Billionaire Brides: An Anthology

by Connelly, Clare

He needn’t have issued the last directive. Alexandra had worked for him for years, and in that time, she’d handled all manner of requests on his behalf.

  He slid Emily’s wallet back in her bag with a sense of satisfaction, then walked towards his bedroom. Of all the women he’d seen that night, she alone had taken his interest. And she was in his bed. Sweet, responsive, sensual Emily Parker.

  Sabato stripped down to his boxers, pausing only briefly to admire her sleeping form before slipping in beside her. The bed was comfortable and he’d been up for thirty hours. He should have drifted off to sleep almost instantly. But knowing she was there beside him was a drug akin to caffeine. His brain was firing, his body was energised. He propped up on an elbow, and stared down at her face.

  What about her had made him so crazy with lust? She was beautiful, but so were lots of women. Petite, graceful, and self-possessed, he’d marvelled at the way she’d concealed her obvious disapproval of so many of the boring conversations she’d overheard. Almost concealed her disapproval, he should have said, for he had noticed. Then again, he’d been watching her more closely than most.

  He lay back down, and forced himself to close his eyes.

  Sleep came to him, finally, but his dreams were filled with Emily.

  Time passed, as it tends to, and faster than either would have liked. Emily blinked her eyes open, and stretched her arms above her head. She felt like she’d been walking through clouds. Her eyes were heavy and her body was strangely relaxed. The sound of someone else’s breathing came to her and she startled properly awake.

  Sabato.

  Sabato Montepulciano.

  She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, as regret seared through her. What had she done? Her cheeks flushed as she remembered what she’d been like, in his bed. The way she had screamed his name at the top of her lungs, incapable of caring who heard. She had been his slave, a slave completely to his will and her wants.

  What the hell had come over her?

  Oh my God, she mentally berated herself. Keeping her eyes on him, as one might a ferocious lion about to attack, she slid one foot out onto the carpet. So far, so good. She pushed her other out, and then stood, gingerly sliding the blanket back onto the bed.

  Her clothes were spread far across the room. She bent down, searching for her bra, and underpants. The former was hooked over a lamp shade. The latter turned up against the wall, in the corner. She pulled them up and then began to hunt for her work uniform.

  “You know, I’m only going to be removing those in a few moments.”

  His voice made her jump. Nervously, she spun around, twisting her fingers behind her back. “Oh. You’re awake,” she said unnecessarily, licking her lips.

  He nodded, his expression droll. “As are you. Did you sleep well, cara?”

  Her eyes were tethered to his. The thread was invisible, but no less real. “Yes.” Emily didn’t think she’d slept so well in years. Not since the night her mum and Simon had been killed, and that had been with the aid of heavy duty sedatives. “ Oh, crap! What time is it?” She looked around in a panic, and when she didn’t see a clock, she crouched on the bed and reached for his wrist. The gold watch showed it to be early in the evening. “Sheez! I’m late for work. I have to go, I’m sorry.”

  He caught her wrist when she would have leaped from the bed. His face had an intensity that sent barbs of pleasure shooting through her body. His voice was a thick directive. “Stay.”

  “We’ve already talked about this,” she said, pulling at her hand. But he didn’t let go, and she fell against him, all thoughts of her work suddenly fogging out of her mind. “I have to work.” Pride made it impossible to finish the sentence. That she needed to work. Because she needed the money.

  “Your dedication to your employment is admirable,” he conceded with a tilt of his head.

  “You said you’d wake me!” She accused, wondering in the back of her mind why she wasn’t trying harder to leave him. After all, she was late for a job that she desperately needed.

  “And instead I let you sleep. You were exhausted.”

  “Damn it, Sabato,” she cursed. He had a small cluster of scars right at the top of his forehead, just beneath the line of his hair. She lifted a finger to it, distracted by the slight flaw in an otherwise perfect face. “My manager will be furious.”

