by Zara Cox
No, I wasn’t going to go there. This was for me and me alone.
‘Harder,’ I moaned. ‘Faster.’
His laugh was low, sexy and pained. ‘Yes, beautiful. Whatever you need.’
That simple concession from my nemesis flipped the switch to bliss.
With a cry ripped from deep within me, I succumbed to rapture. It flowed through me in an endless wave, singeing every cell in my body, reawakening every pleasure point.
‘God, you feel amazing, but I’m dying to taste you again,’ he rasped.
With a savage grunt, he reared away, gripped my thigh to open me wider before his head swooped between my legs.
He drew my clit hard between his lips, sucked and sucked and unbelievably triggered another orgasm.
‘Oh, God, I’m coming again!’
‘Yes,’ he groaned against my pussy. ‘Give it to me, Neve. I want all of it.’
Fingers digging into his hair, I surrendered all until every ounce of oxygen was wrung from my lungs. I melted into the cushions, his firm grip my only anchor to reality.
Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from me, kissed his way up my body until his lips hovered above mine.
Unwilling to let the sensation end, I dragged him down. Our lips met and I tasted myself on him. Another minute of furious kissing passed before he raised his head.
‘You taste even better than I remember.’ His voice was guttural. Barely coherent. And just as he’d drowned me in pleasure I wanted to see him lost in ecstasy too. Which sort of defeated the object of this exercise.
Despite my head swimming with the force of my extended orgasm, I needed to take control of the situation. I managed to curve my lips in a sultry smile. ‘Well, I’m very happy for you, then.’
The stare we traded was weighted with tense, unwanted questions.
But when his head swooped low again I knew it was time to end this.
Hands that weren’t as firm as I needed them to be pushed at his chest as I swung my legs to the floor.
I ignored Damian’s probing gaze as I hunted for the heels that had fallen off at some point. My panties were nowhere in sight. Unwilling to suffer the indignity of hunting for them, I stood, praying my legs would support me. Relieved when they did, I adjusted my clothes, straightened my hair, went to the door and threw it open with a pointed look.
‘You’re tossing me out?’ Disbelief rang through the cut-glass English accent.
I drew in a shaky breath. ‘Were you expecting something else? Something more?’
He greeted my clear challenge with narrowed, blazing eyes before dragging unsteady fingers through his hair.
After a full minute, he stood, whatever he’d wanted to say imprisoned between his clenched teeth as his gaze flamed over my body. The sight of the erection tenting his fly nearly undid me. I might have experienced a ground-shaking orgasm but clearly my body craved more.
I held my breath as he prowled towards me, all heat and need and brooding watchfulness, his eyes probing for weaknesses.
My hand tightened on the door, fighting the desperation clawing at me. ‘My car service is on speed dial, if you need it?’
His gorgeous hazel eyes lingered on my face and the flush still burning my cheeks before dropping to my chest. ‘No. My driver’s downstairs.’
‘In that case...goodnight, Damian.’
He stopped in the doorway, filling it with his wide, magnificent body. ‘You won’t always have things your way, Neve.’
I clung tighter to the door so I didn’t do something crazy, like lunge for him. ‘You don’t think so? Well, I look forward to our next skirmish.’
I shut the door in his face, but the memory of a sexily dishevelled Damian with his cock hard and his expression holding that curious mixture of bewilderment, arousal and disbelief didn’t fade away as quickly as I wanted it to.
I’d triumphed over need and weakness. It should’ve pleased me. Instead I wondered if I wasn’t digging a grave for both of us.
Damian
What the hell had just happened?
Back in my penthouse suite, high above the feverish pulse of Manhattan, I paced my living room in a semi-daze. Stopping before the wall of glass I wished were another wall in another hotel, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the scrap of contraband from my pocket.
Neve’s panties.
Yes, I’d turned into that creep.
The feel of the delicate lace between my fingers arrested my restless prowl. My cock throbbed even harder, its anguish at being denied echoing agonisingly through my body. A quick jacking off would ease the discomfort. Hell, in my desperate state I’d probably only need half a dozen strokes to do the job. But I made no move to unzip my fly. Instead I caressed the silk for a moment, and brought it to my nose.
Her heady scent filled my nostrils and I groaned. I was compounding my problem, but between the lingering taste on my tongue, the scent of her perfume and the smell of her pussy, I had a sneaking suspicion it was physically impossible to be any more turned on than I was right now.
Hell, I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or turned on by the stunt she’d pulled. Or kick my own arse for leaving her slick and wet pussy without more of a fight.
I chose the pissed route because the alternative was admitting I was seriously addicted to the insane chemistry binding us.
It was that uncontrollable reaction that had compelled me to hunt her down in her hotel room in Boston. That same visceral, unstoppable need that had bypassed all my rigid safeguards and propelled me to the woman with sparkling blue eyes that radiated determination and intelligence, and a mouth designed to bring a man to his knees.
Over the years, my contribution to the elevation of The Mortimer Group from certain bankruptcy to staggering prosperity had garnered the right accolades. With that had come attention of the female kind.
Work hard.
Party harder.
