Читать книгу Unfinished Business: Bought: One Night, One Marriage / Always the Bridesmaid / Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress - Robyn Grady - Страница 11

CALLY stood along the edge of the pool and stared longingly at the water.

‘Want to swim?’

‘I don’t have a swimsuit with me.’

‘And that’s a problem because?’ Blake was back, in control and wicked with it. ‘It’s a very private pool. I don’t often bother with shorts myself.’

The flush blanketed her body from tip to toe—as if a hot red sheet had slowly been drawn over her. He watched and the wicked look widened to a smile.

‘You sure you don’t want to cool down?’

She turned, anger flaring. ‘You’re the one who needs to cool down.’ She pushed, totally catching him by surprise, and he tumbled straight in.

The satisfaction at seeing the splash was sublime. The giggles burst out. She delighted at seeing him toppled for once, watching as he stretched out under the water, turning around and heading back to the edge at which she stood.

She made sure she stepped back just far enough out of arm’s reach. She underestimated. In a move that totally surprised her he leapt from the water. Easily hooking his arm around her knees and heaving her over his shoulder so she went head first into the pool. It was not a graceful entry—her arms and legs were in all directions and she knew the splash was spectacular. She sank deep and took her time about coming up. When she surfaced he was standing, chest-deep and looking fiery.

‘You deserve a dunking for that, my sweet,’ he warned, peeling his tee shirt off his head.

The feeling of delight multiplied. ‘You’ll have to catch me first.’ With a laugh she dived away, quite happy for him to play catch.

Her jeans were heavy, weighing her down and clinging uncomfortably to her legs, but she didn’t care. His hand encircled her arm, he pulled her to her feet and within close range. Water racing down her face, she shivered, cold from the pool, hot for him.

He stared into her face, as if he was searching for an answer to a question she didn’t know had been asked.

‘Take your jeans off and swim in your undies. I’m going to do a few lengths.’ He let her go again and dived in the other direction. Mystified, she watched him escape. He was deliberately keeping his distance.

She stood up in the shallow end and dragged off her shirt. Sodden, it landed with a squelchy thud on the concrete surround. Her jeans were trickier to remove and in the end she had to float on her back as she wriggled them down. She stood on the step to throw them out of the pool, enjoying the warm beat of the sun on her wet skin. As she turned back to the water she saw he’d stopped swimming, was just treading water in the deep end and staring.

She glanced down and discovered neither her bra nor her undies remained opaque when wet—no. Both were utterly transparent.

And he was looking at her as if he’d never seen a near naked woman before.

The flush returned to her body. All the blood rushed to the surface and she felt hotter than the sun.

His answering flush was something else. She hadn’t known it was possible for a tanned man to flush like that. But the colour slashed across high cheekbones and his sea-green eyes were lit by a matching flame.

‘I thought the water was supposed to cool us off,’ she croaked.

‘Must be some sort of chemical thing.’ He coughed. ‘If you go into the pool house you’ll find towels and spare bathrobes hanging. And toiletries and stuff. Have a shower or whatever and put on a robe while your clothes dry. I’m going to do another length.’

He turned and splashed through the water again.

Uncaring about the drips, she padded through the pool house—a perfectly good home in itself. Why he lived in such a mansion all by himself puzzled her, but what puzzled her more was why he kept holding back when it was plain as day that they were both pretty eager to get close. That the effect they had on each other was undeniable. What was he waiting for?

She glanced at her watch—glad it was water resistant. She’d been here for hours and other than that one shattering kiss in the kitchen he’d made no move. What had happened to his promise of six big Os in the one night? She wanted that, damn it. Hell, even just one. OK, two. She’d be happy enough with that.

When was he going to get on with it because she didn’t know if she could wait any longer. And then it hit her—why should she wait? Maybe she should be honest, it was why she was here after all. Couldn’t she initiate? Maybe she could be the one not taking no for an answer.

