Living the Charade

by Michelle Conder

  ‘Mickey runs interference between all the people vying for my attention and makes sure my life runs smoothly. Calling up a department store and organising a few items of clothing for a woman was a first.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’ She felt impossibly peeved that he’d read her so well.

  ‘You didn’t have to. You’re very easy to read.’

  ‘Not usually,’ she muttered.

  His slow smile at her revelation made breathing a conscious exercise.

  ‘Why didn’t you just pack me something other than underwear and shoes?’ Realising she was still holding the empty soup bowl she set it down on the benchtop between them. ‘That would have made more sense.’

  ‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But I saw all that black in your wardrobe and panicked. And I have a soft spot for your lingerie and shoes. How was the soup?’

  ‘Divine.’ Miller felt flustered by his admission about her underwear. ‘I’m not keeping the clothes,’ she said stubbornly. ‘There’s enough there for ten women.’

  He leaned against the lacquered cabinet beside the stove. ‘Mickey’s ex-army—a complete amateur when it comes to what women need.’

  ‘Whereas you’re an expert?’

  His eyes studied her in such a way that goosebumps rose up on her arms. ‘So I’ve been told.’

  Miller sighed deeply, searching around in her mind for some way to change the subject and lower the tension in the room to a manageable level. It would be too embarrassing if he guessed how disturbed she was in his presence.

  ‘I should probably get going. I’ve taken up enough of your time.’

  ‘I’m cooking dinner.’

  ‘I thought you had a chef?’ She tried to make her tone light but she wasn’t sure she’d pulled it off.

  ‘He provides the food. I cook it when I’m here.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Not poison.’

  He gave a short laugh, and she realised she’d screwed up her face.

  ‘Relax. If you want to go home after dinner I’ll arrange it.’

  Just like that, she thought asininely. Did nothing faze this man?

  Yes. Talking about his family. His father. The accident that had claimed the life of his friend. He had his demons, she knew, he just kept them close to his chest.

  Miller nodded. She felt stiff and awkward, and when she wetted her painfully dry lips his eyes locked onto her mouth with the precision of a laser. She felt the start of a delicious burn deep inside.

  So much about this man stimulated her to the point that she could think of little else. Which made staying for a meal a questionable decision. Wasn’t it playing with fire to spend any more time in his company?

  A vague memory of him feeling her head and administering a drink of water to her some time during the day filtered into her mind. His gentleness and consideration of her needs was breaking down all of her defences against him. Something she really didn’t want. Lord only knew what would happen if he showed any indication that he wanted her half as much as she wanted him. She wasn’t sure she would say no. Wasn’t sure she could say no.

  Spotting his phone on the far bench, her mind drifted to work.

  ‘Did you happen to bring my phone yesterday?’ she asked, wondering if she still had a job and if it was too late to call Dexter. She’d done nothing on TJ’s account all day, so chances were slim, but she’d rather know than not.

  He stopped stirring the sauce on the stove. ‘It wasn’t in your handbag?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You can borrow mine. But if you’re calling work don’t bother. They know you’re with me.’

  ‘Sorry?’ She forced her eyes away from the muscled slopes of his arms. ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘That you were sick.’

  Miller barely suppressed a groan. ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘I presumed you’d want your workplace to know where you were and you weren’t capable of telling them.’

  Miller knew he was right, but it didn’t change the fact that she was irritated. ‘I have to finish TJ’s proposal, and I’m still not sure Dexter isn’t planning to put me under a formal performance review. Now he’ll just think I’m skiving in order to spend time with you and definitely do it.’

  ‘After his own behaviour over the weekend he’d be crazy to question yours. I’m sure your job is perfectly safe. And everyone’s entitled to a sick day. I bet you have almost a year’s worth accumulated by now.’

  Miller blushed. He made her feel like a goody-two-shoes. But his championing of her gave her a warm glow that was hard to shake.

