To Sin with the Tycoon

by Cathy Williams

  This was nothing like the luxurious bedroom they had shared in Paris, with its fabulous, ridiculously lavish en suite bathroom. This was basic, but in fairness at no point had she detected anything condescending in his reaction to her mother’s house.

  He pushed himself up and removed his shirt and jumper, tossing them carelessly to the ground, then he stood so that he could rid himself of the rest of his clothing—trousers, boxers, socks. His shoes, he had already kicked off.

  Then he was back on the bed and very, very slowly he unzipped and pulled down the black trousers, taking her lacy briefs with them at the same time.

  He tossed them aside with one hand while using the other hand to part her legs.

  Not that there was any need for him to do that. Her body knew just what to do when it came to making love with him. She settled back with her arm resting lightly over her eyes, her limbs wonderfully loose.

  She knew what he would do. He knew how much she loved it, loved having him down there between her legs. And still, the moment his tongue flicked against her, she couldn’t prevent the soft moan that escaped her lips.

  She arched up, pressing herself against his questing mouth and exploding inside as he licked and teased the throbbing bud. She was so wet for him, so turned on, so ready to have him thrusting inside her—but he continued to torment her by remaining where he was, lavishing all his attention on her aching core and the soft, tender skin of her inner thighs.

  Then he moved up to her breasts, leaving her on the very brink of coming. He drew one nipple into his mouth and played with the other, smiling against her body as he felt her desperate efforts to make as little noise as possible.

  ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he commanded.

  But first he had to get hold of protection, which was damned difficult, because it involved finding his wallet and then going through it in the darkness, while they both craved release.

  He never took chances. Ever. It was one of the most significant things that indicated just how he felt about any woman being able to tie him down. Even at the very height of passion, he would rather walk away from making love than take a chance on an unwanted pregnancy.

  Why was that? Didn’t everyone, to a greater or lesser extent, have within them the urge to procreate, to see their bloodline continue? She had never asked him, had known that that was a boundary line she would cross only at her own peril.

  Yet he knew everything there was to know about her now. He knew about her miserable childhood, the effect it had had on her, on her mother... He knew about the circumstances that had driven her mother to take refuge within the safety of her house, trapped by her own fears. He could make sense of her and the way she was from the background she had had.

  But it was a one-way street because there were still so many questions that remained unanswered about him.

  Alice knew that this was just one of the many reasons why it was so dangerous to get back into bed with him. She knew that somewhere in the very core of her, but she couldn’t help herself, because fighting against that knowledge was the realisation that she would rather end up hurt than end up regretful for not having taken the chance.

  With Gabriel, the probability of pain was always right there, huddled close to the promise of pleasure.

  All her thoughts led somewhere, but she couldn’t follow them, because the way he was touching and caressing her made her mind shut down.

  She did as she had been told and wrapped her legs around him and felt him push inside her, big and hard.

  Then he built up a rhythm and she stifled her moans against his neck. She was so highly charged that it took considerable effort to try and hold off so that they could dovetail their orgasms, but she did it, and they came together.

  He reared up, stiffened, the muscles in his shoulders bunched as he gave himself over to wave after wave of pleasure, the same pleasure that was taking her into another dimension. But the questions that had been nibbling away slid out of the shadows and began nibbling again.

  Was this all he was capable of—sex? Did he really have no interest in ever having a family, something and someone more permanent in his life? And, if sex was all he wanted, then why was that? She had seen so many facets of him and yet the way he was pieced together still eluded her and she would dearly love to find out more.

  The pitfalls of being in love: it made you want to know everything about the person you loved. In Gabriel’s case, that would be a suicide mission. That was something she felt in her bones, with gut instinct.

  ‘That was...amazing,’ he murmured, sliding off her, but immediately lying on his side and turning her to face him.

  Alice murmured agreement. Making love had been a conscious decision on her part, but she could still feel tension seeping in, tension at knowing that, whilst she was fully committed to their relationship, he wasn’t.

  It was amazing for him because he had got what he wanted. What he felt was the satisfaction of the victor and it was a satisfaction that was not going to last for ever.

  But she wanted for ever.

  Her own innate honesty compelled her to recognise that she would take what she could for as long as it was on offer because any bit of him was better than nothing. Yet the prospect of the end would hang over her like the hangman’s noose so that every time they made love, every time she laughed with him, felt his arms around her, it would be tarnished with a sense of sadness. She could feel the weight of the end on her shoulders even before what they had actually ended.

  She wondered what difference it would make if she only knew what made him tick. Or at least some of what made him tick.

  ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday,’ she said, languid and content after their love-making. ‘What will you do? Head back up to London? My offer still stands to pop in to Harrisons in Exeter before I come back to work on Tuesday.’

  So cool, Gabriel thought, so composed. No hint of any nagging or trying to wheedle him into staying on...

  The perfect woman—but he couldn’t help feeling a little piqued at her offhand attitude. A tiny amount of possessiveness might have been nice, he found himself thinking. After all, hadn’t he made this trip down here just to see her? That in itself had been a break in tradition.

