Project: Runaway Heiress

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Project: Runaway Heiress Page 12

by Heidi Betts


  Oh, how smart that would have been.

  Oh, how she wished she had that much strength of will.

  But no matter how hurt and offended she’d been by Nigel’s actions concerning the dress, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss the entire time she’d been in the shower. Even through her tears and ragged breathing, her body had hummed with unspent passion. With need and longing and plain old want.

  Her thoughts had swirled with what-ifs. What if they hadn’t been interrupted by their arrival at the hotel? What if she hadn’t been wearing one of the designs for tomorrow’s fashion show? What if he’d kissed her in the elevator, then pounced on her like a cat on a mouse the minute they’d reached the room?

  What if everything from the past forty minutes had happened far differently and they were in bed right now? Making love. Exploring each other to their hearts’ content. Scratching the itch that had plagued her since the first moment she’d met him.

  She shouldn’t want any of that. She should be smart enough or even angry enough at his possible involvement in the theft of her designs to slam the door on all of it. To man up and stop letting her hormones do her thinking for her.

  But she couldn’t. Or at least none of her attempts so far had been successful.

  So she was giving up. If you couldn’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?

  She knew now that Nigel was just as attracted to her as she was to him. That what she’d felt in the limo when they kissed hadn’t been one-sided. And she just wanted to throw caution to the wind, to be with a man who made her toes curl and her insides feel like molten lava.

  And so what if she did? Nigel didn’t know who she really was, and she wasn’t going to be around that much longer. A few weeks, maybe a month more. Just until she solved her mystery and could return home with information that would save and vindicate her company.

  Nigel never even needed to know her true identity. She’d done a fairly good job as his personal assistant so far, if she did say so herself. And knowing it wasn’t permanent employment, that he wasn’t going to be her boss forever, made it even easier to justify a hot, steamy fling. She could let her hair down, have a good time, and walk away with no consequences. With a quick letter of resignation and excuse about getting another job elsewhere—preferably far away, but without hinting at her true residence in New York—she could wipe the slate clean.

  So this was almost like a freebie. Casual, no-strings vacation sex.

  Considering how long it had been for her, how long since she’d had a date or sex—casual or otherwise—all she could think was yes, please.

  Which was why she’d come clean and told him that she didn’t regret what had taken place between them after the party, either. She’d wanted him to tear her dress off her body and take her up against the nearest wall of the suite the minute they’d set foot inside.

  Well, maybe not that dress, but a dress.

  And she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night alone in that immense bed, tossing and turning and unfulfilled.

  Watching his eyes go dark and glinting at her softly spoken admission, she took a deep breath and decided to press on, letting him know in no uncertain terms exactly what she meant.

  “As much as I enjoyed modeling one of Ashdown Abbey’s newest designs, I wish I hadn’t been wearing that dress tonight. Because I would have enjoyed having you rip my clothes off the second we walked through the door.”

  His eyes darkened even more, his jaw tightening until a muscle ticked near his ear.

  “Be very certain of what you’re saying, Lillian,” he grated, the words sounding as though they were being dragged from the depths of his soul. “Because once we begin, there will be no stopping. No more noble gentleman. No more polite facade.”

  Shivers rocked her nerve endings at what he left unspoken. That once they stopped dancing around their need for each other, once they dropped all pretenses and got down to business, it would be raw, primal, unapologetic S-E-X.

  Swallowing hard, she took a single step forward. Determined. Ready.

  “I understand,” she told him. “And I’m not slamming the door in your face.”

  Heat exploded across Nigel’s face. Lighting up his eyes like emeralds, rolling off his body in waves and battering her like a storm front.

  He closed the distance between them without a word, moving in almost a blur of motion. One minute he was over there, the next he was grabbing her by the arms and yanking her to him with such force, her feet nearly left the ground.

  His mouth crashed down on hers, twining, mating, devouring. She met him kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust.

  He tasted just as he had in the limo—only better, because this time she knew it wasn’t a one-time-only, heat-of-the-moment thing. This time she knew he wanted her, she wanted him, and they were going all the way to the finish line, consequences be damned.

  Her hands climbed the outside length of his arms to clutch his shoulders. They were broad and strong and welcoming. She kneaded them for a moment before trailing her fingers around to the front of his shirt.

  She didn’t need to open her eyes or look at what she was doing to loosen the knot in his tie, unbutton his collar, then open the entire front of his starched white and pleated tuxedo shirt. He groaned as she touched his bare chest, and she was close to groaning with him.

  The pads of her fingers dusted across hard and flat pectorals, tickled by just a sprinkling of crisp hair. Blast-furnace heat radiated from his skin and seeped into hers.

  Pushing the sides of his shirt and jacket apart, she continued to explore, to study the contours of his body as though she were reading Braille. Then she ventured down to the waist of his pants.

  Her nails raked his stomach and he sucked in a breath. Though her own breathing was none too steady and she was gasping for air from their long, tortuous kiss, Lily grinned at the feel of his abdomen going rigid at her touch. She trailed her fingers through the path of hair leading down the center and disappearing into his slacks.

