A Ring to Secure His Heir

by Lynne Graham

  ‘This is Baskerville … I call him Bas for short—’

  ‘Ah, you got him. He’s been fretting for you,’ Martha, the older woman in the doorway, declared. ‘He knows when you get home and he seemed to know you were late. He’s been patrolling that door listening to every sound for the past hour and more. Oh, you’ve got company …’

  ‘I should’ve rung you to let you know I’d be late back,’ Rosie said apologetically. ‘Thanks for looking after Bas.’

  ‘I’ll keep him,’ Martha declared, smiling and scooping the tiny dog back from Rosie and into her arms. ‘He’s great company.’

  Martha vanished tactfully back into the living room. Rosie hovered. ‘Do you want coffee?’ she enquired in the rushing silence, barely able to look at Alex, she was so tense, so unsure, but suddenly she knew that she was done with living her whole life in fear, always afraid that she might make her mother’s mistakes.

  ‘No, I want you,’ Alexius admitted almost harshly, reaching for her again, urging her slight body up against him, crushing that luscious mouth below his again with hungry pleasure.

  Rosie let him kiss her because she couldn’t stamp out the longing for that kiss or the even more intoxicating one that followed. Desire, she was learning, was a slippery slope. Give way, open the door to a little and you might invite in a whole lot more of the same. His tongue tangled with hers and a ripple of such intense reaction travelled through her that she shivered, hot and cold with sensation, shock and craving, feeling all the things she had never felt before, and, in that weakened state, his every touch was unbearably seductive.

  ‘Where’s your room?’ Alexius husked, lifting her up in his arms with decisive cool, finally getting her where he wanted her with a fierce sense of satisfaction.

  Rosie gave him a conflicted look. ‘I don’t do this kind of thing, Alex. I don’t bring guys home.’

  ‘I’m not just a guy, moli mou,’ Alexius told her thickly as he mounted the stairs.

  ‘First door on the right,’ she told him hesitantly, her heart thumping so hard she was afraid it might stop. ‘No, first on the left!’

  He claimed her mouth again then with even greater urgency and her body leapt and yearned and learned all at the same time. There was something about him, something that called to her down deep inside. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, brought her down on her narrow single bed and somehow nibbled on the soft sensitive fullness of her lower lip at the same time. His knowing mouth traced the corded delicacy of her throat, touching and teasing places she hadn’t known were erogenous to send searing flashes of blinding delicious desire racing through her. She slammed the door shut on the doubts at the back of her head.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALEX found the switch of the bedside light and the small room was illuminated, stark and plain and impersonal. Reminding himself that she had only recently moved in, he stared down at her, his lean powerful length taut and pent-up with the hunger she had aroused.

  Her glorious hair lay in a tangle across the pillow. There was a dazed look in her soulful eyes. Her mouth was swollen and red from his kisses and the allure of her called to him as strongly as a siren song. He flipped off her shoes, tugged at her sensible socks. He wanted to strip her bare, he wanted to see her. Painfully unsure of herself, Rosie came up on her elbows and reached down to unzip her trousers. He brushed her hand away and took over. Was this what men and women did? she wondered, plunged into ridiculous anguish by her own ignorance of how to behave in an intimate situation. Was it the done thing for her to lie there and let him undress her? If the only alternative was for her to get up and strip for him, she could not imagine doing it.

  ‘I don’t bite unless you ask me to,’ Alexius quipped, enjoying his ability to read her thoughts from her ever-changing expressions while he wondered what might be responsible for her obvious tension at the prospect of sex.

  ‘I’m not very experienced,’ she warned him defensively. ‘So, don’t be expecting too much.’

  ‘I know it will be amazing,’ Alexius fielded with a level of assurance that shook her. ‘You’re a passionate woman.’

  ‘Did you work that out from one kiss?’ she teased, scanning the high cheekbones that lent his face such strong, sexy symmetry along with the deep-set mystery of his stunning silvery-grey eyes.

  ‘There were many,’ he reminded her. ‘No, I see your passion in the way you look at me.’