  ‘What are your plans?’ He turned the question back at her and Alice rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

  Her plans were what they always were—except tomorrow, she conceded, would include an informative chat about the new man in her mother’s life. Aside from that, as long a walk as Pamela Morgan could handle, maybe even making it into the village for tea, some light television and then she would make something for their supper.

  What she would have really liked was to have Gabriel all to herself, but that was an admission she would never make...

  ‘I shall relax.’

  ‘In that case, I might relax here with you,’ Gabriel drawled, propping himself up on one elbow and tracing the outline of her rosy pink nipple with his finger until the prominent bud stiffened in automatic response.

  However cool she might be, her body was as hot as his.

  ‘Really?’ Alice injected a note of surprise into her voice. ‘Surely you must have plans for the rest of the weekend?’

  ‘As of this moment I consider them cancelled.’

  ‘Because you’d rather spend time down here?’

  ‘It’s a beautiful part of the world.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ She noticed that he couldn’t actually admit to wanting to put whatever previous plans he had made for his weekend on hold because he preferred to spend the time with her. ‘Although you might find it a bit boring,’ she said truthfully. ‘I don’t suppose you have much experience of living out in the countryside...’

  ‘I prefer the push and shove of the city. Suits my personality.’

  ‘Aggressive?’
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br />   ‘You said it.’ He idly inclined his head to suck her pouting nipple before settling back into his former position, looking at her, his face only inches away from hers. She had the clearest brown eyes fringed by sooty, thick, dark eyelashes; eyes that were open and wary at the same time. ‘So, sell me this part of the world,’ he invited lazily. ‘Do your best pitch. Wax lyrical about walks in the open fields, tea and scones at somebody’s little shop—maybe a barn dance later at the village hall.’

  ‘Would you be interested in doing any of those things?’

  ‘I think we can eliminate the barn dance.’

  ‘Now, that just makes me wonder if there’s one on at the village hall,’ Alice teased. ‘I can’t see you enjoying walking in the open fields or having scones at the local tea shop, either,’ she mused. ‘Are you one of those city people through and through? Born and raised, would never leave it for longer than five minutes?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ He stiffened fractionally. This was where the caring, sharing had to stop.

  ‘In the country, then? Don’t tell me your parents used to drag you out for Sunday walks? My mum always made sure we went out on a Sunday afternoon for a really long walk, whatever the weather. She liked being out of the house, away from Dad. Although she always had to make sure to get back in time to prepare his tea if he happened to be at home. The closer we got back home, the more anxious and nervous she would become. Course, those walks stopped when I turned eleven, when I preferred to hide out in my bedroom studying or reading.’

  ‘I didn’t have country walks—or any walks, for that matter,’ Gabriel heard himself say roughly. Restlessness surged through him, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin, and he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Then he strolled towards the window, across which the curtains hadn’t been drawn.

  Stark naked, with his back to her, he gazed broodingly out to the dark shapes of fields, hedges, a copse of trees to the right in the distance.

  That, Alice thought, was the sound of a door being firmly shut in her face. She sat up and pulled the duvet up to her chin.

  Eventually he turned round but he didn’t walk back to the bed.

  ‘So...’ A slashing smile lightened the passing shadow that had crossed his face. ‘What exciting things shall we do tomorrow?’

  ‘Aside from the barn dance? We can have a walk, perhaps with Mum, and then look around the village—go to that little shop for tea and scones...’ Enjoy pretending that this is a normal relationship...

  ‘But first thing in the morning,’ she told him firmly, ‘I will have a chat with Mum.’

  * * *

  Pamela Morgan was up bright and early the following morning but the coffee was still hot, ready to be drunk, when Alice made her way down.

  Her thoughts were still all over the place. She had slept with him; she had lost the fight to put her feelings behind her and allow the common sense that had always ruled her life to take over, as she had told it to. As she had needed it to.

  He didn’t know the depth of her feelings—which was something, she supposed—but he knew how much she wanted him and, now, her life had been laid bare for his perusal. Not content with keeping what they had to London, he had invaded her life here in Devon...

  And revealed things she herself hadn’t even known about. Which showed just how much he had managed to ingratiate himself with her mother.

  But then, he was the man who didn’t have to try; the man who could move mountains with a smile, with a lazy turn of his head, with just a look...

  ‘Alice, dear...! How was the meal last night?’ Pamela Morgan was beaming. ‘You never told me what a lovely man your boss was! Such a looker...’

  ‘We need to talk, Mum.’

  ‘Do we, dear?’ But there was a tell-tale flush in her cheeks as she sat down opposite her daughter and fiddled guiltily with her coffee cup.

  ‘A man...? A suitor...? You never said...’ Alice had been hurt when Gabriel inadvertently had told her about a man in her mother’s life but that hurt hadn’t lasted. How could it, when her mother’s eyes were glowing as she chatted happily and with relief about Robin, her friend’s cousin who had moved to the village to start up his own small landscaping business. He was wonderful...they had so much in common. They had only seen each other a handful of times but thanks to him she had managed to venture more and more into the village; he had even taken her to see his company, which was still in the process of being set up.

