Читать книгу The Millionaires' Cinderellas: Playing the Greek's Game / The Forbidden Innocent / Too Proud to be Bought - Шэрон Кендрик, Sharon Kendrick - Страница 15

‘ZAK?’ Emma attempted for a second time as the car pulled away from the kerb.

‘Shut up,’ he gritted out again.

Her shoulders miserably tense, Emma sat upright in the luxury car while he brooded beside her in stony silence. What choice did she have but to obey him? She guessed she could jump out of the limousine when they stopped at a light. She could run down the road and hail a cab—but wouldn’t that only add to the general melodrama of the evening and make it even worse? Clutching at her little gold clutch bag, she could feel mounting frustration at her own stupidity.

Why the hell hadn’t she told him about Nat sooner—way back when? She’d known that there was some sort of chemistry between them right from the start. She’d known that they had both been fighting an unwanted and very physical attraction. So why had she just pretended that it wasn’t happening—until it had combusted in that steamy dance at the party and it had been impossible to hide from the truth any longer? And now he was angry with her—she didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone so angry.

The car stopped outside the Pembroke and she half expected Zak to storm off, but, still with that same grim look on his face, he led her through the lobby to the elevator, punching out her floor number with an angry finger. Within the closed confines of the empty lift, the atmosphere was unbearable and then suddenly he erupted, turning on her with pewter fire flashing from his eyes.

‘Why did you do that?’ he demanded, his voice low and fierce. ‘Why did you lie about your relationship with my brother, knowing as you must have known that the attraction between us was growing all the time? Or was that what turned you on? Is that what you always do with men, Emma—watch them getting eaten up with desire until they can’t help themselves? Did it amuse you to see me fighting the way I felt about you?’

‘Of course it didn’t!’

‘So why the subterfuge? Why not just come straight out and tell me?’

She shook her head, not ready to tell him that she’d felt too vulnerable to tell him the truth. That she’d been afraid of the way she felt about him and the effect it’d had on her. In fact, she was still afraid. Hadn’t her mother been made a fool of by men who were out of her reach, time and time again? And hadn’t the debacle of her own disastrous marriage proved that Emma was formed from the same mould as the woman who had given birth to her?

‘Because there never seemed a right time,’ she hedged. ‘And because I’d promised Nat that I’d get you off his back.’

‘If Nat had wanted that, then he should have had the guts to tell me so himself!’ he flared. And then he shook his head, amazed at his own stupidity. If Nat had really loved Emma, then there was no way on earth he would have tolerated her being moved away to another city like that. Why hadn’t he seen that before?

Because as usual he had been trying to fix things. To orchestrate events from the sidelines, the way he’d always done. A muscle worked in his cheek as he realised the full extent of his need to control. But he wasn’t going to beat himself up about it. That was the way he’d had to be. Hadn’t he needed every bit of that steely control, in order for his family to survive? When the Constantinides fortune had been bled away by his father’s vacuous new wife—and his mother’s consequent illness—hadn’t Zak been the one that everyone had relied on?

He stared down at Emma, at the slanted green eyes and pale tumble of her hair. He’d been planning to leave her at her room and then to go back to his own, to maybe drink himself into oblivion and think about what a fool he’d been. But his eyes now focused on the soft white silk which clung to yet concealed the pale, curvy body beneath. And suddenly he thought, What the hell?

The lift doors slid open at her floor but as she made to exit, he caught hold of her wrist and pulled her back inside, so that she was wedged right up close to his chest.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she whispered.

‘Let’s lose the innocent act, shall we? I’m going to do what you’ve been wanting me to do all night. I’m going to kiss you, Emma. To kiss you until you don’t know where your mouth ends and mine begins—and after that I’m going to make love to you. Unless, of course, you don’t want me to?’ He read the darkened hunger in her eyes and saw the helpless tremble of her lips. ‘No, I thought not,’ he said grimly as he hit the button for the 34th floor. ‘Because you want this just as much as me. You’ve wanted this from the first moment you ever set eyes on me. We both have. And now we’re damned well going to do it and maybe then it’ll stop eating away at me.’

He was all out of words and all out of excuses and, even though a part of him despised his own weakness, he drove his mouth onto hers in a kiss which had been a long time in coming.

Emma swayed as his mouth came down hard on hers and she found her lips opening greedily. Was this right or was this wrong? She didn’t know—and right now she didn’t care. Because there was no alternative. None. The thought of going through the rest of her life and not kissing him, of never experiencing this—would surely make it an empty life.

Her eyes fluttered to a helpless close as his hands splayed possessively over her bare back. It felt as if her body were melting and this wretched dress was burning her skin and she could barely wait for him to touch her properly. The sensation of it was so powerful that, for a moment, her knees buckled.

Yet even as her body felt on fire with need a part of her found it hard to believe that this was really happening. Because she’d never had this feeling before. Not with Louis. Not with anyone. She’d thought it was her—that it was all down to her own inadequacy. Because that was the accusation which men hurled at women when they couldn’t … couldn’t … arouse them.

The lift stopped and the doors slid open to reveal a couple in full evening dress who were blinking at them in surprise.

