by Annie West
Was that a gasp? His hearing was clogged with his pounding heartbeat.
Her fingers twitched around him and his breath seared from his lungs. The feel of her there was almost too much to bear. And when she slid her fingers up, exploring, lightning flickered at the edge of his vision. He held her still, then guided her lower, gritting his teeth against the need to surge hard and high against her touch.
Too soon, he told himself, even as his buttocks tightened and his hips tilted urgently.
‘Later,’ he whispered, drawing her hand away and kissing her palm. She shivered as he laved the erogenous point on her hand, reminding him of how delightfully responsive she was.
That gave him the focus he needed to pleasure her instead of himself. At this rate his pleasure would come in an instant.
‘Tell me what you like, Leila.’
Leaning down, he tasted her tip-tilted breast and heard her gasp. Gently he blew on her nipple, watching it bead for him.
‘Tell me,’ he demanded.
Her fingers burrowed in his hair, tightening as if to keep him there. ‘Yes. That. I like that.’
‘And this?’ He turned to her other breast, one stroke of the tongue and then he held still, waiting.
‘Yes!’ She moved restlessly beneath him, her hands trying to drag him down to her breast.
‘Say it, Leila.’
Her eyes flashed in the darkness. ‘Kiss me there. Please, Joss.’
He rewarded her with a kiss and then opened his mouth to suckle her hard, revelling as she writhed beneath him.
He caressed her throat, the taut skin over her ribs, the soft flesh at her hipbone, with Leila’s words soft music in his ears. ‘Yes. There. Like that. Please!’
Every caress elicited a sigh, a ripple of tight pleasure and answering caresses of her own. By the time Joss reached her belly he’d never been so aroused.
He let his hand swoop low to her feminine curls and she arched against him.
Game playing could wait. Joss’s control was at an end. Pushing her thighs wide, he palmed her bottom, tilting her pelvis.
‘Yes?’ He paused, needing to make sure.
‘Yes.’ Her soft sigh was an invitation to heaven.
Seconds later Joss did what he’d been craving from the first, one long, sure thrust deep and hard that seated him at her very core.
His skin prickled at that taste of rapture, his eyelids lowering the better to concentrate on the inconceivable pleasure assailing him. In the darkness he felt tight heat draw him down. Leila’s fingers at his shoulders were a sharp reinforcement of pleasure so exquisite it bordered on pain. Was it like that for her too?
With a deep breath he opened his eyes and looked down. Her teeth were sunk into her bottom lip, her eyes closed and brow furrowed. The better to concentrate on pleasure or, it hit him, to stop a cry of pain?
Joss frowned. ‘Leila?’
She didn’t hear him, was lost in her own world. That he could understand. Tentatively he withdrew then surged again, watching her breasts wobble invitingly. Automatically his hand closed over one, a delicious, perfect fit.
Again he moved and the tension in her face eased. Her mouth sagged open in a soundless O of surprise.
He had the rhythm now, gentle at first, watching her eyes open and find his in dazed delight. With each measured movement the tension ramped up between them.
Still he moved slowly, trying not to rush her. She grabbed him hard and he heard breathless gasps as if the onslaught of pleasure caught her by surprise. She shuddered around him, her movements racking her whole body as ecstasy consumed her, her gaze holding his as if afraid to let go.
She tipped him over the edge. He let the dam wall of control shatter and spilled himself into her with a roar of rapture as the darkness collided with a sunburst of heat and power and unbelievable pleasure.
When Joss came to his senses he was draped over her, pushing her into the bed. His dazed brain scrambled towards sanity. Regretfully he rolled to his side, drawing her limp form with him. Her hair slithered between them, making him shiver as if he weren’t sated to the core.
‘Leila?’ He squeezed her shoulder.
‘Hmm?’ She burrowed against him, all languid satiation. Joss grinned, his moment of doubt forgotten.
‘Nothing.’ He brushed the back of her head, letting his hand trail down her hair, swooping the curve of her back and bottom.
Heat stirred again in his groin and Joss froze.
Already?
Then his lips curved in a smile of masculine appreciation. Leila would kill him with her tempting body if he wasn’t careful, but what a way to go!
Carefully he pulled back, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensations, and slid from the bed, hauling up a sheet to cover her.
He strode to the bathroom and switched on the light, whistling between his teeth in anticipation at the thought of joining Leila again. Then he looked down to remove the condom and saw a smear of blood.
His easy satisfaction stripped away in a heartbeat. Frowning, he thought back to Leila’s look of shock as they’d joined. The excruciatingly pleasurable tightness he’d encountered. The way she’d bitten her lip as if to hold back a cry.
Joss’s breath hissed from cramped lungs.
Suddenly bedding his wife wasn’t nearly as straightforward as he’d thought.
* * *
Joss’s departure roused Leila from her dreamy state. Her body still vibrated with the echoes of pleasure. She thought she’d understood, or guessed, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of making love with Joss Carmody.
Was it always like this? This bliss so profound it stupefied?
