His Private Mistress

by Shaw Chantelle

  She didn’t want to want him; he understood that and sympathised. He didn’t enjoy being held at the mercy of his hormones, either, and it was only when he had accepted that desire was one of a multitude of intense emotions he felt for her that he’d been able to relax and bide his time.

  ‘The dress was a good choice,’ he said lightly, wanting to put her at her ease.

  But couldn’t help adding huskily, ‘You were always the most beautiful woman in the world to me.’

  Eden took a shaky breath and closed her mind to the fact that he spent most of his life surrounded by exotic models. ‘Thank you,’ she replied quietly. ‘Had you considered wearing glasses?’

  His smile would melt an iceberg, she acknowledged with a sigh. She wanted to remain cool and aloof but it was difficult when he looked at her with such warmth in his dark eyes, and the bitter fury of a few hours ago seemed to have vanished.

  ‘The car will be here in a minute to take us to the theatre. I thought we could eat afterwards, as the show has an early start. Are you happy with that, cara?’

  She would be happy to stand here looking at him for the rest of the evening, but she could hardly say so. His black dinner suit emphasised the lean hardness of his body, and she wondered rather desperately if she should ask for a drink. A couple of glasses of wine might anaesthetise her reaction to him.

  A discreet knock at the door heralded Room Service—champagne on ice with two glasses, and an exquisite bouquet of cream roses. Rafe handed them to her, selecting a single bloom that had been trimmed into a corsage.

  ‘I thought you would like to wear a flower on your dress,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting as he surveyed the creamy expanse of her naked shoulders. ‘But there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to pin it.’

  He was too close, too vibrantly, excitingly alive, and way too much for her to cope with, Eden thought despairingly as she took the flower from his grasp. ‘It can go here, at the front,’ she muttered, struggling to slide the pin into the low-cut bodice of her dress, and he moved closer still, taking the corsage from her nerveless fingers and attaching it so that the rose bud nestled in the valley between her breasts.

  ‘Lucky flower,’ he murmured teasingly, and she gave up all hope of acting cool.

  OK, so she fancied him, hungered for him, if she was honest. She knew it and so did he, and she would just have to deal with it, but at least while they were at the theatre she could drop her guard for a few hours and simply enjoy his company.

  The show—a musical starring several internationally famous actors—was spectacular, and Eden enjoyed every minute of it. During dinner afterwards, Rafe entertained her with amusing stories from life on the racing circuit, and she rediscovered the man she had fallen in love with five years ago. He was witty and charming and seemed determined to steer the conversation away from the past, which suited Eden fine—she didn’t want to think of anything but here and now.

  Yesterday was filled with disillusionment and pain, and tomorrow loomed an uncertain spectre, but now she had Rafe’s undivided attention and she intended to make the most of it.

  It was late when the limousine drew up outside the restaurant, and she was forced to admit she was glad they were spending the night at the hotel rather than travelling back to Wellworth. The soft leather seats of the Mercedes were inviting, and she closed her eyes for a moment that stretched to minutes, unaware that her head had settled on Rafe’s shoulder. The voice in her ear was an intrusion, and she blinked as his face came into view, so close that she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Was this still part of her dream, or was it reality? she wondered. In her dream Rafe had lowered his head, the touch of his mouth as light as thistledown on hers, but had he kissed her or had she imagined it? She ran her tongue over her lips, trying to recapture the taste of him, and his eyes narrowed, a frown forming on his brow when he watched the way she tried to disguise her limp as she walked up the steps to the hotel entrance.

  ‘You’re tired, cara, it’s been a long day for you. You must be desperate to climb into bed.’

  Desperate to climb into his bed more like, a wicked voice in her head prompted, before every thought was banished from her mind as he swung her into his arms.

  ‘Put me down—everyone’s looking,’ she demanded as she was forced to cling to his shoulders, and his low chuckle reverberated through his chest.

  ‘The doorman and receptionist hardly make a packed audience. Your leg’s hurting—don’t even bother to deny it. You could barely walk up the steps. I blame myself,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ve overexerted you.’

