by Leanne Banks
If she followed her sensible self, she would run. It was insane.
It was also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
She knocked back the rest of her martini and pushed aside her professional concerns. For the next hour or two, she wouldn’t think about MD. She would think about Damien and her.
Walking toward the beds by the pool, she had second and third thoughts. She kept walking, though, glancing at the loungers, roped off from the crowd inside and on the patio. A little further and she began to feel uneasy. Perhaps she should go to her room. Perhaps this was totally insane. It was totally insane, but maybe he was worth the insanity.
Emma walked past one more bed and felt the chicken in her start to squawk. Stopping, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She felt her nerve begin to dissolve.
Maybe…
“Emma,” Damien’s voice, low, but strong, reached out to her. “I’m here.”
Sucking in another deep breath, she slowly turned toward him. He stood just outside one of the poolside beds, the light outlining his tall, powerful frame.
Wanting washed over her. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to touch him. Gathering her nerve, she walked toward him. “I almost left,” she confessed, looking into his face, half shielded by the darkness.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said and lifted his hand to her hair.
“Come inside,” he coaxed.
With only his hand on her hair, she followed him inside, distantly aware of the swish of draperies closing behind her. The music from the live band played from a speaker in the pool area, adding to the sensuality of the atmosphere.
“Put your arms around me,” he told her, and she did.
“This is crazy,” she said, inhaling his scent from his open shirt.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his forehead and nose against hers as he slid one hand underneath her hair and the other around the back of her waist. “Wanna stop?”
Her heart tripped over itself. “No,” she whispered.
He pressed the small of her back, guiding her pelvis against his arousal. She felt herself grow hotter with each movement. The air inside the curtained area grew more steamy with each passing breath.
His movements were carnal and suggestive. She wasn’t the least bit threatened, though. She wanted more. Lifting her head, she met his gaze and he guided her against him in a rhythm as old as time.
He swore, pulling her mouth against his and squeezing her bottom. Her heart raced and she felt light-headed. She had never felt this much want, this much need.
Tugging blindly at his shirt, she fumbled with his buttons. He pushed her hand aside and loosened them himself. She spread her hands over his warm, muscled flesh. So strong, so male.
His strength was an aphrodisiac. Distantly sensing his hands on the buttons of her blouse, she felt a draft of air on her back and her chest as her blouse dipped to her chest. One, two, three more seconds and her bra seemed to dissolve.
Her breasts meshed with his chest and she couldn’t withhold a moan. He thrust his tongue into her mouth while he stroked the sides of her breasts. Her nipples peaked even though he hadn’t touched them. Lower, she grew wet and swollen.
“So sweet, so good,” he said, sliding his mouth down her throat, down her chest to her breast.
Emma held her breath, wanting, aching for more.
He gently pushed her back on the lush lounge and followed her down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth.
She arched toward him in pleasure and need. “Oh, Damien.”
“I love the sound of my name on your lips,” he muttered, sliding his lips down to her abdomen, pushing away her skirt. He skimmed his hand beneath her satin panties and found her most sensitive spot with unerring ease.
Emma shuddered at his intimate touch. She felt her body tighten with each stroke of his fingers, each breath that blew over her bare belly. He dipped lower and took her with his mouth.
Pleasured in a way she’d never experienced, she felt as if he were claiming her with his hands, with his mouth. Of its own volition her body shook with the beginning waves of climax.
Pulling away just before she soared, he skimmed his mouth back up her body. Every cell inside her was begging for him to finish her, to fill her up and take her the rest of the way. Her craving for him stole her breath.
“Inside,” she said, clinging to his shoulders, drowning in his black gaze full of potent arousal. “Inside.”
He pushed down his slacks and pulled on protection, then pushed her thighs apart. “Hold on tight,” he said in a voice rough with need. Then he thrust inside her in one mind-blowing stroke.
He filled her, stretching her so that she could barely catch her breath. The way he took her, the way he looked at her felt somehow primitive, as if he was laying claim to her and she would never be the same. Her heart pounding with overwhelming sensations and feelings, Emma couldn’t tear her eyes from his. She lifted her hand to his face, touching his scar. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then rubbed his mouth over her hand.
He began to pump and the pleasure inside her quickly built again. The need edging toward desperation tightened. With each thrust, he took her higher and higher.
“I want it all, Emma. Give it all to me,” he muttered.
His demand, his powerful thrusts and all the feelings she was experiencing were too much. Her body clenched him and a deep spasm of pleasure shot her into a realm of ecstasy she’d never experienced. A second later, he stiffened and swore, shuddering in climax. The experience was so powerful it took her a full moment to begin to breathe again.
Feeling his heartbeat pound against hers, she opened her eyes, half wondering if the earthquake that had taken place between them had brought down their outdoor boudoir if not the entire hotel.
She met his gaze to find him looking at her with an expression of primitive possession and a twinge of surprise. “I knew there was something between us, but—”
“It surprised me, too,” she said, breathless.