The thrill rippled through her entire body. She stood for a moment under the powerful shower and mentally deliberated. Forcing the recollections of her time with Luc from her mind—they always snuck in at times when she wanted to be brave.

Take what you want, Cally. Take what you want.

She lathered the creamy gel on her body, breathing in the fresh floral fragrance, smoothing it into her skin and starting to feel like a siren preparing herself for seduction.

By the time she left the pool house he was out of the water. Presumably he was in the main building. She spread her sodden clothes on the wooden deckchairs to dry and then turned—it was time.

Blake stood in his kitchen and watched as she walked towards him. He was nearly at breaking-point and seeing her like this was pretty much the last straw. She’d knotted the robe firmly at the waist. She had no make-up on. Her hair was slick. She was beautiful and utterly ready for bed.

He’d been holding back all day. Biding his time, waiting for the right moment. Because he didn’t just want her willing, he wanted her wild. He wanted to know she was as out of control for him as he was for her.

That moment in the kitchen had been a mistake, but one he hadn’t been able to resist. He’d had to pull back quickly from a kiss that had threatened to send every rational thought out the window for all eternity. And that had thrown him. That she seemed to be able to make him forget anything and everything just by touching him.

He’d had to prove to himself that he could pull back. Transient lust. That was all this was, and soon to be remedied because, hell, it was crippling.

He looked back to the kitchen bench and reminded himself of his plan. He didn’t just want victory. He wanted total surrender.

‘You were so long in the shower I did round two of the bread and put it in the oven.’ He couldn’t have coped to see her hands on that dough again. He opened the fridge. ‘Wine?’

‘Thank you.’ She accepted the glass he held out and with deliberation lifted it straight to her lips and took a long, deep sip, not breaking eye contact with him the entire time. Then she lowered the glass, set it on the bench next to her and came closer to him—intention apparent in every move.

His pulse picked up. ‘Got something you want to say, Cally?’

‘No.’

He knew now. She was ready. And, please God, let him be able to handle it. She stepped closer. He looked down at her plump lips, deep pink and parted.

She was his. But he refused to leave room for regret. And he had a lesson for her—one he didn’t want her to forget in a hurry. He whispered, mouth millimetres from hers. An almost kiss.

‘There’s something I want you to do for me.’

Her eyes were cloudy, acquiescent, desire-drugged.

He walked to the kitchen drawers and pulled out the length of black fabric from the second one down, where he’d stashed it earlier. He held it out and it unfolded into a mask.

She looked at him wide-eyed.

He smiled. ‘Nothing kinky, honey. But I do have a test for you.’ He spoke quickly, not wanting the heat in her face to be replaced by fear or uncertainty. ‘You say you have bad taste, that you have terrible judgment. I think you’re wrong. So what if you made a mistake in the past? I think you need to trust your instincts more. So I have a selection here—of fake and of genuine. Fake maple syrup and the real thing, pure virgin olive oil and the chemical crap they mislabel, genuine French champagne and synthetic bubbles. See where I’m going with this?’

‘This is like some game at a kid’s party.’

‘Right. The blind taste test. Maybe your judgment will be better when you can’t see. Interesting idea, don’t you think?’

Her lips twitched and he relaxed, pulling out one of the kitchen stools, which she immediately hopped on. He set out the items on the bench in front of her. A small smile played on her mouth—she was buying in now, well and truly.

‘Close your eyes.’ This time he didn’t need to tell her twice. Her lids fluttered shut and he suppressed the flare of satisfaction at the sight of her quick and quiet acquiescence. He placed the silk band over her eyes and tied it at the back. Without her eyes on him he was able to study her freely.

The need for her was intense and the need to know she wanted him as badly was even more intense.

‘Let’s start with the champagne.’

Her breathing had accelerated, just a fraction, but he was so attuned to her he picked it up right away. Faster and shorter. He poured a small amount from each bottle into two glasses, then held them in turn to her lips, watching as she drank.

‘Which is it, the first or the second?’ He set the glasses down as she deliberated.

‘The first.’

‘Right first time.’

