The Billionaire Affair

by Diana Hamilton

  So when he murmured, ‘You’re emotionally drained, sweetheart. We’ll talk again in the morning. Right now you need sleep,’ she could only nod in thankful agreement and push away the admonitory voice in her brain that told her to object when he scooped her into his arms and carried her up to his room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HIS bedroom. His bed. The covers still rumpled from this afternoon’s wild love-making. Something electric quivered all the way through her.

  Why had he brought her here instead of taking her to her own room? Silly question. He aimed to take advantage of her while she was stricken…

  A low, self-denigrating moan escaped her as he slid her down the length of his body and set her on her feet. Who was she trying to fool? There was a fatal weakness in her where he was concerned, a deep craving that banished sanity and pride. And if he stayed this close to her one moment longer it would be she who would be taking advantage of him!

  Wanton heat was already pooling between her thighs and something caught at the back of her throat as she raised the sultry heaviness of her lashes and let her glazed eyes roam the savagely handsome planes of his face, meeting the slightly frowning, brooding intensity of those gypsy dark eyes.

  She shuddered convulsively as a wave of fierce longing flooded right through her. She needed to feel that sensually carved mouth on hers again, to take the thrusting masculine pride of his body into hers again—a need so desperate it ravaged her chaotic senses…

  Her bones shaking, she reached out to him, but…

  ‘You’re out on your feet, sweetheart,’ Ben remarked softly, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, holding her upright as she swayed involuntarily towards him. ‘Skip the shower tonight. You need sleep.’

  The caring in his voice brought fresh tears to her eyes, mortifying her. She who never cried had shed enough to float a battleship over the past few hours.

  Nothing to do with the trauma of at last learning just why her father had so bitterly resented her existence, nor the painful memories of that final interview—just Ben, his compassion. His caring for her well-being during their long-ago love affair had been one of the things that had made her love him so.

  Yet that didn’t gel with the way he’d washed his hands of any responsibility towards Maggie Pope and his baby daughter…

  She muffled a sob as he began to undress her, peeling away her blouse then undoing the waistband of her linen trousers, the backs of his fingers grazing the soft, sensitised skin of her tummy.

  Caroline gasped, her stomach muscles tightening as he slid the fabric down her hips. Did he know what he was doing—the effect he was having on her? How every nerve in her body leapt? How her heart was thundering wildly sending fire to every part of her in a raging torrent of need? How her breasts were swelling, the rosy peaks hard, aching for his mouth?

  Risking a glance from under her lashes she saw that he didn’t show even a casual interest in the twin globes he released as he unclipped her bra, merely dropping the filmy garment to the floor before turning his attention to her briefs with a smooth efficiency that made her burn with frustration.

  Was he totally unaware of how wildly aroused she was, of how much she needed him? Did he think he was being considerate, leaving her in this state?

  She thought she heard the sharp tug of his breath as she held onto him for balance while she shakily stepped out of the briefs he’d slid down the length of her legs, her engorged breasts brushing against him. And then she was sure she had to have imagined it when he laid almost clinical hands on her shoulders, turning her round then briskly plumping up the pillows, holding back the lightweight duvet, telling her levelly, ‘In you get. I don’t think you should be alone to brood tonight. So I’ll be right beside you if you feel the need to talk, for someone to hold you. Just hold you, OK, Caro?’

  A catch in her throat, she stumbled into the bed, felt the duvet settle upon her, heard him move away, heard the gush of the shower in the en suite, turned her face into the pillow and bit it. Hard.

  It seemed hours before he joined her, the raging torment of wanting him so much it hurt making the sleep she needed impossible to come by.

  He hadn’t said a word when he’d finally exited the en suite. He’d simply walked across the room, switching off the light, closing the door to his private suite of rooms quietly behind him, leaving her alone in this room for what must have been ages.

  Now Caroline heard the rustle of his clothing as he undressed in the darkness, felt the mattress dip as he slid in beside her, taking care not to disturb her.

