Memoirs of a Millionaire's Mistress (7 page)

Drops of water lay on her flushed skin, her hair, her eyelashes. The knowledge that she’d used his personal soap on her body spun through his head like an aphrodisiac. She was clutching the towel to her breasts, pushing them higher. He watched as a single droplet fell from her hair and trickled into that forbidden valley.

It occurred to him that she could have pulled away without too much effort. No doubt she was using the time for reflection and planning her excuses as well. He clenched his jaw and reminded himself that she’d helped herself to his apartment behind his back.

Mind spinning, Didi stared up at the man gripping her jaw and mouth, watching her with a speculative glint in his midnight eyes…and something more…something predatory? And no wonder; dear heaven, he’d seen her naked. How long had he been standing there while she lingered provocatively against the tiles like some hooker?

She shivered as her mind veered in another direction while he continued devouring her with that rapacious expression. He was
here.
In
his
bathroom.
Not
in Sydney.

Oh. My. God. What had she done? And how was she going to
un
do it?

His hand moved away from her mouth but one finger continued to slide sensuously over her lower lip, a dangerous touch, a hypnotic caress that slowed time and wiped everything from her mind but the pleasure it provoked. Beneath their calloused texture she could feel the tension ready to clamp her mouth shut again if she didn’t co-operate.

His voice held the same deceptively languid quality when he said, ‘So, Didi…or should I call you Dymphna?’

Her whole body rebelled and she speared him with her eyes. ‘Don’t call me that—never call me that.’

His mouth curved slightly. ‘I agree it’s a crime to punish
an innocent child with such a name. Then again…’ he whisked his thumb back and forth over her jaw, firmed his other hand against the back of her head, imprisoning her ‘…maybe it isn’t such a crime…Maybe you’re not so innocent.’

In the room’s dimness the lights from a nearby skyscraper stroked the unyielding angle of his jaw, his eyes mesmerised her, his grasp on her head paralysed her. His finger continued to fondle the edge of her lip, sending shivery tingles to every extremity and sparking erotic images of letting him use that same lazy thoroughness to explore other body parts. She fought an insane urge to suck its pleasure-giving warmth into her mouth.

‘Well, are you going to try and defend yourself?’ His tone sharper, eyes piercing. ‘Or maybe I’ll tell you what I think and you can try to deny it.’

She shook her head but it didn’t move beneath his grip. ‘I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow night.’ Her voice came out hoarse and pitifully desperate.

‘That was the original plan.’

‘I’m sorry. My sister flew into Melbourne unexpectedly. I told her I live here, that I work in a gallery, which is all a lie, I know. You weren’t here, I didn’t think it would matter—just for one night, Cameron.’ The familiar sting of rejection, the secret heartache of not belonging, washed through her. ‘But it matters to me.’ Unshed tears pricked at her eyes. ‘That she thinks I’m a success, that my family thinks I’m a success.’

There was a softening in his eyes, as if he…understood her. His hold loosened a little, though his hand continued to massage the back of her head, and a rare, wry humour lifted the corner of his mouth. ‘She
thinks
I’m your lover.’

The image ran through her like quicksilver. Too easy with her head cradled in his expert hand to let herself remember what had happened in the kitchen…‘She…does?’ Well, naturally she would since there was only one other bedroom…

She sensed his mood lighten and her own initial fears thawed a little. He’d invested a heap of money in her already. He wouldn’t turf her out until the job was finished. Would he? No, she assured herself, he didn’t have time to find a replacement. Question was, could she negotiate with only a towel held to her breasts?

She stepped back. He let her, and she used the opportunity to wrap and secure the towel around her. ‘Can we play along with this here? It’s only one night—she’ll be gone tomorrow.’

‘Play.’ The way he said it made kindergarten sound like an orgy. Then a dark brow lifted. ‘You mean lie.’

She bit her lip. ‘Just a little bit. Just for tonight. You don’t know how important this is.’

‘Why don’t you tell me?’

‘Later.’ After they’d sorted out the logistics of how they were both going to share the room for the night. ‘Right now I need you. And you need me.’

‘Didi?’ Veronica’s voice in the hallway. In the doorway. Even in the semi-darkness, the light from the bathroom illuminated concern—or was it suspicion?—on the familiar face.

Didi’s hands tightened on the edge of the towel. Her gaze flicked up to Cameron’s, silently pleading with him, to her sister. Back to Cameron.

‘Are you all right, Didi? Is this man—?’

