by Miranda Lee
When he took her hand to lead her from the lift she pulled back, afraid suddenly that she was making a big mistake. As much as she’d liked his romantic words, she didn’t really want Byron to make love to her, did she? Because if he did that, she might fall in love with him, and what would be the good of that? There was no use kidding herself into thinking he would ever love her in return. She also didn’t want to start secretly dreaming that Byron might consider her one day for the role of his wife, and the mother of his children. Such dreams could only lead to heartbreak. And she’d had enough heartbreak in her life already, thank you very much. Not that she wanted to get married again. But if ever there was a man who might persuade her otherwise, it was Byron.
Byron rolled his eyes at her. ‘What’s the matter now?’ he growled. ‘If you tell me you’ve changed your mind, then I’m going to take a running jump off my terrace. And might I remind you that it’s forty floors down.’
Cleo sucked in a deep, gathering breath, determined to be sensible and not silly.
‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she said with as much cool as she could muster in the face of her about-to-combust body. ‘I just don’t want any emotion to be involved with what we do tonight. I want to keep things strictly...physical.’
* * *
Byron felt like strangling her. Was there no pleasing this woman? Talk about contrary.
‘Right,’ he bit out. He supposed he could do that. He’d been doing it most of his life. But it wasn’t the way he wanted to play things tonight.
Angry now, he bent to sweep her up into his arms and carried her through the open lift doors. ‘Is this physical enough for you?’ he ground out.
‘Please put me down,’ she told him sternly when he stopped by his locked front door.
‘Only if you promise to stop inventing reasons not to do this. You want it as much as I do, Cleo, and I don’t appreciate you playing word games with me.’
Her dark eyes registered real distress. ‘But I would never do that. I just wanted to be honest.’
‘Honest, Cleo? Well, take this for honesty. I’ll be as emotional as I like when I make love to you tonight. This is not a one-night stand. How many times do I have to tell you? I like you a lot and want to be with you. If I wanted just physical, there are women who will give me that. Some don’t even charge. But I don’t want that from you, Cleo. I want more than that.’
‘Oh,’ she said, tears filling her eyes.
Which put paid to her ridiculous request to keep emotion out of tonight, Byron thought with a mixture of relief and guilt. He’d been harsh with her just now, he realised, possibly because he’d been jealous, thinking she might have been thinking of her dead husband when she asked him to keep things strictly sexual.
‘Please don’t cry,’ he said, his voice still slightly exasperated. Though more with himself, than her. It worried him that his emotions might already be getting out of hand with this woman. He didn’t want to fall in love with her. There was obviously no future in that. ‘There’s no reason to cry,’ he added, and hugged her close. His heart immediately squeezed tight and he wondered if his hormones were tricking him again. Because they were running at full force tonight, had been ever since she’d opened the door to him and he’d seen how beautiful she could look. It annoyed him that he couldn’t be sure of his own feelings any more. But that wasn’t anything new, was it? All he could be sure of at this moment was how much he wanted to have sex with Cleo.
He lowered her back onto her feet, then fished out his keys.
* * *
Cleo did her best to get herself together whilst Byron opened his front door.
He was right. There was no reason to cry. And yes, she did want this as much—maybe more—than he did. But she was still very nervous. She hadn’t been naked in front of any man except Martin. Just thinking about that inevitability was adding nerves to an already heightened situation.
Cleo swallowed. She wasn’t ashamed of her body. In actual fact, she thought it was pretty good. But she’d seen the photos online of the two women Byron had been engaged to. They hadn’t just been pretty good. Their bodies had been spectacular!
‘You’re doing it again,’ Byron said, and glared at her.
‘Doing what?’
‘Trying to come up with some reason to back out.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she denied, her chin lifting even whilst she quaked inside.
‘Good.’ He threw open the door and waved her inside. ‘Take the first hallway on your left and go right to the very end. The double doors there lead into the master bedroom. I’ll be right behind you once I deadlock this door.’
