Bound by the Millionaire's Ring

by Dani Collins

  Ramon liked parties. He was the extrovert of the family, but he couldn’t seem to relax and enjoy this one.

  “She’s not what I expected,” one of Ramon’s toughest competitors, Kiergen Jensen said, as he gazed at Isidora dancing with Ramon’s test driver. “Too nice for a man who stops at nothing to win.”

  Here, at least, Isidora wasn’t being vilified for his departure from the track. She was lauded. His rivals were ecstatic they had a shot at the championship without him in the way and admired her for stealing the heart of such a confirmed bachelor.

  Little did they know she hated him more than ever.

  She had a right to be angry. He had put her in danger and made a mockery of her childhood dreams. The job she had already struggled to prove wasn’t pure nepotism had been turned into something even more blatantly biased. She had made it clear she wanted him to leave her alone, so he had.

  But her enmity grated at him.

  He had moved her into his space, something he had never done with a woman in his life. She resented it, and had gone back to leaving a room if he entered it. At work, she did a credible job of gushing if put on the spot, but she made sure everyone knew they intended to behave professionally. It was her way of avoiding physical contact. When he did have to act like a smitten suitor and take her arm or press a hand to her back, she stiffened. It was subtle, but he felt it. She didn’t even want a compliment from him.

  He was an egocentric man. He looked after himself, but had the capacity to love and worry for his family. He had even made accommodations in his life for his infant nieces. That’s how he’d wound up at this retirement party. But he didn’t reserve a lot of bandwidth for worrying about anyone outside his chosen few. Using Isidora for his publicity stunt had been expedient. Whatever cost she incurred as a result could be compensated monetarily. Her feelings had never been much of a factor in this.

  So why did her antagonism bother him so much?

  Then, as they were leaving to come here, it had become obvious. Sexual tension.

  In the privacy of his apartment, with no one to see it, she had revealed—very briefly—that she was still attracted to him. Which was adorable, given their history.

  He really wished he could dismiss the discovery that cavalierly, but he’d taken it like a bullet to the chest. He’d been aware of her all week. Hell, he’d always been aware of her. Now that she was grown and under his nose, it was impossible to ignore how alluring she was. She could wear subdued business attire and a sober office persona, hold herself beyond his reach and mutter pithy comments under her breath, but that had only fed his intrigue. Turns out, he had a depthless appetite for sexy-librarian fantasies and they all starred her.

  Then, tonight, he had nearly popped a blood vessel when she had emerged looking chic and feminine in a skin-tight suit that revealed more than it disguised. She was utterly delectable and Kiergen wasn’t the only one to notice.

  The entire room, heavily weighted to high-octane men, found her mesmerizing. Why wouldn’t they? She had her mother’s ingenuous way of tilting up a wide-eyed gaze so all a man could think about was taking her under his wing. She also possessed her father’s ability to draw people out. Her natural empathy made her anyone’s immediate best friend. Add in her quick wit and unstoppable smile and she was irresistible.

  She didn’t lap up the attention the way another woman might, either, which only added to her attractiveness. He felt lucky to be with her, which was a singular sensation for a man who had always been the prize.

  “I’d do whatever she asked of me, too.” Kiergen’s eyes stayed a little too long on Isidora’s hips as she enjoyed herself on the dance floor.

  “Hey.” Ramon waited for his friend’s gaze to track back to his, then shook his head. He meant it, and Kiergen knew it, which wasn’t comfortable. Ramon hated being obvious. Revealing any detail about his wants or intentions, about what he valued, was something that could be used against him. He rarely exposed his throat.

  He couldn’t stop himself, though. With one question, Isidora had released a roar of desire in him. What else do you want from me?

  The list had been so long, he hadn’t known where to start, but the way her tongue had absently dampened her lips had given him an idea.

  He couldn’t stop wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t dragged her antipathy back into place along with her filmy wrap.

  They wouldn’t have made it to this party, that was for damn sure.