‘Good evening,’ said Zak pleasantly as he caught Emma’s hand and walked straight past them.

But Emma heard the woman’s voice as it floated after them down the corridor.

‘Did you see what they were doing, Earl?’

‘I sure did,’ answered Earl, an unmistakable trace of envy in his voice.

Emma’s cheeks were flushed and her heart was pounding by the time they reached Zak’s suite—but she was too nervous with excitement to give the vast penthouse more than a cursory look.

‘I’m not going to offer you a drink,’ he said. ‘Because we both know we’re not here for cocktails. There has been too much deception, Emma, and there’s not going to be any more. Not tonight. Do you understand?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Tonight we’re going to be very honest with each other. You’re going to tell me exactly what it is you want, and I’m going to give it to you.’

His words both thrilled her and scared her because how was she supposed to know what she wanted? How on earth could she tell him that she didn’t know? Nerves momentarily threatened to overwhelm her, but then he had pulled her into his arms and was grazing his lips over hers and she began to shiver in helpless response.

‘Zak,’ she breathed as he flicked her lips open with the arrogant lick of his tongue and she could feel the warm mingling of their breath.

‘Tell me, what is it you want, Emma?’

‘I want …’ Her words trailed away. How could she articulate what had only ever been a fantasy?

‘This, perhaps?’ His hand cupped her breast, luxuriantly circling the rocky nipple so that she moaned.

Against his shoulder, she squirmed with excitement, swallowing down the paper dryness in her throat. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘I thought so. Now let’s try this …’ His hand skated over her belly, his fingers drifting over the delicate silk-satin of her white dress until, with blatant possession, they rested at her crotch. Briefly, his fingers whispered over her sensitive mound, and he ignored her little gasp of protest as he drifted them further down to splay over her thigh.

‘Zak,’ she murmured brokenly, her eyes tightly shut, scared she was going to crumple to the carpet and give away just how useless she was at all this.

Assessingly, he ran his gaze over her as she clung to him, his heart beating with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She was certainly very turned on. Enough for him to just push her down onto the carpet and do it to her right there—and part of him was angry enough at her deceit to want to do just that. To take her in as swift and as perfunctory a way as possible and then to get rid of her as fast as he could.

But even though it had been less than a month since he’d met her, he could never remember feeling quite like this before—as if he would die if he didn’t possess her. Was that the power of the forbidden? Because for so long he’d thought he couldn’t have her? What was it they said—that forbidden fruit was the sweetest? Yet through the dying waves of his anger he realised something else—something which was far more dangerous than acknowledging the allure of the forbidden. He didn’t want it fast and furious, with him just unzipping his fly and thrusting into her eager flesh. If it was only going to be once, then it was going to last all night. One unforgettable night.

He picked her up with the minimum of effort, enjoying the way her eyes snapped open and registering her delighted gasp with a grim satisfaction. So she, who had expressed disbelief that women liked masterful men, was discovering that she’d been wrong all along, was she?

He carried her into the bedroom, where he set her down on her high heels and sucked in a deep breath while she steadied herself, her hands holding on to his shoulders.

‘Take off your shoes,’ he said.

He was so … so in control, she thought as, shakily, she bent down to slip each foot free. Without the added inches of the gold stilettos, she was suddenly much shorter, and once again a feeling of vulnerability swept over her—particularly when she heard his next comment.

‘Is this dress new?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you bought it especially for me,’ he mused, his lips hardening. ‘That’s interesting. Was it expensive?’

She shrugged. Did she look foolish, buying a new dress for what was supposed to have been an innocent date all along? Did it seem as if she’d been expecting this to happen all along? ‘It was enough.’

‘Then bill me for another,’ he said savagely as he peeled it unceremoniously from her body and threw it to the floor, where it pooled in a silken white puddle. He shrugged off his dinner jacket, and it joined the dress on the floor, black against white—as stark as the contrast between his dark skin and her pale flesh. ‘Now unzip me,’ he commanded unsteadily.

The dark eroticism in his voice filled Emma with an urgency she’d never felt before. And once again the dizzy realisation hit her that this was how it was supposed to feel. As if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment other than what was taking place between this man and this woman.

Tremblingly, her fingers struggled with the zipper, which was straining against his hardness. She was terrified that she would ruin it. But he gave a groan of what sounded like satisfaction as his erection sprang free—though he clamped his fingers around hers when she attempted to stroke his steely length through the black silk of his boxer shorts.

‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘Not this time. Just unbutton my shirt. Leave the rest to me.’

This time? What was he talking about? But there wasn’t time to think—not to do anything—because now Zak was removing his shoes and socks and kicking off his trousers and she was busy sliding free the buttons of the fancy dress shirt.

His hand skimmed its way down the side of her body as if he was learning her through touch alone and Emma was suddenly aware that they were both wearing nothing but their underwear. That she was standing in front of him in her bra and pants and that soon they would reach the part where it might go as hopelessly and as disastrously wrong as it had in the past. Would it? Would Zak Constantinides turn to her and snarl his frustration and his rage at her? Hotness flooded into her cheeks and he lifted her chin to meet the blaze of his eyes.