  With a groan, he took her mouth again, cupping the back of her head with both hands, stabbing his fingers through her hair and against her scalp to anchor her in place.

  She was only too happy to be there, to have him desperate for her, out of control, ravishing her. She only wished they’d started earlier instead of wasting all that time on arguments, hurt feelings, uncertainty and explanations.

  Finding his belt buckle, she worked it free, pulled the two ends apart and dragged the long strip of leather through its loops in one fierce yank. It hit the floor with a thud a second before she went for the closure of his pants.

  She could feel the heat of him, the hard, swollen length pressing against the back of her hand through his fly. She took a moment to run her knuckles up and down along the prominent bulge, making Nigel moan and nip her lower lip with his teeth.

  She smiled against his mouth, then let out a low moan of her own when his hands slid down either side of her spine to her bottom, squeezing roughly and tugging her even more firmly against his blatant arousal.

  Squirming in his grip, she rubbed all along the front of him while at the same time wiggling her fingers between them to undo the top of his pants and slowly ease down the zipper.

  He let her work. Let her get as far as dipping her fingertips beneath the waistband of his briefs before lifting his lips from the pulse of her throat, setting her half a step away, and tearing at the belt of her robe. It took him a moment to deal with the knot, which got stuck from all his tugging. But then it was loose, the edges of the robe falling open and catching at the bends of her arms when he pushed the plush material over her shoulders.

  She was naked beneath, her flesh flushed pink now from passion rather than the steam of her shower. When the cool air of the suite hit her bare skin, she shivered. But she didn’t try to pull her robe back up for warmth or try to cover her nudity. Not with Nigel standing there, staring at her as though she was the most delectable morsel ever created.
r />   Not when she’d been dreaming about this moment for far too long. Wanted it far too much to hide.

  So she stood there. Half-naked. Half shivering, both from the cool interior and the need coursing through her veins. And she let him look his fill.

  Of course, while he was looking at her, she was returning the favor, taking in his surprisingly tanned skin against the backdrop of the white shirt and black tuxedo. His amazingly muscular and well-formed physique. He could have been a model posing for some sexy cologne ad—and raking in the dough when women everywhere flocked to buy whatever he was selling.

  Though it felt like minutes, she was sure it only took a few seconds for them both to drink each other in, then lose all patience for the five or six inches that separated them. Nigel’s hazel-green eyes glittered, reflecting the same desire she knew filled her own.

  Lowering his head, his eyes grew hooded, and he made a feral sound deep in his throat before stalking toward her. He reached her in a blink, sweeping one arm around her back and the other behind her knees.

  Her heart gave a little flutter as he lifted her against his chest in one smooth movement that didn’t seem to tax him in the least. She released a breath of laughter and clutched his neck as he hiked her even higher.

  He returned her grin, then leaned up to press his lips to hers. Never breaking the kiss, he carried her across the room and straight to the waiting bed.

  Once there, he balanced her carefully with one arm while reaching out to turn back the covers with his other hand. Then he laid her near the center of the soft mattress, following her down until he covered her like a warm, heavy human blanket.

  The fabric of his tuxedo rubbed along her bare skin except where it was open down the front. The heat of his chest pressed to hers, making her want to wiggle and worm even closer, if possible.

  Wrapping her legs around him, she drove her hands inside his open shirt and tuxedo jacket, loosening it even further and pushing it jerkily over his shoulders and down his arms. He moved with her, aiding her efforts until he could shrug out of the garments and toss them aside.

  Then he returned the favor, stroking her waist, her rib cage, the undersides of her breasts, but not lingering in any one spot, even though she writhed for his touch. Ignoring her whimpers of need, he finished removing her robe, lifting her when he needed to in order to tug the thick terry cloth out from under her. Then it, too, was gone, hitting the bureau with a slap.

  His chest heaved as he stared down at her, his gaze raking from the top of her head to where her legs were still twined around his thighs. He took in her bare breasts, the slope of her belly, her triangle of feminine curls.

  Everywhere he looked, she broke out in goose bumps. His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed with a wolfish gleam.

  Without taking his gaze from her, he kicked out of his pants and shoes and the rest of his clothes, dislodging her hold on him only when absolutely necessary. In seconds, he was naked and glorious, so beautiful he made her throat close with unexpected emotion. She swallowed it back as he moved over her. Reminded herself that this was just a casual fling, nothing more.

  Lifting her arms, she wound them around his neck, drawing him to her even as he met her halfway. They kissed slowly, finally taking time to explore each other’s mouths at a leisurely pace. The taste, the texture, likes and dislikes.

  Of course, for her, it was all likes. And judging by the feel of him pressing against her inner thigh, he was liking everything just fine, as well.

  His fingers tangled in her hair, angling her just the way he wanted while she raked his back, reveling in the play of muscle, the dip of his spine, the row of vertebrae leading down to the delectable swell of his ass.

  His moan filled her mouth and his arms tightened around her. She arched into him, wanting to get close, even though they were already nearly as close as two people could be.

  Dragging his lips across her cheek, he nipped at her throat, nibbled the lobe of her ear, trailed his mouth over her clavicle and toward her swollen, arched breasts.