‘She’s fine.’ Cameron’s hands closed over Didi’s upper arms, rubbing seductive circles over her shoulders with hard flat palms, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. ‘Aren’t you, Fairybread?’

Fairy bread?
‘Fine,’ she managed, holding his gaze, ignoring her sister. She stretched her stiff lips into a smile. ‘Now that you’re home.’ She didn’t even have to try to make her voice husky—that gleam in Cameron’s eyes, the feel of his hands on her flesh did that.

‘That’s my girl.’ He smiled back, his thumbs massaging the sensitive place where shoulder met torso as he pulled her flush against his hard, lean body. ‘Goodnight again, Veronica.’

And leaning down he pressed a firm, open-mouthed kiss on Didi’s surprised mouth. His tongue slid across the seam, coaxing her to open, dipping inside when her jaw dropped. Just a tantalising taste, an appetiser, and oh…it felt…good. But she couldn’t allow herself to enjoy it—this was an act, a show. A skilfully executed piece of theatre for her sister’s benefit.

She could feel Veronica’s stunned gaze. Didi was no less than one hundred and ten per cent stunned herself. Her nipples rasped against the towel, making them throb as he shifted his body for a better fit.
Don’t be fooled—this isn’t real.

‘If you’re sure…’ Veronica’s voice seemed to float at the edge of Didi’s consciousness.

‘She’s very sure,’ Cameron muttered against her mouth.

A moment later Didi heard the swish of her sister’s gown and her bedroom door clicked shut. Releasing her arms as suddenly as he’d taken her, he stepped back, withdrawing the warmth of his body with him. But while he’d put physical distance between them, the intensity of his gaze completely possessed her.

A shaft of heat knifed through her. Could he be…turned on by a ten-second performance?

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he strode to the door, kicked it shut. Her damp skin prickled in the draught he’d created. As he approached her he shrugged out of his suit jacket, let it fall where it would. Yanked off his tie, tossed it behind him. Undid the buttons of his cuffs.

What did he intend?
Isn’t it obvious?
a tiny voice whispered. A shiver of doubt snuck through the heat. Her fingers crept over the top of her towel, needing to keep herself secure, protected. ‘Um…thanks…’ She flicked a finger, couldn’t manage the hand. ‘For…that.’

He didn’t reply. He just kept coming, like an approaching storm, big and dark and all-powerful, making her feel insignificant, a fugitive with no place to hide.

His hands curled over hers on the towel, knuckles rough
against the swell of her still-throbbing breasts and his eyes turned molten, lightning on cobalt.

‘What was that about needing me, Didi?’

D
IDI’S
breath snagged mid-chest. She gulped in air. ‘I said…we…both needed
one another…
’ Oh, cripes…with Cameron’s hands covering hers covering her breasts and his gaze hotter than hell’s kitchen that did
not
come out sounding the way she’d intended. ‘I mean I think we need to discuss…I nee—have to explain…’

Her words—indeed her entire brain function—seized up as he lowered his head again. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you shut up for a bit?’

His breath feathered across her brow, her cheeks. She could smell fresh winter rain on his clothes, the foresty scent of his aftershave. As if her head were being manipulated by some invisible puppeteer, it tilted up, her lips opening of their own volition. Waiting, trembling…

She had a glimpse of eyes, dark and bright with purpose, a frown of concentration—or was it something else?—between heavily lowered brows before his mouth met hers once more and her eyes slid shut.

This time his tongue didn’t linger around the edges of her mouth, it delved inside, seeking, exploring, finding hers. His flavour filled her mouth. She already knew how he tasted but this was more. Now she experienced, not only the flavours of peppermint and coffee, but the exhilarating essence of desire
that slid like sun-warmed silk over her tongue, her teeth, inside her lower lip.

His hands left hers to better hold her head, to whisk his fingers over cheeks and jaw, leaving her own hands free to touch his shirt, absorb its crisp feel against her fingertips. To feel the steel muscles of his stomach tighten as she flattened then curled her hands against him.

To feel the quickened tempo of his breathing, his chest expanding as his hands left her head to slide over her shoulders, the shh as they shimmied over the towel, warmth from his palms stroking her, lower, lower. Her limbs turned to jelly, her brain liquefied and she felt herself dissolving against him. Total meltdown…

He lifted his head the tiniest bit. ‘Do you need me, Didi?’ he murmured, seduction oozing from the words.

She heard herself murmur something unintelligible back. Was that her voice all deep and drowsy and detached, as if it came from somewhere outside her?

‘Do you need me to touch you…’ she jolted, her hands whipping back to hug the security of her towel when she felt his fingers curl under the hem to touch the bare flesh of her thigh ‘…here?’