  The song ended and she motioned that she needed a drink. She wound her way through the crowd toward him and Ramon handed across the glass that had been delivered while she’d been dancing.

  “I had my chauffeur bring this up for you. For your father,” Kiergen said, giving her a key fob that advertised his team logo.

  Isidora had already fan-girled over Kiergen, claiming she and her father were both avid race followers, even though Ramon would have sworn she hadn’t watched in years. Certainly not in person.

  Her fawning over Kiergan had been annoying enough. Now Kiergen, the narcissist, was trying to keep the admiration train going with his penny candy swag.

  Isidora’s face brightened all the same. “I would have settled for a selfie, but thank you so much.”

  “We can do that, too.” Kiergen’s arm looped casually around her shoulders as she took the snap. He sent another smirk Ramon’s way and hardened his arm to keep her close as she lowered her phone. “But now you have to answer something for me. I’m dying to know if you’ve ever kissed Henri.”

  Isidora pulled away in shock. “What?”

  Ramon knew what was coming and his hackles rose even as Kiergen thumbed toward him.

  “This one tried to kiss Cinnia. Did you never hear that story?” Kiergen grinned his enjoyment as Ramon glowered a warning. Isidora wouldn’t see the funny side of it.

  Kiergen couldn’t resist, however, and launched into the tale that had become a small legend in their circle.

  Shortly after Henri and Cinnia had become exclusive, Henri had brought her to watch one of Ramon’s races. The next morning, as their usual group had gathered for breakfast, Henri had stepped away to take a call.

  Ramon had been puzzled by his brother’s fascination with her. Until Cinnia, neither of them had stuck with any particular woman more than a handful of days, let alone gone back for a particular one and locked her in for the foreseeable future.

  Ramon had been high on his recent win and, well, sometimes brothers were jackasses to each other for the sake of it. Whatever had possessed him, he had mimicked Henri’s preferred French greeting, moved behind where Cinnia sat, set his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her just as if he was Henri.

  Maybe it had been a test. His brother was plenty sharp enough to look after himself, but there had been a part of Ramon that had needed to know how sincere Cinnia’s feelings for Henri really were.

  “We all thought he was Henri,” Keirgen was saying. “For about one second she did, too. Then, right before he kissed her, she screamed. Jumped a meter. I thought she was going to punch him. Henri came running, ready to draw blood. The look on Ramon’s face was the most priceless. He didn’t expect her to know the difference. We all lost it.” Kiergen was still laughing, two years later.

  Isidora chuckled politely, shaking her head. “No, I’ve never heard that story. Poor Cinnia.”

  “Lucky Henri. But now I have to know, have you done the kiss test? Did you pass?”

  “I’ll pass on doing the test! Cinnia would punch me.”

  “Ha! Perhaps you’re right.” Kiergen was plainly disappointed, though. He asked after Cinnia and Henri, then moved on, leaving them alone.

  Ramon watched Isidora’s head bob lightly in time to the beat as she sipped the last of her drink. He was about to ask her to dance when she said, “I did, though.”

  “Did what?”

  She kept her eyes on the dancers, speaking just loudly enough for him to hear her over a song about loving cheap thrills. �
��I kissed Henri.”

  * * *

  It was time to switch to water. She kept working up a thirst on the dance floor, then draining gin-and-tonics. That was her third. Fourth? If she was losing count, it was definitely time to switch. Also her tongue was getting way too loose if she was starting to think that baiting her fiancé was a good idea.

  Perhaps he thought so, too, because he plucked her glass out of her hand and gave it to his guard, then caught her elbow and spun her a few steps, pulling her behind a heavy curtain.

  “What...where—?” She had thought the drapes decorative, but they disguised alcoves where chairs were stacked. The towers at the back reached to the ceiling, while others sat two and three high near where they stood crowded into the small space at the front.

  “When?” he demanded, hands firm on her upper arms.

