Innocent in the Billionaire's Bed

by Clare Connelly

  Again, it seemed he wasn’t going to answer. She watched him weigh up his words and finally he turned around, resuming his course up the hill and breaking their contact.

  ‘Cancer,’ he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to catch it.

  She nodded, but her heart was breaking for the young man he must have been. On the cusp of adulthood, alone in the world.

  ‘What did you do?’

  His laugh was a brittle sound. ‘What did I do, cara?’

  The term of endearment came without warning but she didn’t question it. She infinitely preferred it to his use of Cressida’s name.

  ‘I finished school and then I worked.’

  She nodded. ‘And your father wasn’t able to...?’

  ‘He wasn’t in the picture,’ he repeated.

  He stopped walking abruptly, and before she could bump into him and tumble backwards he turned and hooked an arm around her waist. The gesture was intimate; it set little flames burning beneath her flesh.

  ‘Look.’

  He nodded straight ahead and, curious, she moved in that direction.

  ‘Don’t fall in,’ he said softly, from right behind her.

  The drop from the top of the volcano was several hundred feet, and there was a lot of stone along the way.

  She threw him a withering look over her shoulder—and then missed her footing altogether, stumbling on the rocky path and pitching forward dangerously.

  With an oath, he reached for her and pulled her backwards, holding her against his chest. Her breathing was forced, her heart pounding—though from adrenalin or the proximity to Rio, Tilly couldn’t have said.

  ‘You are unbelievably clumsy,’ he snapped, but his eyes were on her lips, and his hands, firm against her back at first, were soft now, moving slightly, caressing her through the flimsy fabric of her dress.

  His body was firm and hard; he smelled like sunshine and sweat. A pulse between her legs was firing wildly and her dream was playing out right before her eyes. She wanted him to kiss her. No, she wanted to kiss him.

  Cressida would have. She would have wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, leaving him in little doubt of just what she wanted.

  But, though they looked like twins, Tilly was nothing like Cressida.

  ‘I lost my footing,’ she said, not breaking their contact. ‘I wasn’t going to tumble to my death.’

  ‘Mio Dio,’ he said darkly, his eyes caressing her face where she wanted his fingers, his mouth to touch. ‘That is exactly what you would have done if you’d been a foot closer.’

  ‘But I wasn’t,’ she murmured, not sure what they were arguing about any more. ‘Rio...?’

  Her eyes moved to his lips and she darted her tongue out, moistening the outline of her mouth, staring at his, needing him to kiss her.

  His chest was moving rapidly, but he wasn’t out of shape. It was something else that was causing his breath to explode from him.

  ‘I feel as though I need to shadow you from now on,’ he said with a shake of his head, his eyes glued to her face. ‘To keep you out of danger.’

  Her smile lacked humour. ‘I think there’s danger here, too.’

  His eyes flickered with recognition. She was right. He was about two mad moments away from plundering her mouth, from tearing at her dress and laying her on the ground. Her, Cressida Wyndham, a woman he barely knew, a woman who was on the island as his guest.

  He dropped his arms and stepped backwards, moving his attention back to the volcano. ‘Can you be trusted to look without falling?’

  He’d flicked a switch and was back to normal. As though his hands hadn’t just been stroking her back, his legs straddling hers, his face an inch away and aching to kiss her.

  Tilly found it harder to return her mind to its scheduled programming. She jerked her head in agreement, but as she stepped closer to the edge of the mountain he stayed close. Close enough to grab her.

  The temptation to fake another fall was strong, but she resisted it.

  ‘I have never seen anything like this,’ she said honestly.

  She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but not this. It looked as though the earth had been dug out, hollowed, and right at the bottom of the valley there was a lagoon so blue she ached to swim in it.

  ‘I had no idea. Is this what happens to volcanoes when they die?’

  ‘I believe each one is different,’ he said.

  ‘Can you go down there?’

  He laughed. ‘No. Not you. I think that would be a disaster.’

  She sent him a look of muted impatience. ‘I’m really not that bad. You must have a rope or something?’

  Realising she was serious, he sobered. ‘Dio, cara, you’re going to give me a heart attack. Are you seriously suggesting scaling this volcano?’

  ‘Look at that water,’ she said plaintively. ‘It’s divine.’

  He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘It does look nice. But there is nicer.’

  ‘Yeah? Where?’

  ‘Come. I’ll show you.’ He unhooked his rucksack and pulled out a water bottle. ‘Thirsty?’

  She shook her head. She might have been before, but other needs had subsumed everything else.

  ‘Hungry?’

  She shook her head again, but her tummy did a little squeeze.

  ‘Well, I am.’

  His smile was rueful. Beautiful. She was lost.

  He reached into the rucksack and pulled out an apple.

  She arched a brow. ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘What’s wrong with fruit?’

  ‘Forbidden fruit,’ she muttered under her breath, but his grin showed that he’d heard.

  ‘Want a bite?’

  He held it out to her and she eyed it warily before shaking her head, more firmly this time.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ He shrugged, making short work of the apple before tossing the core into the undergrowth. ‘Let’s go.’

