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  “It’s one of many languages I speak, Miss Heath.”

  “But what about Al Italiano Meato Pasto by Gregory?”

  He smirks.

  “I still have so much to learn about you,” I say with a smile. He squeezes my hand in his.

  I pick my moment carefully and when it comes, I turn, leaning back to his ear. Pressing my cheek against his, I translate Violetta’s words on a whisper. “Love me, Alfredo, love me as much as I love you.”

  His eyes close and his shoulders rise and fall with his breath but those three words don’t come.

  One day, Mr. Sexy Bazillionaire Ryans, one day.

  Our limousine is waiting and shoots us straight back to the jet after the show.

  “You really are mesmerising, Scarlett Heath,” Gregory says as I lie into his chest on our return flight. “Kiss me.”

  I happily oblige, getting lost in him. His hand moves to the nape of my neck and pulls my mouth against his, making me groan, desire stirring between my legs. I slip my hand inside his blazer and feel his firm chest through the thin cotton of his dinner shirt. His tongue parts my lips and my chest lifts, pushing my breasts against him.

  “I want you in my bed,” he says, breaking our kiss fleetingly then parting my lips again with his ravishing tongue.

  “I want to be in your bed,” I confess.

  * * *

  Jackson has already drawn up the screen in the Mercedes and doesn’t bother to open the door for me, leaving Gregory to lead me into the back by the hand. Before the car pulls away from London City Airport, I’m pulled onto Gregory’s lap and my mouth is taken by his.

  Jackson drops us at the entrance and I’m too concerned with the perfect man dragging me inside by the hand to wonder where Jackson goes. I giggle as Gregory tugs me through the entrance to the Shard and bounces his feet impatiently as we wait for the lift.

  The doors open and he punches in 64. He glares at the doors, waiting for them to close, then he pushes my back against the lift wall. He lifts both my arms above my head and holds them in place with one hand, then pushes his mouth against mine, biting, sucking and tasting just like him. A taste I can’t get enough of. I match him with each nibble and each stroke of his tongue. The need to have him inside me is already unbearable.

  The lift pings and Gregory’s impatience is evident as he roughly handles the door lock to the apartment. Then he pulls me to him with his hands on my arse and moves us inside, kicking the door shut behind him then pressing my back up against it.

  “Gregory, I want you,” I pant.

  “Oh no, baby, not tonight. Tonight I’m going to cherish everything about you.” He holds my face in his palms and gazes into my eyes. “The way you move.” Kiss. “The way you feel.” Kiss. “The way you shout my name when I make you come.” Kiss. “And I want you in my bed.”

  His words drive the hunger in my cleft. Anything. Any way. I’ll take him as he is. However he likes. Because my head is already dizzy with burning lust and desire.

  He drops his hand into mine and leads me upstairs. I watch his back move beneath his dinner jacket as I follow him into the bedroom. In front of the sleigh bed, he turns me, my back to his chest. He runs his fingertips from the palms of my hands at my sides, up the length of my arms and drops a kiss on each of my shoulder blades. I’m warm but his touch makes the hairs on my body stand on end. He works the clasp of the platinum diamond chain around my neck as he trails kisses across the top of my back.

  “Be careful with that, it’s loaned on your account.”

  He leans forward and lifts the open chain from my body. “As it should be. We can talk about you paying for the dress yourself.”

  He lays the necklace on the chaise longue and dims the lights in the room. Then Kenny G’s “Silhouette” fills my ears. My feet remain firmly planted on the spot he left me but I watch as he removes his bow tie, shoes and socks and stalks towards me.

  God I want him!

  He reaches me and presses his body against my bare back. “You really are captivating, Scarlett Heath.”

  His teeth meet my lobe, then his tongue works down my neck and his lips brush my back. Moving one sleeve from my shoulder, he drops a kiss on my newly exposed skin, then follows the same pattern on the other side. He bends as he trails soft kisses and hot breaths down the length of my spine, locating the small zip beneath the draped material of the dress at the top of my coccyx. The zip is released. Standing, he pushes the dress from my shoulders and brings it to pool on the ground. I lift my heels and he lays the dress on the chaise longue.