Cleo strode into the spacious foyer with her head held high and her courage a few footsteps behind. She didn’t stop to look around before she turned left down a wide tiled hallway, though a quick glimpse ahead showed a living area that was bigger than her whole house. On reaching the double doors, she opened one and stepped into the master bedroom.
Oh, my, she thought as she glanced around.
The room was ginormous, with a king-size bed and a large television on the wall opposite the foot of the bed. There was also a separate sitting area with a small bar in a nearby corner. Behind the very comfy-looking sofa were French doors leading out onto a wide terrace, beyond which she could see the lights of the city. The furniture was elegant and mostly white, with frosted glass on the table tops. The walls and ceilings were white, the carpet a dark grey. The designer—and there had to have been one—had used red as an accent colour. The sofa was red crushed velvet and the two armchairs were made in a red and white striped linen. One white cane chair sat in each corner on either side of the bed, which had a grey and white striped duvet, along with a mountain of white pillows. A grey fake fur throw was draped across the foot of the bed. The bedside lamps were chrome, with simple but elegant white shades. There were no curtains on the windows that framed the French doors, just white plantation shutters.
‘You like?’ Byron murmured as he materialised behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.
Cleo would have shrugged if she could have. ‘What’s not to like?’ she said. ‘It’s a beautiful room.’
‘Which I hope you’re going to become very familiar with,’ he said, and turned her around to face him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BYRON LOCKED EYES with Cleo, fearful that she might turn tail and run. There was no doubting that there was still worry in her eyes.
No more talk, he decided. It was time for action!
So he kissed her. Not the rather savage, wildly passionate kiss he’d given her down in the car park. A softer, slower, more reassuring kiss, which told her she had nothing to fear from being here with him. When her mouth flowered open under his and a low moan escaped her lungs, he knew she was his. At least for now.
The pressure of his mouth immediately increased, his tongue darting forward to dance with hers, his own body struggling to contain the fire that had been on a slow burn for her since the day they’d met. The temptation to rush things was acute, but he resisted. He didn’t want to frighten her. He wanted to take things slowly. But, damn, it was hard. He was hard. Harder than he’d ever been.
Was that groan his? Or hers?
Possibly it came from both of them.
Suddenly, all bets were off. And so were his good intentions.
His head lifted and he stared down at her. Her eyes were shut and she was breathing fast. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked up into his. Then she did the most wonderful thing. She smiled.
‘You’re a very good kisser,’ she said.
‘And you’re a very good kissee.’
Cleo laughed. ‘Is there such a word?’
‘There is now. But no more talk, Cleo. Seriously. I told myself that I would be patient. That I would show you the best time in the world. And I will. The second time around. And definitely the third. But just right at this moment, all I can think about is being inside you. So if you don’t mind, I would like to un
dress you. And quickly. Please don’t stop me.’
* * *
Stop him! The thought never crossed her mind. It was way too full of images that his hot promises had evoked.
He undressed her with a speed that smacked of a lot of experience undressing women. Not that Cleo cared about that. Not right at that moment, anyway. Within seconds she was down to her underwear and shoes, her lovely blue outfit tossed aside as if it hadn’t cost her a small fortune. But she didn’t care about that, either. All she cared about was the hunger in his eyes, and the hunger in her own body. God, but she wanted him inside her too!
‘What delicious breasts you have, Cleo,’ he murmured after he removed her bra and tossed it aside also. ‘Full and soft and natural.’ His hands cupped and lifted them, his mouth bending to nuzzle into the cleavage he’d made. ‘I’m going to enjoy these. Kick off those lethal shoes you’re wearing and lie down. But don’t take off those sexy satin panties. I want to do that myself.’
Byron undressed himself in front of her, piece by piece. His body was muscled, with a flat stomach and impressive abs and the kind of chest that you often saw on male models. No hair for starters, and taut pink nipples sitting in the middle of well-defined pecs.
