Cecelia liked his patient silence. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of reaction that she could read in his expression as she revealed the dark truth, and Cecelia inwardly thanked him for that. ‘She was at a party, I’ve been told.’
‘Was it a one-off—?’ he started to ask, but Cecelia cut in.
‘No, it was a regular occurrence. My mother loved to party, she lived a very debauched life.’
‘And you lived with her?’
‘I did.’ Cecelia nodded.
‘What was that like?’
She wanted warm memories of her early childhood.
Cecelia wanted to say that in spite of everything there had been so many amazing times and that despite her mother’s ways she’d been loved.
Yet she could not, and so she described what it had been like to live with her mother. ‘Unsafe.’
Yes, he understood her a little better now.
He thought of her neat desk and tidy drawers and her utter reluctance to unbend and have fun, but now he watched as she reached for her purse and stood.
‘We had better get back,’ Cecelia told him, deciding that she had said far too much.
‘No, sit,’ Luka said, but she shook her head.
‘I don’t have time to sit by the river and reminisce,’ Cecelia said. ‘And neither do you. You have a meeting with Garcia at ten.’
‘I’ve already said he can wait.’
Well, she wouldn’t.
Cecelia walked off swiftly, embarrassed and unsure why she had told him about her mother when usually she did all she could to conceal that side of her past.
Usually she loathed people’s reactions to it—their shocked expressions and the recriminations. She felt like crying as she remembered her so-called friends’ reactions at boarding school when they had stumbled on the salacious news articles and the endless dissection of her mother’s death.
Schooldays had certainly not been the best times of Cecelia’s life.
They had read out every embarrassing detail to each other with relish as she had lain in her bed in the dorm, night after night. And then had come the endless questions.
‘Was it a party or an orgy your mother was at?’ Lucy, the ringleader had asked. ‘And what do they mean by “compromising position”?’
It hadn’t been much better during term breaks. Cecelia’s pace quickened as she thought of her aunt and uncle. They had rarely mentioned her mother and when they had they’d spoken in disapproving tones.
The deeper truth was that home had been no better, because actually her aunt and uncle had rarely spoken to her at all.
As for Gordon—well, with him, her mother had been she who must not be named, just a sordid part of Cecelia’s past that was best forgotten.
Yet Luka had wanted to know more about it.
‘Wait,’ he called, and though she did not slow down he soon caught up with her. ‘Why walk off when we’re talking?’
‘Because there’s work to do, because...’ You’re work.
Constantly she had to remind herself of that fact.
Four more weeks of this felt too long, but then Cecelia reminded herself that he would be away for the next two.
She would be mad to get involved with him.
Mad.
She wasn’t flattering herself to believe she could have him.
Cecelia also knew Luka well enough to know it would only be for a night, or a couple of weeks at best.
Cecelia knew, absolutely, how it would end—indifference, then avoidance—for she had seen it all too many times, and the trouble was that she did not know how she would recover.
She had never felt such violent emotions about someone before.
Luka Kargas was her one weakness and that would never do.
And so, after their gorgeous riverside dinner, they took the elevator back up in silence. Back in the office, she went to set up for the meeting that had been rescheduled and delayed over and over again. She made sure his notes were on his desk and she tried to ignore the rich scent of him as she chatted online with Stacey, who was Mr Garcia’s PA.
‘He’s going to be another half-hour,’ Stacey said, and Cecelia inwardly groaned for she just wanted this day to be over with. ‘Are you able—?’ Her voice cut off and the screen went black, and only then did Cecelia register that Luka had deliberately turned the computer off.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she asked.
‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘But you were the one who cancelled this morning’s meeting.’
‘So...’ Luka shrugged ‘...tomorrow you can say that we lost the connection. I can’t sit through a meeting about figures now.’
‘Fine,’ Cecelia snapped.
This bloody meeting had been moved and delayed so many times that she wondered how anyone did business with him.
Yet she knew the answer.
Luka was brilliant.
And they would wait.
‘I want to talk to you,’ Luka said.
‘Is it about work?’ Cecelia asked.
‘No.’
‘Then there’s nothing to discuss. I’ll go and pack for you,’ Cecelia said. ‘And then I’ll be off.’
She headed to his suite.
Usually it took five minutes to pack for him as she had it down pat, but he wasn’t going away for business and his wardrobe here consisted mainly of suits, shirts and ties.
She stood in his suite looking at his wardrobe for a moment as if more choices might appear, and then headed out.
He was sitting on her desk, as he had been this morning, only she chose not to sit down this time.
‘I don’t know what to pack,’ she admitted. ‘Are you staying here tonight?’
Luka nodded.
‘Then I can go to your apartment and select a more casual wardrobe. I’ll bring your luggage in with me in the morning.’
‘Sure.’
She picked up her bag and gave him a tight smile. ‘Thank you for dinner and cake and my gorgeous present.’
‘You’re most welcome.’