  He studies me for a moment, unashamedly casting his eyes over my entire body, from my heeled feet, up the length of my thighs, my navel, my breasts, my face. His eyes are black, seductively so, when they meet mine, then move to my lace thong. “Everything about you...” he says, only just loud enough to reach my ears above the music.

  He steps towards me and with his palm on the small of my back and he pulls me into him. My eyes close when his lips meet mine.

  “Open your eyes, baby. Keep them open the whole time. I want to see you. All of you.”

  I open my eyes on his desperate sounding words. A small flutter of panic hits my chest—is this the end? I hold my breath until the feeling is drowned out by the swirl of his tongue. When he releases me for long enough, I move back and undo each of his shirt buttons. One. By. One. Never taking my open eyes from his.

  My hands rest on his naked chest and I inhale deeply at the feel of his hot, firm skin, my fevered desire building. Pushing the shirt from his arms, I press my breasts against him as I unhook his cufflinks and let the shirt fall to the floor. He leans in and takes my neck with his mouth, breathing, sucking, licking.

  “I want to leave my mark on you,” he says and in my moment of indulgence, I nod, moaning when I feel him drawing blood to the top of my skin.

  I grind my pelvis against his crotch and feel him hard in his trousers. My hands move to the fastening and when I draw down the zip, I press my hand inside, cupping his solid piece over his boxers. With a groan, he bites my lobe, the sound reverberating between my legs.

  I step back and push his trousers down his legs. He lifts his feet to free himself. I kneel up and take the rim of his boxers in my teeth pulling them down to his thighs, using my hands to take them to the floor. His hand moves to the back of my head. Encouraging me. I need no encouragement. His proud erection is enough to have me licking my lips.

  I cup his scrotum and stroke a finger from his back entrance to the base of his hard on. Then I draw my thumb up his length and move in a circle over his tip and most sensitive spot. As his hips flex, I move my tongue to the hard bottom of his penis and drag it to the top, then on his groan, I wrap my mouth around him. My tongue circles his end as I suck and taste him. My hands move to his arse cheeks, my nails digging in. When I’ve made him wait long enough, I pull him into me, pushing my lips as far down as I can go, opening my throat and taking him to the back.

  “Scarlett!”

  I move my mouth back slowly then plunge forward quickly, again digging my nails into the skin of his arse. His hand moves to my hair and yanks as his hips pull back and push forward again.

  “You’re amazing.”

  I feel him tensing and move my hand to his sack, working every part of him. His hips lift in time to the sweeps of my tongue across his tip as I lap up his pre-come. I pump his length with a firm grip as I continue to suck and lick the top.

  “Jesus, Scarlett, I... That’s so fucking good.”

  I quicken the pace and the pressure. Both his hands pull at my hair and hold my head still to absorb his careful thrusts. His thighs tense, his arse clenches, his cock starts to pulse. I work him harder and faster until his movements lose their rhythm.

  “Fuck, Scarlett, I’m there.”

  A little more pressure.
A little quicker.

  “Fuck!” he barks as he pours his warm liquid into my mouth and I accept it with a quick swallow. He hangs his head back briefly, then looks down through heavy sex-filled eyes and lifts my chin with his index finger, my legs following my gaze to stand.

  “That wasn’t part of the plan.” I smile and push my body against his as he strokes the sides of my face. Then with one easy move, he lifts my legs to his hips and takes me back to the bed, laying me down with my arms above my head, and crawling between my thighs.

  His perfect torso hovers above me as he drops his lips to my wrist and licks, kisses and nibbles the full length of my arm, sending my nerve endings into frenzy. At my shoulder he works his way along my collarbone, then my neck, my other collarbone and up the entire length of my other arm.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispers, with his face hovering over mine. I let my hazel-green eyes meet his hooded browns on a contented sigh. “Good girl.”