Cleo’s head whirled at how much she wanted to kiss them. And lick them. And suck them. She wanted to do the same to the rest of him as well. She wanted... Oh, she wanted so much!
‘Keep looking at me like that, Cleo,’ Byron growled as he joined her on the bed, ‘and I might not last long enough to get inside you.’
Her dark eyes widened.
‘Hell, but you are one gorgeous woman. I love this look,’ he said, and ran his hands over her hairless sex, Cleo having submitted to a rather ruthless waxing earlier today at the beauty salon. A full Hollywood, the girl had called it.
‘Oh...’ she moaned when one of his fingers made a more intimate exploration.
‘Wow,’ he said, and glanced up at her. ‘You’re as impatient as I am.’
She nodded, her tongue thick in her throat.
His first thrust literally took her breath away. How amazing he felt. How...big!
He filled her completely. And yet she wanted him in deeper. Her legs lifted to wrap high around his back, her hands clasping his bottom, her nails digging in as she pulled him further into her. He groaned, then swore.
‘Hell, Cleo,’ he went on raggedly. ‘Give me a break, will you?’
‘Just shut up and move,’ she threw at him, beside herself with the most excruciating need. She’d never experienced an urge so powerful. Now that he was inside her, she simply could not wait. She needed to come, and she needed it now!
As he thrust harder and faster, Cleo could feel herself getting closer, finally climaxing in a burst of pleasure that left her moaning with a mixture of wild abandon and the fiercest embarrassment. How could she have spoken to him like that? Oh, God, he was still moving. And everything started twisting inside her again. Hot air shot out of her lungs as her lips gasped wide. She was going to come again. She was sure of it. But then he came, and she came with him, their loud cries of mutual release echoing off the walls.
Finally, they both fell silent, Byron collapsing across her, his weight pushing her into the soft mattress. When she made some sound in protest, he swore, then rolled off her, the suddenness of his withdrawal bringing another sound to her lips.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
Cleo didn’t want his apology. She was beyond wanting anything. All the wanting that had built up in her since meeting Byron had just been thoroughly quenched. She was no longer on fire. She was nothing but ash. Her legs were lifeless, her hands flopped to her sides, her body a dead weight on the bed. Her eyes closed on a long sigh. Sleep was just a heartbeat away. She vaguely heard him sigh as well, after which she heard him sit up. But then she heard nothing.
* * *
Byron stood next to the bed for a long moment, staring down at her unconscious body.
Various emotions warred for supremacy in his feelings.
Dismay. She just wanted him for the sex after all.
Disappointment. He had honestly expected more from her than that.
But finally, once he got over the huge blow to his ego, came determination. He wasn’t going to let her get away, was he? He wanted more from her than a few miserable nights. And he aimed to have her, for as long as they still desired each other. Which he suspected could be quite some time. There was no doubt that the sexual chemistry between them was very strong. Stronger than it had been with either Simone or Eva.
But sexual chemistry was not necessarily love. True love, Byron accepted, was something he’d not yet experienced. It would be foolish of him to start thinking he was in love with Cleo, just because he liked her a lot. And desired her like crazy. Maybe, in time, he would know for sure what his true feelings for her were. But right now, his confidence in his ability to read his feelings had been rocked by his two broken engagements. After all, he’d thought he’d been in love on both those occasions. And he’d been dead wrong then, hadn’t he?
Only his lust for Cleo was crystal-clear, as hers was for him. Byron took some comfort from that, deciding that he would use that lust to keep her in his life, and in his bed. Then hopefully, in time, all would sort itself out. Meanwhile, he would make her see that she didn’t have to shy away from a proper relationship with him, just because she believed she should stay loyal to her dead husband.
