by Abby Green
‘Stop talking, you little hellcat, I don’t want to hear another word.’ His voice was rough.
Before Nessa could even think of uttering another word, Luc had pulled her right into him, so that her body was welded to his. All she could feel was whipcord strength and heat.
All she could see were his eyes, fathomless and like molten steel. She realised he was livid and yet she felt no fear. She only felt an intense excitement. She opened her mouth but he said, ‘Not another word.’
And then his mouth covered hers, and words were the last thing on Nessa’s mind as heat fused with white light and poured into every vein in her body to create a scorching trail of fire.
Shock rendered her helpless to Luc’s savage sensuality and her own immediately rampant response.
Luc’s arm went around her back, arching her into him even more, and his mouth began to move over hers. But this was no gentle exploration, and it left any other kisses she’d shared with boys in a far distant universe. This did not leave her cold, or unmoved. This was igniting her very soul.
It was mastery, pure and simple. And domination. And punishment. And yet despite all those things that should have had Nessa tensing and squirming to be free, she strained to be even closer, raising her arms to twine them about Luc’s neck. If she could have climbed into his skin, she would have.
She opened her mouth under his, instinctively seeking a deeper kiss, wanting to taste him with every fibre of her being. His fingers threaded through her hair, catching her head, angling it so that he could give her exactly what she wanted, but on his terms.
He consumed her, demanding nothing less than total surrender, and Nessa knew only one thing: that she wanted to surrender, with no doubt or hesitation in her mind. It was as if every moment in her life had been building up to this conflagration.
She was drowning in liquid heat and could feel it, slippery, between her legs. Luc’s mouth left hers and she heard a soft moan emanating from her mouth. He trailed kisses over her jaw and down her neck. Her head fell back, too heavy.
The only sounds in the room were harsh breathing and the thump thump of her heart. Luc’s hand was on her shirt, deftly opening the buttons. Cool air hit her bare skin and her nipples drew into tight, hard points.
The world tipped on its axis and Nessa only realised moments later that Luc had sat down on the edge of the bed, bringing her with him so that now she sat on his lap. She was dizzy, and thought that this must be how it felt to be drunk: light-headed and euphoric.
He was pushing her shirt open, and she looked at him and saw an almost feral expression on his face. He cupped one of her lace-covered breasts. Breasts that had always felt very inadequate to Nessa. But now when she looked down she could see how she perfectly filled his palm. As if she’d been made for his hands alone.
He pulled down the lace cup, baring her flesh, and she bit her lip to stop from moaning, pleading. His thumb skated over one small hard nipple and it sent electric shocks through her whole body.
He looked at her and smiled and Nessa realised that he hadn’t smiled at her once until now. And it was as devastating as she’d suspected it might be. Wicked, seductive, gorgeous and irresistible.
Lust and need cocooned them from reality, and for one wild second Nessa could almost convince herself that perhaps she was still asleep and this was all just a very vivid dream.
But she knew it wasn’t a dream, and she knew that it was very important that she stand up and stop this.
Luc’s head was dipping towards her breast and Nessa had never wanted anything more than to surrender completely to this moment, but something within her, some small sane voice, broke through. She put her hands on Luc’s shoulders and levered herself off his lap, feeling like a foal trying to stand for the first time.
Luc just looked at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d moved away, and Nessa realised she was half naked. She pulled at her shirt, scrambling to do up at least one or two buttons. The bare flesh of her breast chafed against the material, sensitised by his touch.
She forced out, through the clamour of her own desire, ‘I didn’t come here for this. I really didn’t.’
Luc’s body was hard and throbbed with a need to claim and possess, things he’d never felt for a woman before. Nessa was looking at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and hair coming loose.
I didn’t come here for this. Something slid into Luc’s mind: the very rogue possibility that she had just fallen asleep while on the job. And then he dismissed it. She was playing with him and he would not be manipulated like this. He’d already exposed himself far too much. And the fact that she’d been the one to pull away, signalling she was more in control than he was, was even more exposing.
