s anger and possible vengeance. Or stay, and keep her heart intact by regarding any sexual relationship as temporary and recreational.

She gulped inwardly. There was no doubt that she and Kieran were going to end up in bed together before the day was out. Not because he was going to lure her there, but because she wanted him desperately. One more day. Surely she could keep her messy emotions at bay for one more day. And then a brief visit in August. After that, Kieran would be safely on the other side of the world, and there would be no chance of Olivia doing something embarrassing like going down on her knees and begging him to stay and love her and her daughter.

He released her and gathered up their lunch debris, tossing it in a nearby receptacle. “Have you ever taken a carriage ride in the park?” he asked.

“No. But I’d rather do that at night, I think.”

“Okay. Then what shall we do now? Anything you want. I’m at your disposal.”

“How about we check into our hotel and not waste any more time?”

Her boldness shocked him. Heck, she shocked herself. It was almost amusing to see the slack-jawed surprise on Kieran’s face. Almost, but not quite. Limbs trembling and stomach doing flips, she awaited his answer.

Kieran stood there in the sunlight, gorgeous as a big jungle cat, and equally dangerous. “Are you serious?”

She approached him slowly, her feet having a hard time making the steps. “Completely. I want to be with you for as much time as we have. I want to sleep in your bed and wake up beside you. I want it all.”

All constituted a heck of a lot in her book, surely more than he was willing or able to give. But he would think she was referring to sex, and that was okay. No reason for him to know that she was so much in love with him that the thought of returning to California was an actual pain in her chest.

He took her wrist and reeled her in, snaking an arm behind her waist and pulling her against his chest. “You’re going to get me arrested,” he muttered, his mouth moving over hers with sensual intent. “I’m not sure I can resist taking you here… now.” He dragged her off the path near a clump of trees. Privacy was still not an option, but at least they weren’t smack in the middle of the walkway.

His erection thrust between them, full, hard, seeking.

Her knees went weak, and if he hadn’t been supporting her, she might have melted to the ground in a puddle of need. No one was paying any attention to them. But this game was dangerous. “Isn’t the hotel close?” she panted.

“Not close enough.” He bit her bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth, sucking until she shuddered. She wanted to climb inside his clothes, rip them from his body.

“Call the car,” she begged.

He smelled of starched cotton and warm male skin. His hands cupped her ass. “I could tell the driver to circle the city… over and over and over. Have you ever made love in a limo, Olivia?”

Dizzy, needing oxygen, she leaned into him. “No. Have you?”

“Never had the pleasure. But damned if I couldn’t be persuaded right about now.”

She whimpered when he pulled away and barked an order into his cell phone. The planes of his face were taut, his eyes glittering with arousal. “C’mon. He’s picking us up in five minutes.”

Hand in hand, they walked rapidly. His breathing was audible and as choppy as her own.

Unfortunately the car ride from the edge of the park to the Carlyle was long enough for only one heated kiss. Suddenly a uniformed gentleman was opening Olivia’s door and they were engulfed in the bustle of check-in. Twenty minutes later, in a luxurious suite that was blessedly quiet and totally private, Kieran faced her, arms folded across his chest. “Take off your dress.”

The blunt command, combined with the intensity of his regard made her thighs quiver and her sex dampen. Never contemplating refusal, she shed the tiny shrug sweater and reached behind her for the zipper. When she stepped out of the dress and tossed it on a chair, she saw his eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

The dress didn’t require a bra, so she stood facing him in nothing but a lacy red thong and high heels. Her generous breasts were firm and high. The urge to cover them with her hands was there, but she resisted, wanting to please him.

His whispered curse was barely audible. She saw his fists clench at his hips. “Walk toward me.”

The distance between her and the door where he stood was considerable, more so because she was naked and he was eyeing her like a condemned man who hadn’t seen a woman in months.

When she was halfway across the room, he held out a hand. “Stop. Turn around. Take down your hair.”

She had tucked it up in a loose chignon during lunch when the heat of the day made the weight of her long hair uncomfortable. Now she reached for the pins and removed them, dropping them into a cut glass dish on the coffee table. Deliberately she ran a hand through the masses of heavy, silky strands and shook her head.

When she was done, she looked at him over her shoulder through lowered lashes. “Does this meet with your approval, Mr. Wolff?”

His jaw firmed. “Are you sassing me, Olivia?”

“Would I do that?” Her eyes widened dramatically.

“Face me. Touch your breasts.”