Her eyes snapped open to find his eyes focused on hers. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Holding her breath as his hand glided towards her inner thigh, calluses at the base of his fingers creating a delicious friction and sending shivers spiralling from his touch. Moisture swamped her most feminine place.

His hand changed direction, sliding slowly, inexorably towards the source of that moisture, every second an exercise in torture, every inch a scandalous pleasure. She sucked in a breath but there wasn’t any oxygen, only hot airless space filled with his scent. Then her breathing stalled completely as his thumb found the source of her heat, the pinnacle of her pleasure.

‘Or maybe you need me here…’ He prodded the swollen knot of need with gentle pressure.

‘Ah-h-h…’ Oh, yes, right…
there.
She shuddered on the edge of the world, unable to look away from his eyes glittering in the muted light from the bathroom. His facial muscles bunched, his lips firmed, then curved ever so slightly in the knowledge that he’d taken her to the brink of no return with a single flick of his wrist.

It was humiliating to realise that at this moment the man had total and absolute control over her mind and body. But somewhere in her semi-coherent brain a fragment of sanity still clung. ‘No,’ she whispered, knowing her eyes made a liar of her. Knowing the engorged knot throbbing wantonly against him made a mockery of her.

He wiggled his thumb. ‘Your body’s sending me an entirely different message.’

‘My body doesn’t want to listen to reason,’ she said over a parched throat. ‘I don’t even like you.’

A brief hesitation, then his lips stretched into a smile, and she realised he didn’t care one way or the other. ‘Since when did that stop two people from enjoying such a mutually satisfying experience?’ he said reasonably, continuing to stroke her moisture as she rocked helplessly against him.

She swallowed.
Yeah, since when?
Over his shoulder she saw a gibbous moon sail silently from behind a high-rise, bathing the room in silver light.

‘Didi.’ He removed his clever hand to tilt her face to his, thumbs rasping over her cheeks, eyes dark with intensity. ‘I played along with you, didn’t I? Don’t you want to convince Veronica I’m the real deal?’

‘I think we managed that a few moments ago.’

‘Ah, but tomorrow morning she’ll be expecting to see the afterglow in your smile.’

‘Afterglow…?’ Her breath caught as every internal organ leaped up and changed places.

‘I promise,’ he said. Low and smooth and sexy. Confident. Arrogant, even.

And she had no doubt he could deliver. She shuddered even as she willed those talented fingers to find their way beneath her towel again.

The hot tub of desire in his eyes swirled and swallowed her up. ‘Why don’t we find out what this thing between us is all about?’

‘This
thing?
’ This angsty, itchy thing that hadn’t given her a decent night’s sleep since she’d met him? ‘The thing about “things” is they get complicated and someone ends up getting hurt.’

‘It doesn’t have to be complicated.’ He paused. ‘Unless there’s someone else?’

She glared at him, her back stiffening, shoulders tensing as Jay’s image flitted through her mind. ‘Would I be standing here naked with you if there was?’
Sweet heaven, naked with Cameron Black.

He must have read her wistful expression because he looked into her eyes and said, ‘Who was he, Didi?’

‘Just a guy I…thought I loved.’

‘He hurt you. He’s scum.’

She bit her lip. ‘I’m over him. And I don’t want to talk about him.’

She tried to pull away but he held her fast. ‘Neither do I.’ He tightened his fingers on her cheeks. ‘As I said, we can keep this simple. This time we know up front how it’s going to be—no one gets hurt.’

She shook her head. ‘We have a working relationship—’

His finger on her lips stopped her. ‘Work’s for tomorrow. So stop analysing, stop talking and for Pete’s sakes relax…’

The knot in the towel came undone at his touch. Cool air breathed over her body, a stunning contrast to the heat emanating from his gaze as the towel slid to the floor. He took in every curve, from the hollow at the base of her neck where her pulse beat like horses’ hooves, the fullness of her breasts swelling beneath his scrutiny, her waist, the flare of her hips.

‘You’re a work of art yourself, Ms O’Flanagan.’ His voice was smooth and sensual and Didi could imagine he used that self-assured tone with women all the time. But there was something in his eyes reflected in the moon’s silver light that hinted at that innate vulnerability she’d seen that night in the ladies’ loo before he blinked it away.

He reached out. One fingertip brushed against her neck, over her left breast to draw a circle around the stiff nipple. Another.