Luc forced his blood to cool, and stood up in a fluid motion. Nessa took a step back. The thought that she was stepping back from him in case he touched her again sent something dark into his gut. And something far more unwelcome: a feeling of vulnerability, something that Luc had rejected long ago. He was invulnerable.
‘Sleeping with me isn’t going to improve your, or your brother’s, situation. I told you already that I don’t play games, Nessa, so unless you’re willing to admit that we both want each other with no strings attached then get out of here.’
His voice was so cold and remote it skated over Nessa’s skin like ice. She hated his obvious cynicism, and wanted to deny his claim that she would manipulate him to gain favour for her brother, but self-preservation kicked in at the last moment. She fled, taking the basket of cleaning supplies with her.
* * *
When Nessa finally made it back to her room she closed the door behind her and rested against it. Her heart was still thumping out of time, and her whole body ached for a fulfilment she’d never needed before.
And she reeled with the knowledge that she’d almost lain back for Luc Barbier and handed him something she’d never handed anyone else. Her innocence. She’d almost tipped over the edge of allowing Luc to see her at her most vulnerable. A man who had shown her nothing but disdain and distrust.
Thank God she’d pulled back from the brink. She shivered now at the prospect of Luc looking at her when he’d discovered her virginity. She could already imagine the mocking look on his face, and how he would spurn her with disgust.
But then she thought of how he’d said, Unless you’re willing to admit we both want each other with no strings attached, and she shivered again. But this time it wasn’t with trepidation or humiliation. It was with an awful sense of illicit excitement.
* * *
Luc had turned the shower to cold, but that still hadn’t cooled the lingering heat in his body. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to stripping Nessa O’Sullivan bare and taking her in a haze of lust.
She’d been the one to pull back. And even though Luc hadn’t imagined the chemistry between them, it still got to him somewhere very vulnerable that she’d had more control than him.
He couldn’t trust her, and yet he’d been about to sleep with her, complicating an already complicated situation even more. He shuddered to think of the hold she could have had over him after sleeping together. He hadn’t yet known a woman who didn’t try to capitalise on intimacies shared, even when they were only physical. And he had no doubt—in spite of her protestations otherwise—that she’d had an agenda.
He looked at himself in his bathroom mirror and scowled. If she thought that she could whet his appetite like this, and he would come running after her like a dog in heat, she was mistaken. Luc wouldn’t be caught offguard again. She was resistable. Even if the pounding of his blood told him otherwise.
He pulled a towel around his waist and knotted it roughly, finding his mobile phone and picking it up. Within seconds he was issuing a terse instruction to the security firm he’d hired to seek out Paddy O’Sullivan, to step up their efforts.
Afterwards he threw the phone down and surmised grimly that the sooner they found Paddy and his money, the sooner he could g
et rid of the all too distracting Nessa O’Sullivan too.
* * *
Two nights later, Nessa was holding a tray full of champagne flutes filled to the brim, serving them at Luc’s glitzy party. She was dressed in a white shirt and black skirt. The uniform of waiters everywhere. Hair up in a tight bun.
She could appreciate the breathtaking scene even as her arms felt as if they were about to drop out of the shoulder sockets. The unusually mild Irish spring day was melting into a lavender-hued dusk. Candles imbued the guests and room with a golden light.
She smiled in relief as some guests stopped and helped themselves to drinks on her tray, lightening her load marginally. And then her gaze tracked back inevitably to where one man stood out from the crowd—dark head and broad shoulders visible from every corner of the room.
Her main objective was to avoid coming face to face with Luc Barbier at all costs. The enormity of what had almost happened still sent shock waves through her body every time she thought of it. So did the thought of a no-strings encounter, added a wicked voice.