  Something she could never rely on long term, she reminded herself. Especially with a man like him.

  ‘You have a point.’ Hopefully one Dexter recognised. ‘But still, I can take care of myself.’ She tried to hide her irritation but it wasn’t easy. Everything about her response to him—and his lack of one to her—was just debilitating.

  He flicked a knob on the stove and put a lid on the saucepan, his gaze never shifting from hers as he prowled towards her. He rounded the island bench and Miller felt her breathing become choppy. She knew it wasn’t just because of her rush of irritation.

  He stopped just shy of touching her, his blue-grey eyes piercing, his arms folded across his chest. ‘Thank you, Tino, for helping me out Sunday night when I felt like something the cat had dragged in,’ he said mockingly.

  Miller felt ashamed of her stroppy behaviour. What was wrong with her? ‘Thank you, Tino, for helping me out Sunday night when I felt like something the cat had dragged in.’ And probably looked it...

  ‘That’s better.’

  His smile could have melted a glacier. Then his eyes locked onto her hair and she suddenly remembered that it wasn’t straight, as usual, and probably looked terrible.

  She raised a self-conscious hand. ‘Wavy.’

  He reached out and looped a semi-dry curl around a finger. ‘Pretty.’

  She shook her head and his finger snagged on the curl, pulling it tight. She shivered. ‘I prefer it straight.’

  His hand drifted to the side of her face, his fingers following the curve of her jaw. ‘That’s because it gives you a sense of control. I like it either way.’

  Miller’s breath stalled in her lungs at the way he was looking at her. She could read desire in his eyes. Want. Intent, even. She was shocked by it because previously she had assumed his interest in her wasn’t real. But now she suspected he had just been resisting the chemistry between them on Saturday night—as she had done for most of the weekend. As she should still be doing...

  Only she felt powerless to look away from the banked heat in his gaze and a thrill of remembered pleasure raced through her body. A thousand reasons as to why this wasn’t a good idea pinged into her mind, but overwhelming her logical thinking was a wicked, sinful sensation that refused to go away.

  All her life she’d done the right thing. The proper thing. Working hard to get good grades and make her mother proud, building a reputation at work that would ensure her future was secure, shelving the more risqué side of her nature. Until now that had been enough. Satisfying, even.

  But Valentino brought out a delicious craving in her that was impossible to ignore.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TINO saw the sharp rise and fall of Miller’s chest as his finger lingered on the side of her jaw, felt her tremble as he deepened the caress. He hadn’t intended to touch her, seduce her, but now he could think of nothing else.

  Some part of him hesitated. Really, if he had any integrity he’d stop. She’d been sick. She was a guest in his house. But none of that registered with her standing in front of him looking gorgeous and tousled, her cheeks pink, her lips softly parted. God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted—

  She swayed slightly towards him, pressed the side of her face into his palm. ‘Valentino...?’

  Her blue eyes were huge, shining with an age-old invitation that sent every ounce of blood in his body due south. Breathing
felt like an effort, and it would have taken more strength than he possessed not to lean in and kiss her.

  So he did.

  Lightly. Gently. Just their mouths and his hand on her face connecting them.

  And maybe he would have stopped so that they could eat the dinner he’d prepared, but after the slightest of hesitations she rose onto her toes, flattened herself against his chest and he was lost.

  His hands moved to span her waist and curled beneath the fabric of her T-shirt to sweep up and down the smooth skin of her back. She whimpered. He groaned, angled his head, took the kiss deeper, his mouth hardening as the hunger inside him threatened to consume them both.

  Her hands found his hair; his found her breasts. Those perfect round breasts.

  ‘Miller...’ Her name was a deep rasp and she wrenched her mouth from under his as his thumbs flicked across both nipples at once. She arched into his hands, her back curving like an archer’s bow, and he growled his appreciation, pushing her bra cups down to pluck at her velveteen flesh more firmly.