  Disturb her? She was disturbed enough to be in a white-hot sexual frenzy!

  He settled down, his back to her, an aching void away in the huge bed. And she commanded thickly because she couldn’t help it, because she was driven, ‘Hold me, Ben. Please, hold me!’

  She sensed him stiffen, the darkness around them tensing for one brief second before he turned and gathered her to him, folding his arms around her, tucking her head into the angle of his shoulder, his warm breath fanning her cheek as he murmured gently, ‘I’m here, sweetheart. You’d like to talk?’

  He too was naked. Her skin ignited against his, her blood exploding in her veins. Talk? They had to, of course they did. About Maggie, his child, the money he’d taken from her father. But not now.

  Now she wanted him. Just him. The utter perfection of their physical mating, the bad things forgotten, just for now. Tomorrow would be soon enough for this fantasy of love to end, to tell him that she could never marry a man she couldn’t trust.

  ‘No!’ she uttered hoarsely. ‘Make love to me. I need you.’ And she pressed her tingling breasts against the hard wall of his chest, wrapping her legs around his, drawing one of his thighs between hers, melting with delirium as she felt his instant, leaping response against the frantically quivering flesh of her abdomen. ‘Now, Ben! Now!’

  She heard him take a sudden breath and knew the control he’d been keeping had been fractured when he turned her on her back and straddled her. Then, with tormenting slowness he ran his hands down the length of her writhing body until he found the warm, secret dampness at the juncture of her thighs.

  Caroline moaned aloud, his skilful fingers driving her to the point of no return and when his mouth replaced them she arched and bucked and cried his name as waves of ecstasy convulsed her, over and over, until she reached out and caught his head between her hands and kissed him, her breath sobbing raggedly in her lungs.

  His own breathing was raw as he pulled her down with him and kicked away the duvet. Linking his fingers with hers he said with sultry confidence, ‘That was for you. Now we do it my way, sweetheart. Slowly, very, very slowly…’

  When Caroline woke she half expected to feel ashamed of her behaviour, but all she felt was a glorious wave of happiness and a sweet, drenching contentment.

  She stirred and stretched lazily, voluptuously, and Ben’s deep, honeyed voice said, ‘Just like a lithe little cat.’

  Lifting her lashes her soft amethyst eyes located him. Standing above her, clad in a short terry robe, his hair damp from the shower, he looked utterly gorgeous, the harsh, proud planes of his face curiously softened, his mouth a sultry, kissable curve.

  Her heart wrenching over she hoisted herself back against the pillows as he put the two mugs of coffee he’d been carrying down on the bedside table then perched on the edge of the bed beside her.

  ‘Now, there’s a sight a man would gladly kill for,’ he remarked silkily, his black eyes roaming her nakedness with languorous attention to every detail. ‘Perfection against his pillows.’

  His smile was so sexy it took her breath away, and she couldn’t breathe at all when he dipped his dark head and lapped each tingling, pouting nipple then took her parted lips with an intimacy that blew her mind.

  Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling with the thick dark strands, as his tongue mimicked the staggering activities of the night, her body leaping with immediate, feverish response. But
he drew away, his hands capturing hers, his eyes glinting wickedly beneath the lowered fan of his thick, spiky lashes.

  ‘I’ve a proposition to put to you.’

  Caroline dragged in a much needed breath as her heart twisted sharply. A proposition, not a proposal, thank the lord. She did not, most definitely not, want to have to think about his proposal of the evening before.

  She didn’t want to think of anything at all. The focus of her world, just for these few precious moments, was this man, the love for him that had burgeoned into strong, new life.

  ‘We make today a holiday. We don’t talk or think about anything but the two of us, the way we are now. The past, the future, won’t get a mention.’

  She saw a brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and gave him a glorious smile, assuring him throatily, ‘That’s absolutely fine by me!’