His dark eyes met hers and she wondered if she should give him a kiss on the cheek to thank him, just as she would anyone else who had given her such a nice night and gift.
Only he was not anyone.
But tonight of all nights, her hard-won control slipped and she leant in and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
She merely brushed the skin of his cheek with her lips, and she even held her breath to lessen the impact the gesture would have on her senses. She would taste him later; in the elevator she would run her tongue over her lips and recall the warmth of his skin on her mouth.
And she would recall too the ache in her breast at the mere graze against his shirt.
She pulled back and her bag bit into her shoulder as she ached to drop it to the floor and give in to her craving for this man.
Luka did not want to get this wrong.
He read women with ease, and his kiss was so rarely refused—yet with her he could not be certain.
She had chastised him with her eyes on so many occasions, he could almost feel the sting of the slap she would deliver if he put so much as a finger wrong.
It would be worth it, Luka decided.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Cecelia said, her voice a touch high as she willed her legs to move and take her from danger.
Yet, and yet... ‘But if you need anything before that...’
She had said the same words a hundred times before—or was it a thousand times?—but they sounded different tonight.
His response was different tonight too. ‘I need to be with you.’
No slap was delivered, she just stared back. And right when she thought she might finally know his kiss, instead his hands came to her arms.
‘Aren’t you going to try it on?’
She thought again of those slender dark fingers in her hair and his mouth near her cheek as he did the clasp, only this time, instead of refusing, she nodded.
‘Let me
help,’ Luka said. He took her bag from her shoulder and retrieved the present and then dropped the bag to the floor.
He slowly prised open the box and as she watched his long finger run over the stones and she felt as if he was stroking her on the inside.
Luka could hear the trip in her breathing and felt the charge in the air; he breathed in the scent of seduction. For that was what she did, Luka concluded—without so much as a word or a move, she seduced.
‘Turn around,’ Luka said, and he moved from lounging against her desk.
Cecelia did so.
At his simple command she turned and faced the wall.
She had known how this evening would end, how this year would end.
And they ended tonight, she was suddenly rather certain of that.
But it didn’t matter now.
She was leaving.
Cecelia went to lift the long ponytail she had retied many times today, but he pushed her hand down. ‘I’ve got this,’ Luka said.
She could barely breathe as she felt his hands come around her throat and the brush of his fingers against the pulse in her neck. He was tall and, she was certain, hard behind her, and she ached to lean back into him.
She felt the coolness of the necklace fall between her breasts as he put it on and the brush of his fingers as he did up the clasp. But then, instead of turning her around to admire the necklace, his fingers moved to the tiny bolero. She both heard and felt his voice. ‘I hate this,’ he said, and his words reverberated deep within her as he pushed the fabric down over her shoulders.
Luka would not rush this, for he had waited a long time and so first he removed the little bolero that he had loathed on sight.
One arm was freed, and then the other, and as the garment fell silently to the floor, she felt it dust her calf.
She shivered as he ran fingers along the bare flesh of her arms, something he had wanted to do all night.
‘Luka...’ His name from her lips was so loaded with lust that he did not take it as a reproach. Instead, he lifted her hair and the spine that had teased him this morning was now his to explore.
She felt his lips on the back of her neck as soft as the kiss she had delivered to his cheek and the message was the same, for it felt like a promise.
Every notch to her spine that was exposed by her dress was rewarded with a graze of his mouth, and then there was the ache of no contact for a moment.
Followed by delicious relief.
‘I want to see this necklace on you as it should be seen,’ he said. She felt his hands on her neck as he undid the tie of her halter neck and she bit her lip as he undid her flesh-coloured strapless bra.
Her breasts felt heavy and there was a yearning for his touch there, but instead he freed her hair and arranged it over her shoulders. For a second, just a second, his fingers grazed her breasts.
He felt her hard nipples, and now it was his breathing that was jagged for the longing to see her was intense. But their first kiss would be a naked one, Luka decided.
Cecelia could barely stand. She heard a noise and glanced to the side, seeing Luka toss his jacket over a chair. She turned back to face the wall, not sure whether she could bear to watch him undress.
And then she heard him strip off his shirt and she almost folded over at the thought of his naked chest behind her.
Her thighs were trembling and she would have no choice but to ask to sit soon, but then came his hands on her shoulders and another command. ‘Turn around.’
Now she faced him and he looked at her usually pale face all flushed as if she’d already come. But instead of reproach in her green eyes there was the beckoning of an aurora as they glittered with the promise of what was to come.
‘It’s looks beautiful.’
The necklace fell between her breasts yet, as fine as it was, it garnered only a glance because he had found perfection elsewhere. He experienced a fierce desire to taste her there and to explore with his fingers, though they had not yet so much as kissed.
His lips were warm as they brushed over hers. Her breasts got the tease of his naked skin as their bodies came together, then his arms pulled her in as she moaned at the contact. He tasted of anise and all things forbidden and delicious.