  Her sensitivity and responsiveness completely undid him, and he lifted her and turned to place her on the stone bench.

  ‘Valentino.’

  Her desire-laden sigh stalled him. He pulled in a tanker full of air and tried to steady himself as his eyes met hers. He flicked his tongue over his lips and saw her pupils dilate as she watched him.

  Forking a hand through her thick waves, he forced her eyes up to his. ‘Miller, I want to be inside you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. Tell me you want the same,’ he ordered gruffly.

  He felt the thrill of desire race through her and her lips parted, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. ‘Yes. I feel...I want the same thing.’

  Tino’s eyes grew heavy with fierce male triumph and his hands confidently moved to the waistband of the sweats she wore. ‘Lift up.’

  He dragged the pants down her legs, admiring her red lace panties before they dropped to the floor. ‘God, I love your lingerie.’ He spread her thighs wide and pulled her forward until her bottom was balanced on the edge of the bench. ‘Take off the T-shirt and bra.’

  She complied, and he leaned forward to capture one pointed nipple into his mouth. He suckled her. Bit down lightly. His hands steadied her hips as she jerked under the lash of his tongue. She was perfect.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he breathed. He switched his attention to her other breast, loving the feel of her fingers speared into his hair, holding his head hard, her small whimpers of arousal testing his self-control.

  He felt her hips push against his restraining hold and knew she was seeking pressure at her core. Pressure he couldn’t wait to give her. He moved one hand between her legs and urged her thighs wider, opening her, his eyes momentarily closing as he revelled in the feel of his hand sliding through her curls and over her delicate folds. She was already wet and his middle finger slipped easily inside her. She made a sound like a sob, her hands clutching at him as he stroked her sweet spot with his thumb.

  His erection jerked in an agony of wanting.

  Soon, he promised himself. He curved his other hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her eager mouth back to his, adding another finger into her body and setting up a steady rhythm.

  She groaned, a deep, keening sound, and ground herself against his hand. He felt the urgent lift of her body that signalled she was close to coming, but as much as he wanted to feel her orgasm gripping his fingers he wanted something else more.

  ‘Lean back on your elbows.’

  He waited while she shifted the empty soup bowl out of her way and then he bent forward and nuzzled her, his tongue stroking and teasing the bundle of nerve endings at the top of her sex.

  She bucked against him so hard she nearly dislodged him, and he wound his arms around her waist.

  ‘Damn, Miller, you taste so good.’

  His husky words sent her over the edge and she came like a shot around his tongue. He nearly disgraced himself in his own kitchen.

  Calling on every ounce of focus, he rode her orgasm with her. Then he stood, rose above her, pulled his T-shirt up over his head and shucked his jeans around his ankles. Her head was still thrown back on her shoulders, her breasts pushed high, her body open for his viewing pleasure. His eyes drank in the sheer beauty of her for all of two seconds and then he shifted closer, positioning himself between her splayed thighs before—

  Condom.

  Right. Hell.

  He reached around and pulled one out of his back pocket, sheathed himself.

  ‘Are you always this prepared?’

  Her husky words and wary gaze stayed him. His usual approach would be to make a sarcastic quip. Keep things light. But her scent was warm on his tongue and for some reason he couldn’t conjure up anything light.

  ‘No. But after touching you on the beach Saturday I’ve dreamt of nothing else since.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  Her tone was teasing and it gave him permission to tease her back. ‘Maybe my mother’s lasagna.’

  She smiled, her eyes slumberous as she took him in. His erection throbbed under her perusal and her startled eyes flew to his.

  His hands tightened on her hips. ‘Do you want me to stop?’ The words felt as if they were ripped out of his throat with a pair of pliers, but he needed to be sure she was totally on board with this.

  Her eyes held his. ‘Would you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Though it might kill him.

  ‘No, I don’t want you to stop.’ She leaned forward, gripped him in her palm. She closed her eyes as her fingers explored him. ‘I want to feel you inside me.’