  He hadn’t, but a list of the ways he could overexert her filled her wayward mind, and she sighed, fighting the urge to run her hand along his jaw and feel the faint stubble already evident, although he had shaved only a few hours before. He cradled her in his arms as the lift whisked them to the top floor and insisted on carrying her along the corridor to their suite, where he deposited her gently on the sofa.

  ‘Do you think you can manage to get undressed?’ he queried, his voice laced with concern, and Eden dropped her head as colour flooded her cheeks.

  No, I need you to undress me, very slowly, answered the demon who had taken up residence in her head, and she gave herself a mental shake.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him brightly.

  ‘Can I get you a nightcap?’ He walked across to the bar and she couldn’t drag her eyes from him, watching the way he moved with the lithe grace of an athlete.

  Now that he had discarded his jacket she could see the powerful muscle definition of his abdomen beneath his silk shirt and she ached to run her hands over him, feel his golden, satin skin beneath her fingertips and the brush of dark chest hair against her palms. He exuded a magnetism, a primitive sexual

  energy that tore through her barriers, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds, willing her self-control to reassert itself.

  She didn’t need any more alcohol, that was for sure. The champagne must have gone to her head and was the reason she felt hot and breathless. ‘I think I’d better have coffee, strong and black, please. It might clear my head,’ she added under her breath, and he gave her an assessing look.

  ‘If you’re worried I’m going to jump on you, don’t be. I never pounce unless invited.’

  He’d already made that clear earlier in the evening, she recalled miserably. It wasn’t him she was worried about. He wasn’t the one racked by desire and, if there was any pouncing to be done, she had a horrible feeling she would be the culprit.

  ‘Actually, I think I’ll just go to bed.’ In her desperation to reach the sanctuary of her room, she stumbled and would have fallen but for the strong arms that caught her and lifted her into the air.

  ‘Easy, there’s no need to hurry,’ he chided softly, but he didn’t understand her urgency to break the spell he had cast over her and she wriggled frantically.

  ‘I have to go to bed now,’ she told him fiercely.

  ‘Why?’ His eyes narrowed as he glanced down at her tense face and misinterpreted the reason for it. ‘Surely the pleasant evening we’ve spent together proves that you have no reason to fear me, that I can restrain myself from ripping your clothes off, so what’s the reason for your frantic rush?’

  ‘You are,’ she flung at him furiously, overwhelmed by the stark memory of how he had frequently ignored buttons and fastenings and simply torn her clothing from her body in his desperate fervour to possess her. The air between them crackled with electricity, her heart was pounding, and for the life of her she couldn’t drag her gaze from his face.

  ‘I see.’ His eyes were hooded and unfathomable, his voice so indifferent that she felt like crawling under a stone, but the arms that tightened around her told a different story, and she gasped when he hauled her close, allowing her to feel the rigid proof of his arousal. ‘I think we’re both suffering from the same ailment,’ he murmured as he lowered his head, his mouth hot and hard on hers, denying her the chance to resist, althou
gh, God help her, she tried. ‘We always communicated better without words, cara,’ he told her as she opened her mouth to argue and he captured her denial with his tongue.

  Instantly, Eden was transported back to a time when his heated outbursts of temper had ended in passion, anger swiftly replaced by desire, and heat flooded through her body, pooling between her thighs. For the sake of her sanity she should fight him, the voice in her head insisted, but as he lifted her into his arms the room spun, and she curled her arms around his neck. He smelled so good, tasted so good, she thought as her face was pressed into his neck and she explored the faint stubble on his chin with her tongue.