  Instantly, Rosie closed her eyes and he laughed with male appreciation, lightening the moment, putting to flight some of her shyness and uncertainty. ‘And how do you look at me?’ she traded, lifting fluttering lashes to study him.

  ‘Probably much the same way. The first time I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you …’

  She remembered him staring: she had been staring too but that statement buoyed her up, restored her flagging confidence. The pull towards him that she felt was not hers alone. In the interim he tugged off her trousers, frowning down at the plasters marring the smooth sweep of her slim, shapely bare legs. There might not be much of her but there was a delicate perfection to every line of her diminutive body, he decided as he roughly unknotted his tie. Rosie came up on her knees, no longer content to be passive, and removed his tie for him. Her hands lowered and slid beneath his suit jacket to his shoulders and the sheer heat of his hard muscular flesh burned through his shirt. She paused, gazing at him eye to eye for the first time, loving the blaze of intensity she saw there. There was nothing cool about Alex in this particular mood and he couldn’t hide the fact.

  He captured her face between his big hands and claimed her mouth with hungry fervour, his innate need to dominate taking over while a low growl of satisfaction vibrated in his throat.

  Her head swam and the tug at the heart of her intensified, so that she leant forward, bracing her weight on his shoulders. She wasn’t aware of him unbuttoning her tunic but she absolutely froze in dismay when he slid a hand between the parted edges, her heart thudding like a drum inside her.

  She never wore a bra, had never needed to, and this was the moment he would learn that she had nothing much to offer up top where other women had a feminine bounty. But he didn’t hesitate or even tense in surprise. Instead, he cupped a slight swell in one hand and stroked a thumb across an almost painfully swollen nipple and she flinched, so on edge that she felt the thrumming power of that casual caress right down to her toes. With his free hand he lowered her down on the bed and straightened to pitch off his jacket, letting it fall carelessly on the floor.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Alexius prompted, staring down at her with shrewd questioning eyes as his sure hands curled to the hem of her tunic. ‘You’re very tense …’

  ‘Could I keep that on?’ Rosie heard herself ask plaintively.

  ‘No,’ Alexius said simply, drawing her up one-handed to pull it off over her head.

  Rosie felt naked, exposed and she didn’t like it and only just resisted the urge to clamp her hands over her flat chest.

  ‘I like your body,’ Alexius murmured thickly.

  ‘I don’t …’

  Ignoring that response with the knowledge that few women appreciated their own bodies, Alexius peeled off his shirt to reveal a truly mesmerising physique, composed of washboard abs and a taut flat stomach peppered by a fine silky furrow of black hair. Rosie’s throat closed over. Her mouth ran dry. He was even more gorgeous half-naked than he was clothed. What on earth was he doing with her? Instantly, she suppressed the insecure thought, knowing that she could be her own worst enemy.

  He shed his trousers and she looked … of course, she looked at the distinctive bulge in his close fitting boxers. It looked massive, and she swallowed hard. From his long, hair-roughened thighs to his broad shoulders and sleek narrow hips, he was all male, lithe and powerfully muscled. As he skimmed off his last garment she glanced hurriedly away, shy and unsure, but when he came back to her she felt his erection brush her thigh and she shivered, thinking, This is it, I’m a big girl now, ti
me I knew what all the fuss is about.

  ‘You’re cold,’ he growled, coming into contact with her nerve-chilled lower limbs, his body hot as a furnace against hers.

  He kissed her, and she gripped his shoulders, needing him to hold on to as his tongue mated with hers and the wild fever kicked off inside her again. It was like nothing she had ever felt, an insane, intoxicating flood of need that left her dizzy and trembling. Her hands sank into the silky luxuriance of his black hair. He might wear his hair short but there was a lot of it.

  Alexius was struggling to contain his hunger and slow down. She was tiny and fragile and he didn’t want to hurt her. Lying there with her eyes wide open and somehow trusting as he gazed down at her, she seemed achingly vulnerable and naive and that sent a chord of dismay travelling through him. And then she shifted under him and her smooth soft skin slid against his and the peachy floral scent of her entrapped him, bringing the desire back full force. With the ease of long habit and strong self-control he stifled the stab of misgiving. She was happy, he was happy, why complicate things? This was sex, nothing but sex, and he never wrapped it up as anything other than a meeting of bodies.