  Couldn’t be finer, in fact. Another magical twenty-four hours when reality didn’t get a look in, when nothing bad marred the magic of letting herself drift with the flow of loving him.

  ‘Then—’ the wicked confidence was back in his eyes now, in the smile that curved the beautifully sculpted mouth as he reached over and put one of the delicate china mugs in her hand ‘—coffee first, followed by a shower—and it will be my pleasure to help you—and we’ll take it from there.’

  The shower took longer than any shower she’d ever taken before, the touch of his long fingers on every part of her soap-slicked body a new and decidedly erotic experience, just begging her to do the same to him, to share with him the intense pleasure she was feeling. And when he eased her back against the marble tiled wall, parted her trembling thighs and thrust possessively into her waiting body she knew that heaven couldn’t offer a sweeter experience than this.

  ‘I can’t get enough of you.’ His voice was still hoarse long after their mingled cries of rapture had been swallowed by the hiss of the water. ‘It was always like this for us, remember?’

  ‘Don’t.’ She placed her hand over his mouth to silence him. The writhing tendrils of steam made his features blurred, out of focus. ‘We don’t mention the past. We are simply what we are,’ she reminded him, refusing to remember those long-gone good times because then she might have to remember the bad.

  ‘And we are spectacular.’ He grinned, conceding her point, reaching up to turn off the shower head.

  And that she had to agree with, Caroline thought as he helped her out of the stall and wrapped her in a fluffy towel that smelt of sunshine and flowers. Cuddling into the folds she watched him, with dreamy eyes towel himself dry, drinking in the pagan splendour of his male physique, making one more memory to add to all the others.

  As if he’d seen the sudden wistfulness behind her eyes, he reached out to cup the side of her face with one gentle hand. ‘Mop yourself up and dress, sweetheart. I won’t offer to do it for you because we wouldn’t get breakfast before supper time if I did. Will toast and tea be enough, or shall I boil eggs?’

  ‘Just toast,’ she said croaking around the sudden lump in her throat. Was it still the lingering remnant of steam or had her eyes misted with tears? She certainly felt like weeping all over again. Today was meant to be a stolen slice of paradise, wasn’t it? No room for looking back, or forward, no room for regrets, for tears.

  She moved away, plucked a fresh towel from one of the heated rails and wrapped it around her dripping hair, rubbing vigorously. When she emphasised, ‘Tea and toast will be fine,’ she sounded nicely cheerful.

  Apparently satisfied, he walked through to the bedroom and she gave him ten minutes before she made her way to the room she’d been using. Passing the place where the mahogany linen press had once stood she had a sharp pang of conscience.

  She really ought to get in touch with base, tell them she’d be returning in the morning. In view of the small amount of actual work she’d had to do here they’d wonder why it had taken her this long.

  But she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She’d phone first thing in the morning, before she set out. Today was hers. And Ben’s. One more day out of a lifetime wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  Tossing the things she’d worn the day before into her empty suitcase she slipped into clean silk undies and pondered what to wear as she stroked the brush through her damp hair. She didn’t know what Ben’s plans were but there was no one else in the house. The builders had removed the scaffolding yesterday morning, and the men currently at work making the golf course were on the opposite side of the estate.

  Just the two of them, and whatever she put on wouldn’t stay on for very long, she was sure of that. Her stomach wriggled at the thought, excited anticipation already building up inside her again. Just like the old times…

  She brutally strangled the thought and picked up the faded, much washed jeans Linda had lent her.

  They were indeed too wide and too short in the leg but she took the narrow leather belt from her own linen trousers and anchored the denim waist to her own much narrower one. Teamed with one of her own blouses, pale blue crêpe with short sleeves and a smooth V neckline, her bare feet pushed into her loafers, her hair a wild cloud falling to her shoulders, she looked nothing at all like the aloof, elegantly packaged career woman who had arrived here only a few short days ago.