They were playing a game of chicken, and Kieran had just upped the stakes. Olivia felt her throat and cheeks flush, but she reversed her position and hesitantly placed her hands on her chest. Her voice was gone, locked down by the giant lump in her throat.

“I said touch them. Put your fingers on your nipples.”

Good Lord. She licked her lips, dizzy and desperate for his touch. Feeling awkward but aroused, she did as he demanded, feeling her sensitive flesh bud and tighten as she stroked herself. The sensation was incredible, pleasuring herself as Kieran watched with a hooded gaze.

“Beautiful.” He breathed the word like a prayer, the three syllables almost inaudible.

When her skin became too sensitive to continue, her hands dropped to her sides.

Kieran didn’t move. How did he do it? She was so hungry for him, her whole body trembled.

But he wasn’t finished. His gaze blazing with his heat, he narrowed his eyes. “Go to the bedroom. Don’t look back. Lie down on the bed on your stomach.”

She flinched in momentary fear. But it was a gut reaction. Kieran would never hurt her or make her uncomfortable. This was all about pleasure. His and hers.

Turning away from him was difficult. She knew he watched her, hawklike, as she walked slowly toward the doorway that led into the rest of the suite. Once, she stumbled, but she finally made it into the bedroom. For a moment, she stood in indecision. Was she supposed to turn back the covers?

The bedding was expensive and ornate. Making a rapid decision, she folded back the top layers and lay, facedown, on the smooth crisp sheet. Her heartbeat sounded loud and irregular in her ears. Her arms were by her sides. Ten seconds passed. She raised her arms over her head.

What did he want? What were his plans?

Moments later she heard the sound of his footsteps on the carpet. Nearby a rustle and then the rasp of a zipper. A soft clink when the belt buckle slid free. The sounds of a man undressing.

An activity that was at once commonplace and yet deeply erotic, particularly when the woman in his bed was not allowed to witness the disrobing. She imagined his long, muscular limbs, narrow hips, jutting arousal.

The bed shuddered when he put a knee beside her hip and joined her on the mattress. Without warning, he took her two wrists and bound them together with what felt like his necktie. She struggled instinctively. He paid her no mind.

The silk fabric tightened, and then she felt him lean down as he whispered in her ear. “You’re at my mercy now. Everything I ask of you, you’ll do, and in exchange, I’ll make you burn.”

“Kieran…” The word ended on a cry as he ran his tongue around the shell of her ear and winnowed his fingers through her hair. With a slow, steady touch, he massaged her scalp. His fingertips skated to her nape, the back of her ear. Her whole body craved his attention, but he was set on a course that was drugging, slow and steady.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he moved south, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. Her spine caught his focus. He ran his tongue the length of it and then rubbed gently on either side.

At her ass, he made a sound, a cross between a groan and a curse. Quivering, helpless, she felt him plump the cheeks, trace the cleft, reach beneath her and brush the part of her that ached the most.

When she spread her legs, begging wordlessly, he chuckled and abandoned the ground he had barely conquered. “Patience, Olivia.”

She felt his hands beneath her hips, lifting her, turning her. Now she could see him, and the sight took her breath and shredded it. His broad chest was tanned and rippled with muscle. An arrow of fine, dark hair traced the midline, all the way down to where his shaft reared proudly against his abdomen.

His erection was thick and long, and a drop of moisture glistened on the tip. “Please,” she begged without pride. “Please don’t make us wait.”

“Waiting is half the fun. I want you crazed when I finally take you, so lost to reason that nothing exists but you and me and this bed.”

It was as if he were a hypnotist. Her body responded to his words atavistically, ceding control without a qualm. But by the look on his face, his control was more fragile than he was willing to admit. His jaw was tight. The dark flush of color staining his cheeks made him look wild and uncivilized… a man close to the edge.

He bent over her, no part of his body touching hers except his lips. “I love your mouth,” he said, tracing the soft flesh with his tongue and sliding through to taste her.

She tried to link her bound wrists over his head to trap him close, but he moved away, using one big hand to pin hers to the mattress. “Naughty, naughty,” he teased.

Suddenly very serious, he kept his gaze locked on hers as he slid his free hand down her stomach and between her thighs. Two large fingers entered her, testing her readiness. Her hips came off the bed, her heartbeat racing as sweat beaded her forehead.

He never looked away and neither could she. All the secrets of a man’s desires were there in his eyes if she could only translate them. Was this all he wanted from her? Dare she hope he needed more?

Stroking lazily, he turned interrogator. “Tell me about the men in your life, Olivia. Who has benefitted from what I taught you back in England?”