  “Your manager will be no such thing.” Sabato was cocky and self-assured, and yet she didn’t mind. It was sexy on him.

  “Trust me, Ewan is already in enough of a panic with so many staff off sick. I’m leaving him badly in the lurch.” She leaned forward, pulled by some kind of magnetic energy. She pressed her mouth lightly to his. In every way it was a goodbye kiss. “I have to get back to the real world now.” Wistful. Miserable, if she were honest.

  He moved closer to Emily, covering the distance she’d retracted. His body was significantly larger than hers; it was easy for him to cover her, pushing her back to the mattress. Not that she offered any resistance. He could see her pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat.

  Sabato ground his hips against hers; the moment Emily felt his arousal her eyes widened. Her tongue darted out and traced her top lip, and he ached to follow its path. He found the hollow at the base of her neck instead and pressed his lips to it just lightly enough to send a shiver running through her body.

  “I want you to myself this weekend.”

  Emily arched her back, instinctively trying to bring her womanhood into connection with him. “Okay,” she murmured, surprising them both. “When I’m not working.”

  He shook his head, tickling her with his thick dark hair. She didn’t laugh. Even that was erotic, with her body overheating as it was. He cupped her breasts in his broad hands, and took possession of her mouth. His stubble brushed roughly against her chin. Emily tangled her fingers in his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “You will not work this weekend.”

  “Sabato…”

  He lifted a finger to her lips. “Do you want this?” His dark eyes bore into hers. He did not need to clarify what ‘this’ was. It was him. And everything he could give her.

  The bill. The damn bill. It frayed at the edges of her consciousness. The extra hours she’d begged Ewan for this weekend would have covered it. Guilt washed over her, because she knew she was going to ignore it. For the first time since taking charge of Andrew, and moving to London, Emily wanted to do the irresponsible thing. To do something for herself, and her pleasure entirely. Besides, she could call the electricity company and beg to pay it in instalments.

  But Ewan was counting on her. He wasn’t just her boss; he was her friend.

  She nodded slowly. “You know I do. But I at least need to text my manager…”

  “No, cara. The only thing you need to do is feel.” His lips were heaven and hell on her skin. A blessing and a curse. Pleasure and pain. She moaned as he moved his mouth over her, tasting every inch of her skin as he dispensed with the underwear she’d hastily pulled on.

  “I want to…” she dug her nails into his shoulders. “I want to…” She made a noise of frustration as her usual eloquence deserted her.

  His laugh was a deep rumble. “What do you want, my sweet innocent Emily?”

  She lifted her mouth and ran her tongue over his muscular chest. He was salty and her insides clenched with desire. “I want more.”

  “Yes, I am sure.” He pressed his elbows into the bed on either side of her head, so that their faces were aligned. “I want that too.” He was serious, suddenly. Business like. “I want you in a way that is new and foreign to me.” The admission sent a thrill trickling down her spine. Even in her sensual fog, she knew his confession was one to cherish. It promised that she was different. That this was new for him, too. “But you are inexperienced. A novice.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I do not make a habit of taking innocence for the sake of it, cara. I wanted you before I knew. I want you still. But I need to know this is definitely what y
ou want. That you are not going to regret this, when the weekend is over.”

  When the weekend is over. When the weekend was over… she would go back to her normal life, and he would go back to his. Which was, presumably, far away. In a different place, perhaps as far removed from her as it was possible to be. Not just geographically. Financially, socially; in every way.

  “I won’t regret it.”

  And she wouldn’t. She might bitterly regret the temporary nature of their time together, but she wouldn’t regret the time itself. Nor what they were about to do.

  A frown crossed his features. A small flicker of doubt. “Why?” He ran a finger from her chin to the valley between her breasts.

  “Why?” She repeated, lifting her hips and smiling when his eyes widened with obvious desire.

  “Why have you not done this? Why are you still a virgin?”

  Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m twenty two, Sabato, not ninety two.”