  He bent his arrogant dark head and shimmied down a little on the bed to lower his mouth to a very swollen nipple the delicate shade of an apricot and wonderfully ripe. Rosie gritted her teeth as sensation darted through her as though there were a line of elastic jerking taut between breast and pelvis. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his fingers and then he sucked them and her hips rose off the bed and she gasped.

  ‘You like that,’ Alexius whispered.

  ‘A lot,’ she admitted shakily.

  But there was, she discovered, an awful lot more for her to like. There was the slow glide of his fingers along her inner thigh and the unbearable yearning to be touched. A finger sank deep inside and she writhed, breathless with longing. Her tension ratcheted up another notch as he stroked her clitoris, circling, touching, teasing, sending the tormenting pleasure to an ever greater height. The ache between her legs and the desire for more grew steadily.

  ‘Please …’ she gasped at one stage, not even sure what she was asking for, only knowing that she needed it more than she had ever needed anything.

  ‘Are you protected?’ Alexius asked, wishing that he had not tossed his jacket halfway across the room.

  Rosie had once suffered from cramps and her doctor had advised her to take the contraceptive pill. She nodded in silence. ‘Not stupid,’ she squeezed out.

  He sank his hands beneath her bottom to lift her to him and his erection nudged her core, seeking entrance. He moved slowly, carefully. ‘You’re so small, so tight,’ he ground out. ‘I could almost think you hadn’t done this before …’

  She parted her lips to confirm the fact but no sound came out because all her concentration was on what was happening to her just then. He was pushing inside her, stretching her and it was the most extraordinary sensation as her body adapted to welcome him. Then with a groan of frustrated hunger he shifted his hips and drove deeper, and the sharp pain as he broke through the barrier of her innocence provoked a sharp cry from her.

  ‘What the hell—?’ Alexius demanded rawly although even at that point he was very much afraid that he knew very well what the matter was.

  ‘S’pose I should’ve warned you,’ Rosie mumbled, embarrassed to death by the cry she had given.

  Alexius levelled forbidding icy-grey eyes on her flushed and anxious face. ‘You’re a virgin?’

  ‘Not any more,’ she pointed out helplessly. ‘My choice, my decision.’

  Alexius gritted his teeth in annoyance. The deed was done. Her choice, not his and not a position he was used to finding himself in. But it was the work of a moment to let the dam of hunger he had rigorously restrained flow free and he buried himself deep in the silken welcome of her hot little body.

  Her inner muscles clenched round him as tiny little tremors of pleasure began to course through Rosie. She had feared he might stop; she hadn’t wanted him to stop. Now he began to move, harder, faster, deeper and the excitement returned with an intensity that took her breath away. Raw sensation and energy controlled her now and she tilted her hips and locked her legs round him in instinctive welcome. The pleasure came in an electrifying wave, tingling and burning through her every fibre, and then it peaked as she came in shock at what she was feeling. Alexius shuddered and poured himself into her, on a high of excitement that was new to him. He looked down at her to see that tears had left glistening trails down her cheeks and knew that she had been overwhelmed as she gazed up at him in astonishment. He released her from his weight and, even though he usually rolled away from his lovers the instant he had achieved satisfaction, he pulled her back into his arms and held her close, his heart thudding madly against hers.

  ‘Are you all right, moli mou?’ Alexius asked, his breath fanning her cheek. ‘Are you in pain?’

  ‘No.’ Rosie suppressed her embarrassment by burying her face in a strong brown shoulder, drinking in the hot musky scent of him and loving it. She felt both light as air with happiness and exhausted. ‘I’m totally fine, Alex.’

  ‘Is there anywhere I can get a shower here?’ Alexius enquired, suddenly ill at ease with the way he was holding her to him and in search of a good get-out clause. He lacked the cuddle gene and didn’t even pay lip-service to it, but her tiny body felt surprisingly good nestled close to him, and he discovered that he was ridiculously reluctant to risk hurting her feelings by pushing her away.