  Taking his weight on one arm, he traces my jawline with the fingertips of his other hand, then strokes a thumb across my parted lips. “The way you feel. The way you move.”

  He dips his head and presses those magic lips to my neck, then my chest bone. My back arches in anticipation before his mouth clamps down on my already hard nipple, biting gently, pulling the skin through his teeth. My insides are yearning to feel him. I wriggle my hips against him.

  “Not yet,” he murmurs around my breast, the hot breath making my heart beat in my vulva.

  He cups my other breast in his hand before he takes the nipple in his teeth. My hands reach for his hair. He moves his tongue to the centre of my abdomen, then draws a line down my navel, his hand exploring the skin to the side of my stomach. The feel of him on those areas that are rarely touched builds euphoria in my mind. His tongue trails down to the top of my wanton sex but he moves past it, sucking, licking, nibbling my thighs and pressing his lips down every inch of my leg to my feet.

  My hips squirm and I grip the bed sheets with balled fists. He switches feet, and moves his mouth up the length of my opposite leg. When he reaches my sex, he lifts his body over mine, pressing his hard shaft against my navel. He gazes into my wild eyes and I can’t wait. I push my hips against him and press my mouth to his, assaulting him with my tongue, twirling in circles around his. He withdraws, leaving me exposed and desperate.

  He shuffles down the bed and parts me with his fingers, the air on my bud making my body tense beneath him. Finally, he tortures my centre with a delicious lick that has me groaning. He turns his tongue expertly around my clit, dipping into me then back to my clit, lifting me higher with each sweep.

  My back bows, my hands ball into fists. With a thrust, his fingers are in me, moving in, out, around, in perfect rhythm, synced with his tongue moving over my throbbing clit. I shake my head from side to side and I bite down on my bottom lip between pants, erratic breaths making me feel faint.

  “Gregory! I’m going to come.”

  I grab his head and pull his hair as he builds the rhythm of his fingers and my impending climax.

  “Holy shit!”

  My hands fly to my hair, dizziness, desire, my pounding heart taking me to the peak. He pushes those fingers harder and faster and with one last magnificent swirl of his tongue, I explode around him, screaming his name.

  My legs fall, lifeless, to my sides as I take deep breaths, trying to draw oxygen into my clouded brain.

  “Open your eyes,” he says, hovering over me.

  “Thank you,” I say when I do.

  He shakes his head and drops a kiss on my lips. “Thank you, Scarlett Heath, for being the most amazing woman I’ll ever know.”

  There’s something in his eyes. That same sense of uneasiness I felt in the opera house comes back. I push it away and wrap my arms around him, pulling him into me. My tongue dips into his mouth, tasting my own saltiness from his lips. As my arms explore his back and my tongue works around his, he slips his erection, back to full throttle, into my accepting sex and moves in tantalising circles, already lifting my unrelenting orgasm back to a high.

  We swallow each other’s groans, eyes open and locked, our mouths refusing to part. He smiles around my kisses and the moment of uncertainty melts into raw emotion. For me, love. His hips circle and move his cock with slow, purposeful grinds, controlled, just the way Gregory Ryans CEO takes care of his business.

  We kiss to the brink until my body begins to lose control again and I can’t hold our contact.

  “Gregory!”

  “Wait, baby. Together.”

  He speeds his hips now building with each thrust.

  “Now, baby.”

  His thrusts turn to punishing blows, crashing into my erupting insides.

  “Fucking hell!” he barks. He bursts into me with one the final push.

  “Gregory! Gregory! Yes.”

  He gazes down at me and I stroke a loose strand from his sweaty brow as he slowly turns inside me, bringing us down. He kisses the tip of my nose then rolls us so I come to lie on his chest. I kiss his pecs and turn my fingers around his bare skin.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  First, the smell of coffee. Then the realisation that I’m in bed alone. Then the sense that someone is in the room. My eyes open to the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen and I smile as I slide back up the bed, sitting in only the white cotton bed sheet.