  The sudden rush of relief as she gazed at her haphazardly attired and comfortably unsophisticated reflection made her grin. She felt and looked more relaxed than she had done for years. Eschewing her usual, perfect make-up, she left the room, her feet on wings as she sped down to the kitchen.

  Ben had gone ahead and boiled eggs anyway and the aroma of fresh coffee and warm toast made Caroline’s mouth water. They were using the butcher’s-block table beneath one of the sun-warmed windows and he’d produced honey and orange juice too.

  ‘I can’t remember ever eating such a huge breakfast,’ she confessed, as she accepted a second cup of coffee after they’d stacked the used crockery in the dishwasher, wondering if she should loosen the narrow leather belt by a couple of notches.

  ‘Then, maybe we should walk it off,’ Ben suggested, smiling, as she drained her cup.

  ‘Good idea.’

  A beam of spring sunlight gleamed in his hair, touched the side of his forcefully handsome face and her heart swelled inside her breast. He was so gorgeous it sometimes hurt to look at him, and her body melted, just melted when he came to stand behind her, slipping his hands around her waist then slowly lifting them to cup her breasts.

  He leant his face against the side of hers, his lips warm on her pinkening skin and she felt her breasts harden and fill the palms of his hands.

  ‘Then, we’ll head for the woods,’ he murmured, adding silkily as his thumbs stroked her pouting nipples, ‘Unless you have another form of exercise in mind?’

  ‘Walk,’ she said chokily, moving away. ‘To begin with,’ she added, but her smile was thin. They had always met in the woods, relishing the dark secrecy, their own precious privacy. The reminder put a heavy slab of sorrow in her heart.

  She didn’t want reminders, not today. Today was all they had left, and she would only be able to make it a happy memory if she didn’t remember the past. So she wouldn’t remember it. They were different people now and all she had to do was to pretend, just for today, that they’d only just met, had just fallen in love.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough to get back to normal, to get on with the life she knew and could rely on.

  ‘Fine.’ Black eyes glinted wickedly as he took her hand. ‘I’m ready for the afters whenever you say the word. Let’s get the “begin with” over.’

  They were still holding hands as they wandered slowly beneath the cool green canopy, taking the rarely trodden paths, the only sound that of their feet in the undergrowth, the music of birdsong and the ever-present murmur of the stream.

  Idyllic, Caroline thought, or at least it should have been. But it wasn’t working. Every step brought back memories of that long-ago summer when she’d believed she’d met her so
ul mate, when she would have trusted him with her life. How could she divorce herself from the reality of his callous betrayal?

  ‘I’ve got something I want to show you,’ he said as they emerged into a clearing on the banks of the stream. ‘Remember Ma’s falling down rented cottage?’

  Seemingly oblivious of her now sombre mood, he strode ahead of her, holding back the branches of a hazel, his boyish grin lighting his face.

  She had no option but to follow, her heart sinking as she recalled that dreadful day. It had taken her a while for everything to sink in. Her father had paid him to go away and stay away. Maggie Pope had confirmed that he was the father of her baby, had confirmed that he’d shrugged, had laid all the responsibility on her and had swaggered away.

  So she’d written that letter, in case he’d already left the area, and it had been easy. All the hurt and bitterness had spilled out onto the paper. And of course he’d already gone.

  ‘Not here,’ his austere-featured mother had answered her enquiry. So Caroline had pushed the sealed envelope into her hands. ‘Then, give him this if and when you see him again.’

  Now the cottage had been transformed, she registered numbly. Before, it had been barely habitable, the extensive garden filled with the produce Mrs Dexter had grown to sell and which had remained unsold. Now the stonework was sturdy, the leaking roof re-thatched and a sizeable, sympathetic extension added, an extension so well executed it might always have been here.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Ben turned to her, tucking an arm around her, pulling her close to his side.

  Caroline pulled away, her features pale and serious. So much for their precious stolen day, for pretending they had no shared past. ‘Does your mother still live here?’ she asked dully.