Under the Millionaire's Influence

by Catherine Mann

  He growled his appreciation of her words, his hands making slow and tantalizing work of peeling each of her tank tops off, touching her, caressing her, teasing her until they rubbed chest to chest. “Feel free then to act on that now to your heart’s content.”

  Heart? The word made her uncomfortable, so she focused instead on the heavy thudding of his heart under her hand and dipped to press her lips to the warmth of his skin, covering the pulse increasing by the second.

  She nibbled along his shoulder, the salty taste of him sending an erotic surge through her. “We’ve done it in a sandy region before, but this is a bit different.”

  He nipped her ear. “I thought you might enjoy the wild abandon of the desert.”

  “The solitude, as well. Just the two of us.” She slid her arms around his back, holding him, holding on to this moment as tightly. “No parents on either side of the property line.”

  No different goals and backgrounds dividing them just as tangibly.

  “A definite plus.”

  The richness of the experience was only enhanced because of the richness of their day together, the fun of touring the gallery. She knew he’d only gone there for her and would probably have preferred one of those Coney dogs and a ball game, but that he’d found something to enjoy in her world, well, that turned her inside out.

  And totally turned her on.

  He traced along the edge of her ear, soothing the nip, his breath hot along with his words and the stroke of his hands. “I also liked the notion that the stars are so vibrant.”

  “I guess I never thought about that when we traveled this way when I was a kid.”

  “Whenever I come this way on business, it makes me think of you, because of all the times we made out on the beach.”

  “You said the constellations reminded you of my name.”

  “I was such a sap back then.” He sagged back, shaking his head with a low rumble of laughter.

  “Sappy’s not so bad if you want to get a girl into bed.” She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs retracing the strong cut of his cheekbones.

  “I got you here today.”

  “Maybe I got you.” She rubbed her over-sensitized breasts against his chest.

  “Damn, you make me hot. You were a handful as a teenager and you’re all that and more now.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  His hands slid up between them to shape around her breasts, rubbing, tempting with just the right amount of pressure. “What do you think?”

  How could being with him feel so wonderfully right for her and yet be wrong at the same time? He’d done this thoughtful thing in taking her to see the art display, and she’d enjoyed the time away from Beachcombers more than she’d expected. But to her, it was a vacation. She didn’t want to live her life this way and David didn’t want to live his life in one spot. A fundamental problem they’d never been able to overcome.

  Yet the taste he’d given her today of travel had truly shown her how much she would be throwing away. My, how he tempted her. Always had.

  Her hands skimmed over his body as if forming over a sculpture. She hadn’t done much in that art form, but it was one that had always fascinated her. She would have enjoyed capturing him in clay, her hands recreating from memory the cut and feel of him. Except this was a new feel, this man she’d only had brief contact with a year ago.

  She had to be honest with herself; she wanted more. More time. More of him. His chest in particular fascinated her. This adult man was all the more intriguing than the teenage boy she’d been with before. The hard sinew of honed muscles called to her fingers to explore.

  They’d taken their time learning about each other’s bodies before, out of curiosity, as well as passion. Now the same feelings tingled through her. Did the same things still turn him inside out?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Starr arched up, traced his strong jawline and pressed her mouth to his. Without hesitation, she opened to him and yes, he swept her mouth with his tongue in bold possession. But she could take, as well as be taken. She sucked with a gentle seduction that all too quickly had another yes rumbling in his chest, his hips rocking under hers. The steely pressure of his erection throbbing between them—even through their clothes—leaving her with no question of how quickly she could tempt him into total arousal. And she’d barely even begun.

  He made short work of hiking up her skirt and skimming away her underwear—he’d always been adept at that—before sliding his hands to cup her buttocks, and holy cow there went her blood pressure. David ducked his head to her breast, sucking, drawing on her nipple, his kiss, even the gentle tug of his teeth on her tightened bud with an extra friction that threatened to drive her over the edge from just this one pleasure alone. Then he switched his attention to her other breast while sliding his hand to cup the breast he’d just abandoned, rubbing, plucking.

  Her brain went on stun and she lost the ability to think altogether until she felt cool air over her heated flesh and realized he was working the rest of her clothes down and off. She helped wriggle them free while opening his pants.

  Arching up, he reached for his wallet perched cleverly within reach on the dashboard and withdrew a small packet. Condom. Thank goodness he’d thought of it since she could barely remember her own name, much less how to supply birth control.

  A memory flashed through of how they’d learned to use them together. In fact, he’d found great pleasure in letting her…

  She took the condom from him and flipped it between her fingers. He stared back at her with his best wicked albeit indulgent—darn him—smile. She straddled his lap, giving as good as she got in the wicked-smile department. She wrapped her hand around him at the base and held on with a strong but tender grip. Letting her smile broaden, she swept her thumb up and down ever so slightly to caress him in the way she remembered he liked. He throbbed in her hand.

  Her body pulsed in response. No more waiting. She fit the condom on over him.

  He gripped her hips in a firm but gentle hold and lifted her. Sighing, she braced her hands on his shoulders and threw back her head. Ready. Oh, so ready. Still he drew out the moment until she finally realized what he wanted from her. She’d closed her eyes.