The smile on her lips deepened.

‘Now the oil. I’ll dip a little bread in some, OK?’

He stood close, fascinated, as her mouth took each morsel in, her tongue appearing out for a tantalising time to lick the crumb from her lips.

‘The second.’

‘Correct,’ he muttered.

‘And now the syrup.’ He poured some straight from the bottle onto his index finger and held it up to her lips. Stroked their softness just a little, to tease her. ‘Suck it off.’

He waited, tormented, as the colour tinged her cheeks. And then her mouth opened and she took him in. Her tongue swirled around his finger and then she gripped and he nearly groaned, the gentle tugging of her mouth an erotic experience unlike any other. He didn’t want to pull out. But he did, replacing it with the other finger, the other syrup, and he no longer cared about anything but how soon he could get the rest of him into her like this. Hot and wet and just how he wanted her.

‘Which is it?’ he whispered hoarsely.

She shook her head a little. ‘I’m not sure. I think I need to try them again.’

Minx.

He did groan then, half delight, half amusement, wholly desire. ‘I think we should skip it and move on.’

‘There’s more?’

‘A lot more.’ He paused, only a second longer. ‘What about this, Cally? Is this genuine?’

And he pressed his mouth to hers, tasted the last of the sweet, sticky syrup. And then it was just her and she tasted divine.

‘Does this feel real to you, Cally?’

‘It feels … it feels.’

‘This is real. Full-on roaring lust, Cally. You want me and I want you.’ As he’d never wanted another—so intensely it stirred him almost to anger. She made him angry—constantly forcing him to reassess, constantly making him feel the need to defend himself. He didn’t want her on a whim, because of some bet. He simply had no choice. From the moment he’d seen her he’d sensed the depths, felt the primal recognition of the perfect—physical—mate.

He wanted it to be the same for her. Wanted her to feel this almost animal need to have, to dominate, to possess. To surrender.

It smelt real; it tasted real; it felt real.

She couldn’t think any more. As his hands held her head, and his tongue swept into her mouth to taste all of her, she felt it through to her marrow. The very real lust. The need to have him keep kissing her like this—long and deep and so, so sweet and hot.

He whispered into her ear, his breath warm and tickling, and all she wanted was that mouth back on hers.

‘I’m not going to do anything that you aren’t willing for me to do. You can say no and I’ll stop. OK?’

As if she was going to say no.

‘There’s just me and there’s just you and we’re just going to have some fun.’

Bring it on.

‘This is what you want, right?’

He still needed to ask? Couldn’t he feel the way she was trembling? Couldn’t he feel the fire that burned through her veins? ‘Yes.’ She wanted him to stop thinking, stop questioning, stop talking. She just wanted him to take her. She knew he could make her go places she’d never been, had only dreamed being. He could do that with just one kiss. Now she wanted the rest of it.

He spun her on the stool so the bench was at her back. She heard him walk and then felt him in front of her, felt his fingers in her hair, and could hardly wait.

But as the mask slipped from her skin, so the blinding lust cooled and a speck of reason peeked in. She looked at him. Really looked at him, looking at her. And she couldn’t believe what was in his eyes.

He pushed the robe from her shoulders, so it slid down her arms, and started to slip from her body. Half naked, she looked down and felt uncomfortable.

This man was perfection. She was not.

‘I think I preferred it with the blindfold on.’

His brows lifted. ‘So you can’t see me?’

‘So I can’t see me.’

‘You think you’re ugly?’

‘No. But I’m not a model.’ It wasn’t that she was ugly. She was ordinary. Ordinarily ordinary wouldn’t matter. But when you were the daughter of a supermodel? Then it was a problem. She was miles off that striking, classical bone structure—the perfect, symmetrical face. And as for her figure. ‘I’m not slim.’

‘No.’ He grinned. ‘But who wants a bag of bones?’ He rested his hands on her shoulders, thumbs stroking, soothing her smooth skin.