If that was the reason. Byron still wasn’t entirely convinced that her marriage had been all that perfect. Hopefully, he could get her to talk about it at some stage. Women usually liked to tell him everything about their past lives. Not so Cleo, it seemed. Maybe when McAllister got back from his second honeymoon, he could find out more about Cleo from him. Or maybe he could subtly question Doreen when he dropped by to take Cleo out. Though that might prove awkward, given she was the mother of Cleo’s dead husband. No, that wasn’t going to work.
Hell on earth! Byron’s hands lifted to run through his hair. It really bothered him how unsure he was about his feelings for this woman. Being unsure about anything went against his basic nature.
Cleo slept on, oblivious of his angst. She wasn’t being torn apart by ongoing frustrations, was she? She was one thoroughly satisfied woman.
Well, I’m not bloody well satisfied. Not even remotely!
Scowling, Byron picked up the rug that lay across the foot of the bed, throwing it over Cleo’s naked body before whirling and marching into the bathroom where he would have a long, hot, soothing shower, after which he would calm himself down with some food and a drink. Then, once he had his temper firmly under control, he would return and wake Cleo up. Because he wasn’t finished with her for tonight. He had more work to do, slaking his own rapidly recovering desire, as well as showing her that she couldn’t go back to her sexless life; that she needed a more permanent lover who could make her body burn with desire.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CLEO WOKE TO the most delicious sensation. It took her a few seconds to realise what it was. And where she was.
Her first reaction was a hot jab of humiliation. Had she really said that to him?
Just shut up and move!
Yes, Cleo. You really said it. And he did move. And you came, not once, but twice. And yes, it felt fantastic.
Byron’s fingertip running up and down her spine at this moment felt pretty incredible, too.
A low moan was wrenched from her throat.
‘You’re awake,’ he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
When she went to roll over, he pushed her back. ‘Let’s try it this way, shall we?’ he suggested, oh, so smoothly.
Before she could protest, he’d teased her into a pool of molten desire, and then eased into her from behind, his hands coming round to cup her breasts, the pads of his thumbs rubbing over her nipples till they grew hard and so sensitive that she could not keep silent.
‘You are so sexy,’ he crooned as he rocked back and fo
rth inside her. ‘I don’t know how you could have gone so long without this.’
Because I’ve never had this, she could have told him. But she didn’t. She kept silent on the subject and just wallowed in amazement at the glorious sensations rocketing through her. Soon, she just had to move too, lifting her bottom and pressing herself back against him. He groaned, then picked up his rhythm, both in power and depth. His hands tightened on her breasts when she matched him thrust for thrust, their mating turning from tender to tempestuous.
‘Oh, God,’ she choked out. Because it quickly became too much. The electric pleasure. The crippling tension. The bittersweet knowledge that Byron would only ever be her lover. And a temporary one at that. It would be naive of her to wish for more.
If only Byron weren’t who he was, she started thinking. If only he were an ordinary man, with an ordinary job and an ordinary life. But then, an ordinary man would not have infatuated her nearly as much. Or turned her on like this. Or made her yearn for what could never be.
His climax triggered her own, their bodies shuddering together as they found release. But as he held her close and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, a huge wave of dismay swamped Cleo, dampening any lingering pleasure over what had been another incredible orgasm.
I can’t keep doing this, came the agonised lecture to herself. It will soon become sheer torture!
But at the same time Cleo knew she could not stop. Not whilst he wanted her, despite the fact that his wanting her would not last. Men like Byron didn’t stay with girls like Cleo. This was just an aberration from his normal life. A fling. She’d been a challenge to him at first. Something different. But she wasn’t a challenge any longer, was she? She was here, in his bed, accommodating his wishes without a word of protest. Seemingly without a will of her own.
She hated that last thought. If there was one thing Cleo prided herself on these days, it was that she was her own person. Totally independent, with a mind of her own and a willpower and character to match. Or so she’d imagined, until she met Byron. When she was with him, her willpower quickly grew weak, and her so-called character became decidedly lacking.