  She automatically brought her hands to his chest and—Oh. Her fingers splayed against the firm heat of his chest, instinctively wanting to feel as much of his muscled torso beneath fine linen as possible.

  “Isidora. When did you kiss Henri?”

  Her light press into his chest was no match for his strength. He drew her closer so his mouth brushed the hair near her ear, causing a frisson of tickling sensation all the way down her neck and farther to the base of her spine. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know.” How was she supposed to think, surrounded by his masculine scent like this? Ever since that moment at the flat, she’d been wondering if she had imagined the flash of carnal heat in him. She knew it had happened on her side, but him?

  I’ve always thought you were beautiful.

  He was such a liar! He hadn’t even known she was alive. Still didn’t.

  Did he?

  “Since Cinnia?”

  “No. Long before. I was visiting Trella at Sus Brazos.” She threw back her head, but it was nearly impossible to see him in the thin sliver of light that came in over the top of the drapes from the dimly lit ballroom. “I wasn’t at university yet.”

  “Are you serious?” His hands tightened on her arms. “And he kissed you? Or did you kiss him?”

  She wanted to kiss him.

  Oh, she was sorry she’d been drinking. All her defenses were slipping away like scarves off an exotic dancer. Her body wanted to sway and slither against him. Come hither, virile man. She really was just like her mother.

  And deep down, despite her continued lectures against that silly child who had been so infatuated, she wanted to believe that he did, indeed, think she was beautiful. She wanted to prove it. She wanted to bring him to his knees with lust and adoration.

  “Why does it matter?” she asked, nudging her nose against his stubbled jaw, feeling his hands flex on her arms and finding it erotic to be trapped in his hold like this. Since when did she have a kink for restraint?

  “It matters. How old were you exactly?”

  “I don’t know.” She grew a little drunker as she realized how invested he was. She couldn’t resist taunting. “Sixteen?”

  His grip tightened to just short of painful. “Which would have made him twenty-four. I’ll kill him.”

  She smiled at how incensed he was. “Relax,” she chided. “It was my idea. I came up to him like this.” She shifted enough to feel his stubble graze her lips. She stepped in so her arms looped up behind his neck and her body brushed his. “He didn’t scream when I did this...”

  She went onto tiptoes so she was leaning against the taut line of his body and pressed her mouth to his, vaguely remembering the feel of a warm mouth that had parted with a smile, not anything resembling passion or reciprocation.

  “I’m not Ramon,” Henri had said, gently but promptly easing her back onto her feet. “And I’m not going to tell him, if that’s what you’re hoping. But thank you. That was very nice.”

  It had been a very adolescent move, both an attempt to prompt Henri to tell Ramon, hopefully inciting possessiveness, and an exploration of her feelings for the wrong twin. The peck had amounted to a Christmas kiss. Henri had essentially patted her on the head and told her to go play. Only the compassion in his eyes had kept the moment from being completely humiliating.

  Ramon didn’t express humor at the touch of her mouth. Or stop her.

  He slid his arms around her so they banded across her back and held her in place as he stole control of their kiss.

  She might have groaned as his mouth crushed hers. It was impossible to hear over a song blaring about not being able to stop the feeling.

  A shudder of relief went through her as he slaked a thirst she’d suffered for years. It was not unlike falling into bed after a long day. Like tasting a rich dessert as it melted on her tongue.

  Like kissing a man she had always found insanely attractive.

  Don’t do this, she warned herself, but couldn’t resist. He kissed like the expert he was and his abundant skill made her furious enough, jealous enough, to kiss him back without inhibition. In silence, using only the rock of her mouth beneath his and the spear of her tongue into his mouth, she mused, Feel that, Ramon?

  She was beautiful. In that moment, she was confident in her attraction. Arrogant. Other men came on to her. They were going crazy for her tonight. Why not him? He didn’t know what he was missing. This. This is what he could have had all this time, if he had only asked.