  Alice was dazed.

  ‘But why didn’t you say anything to me all this time?’ she finally asked, but she knew why.

  ‘Just a few weeks,’ Pamela said uncomfortably. ‘And I knew you’d try to warn me off him, my darling, and I would quite, quite have understood, but...’

  But she, Alice, her loving daughter, would have disapproved, would have issued stern warnings, would have dished out helpful advice by the bucket load, and in the end would have stifled anything that had a chance of surviving. Her mother had wanted to take a chance and she would have been afraid that her daughter would have killed that chance dead.

  Alice wasn’t hurt, she was mortified. Years of helping to prop her mother up had turned her into a hard-edged young woman who had allowed her own disillusionment to colour her behaviour.

  Gabriel’s entrance half an hour later helped to lighten the glum introspection into which she had been plunged and, with an unerring ability to cut to the chase, the first thing he said to her as they were walking out of the house was, ‘You’re upset. You spoke to you mother...and...?’

  It was not yet nine-thirty but already the sun was warm and the open fields were bathed in the clear, unencumbered light so typical of the countryside where buildings and pollution didn’t cloud the view and sully the air. He realised he didn’t mind it. He quite liked it, as a matter of fact. A change from urban life.

  ‘Do you really care?’ Alice turned to him. The breeze ruffled her hair, blowing it across her face. She was slender and coltish in a pair of faded jeans, an old baggy jumper and a pair of walking boots.

  ‘I’m interested; of course I am.’ Gabriel refused to give in to qualifying what he felt. Naturally he cared if she was upset. He wasn’t a monster. And, yet, when was the last time he’d actually cared whether some woman was upset or not? Had he been that bothered when Georgia had flounced into his office and thrown a hissy fit because she couldn’t take no for an answer?

  He had been irritated but he certainly hadn’t been upset. Nor had he ever been curious about what happened or didn’t happen in a woman’s life. As long as they gave him what he wanted, he was absolutely fine and he always, but always, made sure that his conscience was clear by being upfront with them. Life was so much simpler when you made sure you didn’t get wrapped up in complicated emotional situations that would always end up leading to dead ends anyway.

  He had nothing to give and wasn’t interested in trying to break that mould.

  But he sensed that she had asked a leading question and he knew that he should repeat his honest, upfront, ‘don’t look to me for anything but sex and a good time’ talk—just in case she had forgotten. And he would...but later...

  He was interested. He didn’t care but he was interested. Two completely different things, as far as Alice was concerned.

  ‘And she’s got a boyfriend.’

  ‘Good for her.’ Gabriel slung his arm over her shoulder and breathed in the fragrant, floral scent of her hair. God, what was it about this woman that drove him nuts? ‘I want you so much right now that it hurts.’

  Alice pulled apart and stared at him then she rolled her eyes and laughed. ‘Is sex all you think about, Gabriel?’

  ‘It’s pretty deserted out here...’

  ‘I was talking about my mother!’

  ‘And I’m listening. I just want to touch you a little whil
e you talk...’ He slipped his hand under her jumper and circled her narrow waist. ‘Tell me you don’t like that.’ Up ahead, the fields were broken with clumps of trees. It was an idyllic, picture-postcard scene. ‘You’re not wearing a bra. I like that...’

  ‘I usually go bra-less when I’m down here. I don’t have enough to warrant wearing one twenty-four-seven...’

  ‘You have just the right amount.’ He pushed up the jumper, ignored her half-hearted attempts to swat him away and gazed down at her small, pert breasts tipped with their rosy pink nipples.

  Her breathing quickened as he rubbed the sensitive tips with his thumbs until they were stiff and aroused.

  This was her wild adventure. She had fallen in love with the wrong man and had thrown caution to the winds because her heart was ruling her head. She knew that he was only in it for the sex, for the good time, but it was so hard to bury the part of her that wanted to find out where they were going, whether there was the slightest chance that he might want more than just sex.

  He gently pulled down her jumper; his hand went to the button of her jeans, then the zip, and she gave a little shocked yelp as he began tugging down her trousers.

  ‘We can’t.’

  ‘Why not? All right; we can find somewhere a little more private under the trees, although there’s no one around. Is it always this deserted?’

  ‘You need to get out of London a little more.’ She was damp and hot as they walked hand in hand towards the nearest bank of trees. ‘There’re lots of places like this out here. It’s quiet, peaceful. That’s why Mum decided that she wanted to move here. It was restful after living in Birmingham. I also think she wanted to be as far as she could from any ugly reminders of her marriage.’ She pulled him towards her and stretched up to kiss him, fingers clasped behind his neck, their bodies pressed so tightly together that she could feel the hardness of his urgent, demanding arousal.

  ‘Lying down might be a little uncomfortable,’ Gabriel said, but he had to have her. Nor did he want the substitute of her hand or her mouth. He wanted to be inside her, needed to be inside her.