1933563079-Torrid-Hearts-Lucas.doc

by Torrid Hearts (lit)

  “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

  No. That wasn’t right. If he didn’t fuck her soon, then she was going to kill him. And his demise wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant as being fucking killed. She assured herself of that.

  The view of the bay beyond her window should have been soothing, but for Sarah, nothing had been soothing since that night nearly a week ago when she’d been forced to accept Drago’s proposal. As he damn well knew she would . Oh, she’d made a good show of “considering” it, but really, had there ever been any other choice than yes? Was there anything she wouldn’t have done to secure the futures of both Isabelle and Lacey? Of course not. So she agreed.

  And, honestly, not all that reluctantly, either.

  This wouldn’t be the first time she’d bartered her body for either herself or someone else’s benefit, but it was going to be the first time she was happy about it. The first time she shivered at the thought. The first time she desired to be there. That thought terrified as it electrified. She was secretly thrilled at having her choices taken from her. Thrilled that she could fuck the great Drago Castenoff without constantly wondering if it were the right thing to do or not and absolutely ecstatic about not having to push him away simply because that was what she did with any serious man.

  But then the ass had to go and take that freedom from her with one simple sentence.

  “Your company is all that’s required on your end of our deal, Sarah.”

  His words echoed in her ears even now. Words spoken after she agreed. After she’d allowed herself to imagine what being in his bed would be like, what him sliding inside her would do to her heart, and anticipating it nearly salivating.

  “Your presence in my bed, though very much wanted, is entirely voluntary.”

  “Very much wanted. Ha!”

  If he wanted her so badly, then why hadn’t he even touched her in the past week? From the second she met him, she felt how badly he wanted her. Hell, every time she’d seen him, he’d been as hard as granite and she couldn’t imagine a man could walk around like that all the time, especially one as well endowed as Mr. Castenoff. It had to take a serious toll on one’s brain cells to be so persistently blood-deprived.

  Since it had to be that she affected him that way. So why pull the big switch? Why, from the second she walked out the door of her townhouse with his hand in the small of her back, had he been nothing but courteous, thoughtful and gracious? Not that those were bad things, but come on.

  A perfect gentleman for an entire fucking week!

  She grabbed one of the myriad of pillows off her bed and threw it at the picture window. It didn’t really help, but it did feel good. And that was another point. He’d even given her a bloody room of her own. Suite of rooms, to be honest. A bedroom with small sitting room and a bathroom with a luxurious sunken tub which she’d spent far too much time in, sulking.

  She hated how childish she was feeling. In any other situation, she would have reveled in her surroundings, but she didn’t want to be by herself, she wanted to be with him!

  She hadn’t even seen his room during the tour of the house—oh God, what a house—a three story structure tucked into a wooded area over looking the Chesapeake Bay. Anyway, she’d seen almost every other room in the house. She’d seen the fitness center in the lower section of the house, indoor pool and all. The gourmet kitchen had her weeping with thoughts of using that down-draft professional grade stove. His living and family rooms, several guests rooms and even got a glimpse at his music room, though he seemed to brush over that one as quickly as he could.

  His taste in décor had surprised her. It wasn’t dark and moody the way she’d expected, but it sure wasn’t country cottage the way her home was, either. It was sleek and sophisticated, and reeked of money. If she had to describe it, she’d say it blended with its environment in a tasteful and peaceful way that had her feeling at home almost instantly.

  Muted shades of blue matched the water and the sky, while soft green and brown matched the surrounding woodland areas. There was one sitting room near the front entry done in a wildlife theme. There were several paintings of deer hung in the room and the décor seemed to be pulled from those paintings, the browns and creams the same as the soft coats of the does in the assorted scenes. She spent most of her free time in that room. She felt Drago’s presence in it more than the others, though she couldn’t explain why.

  His personal rooms were tucked into the top floor, a crow’s nest/loft sort of a configuration. She hadn’t been allowed near them.

