Rescued by the Billionaire CEO

by Amelia Autin

  At first his hands twisted in the sheets as he writhed on the bed beneath her ministrations. Then, as if he just couldn’t help it, one hand moved to hold her head in place. “Yes. Like that,” he groaned. “Oh, Alana, like that. Please.” As if he feared she might stop. But she wasn’t about to stop, not until she’d brought him the same pleasure he’d brought her.

  When it was all over, she realized she’d been wrong. What she and Jason had done wasn’t dirty. And it wasn’t something she merely tolerated because he enjoyed it and she wanted to please him more than anything. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit she’d enjoyed it, too. Not just the feeling of power in a situation where she’d never expected it. But touching, tasting, hearing him—that had actually turned her on. And now she needed...

  He knows, she thought as his fingers slid down, parting her gently, seeking and finding the source of her need. Then all thought fled and she could only feel...and gasp his name.

  * * *

  The rocking of the yacht in the wake of some passing boat woke Jason, and he immediately knew where he was. And with whom. Alana was draped across his chest like his personal blanket, although Hong Kong’s semitropical climate made a blanket unnecessary at this time of year.

  He lay there, unmoving. Enjoying the experience. Watching...feeling the slight rise and fall of Alana’s chest as she breathed. Taking in the totally satisfied expression on her face.

  And he had satisfied her both times, no question of that. He’d dreamed of her and him since the night they’d met, but that hadn’t even begun to touch the reality that was Alana in his bed. He’d been stunned when she’d told him she’d never been with a man before—she was so beautiful, so desirable, it couldn’t be anything other than her choice. But it was his own reaction that had blown him away. Some archaic, primitive part of him had savagely rejoiced that out of all the men in the world, she’d chosen him. Him.

  And if that wasn’t enough, she’d gone on to stagger him by how giving she was. Not just in what she was willing to do for him, but in letting him touch her the way he had. A woman who was still a virgin at twenty-six had to have a deep-seated reticence about sex. But she hadn’t shown him any signs of it. It was as if Alana had some kind of on-off switch that had been firmly shut off...until she met him. And wasn’t that an aphrodisiac?

  His body hardened at the thought. She’d wanted him from the moment they’d met—she’d admitted as much earlier. Just as he’d wanted her. And now, whether Alana knew it or not, she belonged to him the way he belonged to her. Forever.

  Then he let his memories wander back again. He hadn’t been completely honest with her earlier, because what he’d whispered in her ear as he’d brought her down from her first orgasm with him hadn’t just been the words he’d told her. He’d laid bare his heart...in Cantonese. Because he wasn’t quite ready to tell her the truth. Because he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear that he loved her...and always would.

  * * *

  The Eight Tigers had once again convened to discuss a failure. A failure that could have far-reaching consequences, because impossible as it seemed, the woman who’d been rescued from the Eight Tigers’ clutches by RMM three weeks earlier had been instrumental in foiling their most recent abduction attempt.

  Really, the High Tiger thought. Two failures in little more than three weeks. Perhaps it’s time to consider a change in leadership of that enterprise. He listened impassively to the excuses that were forthcoming, then cut the man off.

  “Yes, yes, the men were masked both times, as you say. And the license plates were stolen, of course, so it’s highly unlikely the van can be traced. But are you aware the Hong Kong Police have the DNA of one of the men from the first abduction? And possibly from yesterday’s attempted abduction, as well?”

  Shocked silence met his words. Then, “How do you know this?”

  The High Tiger stared impassively at the other man. Everyone at the table knew he had sources within the police department...and outside it. “I know,” he averred. “Fortunately for this organization—and you—these two men’s DNA is not in any database. Yet. So there has been no match. Yet.”

  The other man’s eyes fell before his, but he continued mumbling excuses, and the High Tiger nodded internally. Yes, a change in leadership is definitely on the horizon. I will need to meet one-on-one with the other six to discuss this possibility.

  * * *

  Alana woke with the most wondrous sense of well-being she’d ever known. Not only was her body relaxed and boneless, but her mind had been scrubbed of every thought except one—Jason. How he’d kissed her. Touched her. The words he’d whispered to her in the language of his heart, which had to mean something important; she was sure of it.

  “Good afternoon, lang loi.” Jason’s voice rumbled in his chest beneath her ear. “I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

  She sighed with happiness, stretched sinuously for a moment, then settled back in Jason’s arms. “What does that mean, lang loi?”

  He laughed softly. “You want me to reveal all my secrets?”

  “When they relate to me, yes. I’ve been taking Cantonese lessons, but I only know the basics so far.” She recited the few words she’d memorized. “Speaking of which, does this boat have a bathroom?”

  He laughed again and sat up, bringing her with him. “Yacht, not boat. And yes, of course there’s a bathroom. More than one, actually. Only on board it’s called the head.”

  When he stood, still holding her in his arms, she protested. “What are you—”

  He deposited her at the bathroom door, saying, “I’ll be in the galley. It’s long past lunchtime, and I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ve worked up an appetite.”