For years, I’d seen absolutely nothing wrong in revelling in that ethos. There was nothing more blissfully satisfying than losing oneself between the thighs of a willing woman after scoring a mega successful deal, especially if it involved besting an opponent.
With Gideon by my side, the ride had been doubly gratifying.
Until Penny and her lies and treachery had ruined it all.
I crushed the scrap of lace and silk a second before my balled fist shot out. I reined it in a scant inch before it connected with the glass. Breathed in. Out. Pressed my knuckles against the cool glass and attempted to rein myself in.
Anguish knotted in my chest.
Regardless of the aftermath, I was still at fault for heeding Penny’s call in the first place. Misguided or not, I’d dropped my guard and trusted the words of a pathological, conscienceless liar. More than that, I’d forgotten the single most important lesson I’d learned since I was old enough to reason for myself.
Everyone has an agenda.
And nine times out of ten, it was a self-serving one. My own parents were a prime example. They’d stuck around long enough to do their duty by the family name. Then they’d walked away without a backward glance, their children someone else’s burden.
Resentment tapped from a different vein threatened to rise but my issue with Hugh and Margaret Mortimer, the people I had the dubious privilege of calling my parents, would stay in the background of my mind, where it belonged.
After all, they’d put me completely out of theirs for most of my life.
Gideon, however...
That wound was aggravating. But more than that, now I finally knew the truth, it was a problem I could put behind me.
So I could move on?
To what?
The irony wasn’t lost on me that while I was spouting off about establishing a baseline trust to Neve I had none left in my personal reserves. And surprisingly, I’d adapted to li
ving without it.
Business-wise I kept my promises. Perhaps I shouldn’t fight this need to overcome her resistance. Perhaps Neve having her own agenda was the reminder I needed to keep her at arm’s length?
I grimaced at the fierce denial that tunnelled through me.
This had gone beyond business.
I wanted her. Badly. Enough to attempt to breach that wall she’d built around herself despite knowing she was right in her accusation about my actions two years ago.
I hadn’t held back my verdict to Cahill because I’d believed she wasn’t ready. I stood by that belief.
And hell, the morning after the night in her bed, I’d been in no mood to prolong any association with Malcolm Cahill beyond the necessary. I’d woken up burning in the reality that there’d be no definitive resolution to the hours Penny had stolen from me by drugging me that night. That there would always be a hole in my life from her actions.
I slammed my closed fist against the glass. Neve’s scent invaded my senses again. And just like that I was hard as fuck again.
Forehead propped against the cool glass, I brought the fragile scrap to my nose and inhaled long and deep. The inevitable accepted, I tugged my zip down and freed my engorged cock. Tension and anticipation ramped through me as I wrapped Neve’s panties around my cock and began to stroke myself.
The hard piston-fast tugs were nowhere near as glorious as I knew her tight, wet pussy would’ve been. My dick didn’t care. Within seconds my balls drew up tight and urgent. A thick curse ripped from my throat, my vision blanked and hot spurts spilled onto my lace-covered hand.
When I caught my breath, I staggered a few steps and dropped onto the sofa and accepted my reality. Neve Nolan was a fever in my blood. One I was certain wouldn’t easily be dispersed.
Acceptance brought a little questionable relief.
And two dozen churning questions.
How did I break down Neve’s walls? Why the hell did I want to when my own were built on questionable foundations?
And beyond that, could I go ahead without coming clean about my past?
But fuck...how the hell did you tell the woman you were insanely attracted to that all signs pointed to the fact that three years ago you’d been roofied and ended up in bed with your cousin’s fiancée?
A chill burrowed deep into my bones, tightening every muscle in my body in anger and frustrated bitterness.
There was no way to relate that story without inducing disgust and mistrust. Hell, I was shocked and disgusted at myself for falling for the trap of going for a drink with Penny in the first place.
As for trust, how could I begin to trust anyone when I didn’t even trust myself?
The answer was shockingly clear.
I couldn’t.
I was better off heeding my instinct to keep things strictly business.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Damian
INSTINCT.
That bloody useless and fickle thing changed its mind the moment I stepped off the helicopter early afternoon the next day, and saw Neve waiting on the edge of the helipad.
Last night, her cocktail dress might have looked spectacular, but the jade-green sundress gracing her body today was equally breathtaking.
The halterneck number displayed her flawless, lightly tanned shoulders and arms, and curved over her neat waist and hips to end a couple of inches above the knee, leaving her endless legs bare and immediately triggering images of them wrapped around my waist.
My situation wasn’t helped by the fact that I’d spent yet another restless night fighting the temptation to return to her hotel and talk her into finishing what she’d started.
I approached, my resistance crumbled to dust as the churned air from the rotor blades whipped Neve’s dark blonde hair across her face. She lifted a hand to slide strands off her cheek. A small gesture but my seriously sex-deprived state meant the motion of watching her tuck her long hair behind her ear was hell on my groin. Or perhaps it was that bold confidence in her eyes that threatened to undo me.
Undeniably, something about a strong, confident woman pushed all my buttons.