‘Let me tell you what I see.’ He looked, a long, measuring look down her body, and she would have scrambled for some sort of covering if his hands weren’t firm on her arms, holding her still for his inspection. ‘I look at your breasts. I look at your belly. I look at your heaven-sent bottom and my brain shuts down. Instinct screams at me—fecundity! Fertile female. Must procreate, must procreate.’ A sharp smile, a mocking edge and an even keener look in his eye.

She stared at him. And finally, she laughed. A short brittle crack.

‘Which shows how appearances can be deceiving, I guess. You males can’t do intuition or instinct.’ She stood up, clutching the robe, walked away from the kitchen and into the living area. ‘I’m never having children.’

The silence was small but pointed. ‘You’re a career woman through and through?’ He followed her, stood beside her, heat radiating from him. She knew it wasn’t just lust spiking his temperature—there was anger too.

Let him judge. He knew nothing of her heartbreak, the way her body’s limitations had forced her to take a road she’d rather be off but that she was determined to make the best of.

‘Absolutely. Nothing matters more to me than my business.’ Bitterness made her vehement, and self-hatred sounded simply like hate.

His eyes flashed fire. Did he think she was some heartless, hard-headed workaholic lacking any kind of maternal instinct? She wasn’t—but so what if she was? It wasn’t by choice. He could think what he liked—she was determined not to care.

They stared at each other, passion clashing. But the blast of temptation and desire was too strong, transforming her emotion from angry disappointment to angry lust. Despite his obvious disapproval, despite the fact he was exactly the wrong type for her, she still wanted him. She saw the same battle in his eyes and knew that neither of them wanted to feel things this way—forced beyond boundaries that normally were easy to maintain.

‘Just us.’ She stated the rules. ‘Just sex.’ She looked at his expression. There was no smile. No tenderness. It was purely dark desire that would disappear once they’d done it. ‘Right?’

‘Right.’

He stepped towards her, ripped his fresh tee shirt over his head, shrugged out of the jeans and was gloriously naked in less than two seconds.

Her mouth, like her robe, fell to the floor. She no longer cared about her body, she only cared about his—about getting her hands on the utterly perfect form before her.

They stepped forward, any polite hesitation abandoned. It had already taken too long. His mouth fastened onto hers, tongue searching. Leaving no doubt as to what he wanted, what he was going to have. And from the speed with which they were both moving, he was going to have it all soon.

The last of her anger was consumed in flames of desire as his big hands weighed her breasts; her tight nipples begged to be taken into his hot mouth but it was his thumbs that teased them. She shifted restlessly, rocking her hips towards him. He bent his head to kiss down her neck and suddenly her legs couldn’t seem to hold her weight any more. He caught her against him and took them down to the floor together.

They kissed and touched like the sensation-starved. She was starved, and she badly wanted everything she sensed he could give her—that release, that completion.

His fingers sought her out, curving into her. He lifted his head and his eyes glowed. ‘You’re wet for me.’

She nodded, boldly reaching out to him. ‘You’re hard for me.’

He grinned, tight, his anger forgotten too as anticipation sharpened. ‘Definitely some sort of reaction.’

And then he made her wetter, with his fingers teasing, swirling, stroking at the particularly sensitive area just north of where she wanted to bury the hot, hard length she had in her hand now. She squeezed him firmer and his fingers worked faster. She stretched her legs as wide and as tight as she could, driving her hips back and forth towards him and her hand hard up and down him. She wanted to master him, wanted to make him take her—completely. His breathing was choppy, as was hers, and, groaning, he grabbed her hand with a death grip, stopping her from rubbing him, yet continuing to torment her with his other extremely clever hand.

And then he slid down her body, replacing those fingers with his mouth, and all she could do was lie there and let him nuzzle into her, so intimate and so intense. He kissed and licked and then the fingers were back too, sliding right inside while his scalding mouth sucked deep.

Sensations were rushing on her now—but she didn’t want to burst yet, not like this.

‘No!’ she called desperately. ‘No, no, no. It’s cheating.’