  ‘There’s no hot water at this time of night,’ she muttered uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not a problem.’ It was a lie: the lack of hot water was one more unnecessary reminder that he was in an unfamiliar environment in an unacceptable situation with a woman he should never have touched. He felt disorientatingly like an accident victim while he tried to work out how he, a guy who was very logical and controlled and a terrific planner, could have ended up in such a position. When had the rot set in? The instant he saw her standing in that office doorway? Little and cute, which had never attracted him before, he ruminated grimly. She didn’t even know who he was and she trusted him. That bothered the hell out of him and he didn’t even know why. The deep, even tenor of her breathing and the relaxed weight of her against him informed Alexius that she had fallen asleep. He eased one leg out of the bed slowly and quietly while edging Rosie back down, covering her with the duvet. And then he got dressed, swiftly and silently, his face set in forbidding lines.

  As he stepped out onto the landing something tugged at his trouser leg and growled. He looked down. Bas had a mouthful of his trousers. He tried to shake him off; it was a mistake. Bas took advantage of the defensive movement to sink his needle-sharp teeth into Alexius’s leg instead. Alexius gritted his own teeth in disbelief and then bent down to detach the chihuahua from his flesh. It wasn’t easy because Bas fought back, snarling and growling as if under attack. Finally, Alexius had the writhing little body captured in one big hand. Enraged big brown eyes glared at him from below the ridiculous bat ears.

  ‘I deserved it … you’re right,’ Alexius breathed, gently opening Rosie’s door and pushing the tiny dog through the gap before quickly closing it again. Baskerville, she had called the dog. Now what was the name of that Sherlock Holmes story? The Hound of the Baskervilles? If the nasty little animal hadn’t bitten him, Alexius would have laughed, for Bas, undersized though he was, had lived up to his name.

  A bastard, he reflected, would simply tell Socrates that his granddaughter was a bad bet. That way Rosie would be deprived of a fortune and Alexius would never have to see her again or acknowledge what he had done. But having got to know Rosie in the flesh, Alexius knew he couldn’t do that. He also knew that, having had her once, he already wanted her again. But he couldn’t do that either. An ongoing affair with his godfather’s grandchild was out of the question. Socrates would expect him to marry her and, while Rosie seemed to fire Alexius’s sex drive as no ot
her woman before her, he had no intention of marrying anyone. Sex was literally all he had to offer her and in this particular scenario it wasn’t enough.

  He walked downstairs and out of the front door. His protection unit, the four-man team who watched over him everywhere he went, was sitting in a car on the other side of the street. He hailed them. He would get back to his own life and within days it would be as if this strange episode with Rosie had never happened, he thought impatiently. He had made a mistake but everyone made mistakes and there was no point in beating himself up over a one-night stand.

  Rosie slept in the next morning and had a frantic rush to get to her maths class in time. It was late afternoon before she had the opportunity to consider the fact that Alex had left during the night without even asking for her phone number or leaving her a note. Her discussions with more experienced friends warned her that that was not unusual behaviour. But once it sank in that she had slept with him on what was virtually the first date, her mood plummeted. Even the magazines warned that men were less keen in those circumstances and more inclined to deem the woman concerned easy and less desirable. Of course, Alex could be simply assuming that he would see her on Monday evening when he was working late again, she reasoned, frantically keen at the hope of seeing him again on her horizon.

  Her spirits rose to a bubbling high when she got home that afternoon to find a gorgeous bunch of flowers awaiting her, the gift card signed only with a large letter, ‘A’. He wouldn’t have spent that much money if he wasn’t planning to see her again, would he? She borrowed a vase from one of her housemates and set it in the cramped lounge where everyone could enjoy the flowers.

  But when Rosie arrived for work at STA Industries on Monday evening, the office Alex shared was empty. She thought he might be away on a business trip and refused to fret about it, but as the week crept on without a single glimpse of him the optimism roused by the expensive bouquet began to drain inexorably away. Was it possible that he was simply avoiding her? The suspicion made her cringe in mortification. He was a professional man and he had slept with a humble cleaner. Maybe he was ashamed of the fact.