Or had once upon a time before another woman’s actions had shattered my trust.
That I could be in the throes of resurgence...that Neve was the instrument of that reversal...unnerved me, enough to slow my approach.
She didn’t seem anywhere near as afflicted. She eyed me, her smile so annoyingly neutral I yearned to pin her against the nearest wall until she begged for my cock.
‘Welcome to Nevirna Resort and Spa, Westport.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied, unable to resist checking her out one more time before glancing around. ‘This place looks great.’ Much better than the pictures in the report my people had put together.
‘Thank you.’
We locked gazes as a member of staff offloaded my weekend bag. For several exquisite seconds, everything we did last night flashed between us. The fire banked by that unsatisfactory jacking off roared back to life.
It was pointless to hide it so I let my lust blaze in my gaze.
Her nostrils flared for a nanosecond, my only hint that she’d registered my intention before she regained control.
‘Did you have a good flight, Mr Mortimer?’ Sam asked as she and Tyler joined us.
‘It was uneventful.’ I’d buried myself in work to stop me from thinking about Neve or Gideon.
Each problem would have my attention soon enough. One sooner than the other.
Neve waved us towards a deluxe golf buggy. ‘Would you like a quick tour before you’re delivered to your room?’
‘Sure, why not?’
We headed for the four-man buggy and I slid beside her as she took the wheel. Unlike last night’s evocative scent, her perfume today was light, wispy, like the first burst of spring. Hints of apple and lemongrass teased me, sparking an intense need to bury my nose in that sweet curve of her neck and inhale her skin. Or take a juicy bite out of her.
I contented myself with placing my arm along the top of the bench seat, letting strands of her unfettered hair fall over and caress my arm as we set off. Aware that I risked another hard-on if I stared too long at the legs exposed by her hitched-up dress, I redirected my attention to my surroundings.
Tastefully manicured gardens, artistic stone fountains, infinity pools, intimate outside dining areas perfect for al fresco or candlelit dinners—the resort was charming and very well put-together. And much bigger than I’d originally thought.
‘Do you get much business from the golf club next door?’ I’d spotted the golf course as we’d come in to land.
‘About twenty per cent.’
I nodded. It was a balanced ratio that meant she wouldn’t be at the mercy of the club if it went bust. Unlike last time when she’d had very few contingencies.
She pulled up in front of a sprawling two-storey building that looked like the main hub of the resort, stepped out and nodded to a hovering valet.
‘I’ve arranged lunch for us. My chef cooks a mean lobster. I hope you’re hungry.’ Her smile was aimed at the twins but the look in her eyes was reserved for me. Echoes of lustful moans, lashes of pleasure, grunts of hunger bounced between us. My gaze dropped to her chest and her nipples were hard points beneath the thin layer of her dress.
Saliva rushed into my mouth, the need to taste the rosy buds I’d been denied last night pounding through my veins. ‘I’m ravenous. Lead the way.’
The faintest blush stained her cheeks as she turned and headed inside.
The main reception area was just as impressive as the outside. A glass-and-stone muted waterfall feature formed an eye-catching centrepiece with the reception desk and seating area framed around it. Wide hallways shot off at intermittent angles and it was down one of them that she led us into the bright sunlit restaurant.
She took charge, confidently making recommendations on food and wine. I nodded without really paying attention and ate whatever was placed in front of me.
I was too busy wondering when I could get Neve alone, how best to batter down the hostility bristling from her, when I noticed the silence.
I looked up to find three pairs of eyes fixed on me with varying expressions of irritation and discomfort.
‘Beg your pardon, can you repeat that?’
Sam smiled. ‘We were talking about our families. Did you know that when Neve inherited this place from her grandparents it was nothing but a four-bedroom B & B?’
I switched my attention to Neve, saw the wariness in her watchful gaze. Shit, I really did a number on her if divulging news of what had to be an amazing accomplishment made her tetchy.
‘I didn’t know that. Consider me impressed.’
‘Yeah, so were we.’ Tyler smiled as he rose. ‘Thank you for a lovely lunch, but, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to work.’
I switched my gaze to Neve as the twins departed. Her expression remained sceptical but marginally less guarded.
‘The other question Sam asked was about your family,’ she said. ‘Are your parents back in England too?’
I tensed, then forced myself to relax.
So she was interested in me beyond sex. While the thought was gratifying, the subject matter was far from welcome. My parents belonged to a box I rarely liked to visit. A box that represented secret childish yearnings that would never be fulfilled. A box I’d buried a very long time ago when I’d learned to thrive without emotional crutches.
I wanted to refuse but the look in her eyes compelled an answer.
‘No. They live in Greece.’
She leaned forward. ‘Oh? Where? I visited Athens very briefly a long time ago. Loved it. The people are so warm and friendly.’
My smile felt as tight as the bitterness twisting inside me. ‘My parents didn’t go to Greece for the warmth or friendliness, I’m sure. Their reasons were far less ecologically inclined.’
She flinched, and silence dropped like an anvil, smashing a briefly pleasant atmosphere. I felt a little bad. Not enough to dilute the brutal truth though.