  He wanted that too—so badly his legs were shaking with need. He pulled her hands from his body before he lost it. ‘Open your eyes.’ His voice was a husky command and it seemed for ever before she raised her sleepy gaze to his. ‘I want to see your eyes as I fill you.’

  Her eyes widened and her tongue touched her lips as she nodded.

  ‘Hold on to me.’ She draped her arms along the line of his shoulders and gripped the back of his neck. Tino pulled her firm breasts against his torso and lifted her.

  He’d intended to take her hard, his instinct to plough himself into her, but some sense of civility whispered that this first time he might hurt her, so instead he lowered her with as much care as he could.

  Even so, he felt the hiss of air against his temple as her body encircled him.

  She was tight. So tight. He stilled. ‘Are you okay?’ Sweat beaded his forehead as he forced himself not to jam her on top of him.

  She wriggled her hips and adjusted herself around his girth and his head nearly came off.

  ‘Now I am.’ Her voice was so damned sexy. Like her smell. ‘You’re just...big.’

  Women had told him that before, but never had those words sounded so sweet.

  ‘You can take me,’ he growled, kissing her brow.

  ‘I think I already have.’ There was laughter in her voice and then he shifted his hips and surged forward, giving her more.

  ‘Or not.’ She groaned. ‘I want more.’

  God, so did he.

  ‘Hook your legs around my waist.’ He could barely speak. The urge to pound into her was overwhelming but he needed a soft surface for what he was about to give her—otherwise she’d end up black and blue.

  Somehow he made it to his bed, but when he fell on top of her he was so close to coming he didn’t hold back. Her body clung to his as if it had been made just to please him, and when he felt another orgasm building inside her he didn’t know how he managed to hold off long enough to take them both over the edge together, but he was so damned glad he had.

  God, had sex ever been this good?

  * * *

  Miller lay still, unable to move, and yet stricken with the urge to run for her life. She had just had wild, unrestrained sex with one of the beautiful people. Someone so far removed from her real world she couldn’t even leap to see the platform he lived on.

  An
d it had been amazing. He’d filled her so completely, so powerfully, all she’d been able to do was cling to him as he’d carried her into his room and then carried them both into a miracle of erotic pleasure.

  At least it had been for her. For him it was probably run of the mill. She was probably run of the mill. Trying not to let her old insecurities swamp her, Miller clung to what was real. Which, ironically, was that this was fake.

  Her sickness, his bringing her here—none of that had changed anything between them. And would it matter if it had? She had her goals, her plans for the future, and she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She wasn’t looking to fall in love with anyone yet.

  She understood the fundamental rule that one person always loved more than the other, and she also knew that relationships were unstable at best and downright destructive at worst.

  And it wasn’t as if Valentino was going to insist on having a relationship with her! He’d probably prefer to be hit by one of his fast cars. And even if he did his job took him all over the world. She knew herself well enough to know she’d never cope with the uncertainty of having a relationship with someone who left her all the time. Would leave her as soon as he was bored.

  But that still wasn’t the scariest thought churning through her right now. No, the scariest thought had been the sense of connection she had felt when Valentino had joined their bodies together. It had been as if a missing part of herself had slotted into place. A ridiculous notion, and one that made her think that the sooner she got her life back to normal the better.

  Valentino shifted beside her and Miller tuned into the laboured sounds of his breathing, the only noise in the otherwise silent room.

  ‘You’re thinking again.’ His low voice rumbled from deep inside his chest.

  ‘It’s what I do best.’

  ‘I think we’ve just discovered another occupation you could channel your energies into.’

  Miller smiled weakly, and then gasped as he rolled on top of her and lightly pinned her to the bed. He fisted a hand in her hair and tilted her face up to his. She swallowed. He was so primal, so male. His hold was both possessive and dominant, and it shouldn’t have thrilled her as much as it did.