  His housekeeper, Connie, an older woman, came three days a week and treated Drago more like a son than an employer, and much to Sarah’s surprise…he let her.

  Sarah found the dichotomy of the two fascinating. Connie constantly chastising him for being too reclusive, for not seeing his father—Sarah had no idea what that was about and had no intentions of finding out—chiding his choice of foods, friends, women, and even his latest musical score. Sarah had even overheard the older woman giving Drago hell one morning for having the bad manners to ignore her.

  Connie pointed out that Sarah was a good woman and he was a damn fool if he couldn’t see it. Secreted away in the front sitting room all the while, Sarah blushed at the compliment, not really certain how a compliment should feel. She’d never received many, and the few she had, hadn’t seemed genuine. On the whole, she and Connie were getting along famously, however.

  From the second they’d arrived at the house and Sarah had been feeling petulant after being all but ignored during the chartered flight and tired and very unsure of herself. Connie had hugged her warmly, gushing about how glad she was Drago was finally entertaining in this large mausoleum he called a house and even went so far as to question their relationship.

  If Sarah hadn’t been so grumpy and out of sorts from the long flight, her betraying emotions and Drago’s lack of attention, she wouldn’t have cut whatever Drago’s response had been short and thrown out, “We have no relationship. Mr. Castenoff has kidnapped me. I’m beginning to think it’s merely for decorative purposes.”

  That acerbic comment had elicited a smirk from Drago and a hug from Connie, along with the declaration, “I like this one.” Of course, this only caused Sarah to wonder how many others there’d been, and had he blackmailed all of them?

  She couldn’t figure that. The man was sex walking. No woman in their right mind would have said no to him. And that wasn’t a slight on herself, as she’d always considered herself just outside her right mind.

  “Hell, he probably beats them off with a stick.”

  She smiled. Probably with that Tibetan rain stick he’d shown her in the formal living room. The smile quickly disappeared along with the moment’s levity. Her problem quickly resurfaced as her heart flipped over itself. She remembered the warm feelings she had towards the man who’d been showing her that silly wooden stick as if it really mattered to him that she likes it.

  She always felt that warmth with him. Granted, at times it became uncomfortably hot, but it was a nice feeling she’d never had before, she just didn’t understand the man’s thinking. Though Drago had been nothing short of a perfect host, sharing his meals along with conversation and stories of his career with her, he seemed to steer clear of her most of the day and their conversations never turned personal. Half the time she wondered if he’d changed his mind and just didn’t want to tell her so.

  She heard him in his music room at all hours of the day and night. Often on the piano, he made the entire house sing. With joy usually, but one night she’d lain awake weeping at the haunting sound of the violin as it rose and filled the house with a sound so mournful she couldn’t have remained unaffected if she’d tried.

  She might have been able to relax and enjoy herself more if it weren’t for the perpetual state of arousal. That was not fun and it tended to put a damper on anything else. She wanted Drago, but she needed him to take the lead. She needed to be able to look back and not blame herself for mak
ing the biggest mistake of her life. If he’d just have blackmailed her all the way into his bed she wouldn’t be having this problem, because later when she was back in her own home nursing her first real broken heart, she could simply blame him for being a bastard and forcing her, but no, he had to leave the choice in her hands.

  He’s a bastard and I hate him.

  She sighed, but she wanted him more than she’d ever hate him and if they were going to be living under the same roof for who knew how long... she may as well take the leap and make a move. Two could play at his game, though, and she decided as she ran her bath with scented oils of lavender and rosehips she wasn’t going to make it easy for him to ignore her any more.

  As she dressed in a fluid-and slightly transparent-skirt of mixed hues of gold and orange, paired with a white cropped tank edged with dangling jewels, layering on fragrance and taking extra care with her hair, she decided she’d either kill him with that eternal hard-on or by night’s end he’d throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to that cave of his upstairs. Either way was perfectly fine by her.