  * * *

  Alana wasted a couple of minutes in the master bathroom—the head, she corrected herself with a little smile—marveling at the compact luxuriousness and the pristine condition. Like the stateroom, the bathroom looked to be meticulously maintained, unusual for a rental.

  Her business finished, she located her clothes where she’d discarded them, dressed quickly in the bare minimum but didn’t bother to put on her shoes, then wandered out in search of Jason. She found him where he’d said he would be, in the galley—the kitchen, she translated. Like her, he was barefoot but dressed, and she experienced a vague regret. It was a crime to cover a body like his with something as unnecessary as clothes.

  A mouthwatering aroma was already floating in the air, and she teased, “A sex god and you cook, too? How come no woman has snapped you up yet?”

  Jason turned at her words, a wicked smile on his face. “Sex god?”

  “You must know you are.” The expression in his eyes caused a hitch in her breathing, but she didn’t look away. Neither did he, until the wok in which he was stir-frying something demanded his attention.

  “My culinary skills are limited, I’m afraid,” he tossed over his shoulder. “But anyone can stir-fry.” Then he frowned and shot her another glance. “You’re not allergic to shrimp, are you? I never thought to—”

  “Oh, no. I love shrimp. And I can eat stir-fry anytime.”

  “Good.” He picked up a bottle and shook some of the contents into the wok. “Do you know the secret to good stir-fry? Besides a superheated wok?”

  “No. What is it?”

  “Oyster sauce.” He handed her the red-labeled bottle, and she dutifully looked at it. “Most people think soy sauce when they think of Chinese food, but oyster sauce is the real secret ingredient.”

  * * *

  They ate at the dinette’s corner table, and Alana was surprised to see a television on the wall facing her. “Wow, this yacht has just about everything you could imagine,” she enthused. She leaned over and kissed Jason’s cheek. “Thank you so much for going first class w
ith this rental. My father has a cabin cruiser he takes out on Chesapeake Bay in addition to his sailboat, but nothing like this. It’s amazing.”

  His quick smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Alana wondered about it. Then she thought she knew the answer. He doesn’t like it when I thank him too much. As if I’m impressed by things, when that’s not the case at all.

  She took a bite of her delicious stir-fried shrimp that Jason had generously spooned over white rice. Chewed. Then swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  Alana tried to put her inchoate thoughts into words. “It’s...please don’t get me wrong. I love this boat—”

  “Yacht.”

  “Right, yacht. I love it. But...”

  “But what?”

  She segued slightly, hoping she wouldn’t confuse him. “I don’t know what Mei-li has told you about my background.”

  “A little.”

  She took a deep breath. “My parents have money. You probably know that. And I attended exclusive private schools from kindergarten through twelfth grade, schools that...that cater to the children of the wealthy.” He didn’t respond, so she forged ahead. “But that’s not me. I mean...money, and...and...social status aren’t anywhere near as important to me as they are to my parents.” He still didn’t say anything, so she added softly, “If those things were all I cared about, would I be here in Hong Kong, working as Dirk’s executive assistant? That’s a glorified title, but in some ways I’m really not much more than a secretary.”

  “Your point being?”

  “Do you want to know the real reason why I’m still a virgin...and why I don’t want to be a virgin anymore?”

  His brows drew together into a frown as if he didn’t get why she’d changed the subject again, but he said, “Why?”

  “Because I was waiting for a man as idealistic as I was, and I wasn’t about to settle for less.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not—”

  “You are,” she insisted. She placed her right hand over her heart. “I know it here.” She blinked back the unexpected tears that sprang to her eyes as she thought of all the things he’d done that proved it...and those were only the ones she knew about. How many of his other actions supported her claim? “So I wanted you to know...I don’t need things from you, Jason.” She drew another deep breath for courage. “I just need...you.”

  * * *

  Jason’s right hand tightened involuntarily on his chopsticks, and he had to force himself to loosen his grip and place them on the table. Alana couldn’t possibly know...but somehow she did. Somehow she knew exactly what he needed to hear from her. What he needed to believe.

  She had no idea how much his vast wealth had isolated him—more with every passing year—because she had no idea that fortune even existed. And he doubted she knew what his mother had sacrificed to marry his father. Which meant she also couldn’t know he’d been searching for ten years for a woman who would count the rest of the world well lost if she had him.

  But that was exactly what she seemed to be saying.

  He closed his eyes momentarily, unable to take it all in. When he opened them again Alana was still there. That same yearning expression on her face that begged him to believe her. The one that matched the yearning in his heart.

  He desperately wanted to believe, but at the same time he was afraid. He’d faced death without a qualm time and again, but when it came to his closely guarded heart he was still unsure. Not unsure he loved her; he’d slipped right over the edge this morning when she’d turned those innocent eyes on him and bewitched his heart and soul. But he was afraid because he needed her so much. Because she was almost too important.

  He cupped her cheek with a hand that wasn’t quite steady, and her hand came up to cover his as she turned her face so her lips could brush his palm. Then she placed a kiss on his thumb, his forefinger and the other fingers in turn. Holding his gaze as she did so, before closing her eyes and cradling his hand against her cheek again.