He froze, moved to look into her face. His grip bruising her wrist. ‘Cally? Cheating?’

She curved into him, pressing her hips against his as she realised he thought she meant something else entirely. If she was going to get what she wanted she’d better spell it out for him. This was a one-weekend-only special. She had nothing to lose and the chance for an experience of a lifetime. Why let nerves or embarrassment ruin that now? So, despite knowing her cheeks must be purple, she spoke. ‘I want to come when you’re … when we’re …’

The black thunder cloud lifted from his brow. ‘You want me inside you when you come?’

She nodded. ‘I want you to come too.’

There was a grunt of laughter. ‘That’s not going to be a problem, sweetheart.’

‘Six for six.’

‘No problem.’ His hands moved to caress her breasts, teasing her nipples. ‘We’ll do it your way this first time, but I want to taste you as you come one time, though.’

Heat flamed her cheeks further. ‘Ditto.’

His fingers flicked faster. ‘Definitely not a problem.’

They kissed again then, finally on the same page. His hips settled between hers and she felt the silken head of him pressing at her wet entrance.

He surged forward, one long stroke, filling her completely—hard.

Her head fell back, throat bared to him in ultimate surrender, and her eyes fluttered, the cry coming from some primal place deep within as she felt every glorious inch of him push deep.

He stilled. And then slowly he pulled back, almost leaving her body completely. She opened her eyes at that and was about to complain when he surged forward again, even harder. The completion, the satisfaction at finally having him there, made her cry out again, raw.

In a tormentingly slow rhythm he retreated again. She moaned, wanting him to move faster. Her hands slid harshly up his upper arms, she spread her fingers on the broad bunch of his shoulder, the tips curling into the muscle, pressing deep on the bone. She cried out again as he hit her with another powerful thrust.

Her breath hissed as he tipped back once more. She saw the confident smile on his face had been wiped and was replaced by concentration on her and wholly on her. ‘Cally,’ he muttered.

Her legs locked, muscles burning with tightness, and she dug her heels into the carpet, pushing her hips up to meet his with all her strength.

And this time, as he thrust to meet her it wasn’t a cry. It was a scream.

Shudders ravaged through her; wave upon wave of almost unbearable ecstasy washed over her from head to toe. Her body contracted around him, again and again, squeezing out the satisfaction it had too long been denied.

She heard his choke, felt him pumping hard and fast, his breathing harsh in a crazy rhythm. And suddenly a groan—relief mixed with disbelief.

As her own breathing started to settle, she happily, languorously, took his weight. His big body sprawled over hers, she ran her hands idly down his back, loving the breadth of the muscles under her fingers and the slick heat pouring off him.

He lifted his head and the look on his face was definitely rueful. ‘Well, that happened a little sooner than I expected.’

‘Are you kidding? I’ve been here all day.’

Laughter shook his chest.

‘Oh, you mean—’

‘Yeah.’ He kept his hips pressed to hers, so they were still joined. The colour in his cheeks deepened. ‘You’ve got a bit of a punch.’

‘Chemical reaction, I guess.’ She grinned, unable to hide the pleasure she got at the realisation he hadn’t held onto his control the way he’d wanted. She arched up to him a little, stretching out the tension in her body that was already coiling again.

He grinned. ‘Definitely one major explosion.’ He bent his head to her breast, blew warm air on the nipple that strained up to him. ‘One down, five to go. I think we need the follow-up soon. That was over all too quick.’

This time, it wasn’t over quick at all. He carried her to his bedroom, in swashbuckling pirate style, and set about driving her crazy in slow, torturous fashion.

They dozed for a while, she lay half awake, half asleep—her body so wired she wondered if she’d ever truly sleep again.

He rolled away, pulled her to her feet and, keeping hold of her hand, led her to a big bathroom most definitely designed for two. They stood under the shower, just kissing, and he ran his soapy hands down her back. Holding her close, not demanding more, but just long soothing kisses until she was the one moving restlessly, the one driving for more—and drive she did with kisses and caresses that became increasingly insistent, confidence growing as she saw the degree to which she could arouse him. She let her fingers glide over his muscles, the wet bronzed wall that was his chest, then stepped out of the reach of the water, turned and knelt before him.

