On autopilot, she kept eating—food on her fork, chew, swallow, repeat. With nerves jangling, the taste of the dishes no longer registered; all she was aware of was the man across from her. Without looking, she knew he watched her, could feel his gaze as a physical touch.
“You seem tense.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she focused on her food, the only hunger she could safely assuage.
With slow, deliberate movements, Damon stood and moved behind her chair. “I can help with that tension in your shoulders.” His hands gently kneaded her shoulders, and his heat seeped through her satin pajamas and robe as if he’d touched her bare skin.
She twisted away. “Damon, we’ve talked about—”
He maneuvered her back against the chair and cut off her words. “It’s not the time for talking.”
His fingers massaged deeply, with wonderful pressure and sensuous movements, spreading heat across her tired muscles. The relaxing rhythm of his hands through the slippery material lulled her into a place of mindless, sensual bliss. No one had touched her this way since…Damon. Her body, starved for warmth, soaked up his attention.
His newly shaven jaw scraped deliciously over her ear. “Better?”
His voice flowed across her skin. Perhaps just a moment longer. She tilted her head forward. She was so tired, her muscles were in knots, and Damon’s hands were oh, so skilled. Might as well enjoy the massage he offered. She sighed and relaxed back into the intoxicating familiarity of him.
“Better,” she relented on a sigh.
He reached around and loosened her robe then, slipping his fingers beneath the collar, he let it fall from her shoulders. Consumed by his touch, she couldn’t find the wherewithal to even protest; only a distant part of her mind warned that she was inviting trouble. Inviting bliss. He parted her silky top a little and dipped his hands inside to keep rubbing her shoulders, skin on skin.
“Your muscles are so tight. You need to relax.” His voice was easy, as soothing as a friend advising a friend—a well-timed tactic, she knew. He confined his hands to her shoulders, but this was more than a platonic massage, it always was with his touch. Her breasts tightened, their tips aching for his caress, and a dull throb pulsated at her core. Against her better judgment, her body was responding to his.
“Let go of all that tension you’re holding, Lily.” This time his voice dropped to a seductive whisper. Totally absorbed in the exquisite sensations, she let her chin fall to her chest. A small moan escaped her throat.
“Just relax.” She felt his hands joined by his hot, wet mouth. He used his tongue and teeth in conjunction with his hands, amplifying the effect, dragging her deeper under his thrall.
When his hands slipped farther under her top to her breasts and ran across their tips, she almost dissolved into a pool of desire, her last remnants of self-control hanging by a frayed thread.
Yet she somehow forced the whisper out. “Damon, I’m already pregnant. We don’t need to have sex.” He was using her, she knew it, but his hands on her felt so good, their touch scrambled her brain.
She gasped when he cupped each breast and feathered moist kisses down the back of her neck. “If we’re talking about need, don’t doubt that I need you,” he ground out. “What I feel when I’m near you has always been beyond want.”
Lily bit her lip, her mind slowly waking to find itself at war with her body. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“We’re married. We want each other.” He nipped at the spot where her neck curved into her shoulders, continuing to use his knowledge of her body against her. “The question is, why wouldn’t we make love?”
Despite knowing a reason existed, with his tongue tracing circles on her shoulder blade and his hands on her breasts, she struggled to come up with her name let alone an answer.
Then his hands reached around, loosened the sash of her satin robe and any last vestiges of her earlier resolve evaporated. A moan ripped from her throat. She turned in her chair and sought his lips; she’d deal with the fallout in the morning. Forget forever. This was about here, now, tonight.
Damon needed no urging. His mouth claimed hers with the same hunger threatening to consume her whole. Without breaking their kiss, he circled around and came to kneel in front of her, between her parted knees, his hands holding her face.
Pushing his thick toweling robe to the edge of his broad shoulders, she ran her fingers over his back, luxuriating in the feel of his skin. Smooth and warm under her hands. God above, how she’d missed the feel of his skin against her body. Starving for him, she pushed the robe farther down, leaving the vast expanse of his back and shoulders free to her touch. The smell of clean, naked man—and not just any man, her man—made her light-headed with desire.
“Lily,” he groaned and pulled back a little so she could see the emotion in his ice-blue eyes. “It’s never been like this with anyone else.”
He sank back into her, the wall of his chest pressed against her breasts, as he whispered against her mouth, “Only you.”
Not wanting to waste a moment on analysis, she opened her mouth to him, needing him more than she’d ever needed anyone.
“One of us is overdressed,” he murmured. Deftly, he removed her robe, pushing it down her arms to pool behind her on the chair, not breaking the kiss for a second.
“Layers.” Damon grinned as his fingers worked the buttons of her pajama top free. “Like playing pass the parcel as a kid.” Undoing the last one, he opened the sides. “Except I don’t have to share the prize.”
He dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth. Her lips parted under his exacting persuasion and she melted, hands drawn to his head, repeating his name, “Damon.”
She imagined his hardness twitching between his thighs, down too low for her to feel, and she wanted more, God help her, wanted everything all at once. Yet part of her had to make sure he understood her position. She dragged his face back to hers.
