The Billionaire's Ruthless Affair (Rich, Ruthless and Renowned)

by Miranda Lee

  She could feel the cold of the stone counter through the robe, but she wasn’t cold. Not at all. Harriet watched, eyes wide, as he moved to stand between her outspread legs, her head lifting a little when he unwound the sash on his own robe. She wanted to see him. Wanted to watch him.

  Her mouth dried at the sight of his erection. He was even bigger and harder than she’d imagined. And already sheathed with a condom.

  ‘No, don’t!’ she cried out when he rubbed the tip against her clitoris, her nerve-endings already on the edge of release. ‘Just do it.’

  He swore, Harriet’s head clunking back onto the bench top with relief when he pushed himself into her. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the dizzying pleasure of his possession was rapidly eclipsed by the speed and strength of the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. Spasm followed spasm, the sensations electrifying. Her mouth fell open as she dragged in a much-needed breath, her eyes closing when the room began to spin. They flew open again when Alex suddenly grabbed her hips, holding her captive with an iron grip as he came, his sex pulsating violently in tandem with her own contractions. Their mutual climax went on for ages, sating Harriet with the most overwhelming waves of pleasure.

  Finally, their bodies grew still and calm, leaving Harriet lying there staring dazedly up at the ceiling whilst she struggled to gather her thoughts. For this was what she’d feared—a pleasure, a satisfaction, so out there that it would have her coming back for more, long after it wasn’t wise. Hopefully, she wouldn’t fall in love with Alex. Hopefully, she could keep it at just lust, or infatuation, or whatever this kind of sexual obsession was called. Already she was looking forward to those weekends where he wanted her to be at his sexual beck and call. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. Nothing!

  His lifting her up from the counter to hold her tenderly against him brought a moan of dismay to her lips. She didn’t want tenderness from him. She just wanted sex. Alex might be able to indulge in tender post-coital embraces without letting his emotions get involved, but Harriet wasn’t of that ilk. She would have to put a stop to such hypocritical nonsense before disaster struck. After all, he was the one who said he just wanted a strictly sexual relationship. An affair, not a love affair. Which was exactly all she wanted from him. Clearly, he needed reminding of that fact.

  * * *

  Alex was taken aback when Harriet pulled back out of his arms.

  ‘Wow,’ she said as she lifted her hands to finger-comb her hair. ‘I obviously needed that.’

  Her remark sent Alex’s teeth clenching down hard in his jaw. He hated to think that her urgent responses to him were the result of nothing but an intense sexual frustration. He preferred to believe she found him as attractive and desirable as he found her. He didn’t like her implying that she was just scratching an itch with him. Surely she was just trying to find excuses for coming so quickly? Not that he cared. He’d come pretty quickly himself. And it had felt fantastic. Frankly, he hadn’t had an orgasm that intense in living memory. Their coming together had helped, of course. God, the way she’d gripped his erection had been amazing. He could not wait to feel that again.

  But he would have to wait, he supposed. They really should be getting dressed for dinner. But he was still inside her, damn it. And he wanted seconds.

  Without asking, he slid his hands under her bottom and scooped her up off the counter. Thank God she was just a light little thing, but it still wasn’t the most comfortable position with her legs dangling by her sides.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she gasped, grabbing the lapels of his robe before thankfully wrapping her legs around him.

  ‘That was a very nice entree, Harry,’ he told her as he turned and carried her towards the main bedroom. ‘But not nearly enough for me. My sexual appetite runs to five-course meals.’

  He loved the wild glittering in her dilated eyes. She wanted seconds as much as he did.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he went on. ‘We’ll stop after the second course and save the rest till after we’ve eaten some real food. Nothing like a break to whet the appetite again.’

  Chapter Twelve

  IT WAS AFTER seven-thirty by the time an elegantly dressed Alex steered a somewhat shell-shocked Harriet into the restaurant for dinner. Thankfully, she didn’t look as shattered as she felt. The designer dress she was wearing, which had cost her a week’s wages, fitted her figure like a glove, the emerald colour complementing her dark hair. Her make-up was perfect and her black patent leather bag matched her shoes, their four-inch heels giving her some much-needed height, especially when she was with Alex, who easily ticked her ‘too tall’ box.