And even though she was trying to avoid him, she couldn’t look away. Much like most of the women in the room, she’d noticed with a spurt of something suspiciously...possessive. He was dressed in a tuxedo and he was simply breathtaking. He was the epitome of virile beauty, but with that undeniable edge of something dark and dangerous.
As if reading her mind, two women stopped nearby and, in that way of seeing but not seeing Nessa, because she was staff, they were whispering loudly enough for Nessa to catch snippets.
‘Apparently he’s an animal in bed...’
‘They say he was found on the streets...’
‘Petty crime...’
‘Only got to where he has because he slept with Leo Fouret’s wife and the husband bought him off to keep him quiet...’
Nessa went still at that, something cold trickling down her spine. She hadn’t heard that final, particular rumour before. Although, he had apparently left Leo Fouret’s stables under less than amicable circumstances, before blazing a trail on his own.
The women moved away and then more guests approached Nessa, relieving her of her remaining drinks. She was only too happy to escape back to the kitchen to stock up. Just before she left, she cast one last glance in Luc’s direction, but his head was bowed towards someone in conversation.
Lambasting herself for having listened to gossip, no matter how inadvertently, Nessa forged a path through the crowd and away from Luc. She told herself that she wasn’t remotely interested in what the women had been saying. And that she was truly pathetic to be feeling the tiniest bit sorry for him that he was surrounded by such fervent gossip in the first place.
There was no smoke without a fire, as her father loved to say on a regular basis. And from what she’d seen of Luc in action, she could almost forgive a married woman for falling under his spell.
* * *
‘What on earth is Nessa O’Sullivan doing serving drinks at your party, Barbier? I’d hardly think she’s short of a few bob!’
It took a second for Luc to register what the man beside him had said and when he did his wandering attention snapped into sharp focus. ‘You know her?’
The man snorted. ‘Of course I do—you forget Ireland is a small place. Her father is Paddy O’Sullivan, one of this country’s best trainers—at one time. Before he hit the bottle and almost lost everything. Now of course they’re back on top of the world, although I don’t think Paddy will ever repair the damage to his reputation. Still, he doesn’t need to now, not with the goldmine he’s sitting on thanks to his son-in-law.’
Luc usually had an aversion to gossip but not this time. ‘What are you talking about?’
Percy Mortimer, a well-known English racing pundit, turned to Luc. ‘Nessa O’Sullivan is related to royalty—her older sister—who incidentally is also a very talented amateur trainer—is married to the supreme Sheikh Nadim Al-Saqr of Merkazad. He bought out their stud a few years back. Nessa’s not a bad rider. I’ve seen her in a couple of races over the years, but she doesn’t seem to have made a proper impression yet.’
What the hell? Luc barely heard that last bit. Sheikh Nadim was a very serious contender in racing circles, and a billionaire. And Luc had had no idea that he owned a stables just down the road. Nessa’s family stud. He reeled, although he didn’t show it.
Percy was saying something else but Luc wasn’t listening. His gaze was already scanning the crowd for a dark redhead. He’d seen her earlier—looking once again as if butter wouldn’t melt, dressed in her white shirt and skirt. Even that small glimpse had been enough to cause a spike in his heart-rate.
Damn. Where was she, anyway?
Luc tried to move away but saw a group headed for him with Pascal leading the way. The look on Pascal’s face told Luc that he had to stay exactly where he was.
Nessa would have to wait, for now. But he would track her down and this time there would be no games. Only answers to his questions. Like what the hell was she playing at, working for nothing to pay off her brother’s debt when presumably she could ask for a handout from her billionaire brother-in-law?
* * *
Nessa’s feet and arms were aching, and she knew she shouldn’t be here, but after the party had finished and they’d been released, she found herself gravitating towards the stallions’ stables. As if pulled by some magnetic force. As if that could help to ground her and fuse her scattered energies back together.
She’d been acutely conscious of Luc’s every movement, all evening.