  Another twenty minutes on the bike did little to calm her overstretched nerves, and by the time he pulled it to a stop in the middle of what seemed to be a forest of thick cypress trees, she was almost ready to burst.

  He removed his helmet and stood, but before he could reach for hers she unclipped it hurriedly, adding it to his on the seat in front of her.

  His smile was droll and she had the distinct impression he was laughing at her.

  ‘Well?’ she asked, with an impatience born of embarrassment. ‘What are you showing me?’

  ‘You wanted to see some spectacular water,’ he reminded her, his expression carefully blank of emotion.

  She climbed off the bike, wishing she’d thought to pack some shorts and jeans. There was no neat way to dismount, and she stood pushing her dress down, only to look up and find his eyes arrested on her legs.

  Heat flared inside her.

  ‘Which way?’ she asked, the question a husk in the middle of the forest.

  He jerked his head slightly to the left but then his eyes met hers and Tilly felt it.

  Inevitability.

  She was fighting it, and so was he, but they might as well try to stave off night’s fall.

  This thing between them—whatever it was—was going to happen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘WELL?’ HE PROMPTED, looking not at the water but at the beautiful British heiress.

  Her eyes, so green they matched the ocean, sparkled. Her lashes fanned her cheeks as she blinked rapidly, looking from the trees that nestled right up to the edge of the white cliff face to the water that was a pristine turquoise.

  ‘Oh, yes...’ She nodded, crouching down and peeking over the edge. She looked away from the cliff, following the water to the point where the island separated and admitted the ocean. ‘This is perfect.’

  Her voice was soft and full of emotion.

  Curious, he crouched beside her. ‘You are upset?’

  ‘No!’ She smiled, but her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. ‘I’m...overwhelmed. Overcom
e. This is impossibly beautiful.’

  His life had been a tribute to the pursuit of beauty; rather to preserving it. He had never met another person who felt that as strongly as he.

  ‘That probably seems really stupid,’ she mumbled, turning back to the water.

  ‘Not to me.’ His smile was reassuring. ‘Well?’

  She stood, sucking in a deep breath. It tasted like Italy. Salty, sweet, with the hint of cypress and fresh air.

  ‘Well what?’ she queried, placing her hands on her hips.

  ‘Care to join me for a swim?’

  She eyed the water thoughtfully. It was damned tempting. The heat of the day, not to mention the fire raging between them, had left her with a distinctly raised temperature. A dip in the crystal-clear water would feel wonderful.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked teasingly. ‘Don’t you want me to see your underwear?’

  She gasped, her eyes enormous in her face. ‘I’ll have you know I’m wearing a bikini,’ she responded archly, but her pulse was firing again, her cheeks pink.

  ‘So?’

  He grinned, and before she knew what he was doing his fingers had reached for the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head. She had a second to take in perfect abdominals ridged into a broad, tanned chest, a line of dark hair that ran down the middle, disappearing into his waistband.

  He tossed the shirt to the ground, then began to unzip his jeans.

  She fluttered her eyes closed as desire ran rampant through her.

  ‘You confuse me,’ he said thoughtfully, a moment later.

  She blinked, flicking her eyes to his nether regions and expelling a sigh of relief to see that he wasn’t completely in the buff. A pair of dark boxers covered his masculinity. But there was plenty of him on display. Legs that were strong and muscular, tanned and hair-roughened.

  Legs that she was imagining curling around her waist.

  Oh, heck. She was in serious trouble.

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Si. Why would you be shy about swimming?’

  ‘I’m not shy,’ she promised—but, oh, she was. Shy and exhilarated.

  ‘I didn’t think so. You were, after all, photographed skinny-dipping with about three hundred festival-goers in Germany earlier this year.’

  She stared at him, not sure what to say to that. She was tempted to point out that the photographers had only guessed that Cressida had been naked—she hadn’t been. Or to query his knowledge of gossip pieces. But that story hadn’t been restricted just to the scandal rags. It had gone into the mainstream news. Even the broadsheet papers had covered it because of the timing—Art Wyndham had been meeting the President of the United States of America that same day.

  ‘There are no photographers here. Just you and me. And I promise we will keep some clothes on.’

  She sent him a withering look, but her pulse was racing. Slowly she reached up, her fingers unsteady as she hooked them into the straps of her dress and slid them down her arms. He followed their progress with his eyes and she could have sworn he was holding his breath.

  The bikini she’d chosen was no less and no more revealing than her others, but when she stood before him wearing only the flimsy scraps of white fabric she desperately wished she’d put up with the heat and stayed clothed.

  ‘Wow...’ he muttered, his eyes taking their time as they trailed over her body.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ she snapped, resisting the impulse to cross her arms over her chest.

  ‘No.’ He grinned, flashed his eyes to her and then returned to his inspection of her body. ‘I am just...overwhelmed.’

  She opened her mouth to say something, but when he made a copycat sniffling sound she laughed and ran towards him, pushing at his chest. ‘I’ll make you pay for that.’

  ‘Yes?’ He grabbed her wrists and held them by her sides, so that only her harsh breath sounds punctuated the stillness. ‘How do you suggest you’ll do that?’

  She bit down on her lip, her mind completely bereft of responses.