  Harriet did her best to exude an air of cool sophistication as their waiter showed them to their table. But it was a struggle to put aside the memories of what had just transpired. Less than twenty minutes earlier she had been stark naked in Alex’s shower, her hands outstretched on the wet tiles, every muscle in her body tight as a drum as he teased her endlessly with a soapy sponge, then took her from behind, her moans muffled by the hot jets of water streaming over her back. She’d come quickly again, but Alex hadn’t. He’d lasted and lasted and, astonishingly, when he’d finally come, so had she. Which was a first for her. She’d never come twice like that. Not in such a short space of time. Yet perversely, as soon as he’d withdrawn, she’d found herself wanting more. Before she’d been able to stop herself, she’d spun round and grabbed him, kissing him passionately.

  It was Alex who’d put a stop to proceedings. Harriet flushed at the memory of his smacking her on the bottom and telling her not to be so greedy; that it was time to dress for dinner and she would just have to wait.

  Harriet sucked in a deep breath as she sat down, the position reminding her that she was still on the sensitive side down there. Not sore, exactly. Just...sensitised. Feeling perversely embarrassed—really, what was there to be embarrassed about?—Harriet reached for the white linen serviette, flicking it open and placing it across her lap before the waiter did it for her.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Alex asked, forcing her to glance across the table at him.

  Hopefully, her gaze was cooler than her cheeks. ‘Something white and dry. But not too dry. I’ll probably order seafood.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ he replied, then handed the drinks menu to the hovering waiter, telling him to bring their best bottle of Verdelho.

  ‘You trust him to pick for you?’ she asked after the waiter hurried off.

  ‘Why not? It’s his job. I’ve never been a serious wine buff. I also don’t drink much any more. I used to during my Oxford days—but I didn’t have to pay for the wine at the time,’ he added with a rather odd little smile.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘It’s a long story. I might tell it to you one day, but not tonight. Tonight I want to find out a little more about you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you, Harriet McKenna. So, tell me...what’s your story? Before Dwayne, that is. I think I’ve heard enough about dear old Dwayne.’

  Harriet pressed her lips tightly together. She really didn’t want to open up any further to Alex. She’d already told him more than he needed to know.

  ‘It’s all in my résumé,’ she said.

  ‘Ah,’ Alex said with a drily amused smile. ‘You’ve decided to play the mysterious femme fatale, have you?’

  Harriet shook her head at him. ‘I’m not playing at anything, Alex. I’m simply keeping to the rules we set down when we started this strictly sexual affair. We don’t need to know each other’s life stories to have sex. In fact, telling each other all our past histories could be counterproductive. Exchanging confidences and secrets brings on emotional involvement. I don’t want that. And neither do you.’

  * * *

  Absolutely not, Alex accepted. But, damn it all, he was curious about her. He suspected for the first time that there was a lot more to Harriet than he’d read in her résumé.

  ‘We can’t confi
ne our conversations to sex, Harry. That could get a bit boring.’

  ‘The sooner we get bored with each other, the better,’ she replied. ‘Then I can go back to just being your PA and you can find yourself another dolly-bird to sleep with.’

  ‘I’m sick of sleeping with dolly-birds. I much prefer a woman I can talk to afterwards. Someone who’s on the same wavelength as me. Someone like you, Harry.’

  She rolled her eyes at him. ‘In that case, we can talk about work as well as sex.’

  Alex’s exasperation was interrupted by the waiter arriving with the wine. Alex waved aside the tasting procedure and just asking him to pour, which he did, before placing the bottle in an ice bucket by the table.

  ‘Would you like to order now, sir?’ the waiter enquired.

  ‘Come back in a few minutes,’ Alex told him.