  ‘Who needs words when we have this?’ Rafe whispered as he sank onto the sofa and drew her down to his lap, his mouth trailing a line of kisses along her neck to the valley between her breasts. ‘You are so beautiful, cara mia, and I have missed you so much.’ His lips found hers once again and coaxed them apart so that his tongue could probe between them in an erotic exploration that made her tremble. She was unaware that he had slid the strap of her dress over her shoulder until she felt the cool air on her breast, but before she could murmur a protest he cupped the soft mound in his hand and she closed her eyes as sensation ripped through her. He drew the zip of her dress down so that the bodice fell to her waist, and she held her breath as he lowered his head and took one hard peak into his mouth. Pleasure engulfed her and she arched her back, linking her hands around his neck to hold him to his task of suckling her.

  ‘Your breasts were always incredibly sensitive,’ he said thickly as he transferred his attention to her other nipple, but she was beyond speech, beyond conscious thought, and she groaned when his tongue tormented the throbbing peak, her fingers scrabbling with his shirt buttons in her desperation to feel the warmth of his body against hers.

  His bronzed skin was beaded with sweat that dampened the whorls of dark chest hair, and she ran her hands hungrily over him, feeling the thud of his heart beneath her fingertips. Her dress was split to mid-thigh on the side of her uninjured leg, but when she felt his hand slide beneath her skirt she tensed.

  Instantly, he sensed her withdrawal and his lips sought hers again, stroking over them, slow and sweet, before deepening the kiss so that she was utterly lost, and she sighed her pleasure when she felt his fingers move beyond the lace band at the top of her stocking to settle on the quivering flesh of her inner thigh.

  It had been so long, she thought feverishly, her body on fire as she felt him ease his hand beneath her silk thong. All the time she had been working abroad,

  ordinary emotions like passion and desire had been buried deep in her subconscious, but as Rafe gently caressed her they flooded back and she clung to him, desperate for him to touch her even more intimately.

  ‘You see, cara,’ he whispered, ‘this is how we communicate best. You want me—your body doesn’t lie, see?’ He parted her tenderly and slid his finger in deep, watching the way she arched and pushed against him. She was ready for him, hot and moist, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to tear off his clothes and take what she was offering. No woman had ever affected him the way Eden did, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the ache in his loins. Her perfume, a light, floral fragrance, assailed his senses and he buried his face in her neck, breathing her in. He wanted to push her back against the cushions and drag her long skirt aside to reveal those long, shapely limbs he remembered so well. He wanted to plunge into her and feel her muscles close around his shaft. Just the thought of it made him so hard that he was sure he would explode, but he was aware that he needed to take things slowly.

  She was so responsive, such an innately sensual woman, that she must have had other lovers during the past four years. The idea made his body clench; she was his woman, his, and he was determined that she would never forget it. He would use all his skill and expertise to bind her to him. He knew how to please her and he felt a surge of primitive satisfaction as he moved his fingers inside her and felt her muscles contract. She was breathing hard, her whole body tense and trembling, and the speed of her climax took him by surprise. Perhaps there hadn’t been many other lovers and suddenly he didn’t care, from now on there would only be him. Her sobbing gasps of pleasure turned him on and he vowed that her cries would be heard for the rest of the night as he wrung every ounce of pleasure from her body.

  Eden came back to earth to find that Rafe had eased her off his lap and she was lying on the sofa with the bodice of her dress down around her waist. For a moment she closed her mind to the voice that warned her she was on a path she was going to regret following. But how could she regret this? This was Rafe, the only man she had ever loved, and making love with him felt so right. Her body had waited patiently for him for four years but it wouldn’t wait any longer; she needed him now.

  ‘You don’t know how often I’ve dreamed of you wrapping your long legs around me, cara,’ he murmured, and his words shattered the spell. His hand slid up her uninjured leg and he hooked his fingers around the top of her stocking, intent on drawing the sheer hose down. She tensed, desire quickly replaced by panic. He was expecting to remove her stockings and reveal the slender, tanned legs he had so admired. She couldn’t bear to watch the revulsion that would surely cross his face when he saw her scars.

  ‘Rafe, no, I can’t.’ She pushed his hand away and sat up, frantically trying to adjust the straps of her dress.