  His laugh was self-derisive. “Am I so different to you, cara? At twenty two, I had enjoyed many lovers. I did not consider myself young, by any stretch.”

  “No,” she bit down on her lip. “Nor do I.” Her eyes searched his. “It’s not that I’m too young. I’ve been too busy.”

  “For sex?” He was teasing, and for some reason, it truly needled her.

  “Yes. I’ve had responsibilities.”

  The way she said it, with such reverence, made him pause. “Such as?”

  She thought of Andrew, her sweet brother, and smiled slowly. “Family stuff.” She lifted her finger to the dimples that were right at the top of his head – his mystery scars. “My mum had me when she was a teenager. Fifteen, actually. I was brought up partly by mum, and also my grandparents.”

  “Milly,” he supplied, showcasing his excellent recall for details and facts.

  “Yes. Milly and Jacob. I think they always blamed themselves for having been too lax with mum. For giving her too many freedoms; too much trust.” She shrugged and dropped her hand to his chest. “It was a … mistake … they were not going to repeat with me.”

  “They put bars over your windows and made you wear a Maid Marion style chastity belt?” He joked, wondering how the usual thrust and parry of teenage hormones had been pulled into order.

  “They didn’t need to.” Her eyes flecked with an emotion he didn’t immediately comprehend. “I grew up knowing what my arrival had meant for my mother. She put her life on hold for a long time, because of me.”

  His expression was dark. “That is not your fault. You should never have been made to feel …”

  “No, no,” she cut him off. “My mother was wonderful. She adored me. We were always more like friends than anything else. But she didn’t want me to cut short my dreams because of something as fleeting as hormones and teenage lust.”

  He wondered, briefly, about her dreams. Surely not to work as a housekeeper at a hotel in central London.

  “What’s changed now?” He asked. “Why are you now willing to explore your sensuality?”

  Her expression was bemused. “Do you really not know?”

  He frowned.

  She pushed up on her elbows. Her breasts crushed to his chest and her mouth sought his. “I met you,” she said simply. She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him closer to her.

  Sabato groaned, his body awash with feelings he couldn’t fathom. He had made love to many, and yet never done this. The morning they’d spent together had served as an exquisitely torturous foreplay. He paused at her entrance, wishing he could just take her. That he could just enjoy her.

  “A moment,” he promised thickly. His withdrawal from her, and the bed, was like being slapped. She almost cried out with pain as he moved across the room, to the bathroom.

  He returned a moment later, holding a foil square. “Speaking of consequences,” he murmured thickly.

  “Oh, right. Of course.” She could have wept for her inexperience. Her eyes shuttered closed in mortification. “I didn’t think…”

  “It is my job to think for both of us, cara. This is all very new to you.” His sweetness and consideration made her heart turn over in her chest. He unfurled the condom over himself, and for the first time, Emily properly realised how enormous his erection was. “You need to tell me if I’m hurting you. This will be at your speed, Emily.” The way he said her name was like a fragment of song. Em-mee-leah, it sounded on his lips.

  She nodded, but nerves were flicking through her body.

  “Don’t think about it,” he urged. He brought his mouth to her breasts, taking one dusky pink aureole into his mouth while his fingers played with the other. Emily’s back was arching, her body fluttering with sensations. Her fingers sought his flesh, needling his buttocks. He was so close, gently probing, and all she could think was more, please. She was hot and cold, besieged by a torrent of sensations.

  Sabato had not been with a virgin since he was one himself. Anxiety now at hurting her, or ruining this gift, flashed briefly in his gut. But anxiety and self-doubt were not natural for Sabato, and they were quickly consumed by his overriding confidence. He would make this special for Emily. He would make it special for them both.

  He focussed on moving slowly, allowing her time to adjust to his size. The barrier was unmistakable, and as he broke through it, he kissed her lips gently, reassuringly. He felt her body still, heard her intake of breath, and he kissed away the pain and discomfort. It was gone in an instant, and her moaning resumed.

  “Okay?” He asked, whispering into her ear.