  Harriet picked up her glass and took a sip. Alex did likewise, his mood turning dark as he glared over at her and thought how he much preferred her when she was naked and moaning with desire. No sooner had she put her clothes back on than the difficult woman was back, the one who liked rules and checklists, the one who was as intriguing as she was irritating.

  * * *

  Harriet picked up the menu and pretended to study the courses on offer, but her mind was still on things decidedly sexual. Various erotic images kept popping into her mind, all of them imaginative and wickedly exciting. In the end, she gave up, putting her menu down and picking up her wine glass.

  ‘You order for me, will you?’ she asked after a deep swallow of the wine. ‘I’m not fussy, especially where seafood is concerned.’

  ‘Right. How about we skip the entree and share a seafood platter? I’m not in the mood for waiting ages between courses.’

  Harriet shivered as their eyes met across the table. When he looked at her like that, she wouldn’t have minded skipping the whole meal.

  ‘Fine,’ she said and took another gulp of wine.

  He frowned at her. ‘I’d go easy on the alcohol till the food arrives, if I were you. Drinking too much on an empty stomach is never a good idea.’

  Harriet’s sigh carried exasperation. In truth, the alcohol was going straight to her head, but so what? It stopped her worrying about what she was doing and what she was suddenly craving. She was glad when the waiter came back and took their order; glad even when Alex’s phone rang, leaving her to sit there and sip her wine in silence while he answered it, her ears pricking up when she heard Alex use the word ‘dad’. She’d never heard him talking to family before. Not at work, anyway.

  ‘That’s good, Dad,’ he was saying. ‘No, it’s not going to be easy, but it’s the only way.’

  A short silence, then he added, ‘I’m proud of you. Look, I’ll talk to you some more tomorrow. I’m out at dinner at the moment. With a very pretty lady.’ This with a smile over at her. ‘Yes, Dad, I will. Hang in there. Bye for now.’

  He hung up, his smile disappearing as he put the phone away.

  ‘My father,’ he said unnecessarily, then added, ‘He was the family emergency the other day.’

  ‘Oh?’ Harriet questioned, not wanting to pry, but naturally curious.

  There was instant regret in Alex’s eyes. Clearly, he wished he could snatch back those words. But then he shrugged and said bluntly, ‘My father’s a drunk. He’s been living with my sister, Sarah, and giving her grief. Without going into unnecessary detail, I was finally able to get him to go into rehab this week. Hopefully, it will work, but I won’t be holding my breath. Still, it gives poor Sarah a decent break.’

  Harriet could see that talking about the situation was difficult for him. At the same time, she felt that perhaps he needed to talk about it. Men were their own worst enemy sometimes. They were poor communicators when it came to emotional issues. She wondered if Alex was secretly worried that he might become a drunk, too; that he might have inherited his father’s weakness. It would explain why he was careful with alcohol.

  ‘That’s sad, Alex. Has your dad always been a heavy drinker?’ she asked gently, forcing him to talk about it.

  ‘No. Not at all. It didn’t start till after my mother died. She was the love of his life. And the rock in the family. When he lost her from cancer way too early, he couldn’t cope. None of us coped all that well. We all adored her, you see. Sarah was devastated. I can’t begin to describe how I felt. I found it hard to come to terms with the fact that if she’d been diagnosed earlier, she would probably still be alive.

  ‘Still, none of us kids handled our grief by turning to the bottle. My brother, Roy, eventually took off to the minefields in Western Australia, where he worked seven days a week and made a small fortune for himself. I gather he’s married with children now, but we hardly ever hear from him. Sarah became an oncology nurse before getting married and having a family of her own.’

  He stopped talking then and lifted his wine glass to his lips, leaving Harriet up in the air as to how he had coped with his mother’s death. Whilst Harriet could see the danger in continuing with this conversation—her heart had already turned over in sympathy for Alex—she simply could not bear the suspense of not knowing.

  ‘And you, Alex?’ she prodded quietly. ‘How did you cope?’

  He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. He put his glass down and smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I went to Oxford, found two great mates and joined the Bachelor’s Club.’