  * * * *

  Drago was certain he was going to be permanently impaired by the time he ever got the exquisite Sarah Rose Bennet into his bed. If he’d had even an inkling of a hint that she’d put him off this long, he might have seriously reconsidered his magnanimous “Coming to my bed is voluntary” speech.

  As he stalked down to the poolside shower, he tried to come to terms with the raging horny beast within. He needed some sort of a plan, because simply waiting for the lovely and desirable Miss Bennet to come around was damn near killing him. He’d bit the head off more than one person in the last week, to the point that the studio was routing all his calls directly to the producer of the latest film he was scoring.

  The cool flagstone beneath his bare feet shocked some sense back into him. The heat and humidity of mid summer gave way beneath the thick plantings of his grotto and the constant purposefully supplied mist hit his heated skin, creating a steamy vapor. Regardless that he had a nine-jet massaging shower and Jacuzzi tub in his en-suite, Drago always preferred the natural essence of his outdoor shower. It spoke to his inner caveman, he thought sulkily as he hung his towels on the low branch of some flowering tree he could never remember the name of.

  He smiled, betting Sarah would know the name of it.

  Palm splayed under the running water, he felt the first indication that his body was taking the hint and relaxing. Well, his shoulders and spine were, anyway. The intensity of the spray hitting the flagstones caused it to spit back up hitting his shins like tiny pinpricks. He slowly undressed.

  This spot often had him thinking about moving south to a tropical oasis where he could shower outdoors all year. Only the thought of leaving the bay kept him from moving. She had qualities he’d never found any other place in the world and he missed her whenever he was gone.

  Stripping his clothes, he groaned as the heated water hit his pectoral muscles with stinging force. He withstood the assault for a few minutes before adjusting the shower head to a softer setting, one more like a gentle rain. If only this would help get his thoughts off fucking Sarah. If only anything would. Maybe he should just bite it on this one and tell her he’d changed his mind. Fucking him was no longer voluntary.

  He smiled. He’d keep her between the sheets for a week straight until they were both utterly sated and too sore to move. After all, the improvement in his disposition would be enough to have the woman nominated for sainthood and it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to. He knew that. He wasn’t completely stupid and he knew desire when he saw it.

  He groaned again, thinking of some of the ways he found her looking at him this past week when she thought he wasn’t watching. She wanted him almost as much as he wanted her, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was holding her back. He’d been utterly honest with her. That he wanted her in his bed, expected her there, whenever she was ready. It wasn’t that she was shy, or if she was, she never had been with him. No, his Phoenix held her own with him when few people could. It was one of the things that he found incredibly attractive about her. She didn’t back down, she wasn’t obsequious, and she didn’t cower from him.

  He knew he could be imposing, that he could be an arrogant ass, but she never blanched. Not when he was seductive, not when he was a prick, not when he was just downright crude. He loved watching those eyes of hers as she figured him out and adjusted her strategy accordingly. God, it was a tantalizing dance and tempting as the most insidious sin. After all, he was only a man, how much was he supposed to endure?

  As he soaped up, preparing once again to slake some of his need, he disparagingly thought he hadn’t hand-fucked himself this much since he’d been about fifteen.

  Milked the cow, spanked the monkey, dated Palmela Handerson, Rosy Palm and her five sisters.

  He sneered while trying to amuse himself with ridiculous terms for the most basic act on the planet, hoping to convince himself he wasn’t nearly as pathetic as he felt and wondering if she touched herself thinking of him.

  He groaned as he slid his palm along the length of his cock, wishing for all he was worth that the friction was being supplied by the warm wet pussy of Sarah Rose Bennet, instead. Wishing he could put his head between her thighs and lick her ‘till she came. He wanted her mouth on his cock while his fingers spread her juices over her wet folds. Wanted his fingers inside her while she squeezed them with tight inner muscles.