At one stage she’d caught his eye and it had seemed as if he was trying to communicate something telepathically. From the grim look on his face it hadn’t been something particularly nice. And then, even though she’d skirted around the edges of the room, keeping far out of his orbit for the rest of the evening, she could have sworn she felt his dark gaze boring into her periodically.
She came to a stop in the middle of the stables when she realised that they were empty. She looked around and remembered belatedly that the stallions had been moved up to different paddocks and stables for a few days while these were being repainted and renovated.
There were white sheets piled high in a corner along with painting and cleaning paraphernalia. Nessa told herself it was just as well as she turned around to leave. The last thing she needed was to be caught again in the wrong place—
Her heart stopped when she saw the tall broad figure blocking the doorway, with only the moon behind him as a silhouette. Too late. Luc.
She could see that his bow-tie was undone and top button open, his jacket swinging loose and his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
He moved forward into the stables and she saw his stern expression revealed in the dim lighting. Immediately the space felt claustrophobic. Nessa’s body tingled with awareness as he came close enough for her to see that there was also barely leashed anger in his expression.
She swallowed. ‘I know I shouldn’t be here—’
‘That’s not important. We need to have a little chat.’
Surprise robbed her voice for a moment and then she said, ‘About what?’
Luc folded his arms. ‘About why you’ve omitted to mention the not inconsequential fact that your sister is married to Sheikh Nadim Al-Saqr of Merkazad, and that he owns your stud farm.’
He continued, ‘I’d imagine one million euro is short change to Sheikh Nadim Al-Saqr, so what the hell is Paddy doing jeopardising his career for a handout he could’ve begged off his brother-in-law, and why didn’t you just pick up the phone to Nadim to sort this mess out?’
Nessa went hot and then cold as the significance of this sank in, and the realisation that someone must have recognised her at the party.
She said carefully, ‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’
Luc looked even more stern. ‘Not good enough.’
Nessa swallowed. She knew she couldn’t avoid an explanation. ‘Nadim did buy our farm but he put it back into o
ur name as a wedding gift for Iseult, my sister. It’s ours again, he’s just one of the shareholders. And I didn’t want to involve him because this has nothing to do with Nadim or Iseult. My sister is due to have a baby in a couple of weeks and they don’t need the stress.’
Luc stepped closer but Nessa was trapped, with a stable door at her back and nowhere to go. She was acutely aware of his tall, lean body and his scent.
‘There’s more to it than that,’ he said. ‘You and your brother avoiding asking for help just proves you’re both involved in something that’s gone beyond your control. I’m guessing Nadim wouldn’t approve, and you don’t want to bite the hand that feeds you.’
In a fierce low voice Nessa replied, ‘No. It’s nothing like that. Why must you be so cynical and mistrustful?’
‘Because,’ he answered smoothly, ‘I was born that way and nothing I’ve experienced has ever proved me wrong. Life favours the opportunistic. I should know.’
I was born that way. Nessa couldn’t stop a rush of curiosity and pity. The second time she’d pitied him this evening. But then she crushed it. Luc Barbier was the last man on the planet who needed anyone’s pity.
He said, ‘You could be free to walk away if you asked Nadim for help.’
Luc heard himself say the words even as something inside him rejected it immediately. Let her walk away? A hot surge of possessiveness rose up inside him. He wanted her.
She was looking at him, eyes huge, and for a second he could almost have imagined that she looked...hurt. A ridiculous notion.
Nessa shook her head and some long tendrils of red hair framed her face. ‘No. I will not take the easy way out and cause my family distress. I promised Paddy that I wouldn’t go to Nadim or Iseult.’
Luc was intrigued by this apparent loyalty. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go to Nadim myself.’
An expression of panic crossed her face. ‘I thought you didn’t want this news to get out either!’
‘I don’t. But from what I know of the Sheikh, I think he would appreciate the need for discretion on his family’s behalf. It would affect his name and reputation too.’