  “Yes,” she promised huskily. “Better than okay.”

  He smiled. Now, he moved inside of her swiftly, stoking wave after wave of pleasure in her beautiful body.

  Emily was at the centre of a maelstrom of fireworks. She was flame and light, heat and ash. She erupted with an intensity that terrified her. She thought, in that moment, she would do anything in the world that Sabato asked of her. She would do anything for him, if only she could continue to feel this.

  She had barely floated back to earth when he began to move inside of her again; and this time, he kissed the column of her throat, sending all new feelings ricocheting through her.

  Emily was drifting high into the sky, floating towards heaven. Her mind was spinning and her body was singing. Sabato moved harder and faster, and Emily tipped out of control once more. This time, Sabato grabbed hold of her and followed, releasing himself with a guttural cry into the evening air.

  He held her tight, while their breathing steadied and they came back to earth together. His arms held her close, and his mouth stayed pressed to her flesh.

  “So that’s what all the fuss is about,” she replied, her lips lifting at the corners.

  “Mmm,” he agreed, running his hands over her hair. “That’s what all the fuss is about.” He stroked her cheek. “Do you feel okay?”

  Emily focussed on the core of her being. She stretched her toes and curled around to face him. “I feel better than okay. I feel great.”

  He laughed, a sound so rich with pleasure that it warmed her. “Me too.”

  Emily bit down on her lower lip. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure about what?”

  “Um,” Emily’s eyes dropped to the white sheet between them. “Are you sure that was okay?”

  He knitted his dark brows together. “What do you mean?”

  Mortification was as intense as pleasure had been a minute earlier. “Are you sure it was okay for you?”

  “Oh, cara,” he shook his head with amusement. “It was definitely okay. It was… exquisite. Every bit as magical as I imagined.”

  “Really?” She looked up at him, now, immeasurably pleased that she hadn’t been alone in the euphoric stakes.

  “Really,” he nodded with a mock seriousness. “And now, I will phone for some food while you have a shower.”

  “Shower?”

  He nodded sagely. “Trust me. You feel fine, but a warm shower will make sure of it.” He kissed her
forehead and then pushed off the bed. “That was the beginning, cara. There is more to come.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the very idea. She watched him stroll across the hotel room, uncaring of his nakedness. He was a spectacular specimen of masculinity, all lean planes and muscular strength. His skin had a honey caramel tan all over. Did he spend time sunbathing in the nude? A smile played on her lips at the very thought of a man like Sabato Montepulciano sunbathing at all. And yet, he hailed from Italy, where it was far warmer than London. Where did he live? What did he do when he wasn’t raising money for children’s hospitals and buying up five star hotels? There was so much she didn’t know about him, and now her heart was firing in her chest. Not with concern that she’d slept with a virtual stranger. No, she was filled with excitement at the very idea of getting to know him better. Of learning his secrets and understanding what made him tick.

  She moved through to the bathroom and started the water running. While it built up to its maximum temperature, she busied herself folding towels and arranging them properly on the shelves. As she lifted the last one into place, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

  Is that me? She wondered, staring at the woman who had some of her characteristics. Her blue eyes were shining, her auburn hair in disarray. Her body had spots of pink from where Sabato’s stubble had rubbed her. She felt different, and she definitely looked it. She lifted trembling fingers to her lips. They were full and sensitive.

  Well, she was no longer a virgin. And she had lost her virginity in a pretty spectacular way. No awkward fumbling around in the back of the car for her.

  Sabato appeared behind her, still naked, still gorgeous. He wrapped his arms around her waist and stared at her in the mirror. “You are smiling.”

  She made a sound of agreement. In the reflection, her eyes sought his. “I was just thinking that good things come to those who wait.”

  Emily wasn’t sure what made Sabato’s expression shift, but something caused him to look darkly reflective for a moment. “Did you tidy the towels in here?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I couldn’t help it. I guess it’s instinct now.”