  His head dropped back in the water, a constant stream running over his body as he moved slowly, enjoying the building pressure, picturing the lovely dusky rose nipples of one Sarah Rose. If he didn’t get his mouth on those nipples soon… you’ll what?

  Continue waiting, that’s what.

  He’d made the decision not to include screwing in their bargain, because she wasn’t a prostitute and he didn’t want her feeling like she was. He also did not want her having even the tiniest idea in the farthest reaches of that female mind of hers that he thought she was. Despite the unusual circumstances of their meeting, he wanted Sarah for Sarah, not because of—or in spite of—what she did for a living. Her stripping held no bearing whatsoever, but he feared he was going to have some difficulty getting her to believe that.

  Sarah Rose Bennet was a woman of distinction. He was readily accepting that she was the woman he’d been looking for his entire life, though he doubted he could get Sarah to believe that. She’d think it was all about sex and he didn’t see any way of dissuading her from that opinion at the moment. Though what he wanted from Sarah went far beyond sex, though it was a damn good place to start, and tonight he’d just have to prove that to her.

  “Fuck me, Sarah.” Drago ground out, so close to coming he’d lost most of his senses. His hand kept up a steady rhythm on his soapy, rigid cock while his brain supplied the visual aids of Sarah naked and splayed for him on his silk sheets. He could smell her, could almost feel her, taste her. Deep in his fantasy, on the verge of losing control, he wondered if he had completely slipped over the edge of sanity when he heard the husky voice of Sarah Rose over the spraying water offering, “Let me.”

  Chapter 8

  Sarah’s heart nearly stopped beating as her eyes beheld the sight of a gloriously naked Drago in front of her. She’d never been one of those women overly fond of the male body. It was fine, but she’d always been more interested in a man’s heart and mind. However, Drago had her seriously reconsidering that as he stared at her with such deep longing that she felt it.

  She was mesmerized and momentarily stunned. She’d never seen a man…well, at least she couldn’t remember ever seeing one…no, if she’d seen this, she would have remembered.

  Then again, Drago wasn’t simply any man, so when she found him blessedly naked, soapy and slippery, his fist wrapped tightly around his huge cock, working a rhythm that could only have one outcome, she’d known his thoughts were of her before his words betrayed him. When she’d heard him utter her name, so obvi
ously close to coming, she felt—well, left out.

  Now, however, with his hungry look scorching her skin, she felt anything but.

  She reached for him, not caring about the shower spray or the fact that she was still clothed. The heat from his skin told her the cold shower hadn’t been working, but she held her smile in check. After all, he was a man in pain, and she had every intention of helping him with that little situation, especially since she was pretty damn sure his pain was mostly her fault.

  Her fingers barely fit around him and she was shocked by the shudder that wracked her heart at the contact.

  “Sarah.”

  He growled her name in what she wasn’t sure was a warning or a thanks as she slid her hand the full length of him. Soft, velvety skin covered hard steel, and what a combination they made. She stared deeply into his eyes, surprised he was able to maintain her gaze. If it had been his hand on her clit, she’d have had her eyes solidly closed, accepting the gift.

  He more than filled her hand and she couldn’t hold back the shiver, imagining how he would feel inside her, filling her, stretching her. Though she still worried about her heart, there was no denying more was transpiring between them than raw sex, but raw sex was all she was capable of and she figured Drago felt the same.

  The spray doused her hair as she slid under it with him, hand caressing the bare skin of his muscled chest. Her fingers applied pressure as they ran along his side, staying for a moment on his hip before returning her palm flat against him over his stomach and rib cage, then reaching his chest. He had chest hair and it had been a really long time since she’d seen a man like that. She reveled in the way the coarse hairs felt under her skin. Closing her eyes so she could take it all in, she moaned as her fingers slipped in the soap and caught on one hard nipple. When she fanned it with her thumb, his growl was reward the likes of which she’d never earned before. She splashed him clean with the shower spray and thanked him by sucking the tight nub into her mouth.