  She dug her fingers into his hair to draw him down and pressed her mouth more firmly to his. She stroked her tongue against his and groaned again, unreservedly, strong enough he must have felt the vibration in her throat. Arching her back, she rubbed her breasts against his chest, following the beat in the music that throbbed around them.

  Their kiss became a dirty dance. He dropped his hand to her backside and firmly snugged her hips into his, working with the pulse of the song. His other hand brushed aside the front of her jumpsuit so he claimed her bare breast, his palm hot. He splayed his fingers and massaged, tongue stabbing against hers.

  He was hard.

  Mind blown, she rocked her hips between his firm caress of her cheek and the ridge of flesh that proved he found her desirable. That reaction in him ought to make her feel superior. She should have pushed away at that point to give him a scathing and triumphant “ha!”

  But the allure of rubbing against him was too much. The tips of her breasts ached. Her loins felt hollow and needy. She couldn’t resist staying exactly where she was, moving against him in time to the music.

  He kept her against him as he turned and shuffled backward, drawing her down as he sat. She flowed weakly, like she was under a spell, more than happy to let him pull her astride his lap as he lowered into a chair. Both his wide hands slid to her lower back and cupped her butt to pull her hard against his fly.

  A flash of sensation went through her, so sharp she threw back her head and let out a gasp, seeing nothing but shadows moving on the ceiling, as dark and mysterious as the sensations that flowed through her.

  That moment might have given her pause, but he kissed her throat. He cupped her breast and plumped it again, dipping his head to bite gently at the upper swell, then flicked her nipple with his tongue.

  She arched, wanting that tease, but wanting to rock herself against that hard ridge between her legs.

  His hand on her hip urged her to move against his fly, to take up the rhythm of the song again, while he pinched her nipple and lifted his head to kiss her once more.

  At the edges of her consciousness, she knew this was filthy. They were practically in public. He must have snuck behind a thousand curtains with other women, given how quickly and easily he had lured her here.

  But with her knees wide and her heeled shoes braced on the floor, she was the woman pressed sex-to-sex with him tonight. The only thing between them was a few layers of fabric and they might as well have been naked for all the dulling of sensation.

  And she was mad at him. Mad for him.

  Maybe she thought she could make him break first. She wasn’t really examining her motives, just reacting to the p
leasure of rubbing against him while being in the control position, riding his lap, driving him crazy.

  “Do you like that?” She caught at his earlobe with her teeth, arms folded behind his neck, breasts mashed to his chest.

  His fingers dug in to the seam that traced the cleft of her butt. He bit out a really graphic curse of agreement. “Keep going.”

  She faltered. He was hard all over. He had admitted he enjoyed what she was doing to him. Here was the point she should pull away and show him she could take him or leave him. If she kept going...

  How far did he expect her to go?

  He bared her other breast, the cool air erotic and dangerous. Stimulating. The brush of his fingers against her aching nipple sent a spark of acute need into her loins. Heat flooded into her chest, making her breasts feel fuller and more sensitive. Her sex grew needier. Greedier.

  Instinct made her take up the rock against him again, or maybe it was his hand on her butt.

  This was getting out of control. Either way, lightning streaked into the place between her legs.

  She shifted her grip to the back of his chair while his flat hand against her tailbone kept her hips tight to his. He lifted into her, continuing to excite her as he caught her mouth in a kiss that was insanely wicked. His tongue sought hers as he practically made love to her fully clothed in that chair, lifting her higher into the cloud of acute arousal. Driving her toward climax.

  She was a virgin, but she knew how to give herself an orgasm if she wanted one. She had never felt a strong need for a man to perform that duty, but here she was, legs splayed, encouraging the lethal thrust of his hips against her. It was primal and, damn, he knew exactly how to play against her button of nerves like a bow against strings.

  She had no will to stop his pushing her toward the brink, loving everything he was doing to her, no longer caring where she was, only wanting this.

  She wanted that rush, wanted to feel it here, in his arms. Ramon’s arms. Ramon’s hips rolling against hers until she quivered on the edge.