  He groaned and crushed his mouth on hers, pulling her into as fervent an embrace as the dinette table allowed. When he finally let her go his heart was pumping in erratic fashion, and her breathing was as shaky as his.

  “You can’t know, lang loi.” His voice was husky and he was forced to clear his throat before he could continue. “You can’t possibly know what that means to me.” He pressed a finger against her lips when she started to disagree and added, “Someday I’ll tell you...but not today.” Someday, when he was sure of her love. Someday, when those last few doubts had been dispelled. “But when I do, you’ll understand.”

  “I think I understand now.” He shook his head. “Well, if you don’t think I do and won’t tell me why, will you at least tell me what lang loi means?”

  He drew her against his shoulder. “That slipped out. I didn’t mean to—”

  “But you called me that once before,” she argued. “When I woke up in your arms.”

  “It’s an endearment.” He grinned suddenly. “And when I call you that, you should respond with lang jai.”

  “Uh-uh,” she told him. “I’m not using a phrase I don’t understand.”

  “Literally it means pretty boy. But figuratively...it’s an endearment...used between lovers.”

  “Then lang loi must mean...pretty girl?”

  His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Literally...yes.”

  “So you think I’m pretty?”

  He shook his head gently. “No. I think you’re beautiful. But I can’t be the first man to have told you that.”

  Serious all at once, she said, “No, you’re not. But you’re the first man I wanted to be beautiful for.” Then she laughed under her breath. “And if you’d known me in my early teens, you would never have believed I’d end up beautiful. I was the stereotypical plain girl in class until I hit a very late puberty, just like my cousin Juliana.”

  “That would be the Queen of Zakhar? The most beautiful woman in the world, according to the tabloids?”

  “Mmm-hmm. She’s six years older, and she’s why I didn’t despair when I was twelve. She was a late bloomer, and I was praying the same would hold true for me.”

  “It did.” A lovely rose color tinted Alana’s cheeks, and it fascinated him. But then, just about everything Alana did, said or was fascinated him.

  She glanced down at her hands, then back up at him. “Juliana was a role model for me in other ways, too,” she confided with a hint of shyness.

  “How so?”

  “She never...settled. Oh, I know rumors swirled around her when she was in Hollywood,” she added quickly when he started to disagree. “But they weren’t true. She’d fallen in love as a teenager with the man she eventually married. And even though there was a terrible misunderstanding that separated them for a time, she stayed true to him for the eleven years they were apart.”

  She twined her fingers together and stared at them for a moment, then looked up again. “I was twenty-three when she and her husband reunited nearly three years ago. I was this close,” she said, holding her thumb and forefinger together as if to show him what she meant, “to accepting a proposal of marriage from a man I respected and admired.”

  The possessiveness that spiked through him came out of nowhere, but he steeled himself to listen to Alana’s confidences and not respond the way he wanted to...the way that just might frighten her into silence.

  The need to touch was overwhelming, however, so he brushed a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear as uncertainty reared its ugly head again. And he couldn’t help wondering just how much in love Alana had been with this other man, until a sudden thought occurred to him.

  “You almost married him...but you never slept with him.” She shook her head solemnly. And though he believed her, there was somethi
ng in her eyes that made him ask, “Why are you telling me this, lang loi?”

  “Because all my life I’ve been holding out for a hero, even though I didn’t know it. And I finally found him...lang jai.”

  The unalloyed truth in Alana’s eyes as she bared her heart shredded his soul, because she’d been nothing but honest with him and he’d deceived her from day one. He’d thought himself justified in his deception, but it bothered him now. He just wasn’t quite ready to end it. Not yet.

  Chapter 9

  Alana was hoping Jason would take her to bed again when he led her back to the stateroom, but he didn’t. Instead of taking off the clothes she’d donned, he dressed her in the layers he’d warned her to wear out on the water. Piece by piece.

  Being dressed by Jason was almost as erotic as being undressed by him. He smiled a knowing smile when she shivered and her nipples tightened until they were obvious even beneath her sweater, but he didn’t say anything. Then he sat her down on the edge of the unmade bed, knelt and silently slipped her socks on her feet, followed by the espadrilles Mei-li had advised her to wear.

  “There,” he said as he rose and tugged his gray-green sweater over his head. “You’re all set for the island tour I promised you.”

  “What about my hair? Mei-li said—”

  “Damn! I forgot about that. Here, let me.” He produced a hairbrush from a drawer in the nightstand, but Alana forestalled him, pulling a small brush out of her purse. “I don’t want to use someone else’s hairbrush. Use mine.”

  Jason brushed her hair until it crackled, then swiftly divided it into strands and braided it. “Leave it down,” he told her. “Please.” The please decided her, and she left her hair down for him. Then, “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Your hat’s upstairs in the salon. You won’t need it until later, but it’s good you have one.” His other hand came up to caress her cheek with a touch as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. “This complexion must be safeguarded from the strong Hong Kong sun.”