  Harriet’s eyebrows arched in genuine surprise. ‘What on earth is the Bachelor’s Club?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to exchange personal details,’ he reminded her.

  ‘That was before.’

  ‘Before what?’

  ‘Before you whetted my curiosity.’

  He laughed and the sparkle was back in his eyes. ‘Women!’ he exclaimed, but on a teasing note.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.’

  ‘True. I, for one, could not survive without a woman in my life. And in my bed,’ he added, bringing Harriet back to cold, hard realty with a jolt. ‘But I have found that the pleasure of a woman’s company does come at a price. They invariably want to know way too much about your life, both past and present.’

  Harriet stiffened at the injustice of this remark. ‘I didn’t ask you to tell me about your father’s drinking problem, or your mother’s death. You volunteered the information.’

  He sighed and that bleakness was back in his eyes. ‘So I did. Foolish of me. Could you forget I ever mentioned it? It’s a rather depressing topic.’

  Harriet wondered which one. His father’s drinking problem or his mother’s death? She suspected the latter. He must have loved his mother very much. Clearly, his way of coping initially with her death had been to run away from his life here in Australia by studying in England, making friends there and joining this Bachelor’s Club.

  ‘I only asked you about the Bachelor’s Club, Alex,’ she pointed out. ‘If you don’t want to tell me about it, then fine.’

  Their meal arrived at that opportune moment, a simply huge platter full of the most delicious seafood. The tantalising smells wafted up to Harriet’s nose, making her mouth water.

  ‘Gosh, that looks good,’ she said and the waiter smiled at her. So did Alex.

  ‘Tuck in, then,’ he said once the waiter had departed. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m suddenly starving.’

  They both tucked in, Harriet sampling a little bit of everything. Oysters, lobster, crab, scallops and fish pieces, along with side dishes of French fries and salad. They didn’t talk much, and when they did, it was about the food. Alex ordered a second bottle of wine at one stage, though in the end they drank only half of it. He didn’t mention the Bachelor’s Club again and Harriet decided to let the matter drop. She could read between the lines, anyway. Unlike his sister and brother, Alex had decided that love and marriage were not for him. Maybe he was afraid of the responsibility that marriage entailed. And the emotion. Maybe he was afraid of fa
lling in love. Or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of falling in love, his mother’s tragic death having killed off that particular part of him. Whatever, Alex obviously liked his life as a bachelor and had no intention of changing. Only a very foolish woman would start thinking—or hoping—that she would be the one to change him.

  Harriet liked to think that she wasn’t a very foolish woman.

  Enjoy what you’re doing whilst it lasts, she told herself as she wiped her fingers with her serviette. Then do what Alex always does—move on!

  Chapter Thirteen

  ALEX GLANCED ACROSS the table and wondered what was going on in Harry’s mind. A somewhat defiant light had come into her eyes all of a sudden. Or was it determined? Whatever, he knew that his affair with her was not going to be like any affair he’d ever had before. How could it be? She was different from his usual choice of bed partner. Older, more intelligent and more difficult to control.

  Not in bed, though. In a matter of minutes he’d torn down her defences and had her blindly surrendering to his wishes. Clearly, she was a passionate creature whose desire for sex easily matched his. That episode in the shower had been seriously hot. She was seriously hot. One night with her would definitely not be enough. One month seemed too inadequate as well. Which was a worry. He didn’t want to want any woman too much. Harriet might start thinking he wanted more from her than just sex. Which he definitely didn’t. He liked his life the way it was. He liked being a bachelor with no emotional ties.

  It had been a mistake to confide in her the way he had. Big mistake. Like she’d said, confiding in people led to emotional involvement. Alex resolved not to do that again. Right. Time to finish up this meal and take her up to bed, where there would be very little talking. Not on his part, anyway. His tongue would be otherwise occupied. By the time he finished with her tonight, asking him questions about his past life would be the last thing on her mind.

  ‘Do you want dessert?’ he asked, only out of sheer politeness.

  ‘Heavens, no,’ she replied. ‘I’ve had more calories today than I usually eat in a week.’