  She opened them and stared at him, moonlight shimmering overhead and glinting off his clenched jaw. The restraint cost him as much as it did her.

  “Now,” she panted.

  As soon as the word slipped past her lips, he surged upward, into her with a thick and wonderful familiarity that brought tears to her eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked, not moving, so deep inside her she vowed she would feel him forever.

  She could only nod.

  He took her mouth and withdrew, slowly, then filling her, again and again as she reclaimed their skin-tingling rhythm. She lost herself in his strokes, in his kiss with his tongue that thrust in a matching boldness of his body. She clung to him, writhed against him, wrung as much from the moment as she could and tried to ignore the voice inside her insisting she ought to snitch as much from the moment because she feared there wouldn’t be another.

  Hadn’t that always been how they loved? As if living for the last time. They didn’t know any other way.

  She continued to grip—even claw—at him, at fate, at her own inability to figure out a way to have more with this man than stolen moments. She felt even more the gypsy child filching what she could for herself because there was no one to look out for her.

  Except she had this strong and amazing man in her arms. A man who’d thrown her life and emotions into chaos for years. She pulled her mouth from his and scattered kisses along his jaw before burying her face in the crook of his neck and surrendering to sensations.

  She knew she spoke, but couldn’t pull rational thought together enough to decipher her own rambling litany of want, much less understand his. But oh, she heard the strength of his desire in the tenor of his tone. Knowing she moved him as much as he touched her pi
tched her forward, over the edge of desire.

  Her back arched with the strength of her release, and the sparkling lights above could have been the sky in a nighttime rainbow above or behind her lids in a palate of color. She wasn’t sure and couldn’t think of anything except the power of the pleasure pulsing through her. He gave her so much and she could do nothing but collapse against him, exhausted.

  His rumbling groan of completion vibrated against her skin, jarring a second, echoing release from her sated body.

  If only they could stay right here for the rest of the night, wrapped up in a simple Aztec blanket, under the desert’s stars.

  Tugging the eight ka-jillion thread count Egyptian cotton sheet around her naked body in David’s hotel bed, Starr couldn’t help but be glad they’d made love in the desert that first time, in the more neutral outdoors.

  This high-class hotel with its expensive linens and hop-to bellmen only served to remind her of the chasm between her upbringing and his. She so didn’t want to travel down that road of thinking, but couldn’t seem to recapture an emotional detour to match the real one they’d taken earlier.

  She gave up trying to get comfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings of crystal chandeliers and monochromatic creamy colors and sat, clutching her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry you had to pay for a suite of rooms when we’re only going to use one bed.”

  “The money doesn’t matter.”

  He rolled to his side, tugging a lock of her hair and looking supremely at ease in the monstrous wooden sleigh bed. A huge bouquet of imported tulips and lilies lurked behind him on the nightstand, filling the room with an elegant fragrance that struck her as all wrong for the desert climate outside.

  “Money always matters.” She yanked the sheet more securely over her breasts. She could get used to the sheets, though. They were truly heavenly. “It shouldn’t be squandered.”

  “Consider that it helped someone meet their bills then. If you’re really feeling guilty, then we can just be sure to make love in both beds.”

  “Oh, and both showers, too.” She liked how he thought, the wicked, wonderful man.

  “Now you’re getting the right idea.” He tunneled a hand under the covers to cup her hip, stroking gently, distracting her ever so slightly. “Let’s not forget the sofa and there’s all this carpet that needs breaking in, as well.”

  “You are an indulgent man. I’ll bet you actually eat things from the minibar.”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  She flopped back with an exasperated argh. “You are so totally from another universe.” She tugged on his arm. “The minibar is always full of way overpriced stuff someone like me can’t afford.”

  “Tonight you can.” He swung his feet to the floor, a gust of cool air slithering under the sheets. “What would you like? Some twenty-dollar M&M’s?”

  “Okay, it’s not that bad,” she huffed. He didn’t have to poke fun at her.

  “Really?” His back to her, he continued to speak, irking her all the more with his lack of understanding. “I could have sworn…”

  Or maybe he did understand. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

  He turned back around, candy bag in hand and open. He upended it, pouring M&M’s all over her torso.

  “David!” she squealed.

  How like David to ply her with M&M’s rather than the champagne in the silver bucket beside the bed. And how wise of him to know this would tickle her funny bone and fancy far more. The thought of common ground intimidated her even as it held obvious appeal. What if he made steps to close the gap between them?

  He straddled her. “Did I mention I like twenty-dollar M&M’s eaten off a naked woman even more than Coney dogs in Shea Stadium?”

  David dipped his head and found a piece of candy nestled in her belly button. He crunched on a couple more, popping some into her mouth, as well, while he feasted, before he rolled to the side, laughing along with her. Once her laughter faded, he gathered her close and oh, where had the tension gone? God, he was good at maneuvering her.

  “So money was tight for you growing up,” he said with a no-so-subtle probing intensity.

  Really good at maneuvering.

  “Not tight, so much as always the focus of every action they made.” She traced swirls of hair on his chest. “And of course things were tight at Aunt Libby’s because she always took in as many girls as she could possibly afford.”