  When he reached down and lifted her up, cradling her against his chest, she made a small sound low in her throat.

  It all happened so fast.

  One minute she was processing just how good it felt to be close to him, and the next he’d leaped off the edge of the white cliff. They were flying through the air.

  His laugh was the last thing she heard before they hit the water.

  Splash!

  There was noise, then complete immersion in the water, and finally his letting her go, so that she could splutter her way to the surface.

  Her red hair was straggling over her face, and she spun around, trying to pinpoint him.

  ‘You...you...’ she spluttered when he lifted out of the water, a grin crossing from ear to ear over his handsome face. ‘How dare you?’

  He tilted his head to one side, his eyes darkened by an emotion she couldn’t comprehend. ‘We have a problem, cara.’

  ‘Yeah?’ She could think of about a hundred! ‘What’s that?’

  His smile lifted as he pulled one hand out of the water, something white clutched in his fingers. It took several seconds before she realised it was her bikini top.

  With a squawk, she lowered herself in the water, treading water as he made his way to her.

  ‘Give that to me,’ she demanded indignantly.

  ‘I intend to.’

  He was right in front of her and she turned her back on him, embarrassment and coyness making her want to shield herself from him.

  ‘Here.’ It was a gravelled husk. A word that invited her to turn around and stare at him.

  She fumbled with the bikini in the water—no easy task when she had to simultaneously kick her legs to stay afloat.

  ‘Would you like help?’

  If she’d been in a generous mood, she might have appreciated that without help she was unlikely to succeed. But Tilly’s mood was all over the place.

  ‘No. I’m fine.’

  His laugh teased her, and she felt her own lips lifting in response.

  ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ she responded, attempting to sound angry when actually she was being flooded by a confusing degree of happiness.

  ‘Don’t make me laugh, then,’ he said simply. ‘Here.’

  He swam to her back and reached for the clasp of her bikini. He had every opportunity to milk their close contact, but he didn’t. His fingers moved with professional detachment, clipping both the halter neck and the back without lingering.

  And how she’d wanted them to linger!

  ‘I truly didn’t realise jumping into the water would lead to you getting almost naked,’ he said, but something about his face made her wonder if that was a lie.

  ‘Yes, well... No harm done.’

  Such a prim expression! She winced, and for the hundredth time since arriving couldn’t help but imagine how Cressida would have reacted in such a situation.

  ‘This cove is incredible.’ She changed the subject desperately, gliding through the water.

  ‘It is quite unusual, isn’t it?’ He caught up with her easily. ‘There are caves through there. I have only swum in a couple of them, but I understand the network is elaborate.’

  ‘Really?’ She moved towards the entrance he’d indicated, curiosity thumping inside her. ‘I’d love to see them.’

  ‘Not today,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Oh?’ She turned in the water. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I have to go through some contracts this afternoon. My secretary is waiting to hear from me.’

  She blinked at him, remembering that he was a property mogul first and foremost, not really a tour guide at her beck and call.

  Disappointment was a hole in her gut.

  ‘You can go back. I’m sure I’ll find my way.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s five miles. Swim now and I will bring you back another time.’

  Another time. This was the second day of her week. It was still early. But the idea of losing an afterno
on because he had to work sucked the happiness out of her mood.

  ‘Fine.’ She shrugged, duck-diving under the water and kicking away from him.

  She went towards the ocean, surfacing when her lungs were burning and begging for more air to be drawn into them. He was where she’d left him, treading water.

  ‘What are the contracts for?’ she called across the water, spreading her arms wide and kicking at the ocean to stay afloat.

  He moved through the water easily, his stroke that of someone who swam often. He pulled up a little distance from her. Water droplets ran over his smooth shoulders.

  ‘A high-rise I’m buying in Manhattan.’

  She tilted her head to the side, her smile spontaneous. ‘Seriously?’

  He flicked some water at her, smiling as she flinched away. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You already have two islands. A high-rise in Manhattan seems excessive.’

  He arched a brow, and beneath the water waved his hands perilously close to her sides. She felt the tremble of water but didn’t move away. Deep down, she knew she wanted him to touch her.

  It was illicit. Forbidden.

  Inevitable.

  Hadn’t she already realised that?

  ‘I have another high-rise in Manhattan, too. And one in Hong Kong. Dubai. A mall in Canada. Is that excessive enough?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Now you’re just trying to impress me.’

  ‘I would think those assets far too pedestrian for someone like you to be deemed impressive.’

  She sucked in a breath and flicked a gaze at the water. It was rippled by their movement. If only he knew that her parents lived in a small, pebbledash semi-detached bungalow in Harlesden.

  ‘What I find impressive is that you did all this yourself,’ she said with truth. ‘You say your mother struggled? And she passed away when you were still a teenager? Yet by the time you were twenty you were a force to be reckoned with.’

  Emotions flicked across his face, none of which she could interpret. ‘You have been researching me?’ he asked quietly at last, when her nerves felt as if they were about to snap.

  She leaned closer, her expression conspiratorial, her nose wrinkled. ‘Nope. Not even a bit. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but...’

  ‘But?’ he murmured, his eyes resting on the tip of her nose before lifting to hers.