“Damon,” she gasped between desperately snatched kisses. “This doesn’t set a precedent.”
He grinned around her lips. “I understand.”
Was that agreement? He nipped at her bottom lip and her train of thought began to disappear, yet she clung to it. She needed to have this clear before giving herself permission to enjoy him fully. “It’s just this once?”
His mouth trailed across her cheek then he whispered with heated breath in her ear. “Whatever you say.”
For now that had to be enough. She let herself go, turning to him and kissing him with everything she had. “Now, please,” she begged.
He pulled away. “Not a chance. I’ve been dreaming about being here with you for months. I’m taking my time.” He gave her a slow, sensual smile full of promise and dipped farther this time, to her stomach.
Lily closed her eyes, feeling his tongue flick out and scald just below a breast, then teeth nipping on her side. His mouth moved across her belly, kissing a spot then sucking the skin in through his teeth. She writhed below him, the pleasure-pain a beautiful torture. When he released the skin, he blew on the spot and somewhere in the back of her mind she understood he’d marked her stomach. Claimed her and their baby.
Then he moved lower still and her mind went utterly blank. He pulled her silken pajamas down with hands that moved an inch ahead of his mouth, then tossed them aside.
When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he kissed her reverently, then laid his cheek against her and wrapped his arms around her hips, hugging tightly. “God, I’ve missed you.”
The gesture and words brought tears to her eyes, but before sentiment could carry her away, he turned his face and raised one of her knees then the other over his shoulders. She shivered with anticipation, knowing of his sixth sense for lovemaking—he understood her body and its needs better than she did herself.
He slid his hands underneath her and cupped a buttock in each—lifting her to his face.
As his tongue dipp
ed into her, little arrows of pleasure darted out from her core to the top of her head and tips of her toes.
He withdrew his tongue, teasing. “You’ve missed me, too?”
“Oh, yes.” She writhed in his strong hands still holding her firmly and his tongue dipped again, this time stroking deeply, smoothly, in a rhythm that slowly drove her wild.
Needing to do something with the building energy, her feet slipped down his back to his sides and she pressed her toes into his waist, pulling him closer.
His tongue circled and flicked, raising the tension in her every muscle. She reached out to grab the back of the chair behind her, needing an anchor before she burst free of the world.
One hand moved from her hips and then there were fingers joining his mouth, caressing…probing…finding…pleasuring…
Her body tensed to the point of exquisite throbbing and she let go of the chair, searching for him, needing to touch him, finding his shoulders and digging her fingers into his solidness.
With a tidal wave of sensation, she climaxed against his mouth, calling his name, feeling their souls entwine. The rush of pure rapture touched every part of her body—an eternity of ecstasy in every moment. And even as the intensity began to ebb, the blissful pleasure remained unabated.
She came back to awareness slowly as Damon slid up her body and pulled her into his tender embrace. Ripples of paradise still spread through her body and she rested her face on the crisp hair of his chest, knowing he was right—it had never been like this with anyone else. And she couldn’t imagine it ever would be.
When they made love, they made magic.
Strength seeped back into her muscles, letting her snake her arms around his torso and hug him tightly. Then, unable to resist, her hands drifted lower, over his firm buttocks, scraping her fingernails lightly there, the way he liked, then moving around to encircle him in her hand.
Ah, the feel of him. Burning hot, silky smooth.
Strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her from the chair, then laid her down on the plush carpet beside him. For a moment she hugged him tight, the sensation of his naked length against her skin feeling so right.
Then, unable to wait any longer, she moved down his body, just to see him again, to wrap both hands around him, to claim him with her mouth the way he’d claimed her. Her mind may have chosen to break up with Damon, but her heart and body held a different opinion on the matter. Now they were in control, she leaned in, as possessive as any bear guarding what was hers.
Holding him before her, she closed her eyes and tasted him. He groaned, then rasped, “Lily, wait.”
He edged his way back the short distance to the wall and leaned his shoulders against it, sitting with his legs extended on the soft cream carpet. His golden body smattered with dark hair was posed like an erotic portrait that the artist in her appreciated as much as the wanton woman who’d emerged. She followed on all fours, unwilling to let him out of her reach.
“That’s better,” he said, voice slightly slurred in satisfaction as he caressed her back, then around to cup a breast. “I can reach you better.”
Her pulse picked up again, from the erotic view before her and the attentions of his fingers. He stroked the pad of his thumb across a taut nipple, sending shock waves down to the flesh he’d so recently pleasured, and she took him deeper over and over again.
He was hers.
“Lily, come here.” His voice was strained, perched on the brink of release.
Reluctant to leave, she waited until he called again. “Sweetheart, bring those lips up here.”
Smiling recklessly, she made her way back to his decadent mouth before he slid the two of them sideways down to the floor. She could feel the length of him against her and finally, finally, she knew he’d soon be inside her. Spiraling out of control, unable to wait any longer, she reached to pull him on top.