His eyes were large and flaming as he looked down at where she waited with hands and mouth ready. ‘Are you sure?’

‘You’ve proven to me what good taste I have. Let me taste this.’

He groaned and she started playing, tracing fingers over his body, moving in circles ever closer to his magnificent erection—kissing, stroking, touching, teasing.

His thighs were rigid and his hands ran through her hair, mussing it as she pressed her mouth to him.

‘Cally …’ She heard the mutter and felt passion stirring in him, the barely leashed movement in his hips. He was close. She gripped firmer, faster—signalling her intention to see him through, to take it, taste it all. Another heartfelt groan escaped him, pelvis pistoning, fingers twisting in her hair as he gave in, gave her control, gave her everything.

She revelled in his hoarse cry, in feeling his powerful body racked with pleasure, in the extreme explosion she’d asked for.

And when she’d taken what she wanted, he reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet. He leaned sideways against the wall, his back still taking the water of the shower, breathing deep, clearly recovering.

He looked at her with slightly rueful eyes. ‘Taste good?’

She nodded, drunk on desire, on the thrill of seeing him so tortured, knowing she’d done that.

He shook his head. ‘I’ll give you something that tastes even better.’ He picked her up and carried her through to his bed, spreading her body to his satisfaction and starting an exploration that was so slow, so intense, so erotically charged she honestly thought she’d die from the pleasure. His hands and mouth roved the length of her, worshipping, arousing. Eventually he centred on the centre of her—sucking, licking, his tongue going deep, seeking out her essence, the proof of her attraction. Unbearable heat flooded her and she tossed her head, clenching her teeth to stop the screams.

His hands reached up and found her breasts, fingers working on her nipples, toying with their hardness as his tongue worked faster and faster. She couldn’t stop her hips from rocking up to him, couldn’t contain the shattering climax. And as the final shudders were still rippling through her he rose and lay over her. Kissing her deeply, he let her taste herself and him together—such profound and naked intimacy she’d never before experienced. It just turned her on even more.

She felt the hard length of him against her thigh and looked at him—surprised to feel his renewed desire and deep inside her own sizzling again. ‘I thought I’d drained you. Your stamina is incredible.’

‘Only because you’re so insatiable.’ He paused above her, face and body rigid as he stated it plainly. ‘Aren’t you? Hungry for me.’

‘Yes.’ She whispered the unnecessary answer, tilting her hips up to him. She could never get enough. And he pushed inside once more—his tongue, his penis. He totally invaded, claiming her, and she welcomed his possession, arching up, opening up, wanting more and more. Deeper, harder, faster, longer.

For a few hours they slept, curled together, arms and legs entwined. Once she was awake, her fourth and fifth orgasms came in rapid succession—in the one session. She didn’t want to admit to both of them. She wanted to sneak in another round. Multiples counted as one, really, didn’t they? She smiled as she drifted back to sleep, she’d never have thought she’d get to one, let alone go multiple.

As soon as she woke again she turned towards him.

‘You owe me more. You promised. Worried you can’t make it?’

‘You sure you’re keeping the right score?’ He grinned, eyes twinkling with good humour and a lusty light. He knew all right. But he wasn’t arguing.

This time, the feeling of goodness radiated out through her body. Till she felt it was powerful enough to be an entity in its own right. Magic swirled around their entwined bodies, encapsulating them, imprisoning them, while still being part of them.

She welcomed the slickness between her thighs. The smell, the sweat, the slipperiness that came with sex. Sex as she’d never had before. And knew she’d never have again—unless it was with him.

He only gave her another couple of hours to recover before starting a massage that ended with her writhing. Then he led her back to the shower where he took her from behind before spinning her round and starting all over again, driving her crazy, making her come, until the water finally ran cold.