“I want you to join me in my suite,” he said and pulled an extra key card from the pocket of his slacks as he got dressed. He handed her the key. “I want more time with you.”
Taking his cue that it was time to get dressed, she gathered her wits, pulled on her clothes and slipped his key into her small purse. She met his gaze. “Is that an order?”
“Not at all,” he said, leaning toward her and rubbing his mouth against hers. He arranged her blouse and smoothed her hair. The considerate gesture took her by surprise. “An invitation. You go first. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”
Her heart squeezed at his admission. “Why not?”
“Because you’re wearing the irresistible expression of a woman who’s just been thoroughly—” He broke off. “Trust me. One look at you and the hounds will be at your heels. Leave first and I’ll catch up with you.”
Feeling off-kilter, she stepped into her sandals and took a few deep breaths. She glanced back at him.
“I’ll catch up in just a minute,” he said.
She peeked out of the curtain and, seeing no one, she walked outside. The tropical breeze played over her skin, soothing her as she walked on the concrete next to the pool. What had she just done? she asked herself. Although Emma’s sexual history was rather sparse, she couldn’t recall any experience that had exploded with such passion. Physically, it had been unbelievable, but there’d been something deeper going on between them…unless she’d imagined it. And should she dare go to his room? Was she out of her mind?
Seconds later, she felt him step to her side and slide his hand around her back. “Okay?”
“Yes,” she said, but her hands were trembling.
He caught one of them and slid his strong hand over hers. “Liar.”
“I’m working on it,” she said defensively. “I don’t have that much experience with this kind of thing.”
“Sex?” he asked, as he guided her toward the elevators.
&nbs
p; She didn’t want to admit just how limited her experience was. “With my boss in a cabana. New for me.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad I got you carried away.”
She took in a deep breath and entered the elevator as the doors whooshed open. She closed her eyes, hating how vulnerable she felt.
“What is it?” he asked.
They were the only people in the elevator. “This is going to sound really crazy, but I don’t want you to think I’m easy.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Easy? I felt like I was breaking into Fort Knox.”
Her heart lifted and her lips twitched. She threw him a sideways glance. “Slight exaggeration.”
He shook his head. “I would have taken you in the office, in my car, in the limo, at the charity event…”
His confession squeezed her heart. “Why me?”
“You have something,” he said, his eyes darkening. “You have something I’ve never had before and I want it.”
The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor and he glanced at the doors as they opened. “But it’s up to you. You have the key to my suite,” he said and walked out of the elevator.
Emma followed him outside of the elevator and slowly walked to her room. Standing outside her door, she looked further down the hall to Damien’s room. She’d thought he was heartless and cold, but he was hotter than a fire on the coldest, scariest night of her life.
She wondered what she had that Damien could possibly want so much. Her heart did a strange flip-flop. Did she have the nerve to go to his room? Did she have the nerve not to go to him?
Ten
Two hours later, after they’d made love again, they sat together on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around them and the stars shining down. Her body was silky and warm within his arms.
“Have you ever done this before?” Emma asked, then shook her head. “Don’t answer.”
The truth was Damien had never felt magic the way he did tonight. “I haven’t done this before, sat on a balcony with a beautiful woman in the middle of the night.”
“I wouldn’t say beautiful,” she said.
“I would,” he said.
“That’s the sex talking,” she said.
But it wasn’t. Damien had glimpsed Emma’s sweetness and not only was she beautiful on the outside, she was beautiful on the inside. She was so loyal. He craved receiving that loyalty for himself.
“A lot of stars up there. What kind of wishes would you make?”
“If I believed in making wishes?” she asked.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I made too many when I was a kid.”
“Blowing out candles on a birthday cake,” she said.
“Shooting star,” he said.
She nodded.
“What kind of wishes would you make?”
She took a deep breath and nuzzled against his chin. “I would wish that my mother would never gamble again. That she would never want to gamble again.”
“That makes sense.” He slid his hand over her silky hair. “Name something frivolous.”
She gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, wow. That’s tough.”
“So much has been about survival.”
“That’s right. You know, don’t you?”
He felt her looking at him. “Yeah, I do.” He paused. “So tell me something frivolous.”
“I’m guessing world peace isn’t acceptable.”
He laughed, hugging her against him. “Not frivolous.”
“Okay,” she said, closing her eyes. “This is hard.”
“You can do it.”
She sighed and smiled. “A new apartment with a Jacuzzi and a wonderful pool.”
“Sounds good.”
“Losing ten pounds,” she added.
“Don’t even think about it. You don’t need to lose anything.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “You could have models, women with perfect bodies.”
“Yours is perfect,” he said, sliding his hands over her soft skin. “Name something else.”
She closed her eyes. “A vacation somewhere exotic.”
“Keep going.”
“A dog.”
“You mentioned that before. So you need a dog nanny, too,” he said.