And then he kissed her hard and she kissed him back hungrily, for she had craved him for close to a year. Her hands slipped through the arms that held her and came up behind his head to pull him closer.
He had expected reticence, that her tongue would require his coaxing, yet instead together they fuelled urgent desire. The woman who rarely blushed, who was always so cool and distant now burnt at his touch. He had imagined a slow seduction perhaps, and then he laughed in his head that he had thought her a virgin for the woman in his arms was wanton and wild.
He pressed against her hips and her grip tightened in his hair.
Tiny nips and wet, hot kisses were shared as Luka pressed her to the wall. She was grateful for the support it gave as her legs were trembling.
Luka pressed into her and moved her hands from his head and down past his flat stomach to the hard heat that was pressed into her.
He pulled back and their foreheads met as they watched her free him.
And, because it was Luka, of course he had protection to hand. But before he was lost to latex, Cecelia held him for a moment, as she had so long wanted to—stroking his thick, hard length as beads of silver moistened her palm.
She licked her lips and he moaned a low curse, for he wanted to carry her now to his suite. Luka wanted the rest of Cecelia’s clothes to be gone, but his want was more immediate now. He pushed her hand away and sheathed himself with rapid, practised ease and then got back to her mouth.
He was so tall that even with Cecelia in high espadrilles she was no match for him.
Their teeth clashed and suddenly too much was not enough. He pushed up the dress and his hands roughly roamed her inner thighs and felt her hot and wet as he tore at her knickers and then crouched enough to sear into her.
He was rougher than she had ever known yet there was liquid silk to ease his path.
Cecelia had never been more frantic and as he lifted her legs she wrapped them around him. He was strong enough with his grip to allow her to hold his face and kiss him back hard.
It was the roughest and most delicious coupling.
For they matched.
His hands held her buttocks and his fingers dug in so deep that they would surely leave a bruise, yet she ground onto him. And far from reticence, it was Cecelia coaxing him to come. ‘Luka!’ She could not focus on kissing, and she tore her mouth away. He could feel the tease of intimate muscles and he thrust in hard and then swelled to the tight grip of her orgasm and her sensual sob called him to deliver deep.
Luka did, shuddering his release deep into her to the last twitches of hers.
And that part had her dizzy. The moan of him carried without breath to her ears, and the sensual slide of their hot, damp bodies as they slowly brought themselves back from the far reaches of the divine space they had been in together. Kissing again, with languorous relish as the world faded in.
He lowered her down and she could feel the thump, thump of his heart against the flutter of hers. Cecelia rested her head on his shoulder and she was herself for the first time.
And herself was more reckless than she had ever dared to be.
‘Come on.’ He was tidying up, picking up discarded clothes, ready to be headed for his suite and to bed, to resume proceedings, this time at a more leisurely pace.
But she would not be waking up there, Cecelia decided.
One taste of heaven was more than enough and she had always sworn to leave before he dictated terms.
‘I need to get home.’
She picked up her bra, but since it would be almost impossible to do it up she pushed it into her bag.
‘Cece...’ he said, and she didn’t correct him, but she did pick up her shredded knickers and added them to her bag, and then with rather unstea
dy hands did up her halter neck.
‘I really do need to get home, Luka.’
‘You’re not just running off.’
‘I’m not running,’ she corrected. ‘I just want to go home.’
Her voice was incredibly composed. He looked at the necklace, heavy between gently curving breasts and the gorgeous flush of her climax.
But aside from throwing her over his shoulder, or dragging her, it would seem that he couldn’t stop her from leaving. She had made up her mind.
Usually it would be perfect.
A good orgasm, and then the absence of conversation—except there was more to her that he wanted to explore, and he was rather sure that there was more to come for them.
But she was checking herself in a small mirror compact, as she often did before she headed out.
‘Thanks for an amazing night,’ Cecelia said, and then, just as she had done previously, she leant forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, as if the past half an hour had not taken place.
‘Don’t go home yet,’ Luka said.
‘I want to, though.’
And he couldn’t really argue with that.
He watched as she walked to the elevator and pressed the button.
Cecelia stepped in and pressed for the lobby, unable to stop herself leaning against the cool mirrors, not really surprised by what had taken place.
She had wanted him so badly for months.
A man in a suit got in at the fourteenth floor and another at the seventh.
Cecelia nodded and smiled and then stared ahead as they inched down to the ground floor where she stepped out and walked across the foyer.
The cleaners had their buffers out and were polishing the marble floors.
Cecelia said goodnight to the doorman and stepped out into the night, but there was no cool breeze to greet her.
It was a sultry London night, but as she headed for the underground station she heard her name—‘Ms Andrews?’
She turned around and saw that it was Luka’s driver.
‘Mr Kargas said you worked too late to take the underground.’
And of all the experiences of this night, this was the part she both hated and loved the most.
Loved that she was being taken care of by Luka, that he had thought to see her safely home.
Hated because by his very nature it was a mere temporary, tantalising glimpse of his world.
Claiming His Hidden Heir Page 5