Remembering snippets of past gossip she doubted it. She could only be thankful Joss had taken the time to make it good for her—make it wonderful. He’d been generous in a way she guessed not all men were.
Another point in his favour.
Leila smiled into the pillow that smelled of Joss and heat and something unfamiliar. Sex?
Her smile died as reality intruded. It had been sex between them and she knew what he expected of his bed partner. No strings. Short relationships. She shook her head, amending that to no relationships.
He wouldn’t want her mooning over him just because they’d shared themselves. He’d talked of sating this lust and then moving on. Wasn’t that what she wanted too?
A moment’s hesitation horrified her into realising she wasn’t ready to move on from the bliss she’d found in Joss’s arms. Not just the climactic pleasure, but the sense of oneness. She’d been alone so long, so very alone. That feeling of incredible closeness with Joss held an allure that beckoned her greedy heart. It was balm to the soul after the wasteland her life had been.
But she’d had her taste of pleasure. She wouldn’t beg for more. Joss would be aghast if he guessed how much their union, that sharing of power, bliss and tenderness, had meant to her.
The bathroom door opened and Joss stalked into the room, backlit by a shaft of light. Leila’s breath clogged at the sight of him, long, solid and moving with the easy grace of an athletic male in his prime.
She swallowed and told herself it was okay to eat him up with her eyes. It would be the last time she’d see him like this.
Her heart dived at the realisation.
He strode towards the bed, but instead of scooping up his clothes he stood, arms akimbo, staring down at her. She felt a blush rise to the roots of her hair and was glad for the sheet covering her.
‘Goodnight, Joss.’ She had to get the words out before her throat closed completely.
‘Goodnight?’ His eyes narrowed and she felt his scrutiny on her flushed face.
She dropped her gaze to the fuzz of dark hair across solid pectoral muscles, preferring not to meet his gaze.
>
‘You said you don’t sleep with your...with women.’ She swallowed hard, digesting the fact she was now one of Joss’s women and striving to squash the flare of jealousy she felt towards those nameless others. ‘So I’ll say goodnight.’
She pasted a smile on her face and made a show of plumping her pillow before lying down. As if she said goodnight to a lover every night and lay naked between the sheets, ignoring the way every slight movement teased her flesh with memories of his touch.
He didn’t move. She frowned, finally meeting his eyes. He scrutinised her as if he’d never seen her.
‘What’s wrong?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing. But...’ He paused and for a moment something like discomfort flitted across his features. ‘How are you? Are you okay?’
Did he know? Had he guessed she’d been totally innocent, not even adept at kissing? Her cheeks turned fiery at the idea of him comparing her to his other women and finding her wanting.
‘Never better.’ She paused and realised it was the truth. Despite some stiffness, she felt marvellous. ‘I’m ready for sleep. Goodnight.’ Determined, she closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing as if exhausted.
‘Are you sure?’ For the first time since they’d met Joss sounded tentative. So, she’d been that obviously inexperienced? Leila shrank inside.
‘Really, I don’t want to talk any more. Goodnight.’
Silence. No sound of him moving away.
‘There’s only one complication.’ His deep voice curled around her like a caress. ‘You’re in my bed.’
Her eyes shot open and she surveyed the room. Horror filled her as she realised her mistake. She hadn’t even noticed. She’d been totally swept up in passion.
Leila gripped the sheets in tense fingers. Now she’d have to leave the sanctuary of the bed and find her clothes under Joss’s scrutiny. He mightn’t feel embarrassed about his nudity but she wasn’t used to showing herself to anyone. She bit her lip, acknowledging that just a short time ago she’d gladly bared herself to Joss. But that was in the heat of passion. This was different.
Taking a deep breath, Leila slid to the side of the bed. ‘I’ll go.’
But before she could get out Joss took the sheet from her and climbed in. Instantly Leila scooted away across the king-sized mattress.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Joining you.’ He lay down, head on the pillow where she’d lain.
‘But...you don’t sleep with—’
‘I thought you didn’t want to talk? But if you’d prefer to chat...’ He propped himself up on one elbow, watching her expectantly.
‘No!’ She refused to participate in a postmortem of what they’d done.
‘Then close your eyes and go to sleep.’ His voice dropped to a gentle note that made sensation ripple deep in her stomach. Longing? If she wasn’t careful she could get used to his tenderness.
To stay here or to brave the open air? Leila told herself she had the guts to walk away, naked as the day she was born. After what she’d endured in the past, a few moments’ discomfort was nothing.
But she wanted to stay. Foolish maybe, but she wasn’t ready to walk away from Joss yet.
A wedge of fear lodged under her ribs, a presentiment of trouble. Leila ignored it and for once chose the easy path.
Silently she rolled away from him, drawing the sheet high.
For long moments she lay stiff and taut, straining to discern any movement. Joss said nothing and at last she began to relax.
Then an arm slid around her bare waist and drew her back against him.
‘What are you—’
‘Hush.’ He settled her in the curve of his body, his hot flesh blanketing her. His hairy thighs tickled the backs of her legs and his powerful chest rose and fell against her back.