  “Time to get up. We don’t want to be late for lunch.”

  “Lunch. Lunch? Oh crap.” I take the coffee from him in two hands. “What time is it?”

  “Eleven thirty. I let you sleep as long as I could.”

  I rub my eyes and realise I’m still wearing last night’s makeup. “I guess it was a late night.”

  “We’ll leave at one.”

  I nod and smile, waiting for him to drop a kiss on my nose or my brow or touch me. But his dark eyes are seemingly a match for his mood, serious and troubled. He leaves the room and leaves me feeling confused. But this is Mr. Screwed-up and Neurotic. Nothing should surprise me.

  After showering, I ponder what to wear to an engagement lunch and settle on a dusty-pink blouse, tied at the neck, coupled with a dusty-pink-and-grey tweed skirt.

  Gregory finishes tying his shoelaces, then adjusts his shirt, tucking it neatly into the top of his navy chinos. He turns when he hears my heels clip-clop down the staircase and pulls the cuffs of his shirt just-so, slightly longer than his dark grey blazer. He looks divine. As ever. I lift my chin, waiting for his kiss but it doesn’t come. He twirls the curls in the bottom of my hair in his fingers with a furrowed brow, then steps back from me, distant in every sense.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  He swallows, deep, audibly. “Fine,” he says through a set jaw.

  “Fine?”

  “Fine,” he says on smile that fails to reach his eyes.

  Last night was one of the best nights of my life—the best night of my life—and today he’s fine. There I was hopelessly assuming that after the CPS decision those peaks and troughs might stabilise. No chance. Pulling on my cream wool coat, I follow him out into the hall.

  One day, I tell myself. But my conviction is waning.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence in the Ferrari the entire way to Lara’s house. It isn’t until we pull onto the gravelled driveway and the big white house comes into view that I start to think I might understand why Gregory is in a foul mood. We haven’t been here since that night. I hug the bottle of Krug in my lap into my stomach without consciously needing the comfort.

  An overly cheery Lara bounds towards us and pulls us, one at a time, into her chest, as the Ferrari is driven away to be parked.

  “Mother,” Gregory s
ays, in no better mood with Lara it would seem.

  “Smarten that face up, young man. Scarlett,” she sings. “Come here.”

  “Thank you for inviting us, Lara.”

  She slips her arm around my waist and takes the Krug from me, handing it to Gregory, who’s already carrying a large bouquet of flowers. “Nonsense, Sandy would’ve refused lunch without you.”

  She skips into the house before us, her black wide-leg trousers catching in the breeze to be displayed to their full advantage. She subtly checks her white blouse in the hallway mirror and pushes some volume into the roots of her hair.

  “Sandy.” I throw my arms around her and squeeze her as tight as I can until her sweet giggle escapes her chest. The one person I will always know I can rely on, no matter how bad or how dark life gets. “These are for you.” I motion to the champagne and flowers Gregory holds and turn my attention to Jackson, kissing him on the cheek as Gregory does the same to Sandy.

  The men shake hands and follow behind Sandy and me as I swoon over her shiny ring. A thin platinum band with one sole, modest princess-cut diamond. “It’s beautiful.”

  I turn my eyes around the large oval dining table as chateaubriand is served. Sandy looks as uncomfortable as ever as she’s waited on but happier each time Jackson speaks to her, nudges her, nips her hand in his. Williams has brought Amanda with him and whilst they look happy, there’s an air of unsureness passing between them. But they smile and laugh in a way that tells me they’ll be just fine. Lawrence is more concerned with the food than Lara and her demand for attention but he has a certain playful sparkle in his eyes when he shakes his head at yet another story.

  I smile as I look on at those closest to me and those who, maybe one day, will be. I can feel Gregory’s eyes burning holes into my side. He’s hardly touched his meal but his knife and fork are still, together at six o’clock on his plate. My smile disappears on a sigh.

  “Are you okay?” I ask for the fourth time this afternoon.