  “You showed up when you were ten, right?”

  “Yes,” she slugged his arm. “You know that’s right since I’ve told you before. You never get facts wrong. If you want to know something, just ask me.” Although she had to be honest with herself that he had asked her in the past and she’d dodged his questions. She’d become good at that, manufacturing a history for schoolmates that wasn’t humiliating.

  “Okay, I confess, I’m curious about what brought you to Charleston.” He trailed his fingers along her side, down to her hip and up again to the curve of her breast. “I want to know more about you, something I should have asked when I was seventeen but I was too horny back then to think of anything but getting you naked.”

  “Yet, here I am naked now, too.”

  “I still want to get you naked, but I also want to know what happened to bring you here.”

  There was no mistaking the intensity in those beautiful blue eyes of his eyes she’d once dreamed of seeing in a baby boy they’d made together—silly teenage dreams. Starr tugged herself back to the present and dealing with how much of her past to share. She’d told him precious little as a teen, embarrassed by her parents’ shady dealings.

  Now, she figured it was probably best not to tell David the total story about how she’d ended up at Aunt Libby’s or he might do damage to her family out on the lawn and end his illustrious career with the OSI. His imagination from years on the job could likely hazard a close enough guess.

  Instead, she opted to share her early years with Aunt Libby. “The first few months were pretty rocky. I was certain she would boot me out, so I preferred to leave on my own terms. A week after I arrived—” once her ten-year-old self had recovered from her near miss with heat exhaustion in her parents’ RV “—I stole a piece of her mother’s silver flatware and hid it under my mattress.”

  He yanked a curl in gentle chastisement. “Sticky little fingers you had, huh?”

  “It wasn’t my first time. You should probably know I was picking pockets by my fifth birthday. Aunt Libby found it before lunchtime. Looking back, she’d probably dealt with far worse from other girls in the past. But anyhow, I thought for sure I was toast. Instead, I lost recreation time outside and had to polish all her silver.”

  “She sounds like a savvy lady.”

  “It took me a few months of pranks to realize she planned to keep me around for as long as I needed her, but I wasn’t going to get away with jack.”

  “I wish I’d spent more time with her.”

  Starr could feel the automatic retreat inside herself. Her gaze skittered away from his and she plucked at the sheet draped over her. “She wasn’t on your mother’s bridge-club list.”

  “That shouldn’t have mattered.” He rolled her to face him, his eyes holding hers. “And actually works in her favor.”

  “Whatever.” Starr shrugged dismissively, unable to stop old defense patterns from creeping over her. “I kept pushing the boundaries until this one day when I really started to get scared because I liked it here with the sisters and the food.”

  The admission slipped free in spite of her defenses screaming at her to hold back, not to give away anything someone could use against her later. “And oh, God, how it felt to have a mother figure who fed me and cared how I did in school. Having good stuff in your life means you have something to lose.” She swallowed down the lump of anxiety in her throat that still lingered even today. “So I broke her porcelain jewelry box.”

  “I take it you weren’t normally a clumsy child.”

  Starr nodded. “I
was usually very careful not to upset the grown-ups. Aunt Libby went real quiet as she scooped up the pieces. She wouldn’t look at me or even scold me. She just left the room.” That choking lump grew to tangerine size in her throat. “One of the really bitchy foster girls told me the box had been given to her by her fiancé who died in the Korean War.”

  “Ah, hell.” He gathered her close for a hug, stroking her hair. “You had no way of knowing.”

  “I heard her cry.” She stifled her own sniffle against his chest.

  “Nearly seventeen years later and you still feel guilty.” He tipped her chin so she could see him. “Babe, I make my living off knowing when people are guilty and when they’re not. I’m telling you, you’ve got to cut yourself some slack or you’re never going to get those people out of your backyard.”

  Her spine straightened and she shrugged free of his grip that urged her to see things in a new and uncomfortable light. “Could you ease off your high horse for just one minute and let me have my crappy-ass memory? I’m trying to share something with you, you thickheaded man. It just takes women more words to get there.”

  “Fair enough. I’m an interrogator. I should know better.” Sitting up, he scooped her up in his lap as if she weighed less than a poodle. “Talk away.”

  Not exactly the sensitive acknowledgment of her individuality she was looking for…but close. And he smelled good and felt good and who really wanted perfect anyway? Perfect sounded boring.

  “I gathered up all my money—none of it stolen because she’d broken me of that habit by then—and I bought a paint set, which pretty much depleted my funds so I couldn’t afford a porcelain anything. I got a buddy of mine to build a wooden box with a leather thong latch and I painted it.”

  She sighed long and hard, remembering the feel and smell of those paints along with the rush of bringing the image in her mind to life…. “Man, did I paint it with a view of the ocean sunrise that blended realism and romanticism until…David, it was really beautiful. It may not have been the box she had but I found I had a talent, something special for just me.” She smiled at the memory. “Aunt Libby and I cried together over that box. Then we laughed and celebrated. I had a talent, something that set me apart from all the other girls. Aunt Libby had a way of helping each of us find that something special about ourselves.”