‘Blushing?’ he questioned in a thoughtful voice, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

‘It’s all been a bit … sudden,’ she prevaricated. ‘It feels … fast.’

‘If you want me to be slow, I’m not sure that I can.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What is it you want from me, Emma?’

‘I just …’

Her words tailed off because she was unsure of how to express herself. Even she knew that it would be madness to warn him that it might all go terribly wrong. Because what if that made him stop? So instead, she just spoke the words which came straight from her heart. The ones which were inspired by the desire she felt for this daunting and powerful man. ‘I just want you to be you,’ she breathed.

There was a brief pause. ‘Oh, do you now?’ His soft words to her were at odds with the hardening of his mouth. How like a woman, he thought bitterly. Couldn’t she see the irony in what she’d said? That all this time she’d been deceiving him and now she had the temerity to make a breathless little request like that!

Through the beat of desire he felt another flicker of fury, but he sublimated it by concentrating on undressing her, recognising that rage would get in the way of his enjoyment. And one thing he was certain of was that he was going to enjoy this. Theos, but he had waited for it long enough!

He unclipped her strapless bra—a skimpy little thing, which was having to fight against gravity to contain her luscious breasts, and he was unable to stem his instinctive murmur of appreciation when they sprang free. Urgently, he turned his attention to a tiny white thong, which skimmed the pale curve of her hips and which he slid down over her thighs before kicking off his own shorts so that they were both naked. For a moment he sucked in a deep and unsteady breath, because this was happening—something he had never envisaged happening, other than in his tortured dreams.

Her pale green eyes looked blurred and he wondered if he imagined the faint wariness which lurked at their depths. And he knew that he didn’t want her to have any doubts. That nothing was going to stop this. Not her. Not him. Nothing. He put his arms around her and dipped his face so that it was close to hers.

‘You want this?’ he questioned urgently.

‘I do,’ she whispered back.

With a small groan he tumbled them down on the bed as skin met skin, their bodies sinking into the deep mattress as his fingers threaded through the pale spill of her hair.

‘Oh, Emma,’ he groaned. ‘Emma. I’ve dreamt of doing this. Every night, this has been my forbidden fantasy and now it’s finally coming true.’

He kissed her lips. Her neck. The lobes of her ears. He kissed her until she made sweet little sounds in the back of her throat. Dragging his lips downwards to her breast, he weaved his tongue over the puckering pink of her nipple, his hand drifting irresistibly down over her belly towards the soft fuzz of hair at the juncture of her thighs.

‘Zak!’ she moaned as his hand moved to cup her intimately and all her shyness and fear was banished by the expert way he was strumming his fingers against her moist heat. Pleasure rushed through her in a warm, unstoppable stream. She could feel the powerful beat of his heart and smell the scent of her own arousal as her body thrilled to his touch. And something made her fingernails dig into his back—some urgent need to have more than this. To have Zak as close as it was possible for him to be. To see whether this time …

‘Please …’ she breathed.

Briefly, he released her—reaching out to the drawer in the antique locker next to the bed, until he had found what he was looking for.

He couldn’t remember ever having quite so much difficulty slipping on a condom and it wasn’t helped by Emma planting urgent little butterfly kisses all over his shoulders. But when he had sheathed himself he moved over her, savouring that last brief moment against her moist heat before he entered her long and hard and deep.

Her gasp was unlike any other he’d ever heard because wasn’t it tinged with a note of what sounded like … surprise? He stilled as, briefly, he felt her stiffen.

‘Emma?’ Confusedly, he stared down at her, but she had now closed her eyes tight shut, her chin lifted upward—like a flower reaching for the sun. ‘Emma?’ he questioned again.

‘Just make love to me, Zak,’ she urged fervently against his warm damp skin. ‘Please.’

His bewilderment was dissolved by that throaty little plea, his conscience appeased by the dig of her fingernails into his shoulders. With a moan, he began to move again, thrusting deep into her molten heat—his body so dark against the paleness of hers. Her mouth was on his and he held her close as their bodies rocked together in perfect rhythm. She was so tight, he thought as he deepened the kiss. Tighter than any woman he’d ever known.

He wanted to come. He’d wanted it from the moment he had entered her and never had it seemed so difficult to hold back. He felt as if he were a teenager. As if it were his first time. As if there had never been any other woman but her. He wanted to come like never before! But somehow he clung on until he heard the shudder of her breathing and felt the change in her body as it began to arch and then to splinter around his. And only then did he let go, spilling his seed in an orgasm which went on like no other, sending him orbiting into some crazy new dimension.

He clutched her still-shuddering body and buried his mouth in her silken hair. For a moment there was no sound in the room other than their ragged breathing and Zak wished he could just hold on to this feeling and turn over and go to sleep.

But he hadn’t got this far in life by ignoring the screamingly obvious and he rolled off her and lay on his side, his eyes watchful as he stared at her flushed face and wary eyes.

‘So, Emma,’ he questioned unsteadily, ‘was that some kind of erotic game-play done to heighten your enjoyment?’ His grey eyes bored into her. ‘Or could you really have been a virgin?’