  For a second Rafe frowned, but then his expression cleared and he took her hand to draw her to her feet. ‘I agree, cara. I don’t want our first time together after all the years apart to be a hurried fumble on the sofa. I want to make love to you all night in the comfort of a double bed, before we fly to Portugal tomorrow.’

  ‘Portugal!’ Eden stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown another head. ‘I’m not going to Portugal.’

  Rafe was already tugging her towards his room, seemingly oblivious to the dismay in her eyes, and he sighed when she pulled her hand free.

  ‘I know it’s sudden but the next two races are back to back—Portugal and then the Italian Grand Prix at Monza. I’m sorry, cara, but there’ll still be time for us, I promise you.’ He tilted her chin and bestowed a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. His lips were warm and enticing and for a moment Eden closed her eyes and gave rein to the fantasy that involved walking into his bedroom and allowing passion to consume her in its fiery blaze.

  ‘Rafe, I’m not going to Portugal or anywhere else, least of all your bedroom.’ With a supreme effort she put some space between them and he dropped his hand to his side, his eyes suddenly hooded as the silence between them thrummed with tension.

  ‘What do you mean, cara?’ he asked, but she wasn’t fooled by his deceptively quiet tone and shivered at the hardness in his eyes. ‘You know I’m committed to compete for the remainder of this season. How can we maintain any kind of relationship if you refuse to travel with me, or do you expect me to fly back to England whenever I have the chance?’

  ‘I don’t expect you to do anything. Why do you expect that you can just walk back into my life and demand that I rearrange it around you?’

  ‘Obviously I mistook your eager response as an indication that you wanted to give our relationship another chance,’ Rafe said coldly. ‘I didn’t realise that you were looking for a one-night stand.’

  ‘I wasn’t looking for anything—you started it…’ She broke off, miserably aware that even if she hadn’t made the first move she’d practically screamed her eagerness from the rooftops.

  ‘At least be honest, Eden,’ he taunted. ‘Sexual frustration is nothing to be ashamed of. If you just want to scratch an itch, that’s fine with me.’

  ‘So you want to give our relationship another chance, do you, Rafe?’ Eden hissed. ‘But how amazing. Nothing’s changed. You still expect me to make all the compromises, to follow you around the world, flaunted in the papers as your blonde tart and held at the mercy of your father’s contempt.’

  ‘My father is a good man, a great
man, and I won’t have you sully his reputation with your spite,’ Rafe threw at her, his black eyes burning with fury. ‘We had something good, something more than just great sex,’ he said more quietly, his nostrils flaring with the effort of controlling his temper. ‘We could have it again, cara, but not while you maintain this hate campaign against the man I respect more than any other. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him,’ he told her, his voice ringing with emotion. ‘I’m trying very hard to accept that I misjudged you four years ago, and that it was Gianni who lied to me, not you.

  But it’s difficult,’ he admitted rawly. ‘I loved him, yet in the end I couldn’t save him or make him happy enough to want to continue his life. Isn’t it enough that you’ve made me doubt my own brother? Don’t start on my father, too.’

  ‘So what are you suggesting?’ Eden queried tightly. ‘That we pick up where we left off, our affair played out in every tabloid that sees us as easy pickings? What did we really have, anyways, other than an energetic love life?’

  ‘We had more than that,’ he insisted, and she shook her head sadly as memories crowded back.

  ‘Did we? Most of the time I was bored and lonely. The focal point of my day was when you came back from the track, and I was so unsure of myself, of my place in your life, that I was desperate for your attention. I turned into someone I didn’t like very much,’ she whispered. ‘I was clingy and pathetic, always looking over my shoulder to see who you might be planning to replace me with. I don’t want to become that person again, Rafe, and despite what you think I don’t want you.’

  It would be eminently satisfying to make her eat those words, Rafe thought darkly, and he could, they both knew. Even now she couldn’t disguise her quiver of awareness when he moved closer. It would be so easy to sweep her into his arms and carry her to his bed. Her physical resistance would be minimal, but mentally it would be a different matter, and when he made love to her he intended that there would be no barriers between them.