His finger brushed her clitoris and she gasped. “None of your damned business, Wolff man. I haven’t quizzed you about your women in every port.”

Back and forth. Back and forth. That brazen fingertip brought her closer and closer to the edge. “There haven’t been that many,” he said slowly, looking at his hand’s mischief and not her face. “I work long hours when I’m overseas. Not much time for play.”

“But a man like you can’t go without sex for long. Back in university you wanted it twice a day, three times if we were lucky.”

“That’s because I was obsessed with you.”

The blunt confession gave wings to her heart. But she reined in her excitement. The pertinent word in that sentence was in the past tense. Was. Kieran had been a horny young adult male. And Olivia had fallen into his bed like the proverbial ripe peach.

As a fully mature man, he was no less sexually primed, but he’d had any number of women since he left England so suddenly. And even now, being with Olivia was probably more about expedience and availability than any deep-seated obsession.

Kieran’s early experiences in life had clearly stunted his ability to express deep emotion. He was a passionate man, but she doubted whether he was capable of true romantic love. That would mean putting a female first in his life, and she had seen no sign of such willingness in his behavior.

He clearly wanted her, but for Olivia, that would never be enough.

His hand moved, and she gave up analyzing the situation. Today was about physical pleasure. Her heart was safely locked away.

Kieran released her wrists. Sliding far down in the bed, he used his hands to widen the vee of her legs. When she felt his hot breath on her thighs, she tensed in panic. They had never explored this kind of intimacy when she was younger. “No, wait…” she blurted out. “I don’t like this.”

“How do you know?” he asked, a lazy smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

“Seriously, Kieran.” She pushed at his shoulder. “I mean it. Stop.”

He reared up, all humor erased from his face. “I’ll stop. If you insist. But it would give me great pleasure to do this with you.”

She nibbled her lower lip, caught between unease and cautious interest. “What if I can’t come, because I’m too self-conscious?” Blurting out what she was thinking wasn’t something she planned, but he might as well know the truth.

“Relax, Olivia. It’s not an exam you have to study for. I want to make you happy. That’s all. You don’t have to do a thing.”

Her hand fell to the sheet. “Well, I…”

Anticipating her consent, he resumed his earlier position. She felt the softness of his hair on her leg, jerked briefly as his hot breath feathered over her belly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes, arching her back at the first gentle pass of his tongue. When she moaned, helpless in the grip of shivering sensation that spread in warm ripples throughout her lower body, he repeated the motion. The sensation was indescribable. Like a warm, electric shock that built and built until she called out his name in a frenzy of need. “Kieran. Oh, God. Kieran.”

His muffled response was neither decipherable nor important. She was lost, caught up in a whirlwind that slammed into her, dragged her over the edge of a perfect climax and dropped her helpless into his embrace.

When she recovered, he had moved up beside her and was leaning on an elbow watching her with a totally masculine satisfaction. “Still don’t like it?” he asked drolly. One eyebrow lifted in a questioning stance.

She tried to corral her ragged breathing. “Don’t brag.”

He placed his hand, palm opened flat, on her belly. “Watching you come like that ranks as the highlight of my year.”

“The year’s only halfway done,” she quipped, trying not to let him see how completely undone she was. “Too early to tell.” She put her hand on top of his and laced their fingers together.

“Don’t be so modest. I’m sure they heard you in Brooklyn.”

“Kieran!” Mortification washed over her and she rolled to her side, bending her knee and resting her leg across his hairy thighs. They were hard and corded with muscle. His deep tan extended everywhere except for a narrow band of white at his hips and the tops of his thighs.

She imagined him, laboring out beneath a blazing tropical sun, shirtless, wearing only cargo shorts and boots. Did he ever get lonely always living among strangers? The question hovered on her lips, but she knew it was self-serving. Obviously his lifestyle suited him. Otherwise, he would have come home long ago.

He lifted her without warning and settled her astride his hips. His hunger unappeased, he flexed and grew at least another centimeter beneath her fascinated gaze. She put both hands on him, measuring the length and breadth.

Hard steel pulsed beneath his velvet skin. Even if she had been with a dozen lovers in the interim, she couldn’t imagine that any of them would have been as beautiful in body and spirit as Kieran Wolff. Perhaps such a virile man might balk at the feminine adjective, but Olivia chose not to retract it, even in her own private discourse.

Kieran’s body was perfect. Even the smattering of scars that were part and parcel of the hard physical labor he performed only served to make his physique more interesting.

She saw him reach for a condom, and her heartbeat accelerated.

Extending his hand, he challenged her. “Will you do the honors?”