Fizzing excitement rose in her blood, a jitter of awareness that they were close enough to—
‘I don’t think this is a good idea.’ She made to pull away but his arm at her waist prevented her.
When he spoke his lips were in her hair, his breath warming her ear. ‘Just relax, Leila. Don’t worry, I don’t expect a repeat performance tonight.’
The stirring hardness behind her told a different story.
Contrarily his statement didn’t reassure her. Why didn’t he want her again? Had it been so very unsatisfactory? Leila blinked, dry-eyed, into shadows.
Had it been a mistake, succumbing to her feelings for Joss? Had it complicated her already difficult situation?
Leila had an awful feeling Joss’s logic about giving in to lust to sate it was flawed. She felt she’d unleashed a genie, a strong, hungry, demanding force, that would be impossible to push back into its bottle.
‘Relax, Leila.’ His words drifted to her, deep and soothing, like the rhythm of his breathing and the gentle caress of his broad hand at her waist. ‘Sleep.’
Since she and her mother had gone to live with Gamil, Leila had been a light sleeper, ever alert for subtle changes in atmosphere that might herald one of her stepfather’s extreme mood swings. She knew she was too wound up to sleep, that it would take her hours.
Yet somehow that thought was the last thing she remembered before falling into deep, refreshing slumber.
CHAPTER TEN
JOSS INSERTED THE KEY that gave basement access to his private lift and waited impatiently for it to descend to him.
He’d left the office after one meeting and rejigged his commitments so he could return to the apartment mere hours after he’d left it.
His mind filled with a vision of Leila, sleeping in his bed, and a groan of pleasure escaped him. She was the problem, the reason he’d cut his work short.
A vigorous, healthy male, he’d had his share of women. But nothing had prepared him for the intensity of pleasure he felt with Leila. He couldn’t put his finger on any one reason for it—her lithe, luscious body, her husky voice urging him on, the rich veil of her long hair that made her look mysteriously sexy and innocent at the same time. Her combative spark that urged him to provoke her. The fact that, even when she panted for his touch, he’d had to work to convince her to have sex with him. The look of wonder in her eyes as he’d brought her to climax.
The fact he’d been her first lover.
The embers of lust that had warmed his belly all morning burst into flame as he lingered on that thought. He’d never considered a woman’s virginity until now. But Leila’s reckless abandonment in gifting hers to him, the sheer beauty of watching her come alive for the first time ever to his touch, stole his breath.
He wanted more.
He’d been semi-aroused all night, sleeping with her yet determined to restrain himself when she was no doubt sore and stiff.
Joss had waited for her to wake this morning, eager to tempt her gently into pleasure. To his chagrin she’d slept soundly as he showered, shaved and loitered over his dressing, till he had no excuse to delay.
He’d revelled in the fact their lovemaking had knocked her out so completely. Yet he’d alternated between the desire to yank back the sheets and concern.
Concern. He didn’t do concern. It was too...personal.
Yet, and it worried him to admit it, he spent more and more time thinking about Leila. Not simply as his hostess or partner in sex. But as a person.
He yanked his tie open. It choked like a noose, constricting his breathing.
Joss didn’t get entangled with women. He was hard-wired to avoid it. He’d spent a lifetime shunning emotional ties and it was impossible he’d start getting wrapped up in them now.
No, this wasn’t emotional. It was simple desire. Pleasure.
A noise roused him and he realised he’d been staring blankly into the open lift. How long had it been there waiting for him to step in?
Even after years in a suit he preferred to work in jeans, with his sleeves rolled up, out of doors.
But he wasn’t working now. He’d come home to be with Leila.
He’d changed his work habits because of her.
Joss waited for anger to rise. Nothing came, not even annoyance. Instead of inconvenience it was pleasure he felt.
Last night they’d entertained in the apartment instead of an exclusive restaurant solely because of his suspicion that Leila had a problem leaving the premises. If someone had told him three months ago that he’d alter his plans for any woman, he wouldn’t have believed it.
But last night had been an unrivalled success, providing the one-on-one time he’d wanted with key players in a relaxed environment. Leila, with her warmth and natural charm, had been a vital part of that.
The lift opened and he walked through the foyer and into the main sitting room.
He stopped. It looked...different. The ultra-modern designer he’d hired had favoured greys and black. Now it struck him that the room looked warmer than he remembered. Welcoming.
His gaze roved a low bowl of vibrant blooms, cushions in burnt orange and rust that softened the sleek lines of the leather sofa. There was a rug he’d only half noticed before, a swirl of colour that warmed the darker furnishings. A small, exquisite Art Deco bronze sculpture stood on an occasional table, its reflection clear in a nearby wall mirror that enhanced the light.
On the arm of a chair he saw a book, face down. He went over and picked it up. A recent political biography. Under it was a newspaper open at a section on university programmes and beneath that a glossy gardening magazine.
Hastily Joss put them down, feeling absurdly as if he’d intruded on Leila’s privacy. He surveyed the room and it hit him what felt different. It felt lived-in. Like a home.