  Her breathing was choppy, her head getting fuzzier and fuzzier with longing as he teased her mercilessly and her temperature rose. But there were things that needed to be taken care of before they went much further. Before the fuzziness turned to full-blown mindlessness and she forgot everything but her own name.

  “Nigel,” she murmured, tightening her legs around his hips and moving her hands to his biceps while he nuzzled the side of her breast.

  “Nigel,” she said again when he didn’t respond, resorting to tugging at his hair instead. “Condom. I don’t have one—do you?”

  It took a second for her words to sink in, for movements to slow and his mouth to halt mere centimeters from the center of her breast.

  His head fell to the side and he groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin, making her shiver. With a particularly colorful-but-amusing curse of the British persuasion, he pushed himself up on his forearms to glare down at her.

  Without waiting for her acquiescence, he peeled away from her and climbed out of the bed, flashing his sexy bare bottom as he hustled into the other room, where she assumed he had a stash of protection. Thank goodness, because she hadn’t exactly packed for Los Angeles or Miami with hot, impulsive sex in mind.

  Despite his command not to move a muscle, she pushed herself up on the bed, propping the pillows behind her and leaning against the bamboo headboard. She thought about tugging the sheet up to cover her stark nudity, then decided that if Nigel could stroll around the suite completely naked and unselfconscious, then she didn’t have to be so modest, either.

  He returned moments later, clutching a couple of distinctive plastic packets. Tossing one on the nightstand, he kept the other, tearing it open and quickly shaking out the contents.

  Lily watched with barely suppressed eagerness as he sheathed himself in short, competent motions, then rejoined her on the bed, a dark, devilish gleam glinting in his eye as he closed in on her.

  “I told you not to move.”

  His voice scraped like sandpaper, but still managed to pour over her in a rush of honeyed warmth.

  She arched a brow, flashing him a wicked, unapologetic smile. “I guess I’ve been a bad girl. You may have to spank me.”

  Heat flared low in Nigel’s belly, spreading outward until it tingled in his limbs, pooled in his groin and flushed high across his cheekbones.

  “Oh, I intend to do much more than that,” he said in a voice gone arid with lust.

  * * *

  If he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight in his life than Lillian George sprawled naked in bed, waiting for him, he couldn’t remember it. And now he didn’t think he would ever forget.

  As aroused as he was, as desperate as he was to be inside her, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the delightful picture she made. Her light brown hair falling loose around her shoulders, sexy and mussed from his fingers running through the long, silken strands. Her pale skin flushed with the rosy glow of desire.

  Her breasts were small but perfect, their pale raspberry nipples puckered tight with arousal. And the rest of her was equally awe-inspiring—the slope of her waist, the triangle of blond curls at the apex of her thighs, the long, lean lines of her legs.

  But what he loved most was her lack of inhibition. She didn’t try to hide from him, didn’t try to cover her nudity with her hands or a corner of the sheet. She was comfortable in her own skin. And more, she was comfortable with him, with what they were about to do with each other.

  Feigning a patience and self-control he definitely didn’t feel, he moved beside her, pulling her legs straight and tugging her into the cradle of his arms. She rolled against him, her breasts pressing flat to his chest, the arch of her foot rubbing lazily along his calf.

  He brushed a loose curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “In case I forget to mention it later, I’m awfully glad you agreed to come with me this weekend.”

  Her lips turned up at the corner
s, her blue eyes going soft and dewy. “Me, too.”

  “And though I don’t mind sleeping in the other room, it will be nice to spend the night in this nice big bed, for a change.”

  She lifted one dainty brow at him. “I didn’t say you could stay in bed with me.”

  He narrowed his eyes, fighting the twitch of his lips that threatened to pull them into a grin. “Planning to use me, then relegate me back to that dreadful cot, are you? Let’s just see if I can change your mind about that.”

  He watched her mouth curve into a smile just before he kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and trailed down his back as he shifted his weight, bringing her more snugly beneath him.

  He’d meant what he’d said—bringing her along on this trip really had been one of his better ideas, even if he hadn’t known at the time that they would end up here. He couldn’t deny, however, that he’d hoped.

  Almost from the first moment she’d walked into his office, every fiber of his being had shot to attention and begun imagining scenarios in which they ended up much like this. He’d known such a thing was dangerous, though, and couldn’t—or shouldn’t—happen.

  But now that it was...he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry. Or to worry about the consequences. All he wanted was to continue kissing her, caressing her, making love to her all night long.

  And if she thought to send him back to that cramped, lumpy roll-away bed after she’d gained her satisfaction... Well, he would just have to keep her so busy and blinded by passion that she lost all track of the time. He would be spending the night in her bed before she even realized the sun was coming up.

  He stroked the smooth roundness of her shoulders, her arms, her back. Everywhere he could reach while their tongues continued to mate. He could kiss her forever and never grow bored. But there was so much more he wanted to do with her.

  With a small groan of reluctance, he lightened the kiss, drawing away just enough to nibble at the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin to her throat. She threw her head back, giving him even better access. He took his time licking his way down, pressing his lips to her pulse, dipping his tongue into the hollow at the very center, where he felt her swallow.

 

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