“Oh, I think that’s going a bit far. Your turn. Name some wishes.”
“I don’t have wishes. I set goals. I give myself targets and exceed them.”
“Spoken like a true tycoon,” she said. “Okay, let’s go further back, back to the time when you believed that blowing out the candles on that birthday cake meant your wish would come true.”
He shook his head, lifting his hand to rub his jaw. “That’s so far back. I don’t know if I can remember. The first few years the family was split up, I made wishes that we could get back together. Wishes that my father and brother hadn’t died in that train accident. Wishes that we hadn’t been too much for my mother to deal with after it happened.”
“That had to have been horrible,” she said.
“Yeah, kinda hard to find something frivolous when your entire world has blown apart,” he said.
“But you eventually decided you wanted a Ferrari,” she said, with just enough humor to lift him out of his gloom.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I did, but you can be damn sure I didn’t count on getting it by blowing out candles on a birthday cake.”
“No, but it proves you’ve had some wishes,” she said.
“Okay, back in the day, I wished for a bike where the chain didn’t fall off every half mile.”
“Did you ever get one?”
“Hell no. By the time I could afford one, I didn’t care that much. I waited a long time to buy my first car because I used public transportation. That first car was a piece of—” He broke off and laughed. “Let me put it this way. It was no dream machine. The roof liner hung down on my head, the color was silver, metal and rust, and it drank oil like an alcoholic drinks booze.”
“How did you accomplish so much with no support at all?”
He shrugged. “I worked,” he said. “All the time. When I wasn’t working, I was in school. By the time I hit twenty-two, I had three sideline businesses—commercial coffee service, accounting for small businesses and microstorage—when I started working for a firm that helped companies streamline and downsize when necessary. I worked my way to the top of that firm and they offered me a VP position. I passed and started my own company. My three sideline ventures exploded, demand for my services shot through the roof. I still lived like a poor foster kid and invested my money. All of a sudden I had more money than I knew what to do with.”
“What a story,” she said. “Talk about self-made. Has it been a total blur?”
He nodded. “A lot of it. The first time I celebrated Christmas in a long time was two years ago on my brother’s yacht. My brother from Atlanta came down for the day.”
“How was that?” she asked.
“Pathetic,” he said, shaking his head. “It might as well have been a funeral. Until we started drinking and playing pool.”
She chuckled. “Sounds interesting. Who won the game?”
“I did, of course. The two of them got way too sloshed. Rafe is always trying to do a rematch. I beat him almost every time.”
Emma sighed and sat silently.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking at least you made a start at getting your family back together,” she said. “And at least you have each other. That’s more than a lot of people have. Nobody has a perfect life.”
“Except for maybe Alex Megalos and Max De Luca,” he said, his resentment rising suddenly.
“Neither of them has had a perfect life. Alex’s father disowned him when he joined the company. And Max’s father nearly ruined the company. On top of that, Max had to deal with his half brother. He was involved in criminal activity. Max’s marriage didn’t start out on the best foot, either.” She stopped suddenly as if she realized she’d revealed far too much. “O
f course, it’s all better now and Max is a wonderful father.”
Damien digested the information, filing each detail away for study at a later time. Emma may have just given him the key he needed to finish Max De Luca. He felt Emma give a little shiver. “Cold? I think it’s time for me to take you back inside and warm you up.”
Dressed in shorts and a tank top over her bikini, Emma accepted Damien’s brother’s hand as she boarded the yacht. She felt Damien just behind her.
“I’m Rafe. Welcome to my humble home at sea,” he said and Emma saw the resemblance between brothers. Dark hair and dark eyes. At first glance, Rafe seemed to have a lighter air about him.
“Emma Weatherfield,” she said. “I’m Damien’s assistant at Megalos-De Luca. Thank you for inviting us.”
She turned her attention to the large gleaming boat. Thankful that her expression was hidden by her sunglasses, Emma tried not to gawk.
Damien gave a rough chuckle. “Humble home? You wouldn’t know humble if it jumped up and bit you.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Rafe said, shaking his brother’s hand.
“It’s generous of you to invite us on such short notice.”
“It’s not as if I had a choice. My brother is a dictator at heart. But it’s my pleasure. If you should decide you’d like a change in environment, I’m certain I could use a woman with your talents in my organization.”
“Don’t start, Rafe,” Damien said in a low voice with inlaid steel.
“I’m much more fun than he is,” Rafe grumbled. “Let me show you around.”
Rafe instructed one of the staff to get their drinks, then led them on a tour of the yacht, the upper level, below deck which included bedrooms, a well-equipped kitchen, an elegant but comfortable living area with a large-screen TV, and last, but not least, a game room with a pool table.
“I’m always trying to get your boss to come down and take some time off, shoot some pool, but he’s married to the job,” Rafe said.
“He just can’t stand it that I beat him last time,” Damien said.
“You’re afraid of a rematch,” Rafe goaded him.