He didn’t budge. “Can I hurt the baby?”
“No.” She pulled at him again.
He brought her closer on her side, flush against him. “Even so—” looping a hand under her knee, he pulled her leg up and around him, locking it into place “—I’ll feel better this way.”
Hips squared against each other as they lay on their sides, she arched back to feel him closer still. Then in one even stroke, he entered her, filling her as only he could.
She gripped his shoulders, this time knowing she was leaving marks, and tightened around him, eyes drifting closed, just reveling in this completeness he gave her. Warm, full lips moved on hers and she opened her mouth, welcoming the twofold connection of their bodies, the dual intimacy.
He thrust again, her name on his lips.
She met each stroke with her own push, their synchronized movements building momentum, taking her higher, back to paradise.
Her breasts felt the repeated rasp of his chest hair as his breathing became ragged and his lungs expanded to gasp more air.
She was close to the edge…hurtling toward the precipice…falling over…flying, free…floating…
And she felt Damon convulse and follow her and the feeling of completeness returned, filling every cell of her being.
Five
A s he held her tightly, waiting for their breathing to return to normal, Damon felt Lily press a tender kiss to his damp chest. He allowed himself a self-satisfied smile—Lily was back in his arms, having just loved him with her body.
He’d thought he might need to work a little harder than this to claim her again. But he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They were together again. They’d soon be a family. He’d have everything he could ever want—all his uncle’s assets including BlakeCorp, his baby, and pure-hearted Lily in his bed permanently. Something close to happiness filled his chest.
He held her a little tighter until she pushed him back, laughing. “I’m having enough trouble breathing as it is, Damon.”
He smiled indulgently and turned onto his back, drawing her across his chest. “I’m having a little trouble getting my breath back, too.”
She lifted her face and propped it onto fists resting on his chest. Her features formed a wistful expression, with what was perhaps a small cloud of doubt reflected in her eyes. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
He met her gaze. “No question of that.” He tucked her head under his chin. “It seems the question of separate bedrooms has become moot. You have the bank account but you won’t be needing that room on the other side of the house anymore.”
He felt her flinch then draw in a deep breath. “Yes, I do.”
Her words hit him in the gut, hard and fast. What was she talking about? They’d just made love. Consummated their marriage. “You’ll share my room, my bed. I’m your husband now.” The father of their baby. He held her tighter. “I’ll look after you.”
“Damon, you’re…” She shook her head and rolled off him onto her back on the soft deep carpet, looking up at the ceiling. “This can’t be a proper relationship. I’ve already told you, I need people who are emotionally reliable.” Her voice was soft, but underscored with an unswerving belief in what she’d said.
A monster swelled in his chest. He rolled on his side, needing to face this head-on. He pitched his voice low and kept absolute control over it. Rule one when threatened: control is your friend. “Whatever you thought before doesn’t apply now.” Hadn’t he just shown her how committed he was? Hell, he’d just married her. Did she think he took that lightly?
She twisted to face him as well, biting the inside of her cheek before speaking. “Do you remember the day we broke up?”
He nodded, bringing the details to mind. “Of course.”
She took a shuddering breath, then another and when she looked at him, a sheen covered her green eyes.
He reached for her, to offer comfort, to end this nowhere conversation, but she held up a hand and he dropped his arm to his side for the moment. He’d let her say her piece, then they would move on.
She spoke with quiet determination.
“I rang and asked you to come out to Gran’s place because I needed your financial advice. You’d said you’d help, that you’d think of a way to save her small nest egg after the market turned.”
“And I came.” He’d played that day over in his mind countless times and had a sinking feeling about where she was going with this. But he’d only done what needed to be done.
Her body seemed to curl in on itself, yet she held his gaze. “No, you made the journey, but as soon as you arrived you took a call and left.” The anguish in her eyes was as fresh as if it’d happened yesterday.
He hated that he’d contributed to her pain, but he could only offer the truth. Surely anyone—particularly his bride—would understand. “It was a business emergency. I had no choice.”
She nodded, resigned, her shoulders hunched as if defeated. “You seem to have a lot of business emergencies.”
What did she want from him—blood? His options in situations like these were so limited that alternatives may as well be nonexistent. His company bought and sold other companies, specialized in hostile takeovers. Even before he’d started fleecing assets from beneath his uncle’s nose, there weren’t many quiet days on the job. He thought she’d understood that when he’d explained on their first date.
He exhaled. Fine. He’d take the time to explain again. He spoke gently, but firmly. “In my line of work, situations often require immediate crisis management.” As it was, each twenty-four-hour period barely had space to fit in six hours of sleep and the hour at the gym he needed to keep his mind operating at the top of his game. Anything else was a luxury.
Lily wrapped her arms around herself. He frowned. Was that gooseflesh erupting over her skin? He reached for his robe and wrapped it around her like a blanket. She waited, allowing him, and didn’t object when he left his hands resting on the thick terry toweling at her waist. It felt right. She obviously knew it as well as him.
Claiming His Bought Bride Page 6