Oh-h-h. Her already aroused body hummed with unbearable tension. Seeing him clothed while she stood as naked as a Greek statue was unspeakably erotic. A few more seconds of this protracted torment and she was likely to snap.

‘Relax?’
She managed, barely, to get the word out. ‘Right now this
work of art
is fraying at the edges.’

His hitherto solemn expression transformed to a grin. ‘That so?’

‘Damn right.’
Don’t think about whether this is a wise decision.
Because even if she did, she didn’t think she could pull back. Long-suppressed need asserted itself. She took a step closer so that their bodies were a shiver away and poked his chest. ‘In fact it’s in danger of disintegrating…’ Her fingertip discovered a shirt button, found the edge of his shirt, wiggled through to find hard, hairy skin. ‘It needs serious attention. Now.’

She emphasised her demand by closing the gap and bumping her body against his. To explore the sensation of cotton against her breasts, the ridge of belt buckle, the coarser weave of fine skin-warmed wool along her thighs.

To spread her prickling palm against the front of his trousers and soothe the itch along every inch of his hard, hot length.

It didn’t soothe—neither her nor him. The itch was a virus spreading through her body, as powerful as it was contagious. His sexy grin vanished, he jerked beneath her hand and a sound, something between a growl and a groan, erupted from his chest.

Then she was being swept up in the hard strength of his powerful arms and deposited in the middle of his bed. She lay, breathless and waiting as she watched him yank the shirt over his head, buttons popping.

He toed off his shoes. Undid his belt. His zipper being lowered was the only sound in the room, then his trousers pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them. Naked with that magnificent erection jutting at her, he transformed from urban sophisticate to primeval man.

She was in awe. Aroused, yes. Apprehensive, definitely. But, watching his long thighs with their dusting of dark masculine hair flex as he climbed onto the bed with her, she was mostly in awe.

He straddled her, gripped her wrists, holding them above her head, and looked into her eyes. ‘Leave your arms there,’ he instructed. The only body parts touching were their hands and his knees against her hips. Then he slid to the bottom of the bed and pushed her thighs apart.

And the world ceased to exist.

Only the feel of his tongue, moist and warm, leaving a damp trail that cooled in the air as he worked his way from instep to ankle, to the inside of her knee. Higher…

She might have come right there, right then, but he only skimmed the place yearning for him most and moved on to suckle each of her nipples gently with teeth and lips and tongue, teasing them into stiff, aching peaks. And all the while his hands were moving, touching, exploring, fingers gliding up the inside of her arms to twine once more with hers.

That simple connection, the joining of hands as he looked into her eyes…She closed her eyes to block him out. No one had ever made love to her like this before. No one had ever made her feel this way before. But uncomplicated sex was all she was looking for, she told herself, and so was he—they’d both just admitted as much.

So she concentrated on his warm masculine scent, the
friction of hot skin on hot skin. Every movement, every murmur, every breath, invoked a different sensation, a new experience in delight. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her, but the grip of his fingers held her fast.

Cameron didn’t want to loosen his grip, even when he felt her resistance. ‘Not yet,’ he whispered against her ear.

He had her right where he wanted her, with her hard little nipples prodding his chest, her heart beating out the wild rhythm echoing his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind it mystified him that someone as individual as Didi, as opposed to him as north and south, should match him in any way.

She was all compact curves and sinuous limbs. Fire roared through his veins, hammered in his groin. The urge to plunge into her wet heat without further preliminaries and satisfy himself slammed into him like a fully loaded cement truck on steroids. But he’d barely started. He wanted to see the passion build in those silver eyes, to watch her come undone beneath him—and he had to unlock their hands to do that.

He banked the fire, let it smoulder through his system. Slow. Freeing her to do her own exploring while taking her with him on his leisurely tour of discovery. As he brushed his lips over skin as smooth as satin—a cheek, a shoulder, the softer flesh of her neck, each with their own unique fragrance and texture.

She might be somewhat naïve but she wasn’t shy—a surprise given her innocent pixie-like charms. He hadn’t counted on the ability of those small deft fingers to fan the embers into a red-hot need with such swiftness.

Another surprise. He didn’t
need
women, he enjoyed them. And when the enjoyment faded, so did the relationship. Only Kat had managed to inveigle her way beneath his defences. His hand tightened a little over Didi’s breast. Never again.

What had happened with her ex-lover? he wondered, watching her eyes turn to pewter as her fingernails scraped over his nipples, a tease of pleasure, a hint of pain. He slammed the
thought to the back of his mind. But he couldn’t shake the uneasy, unfamiliar feeling it evoked. Jealousy? Hardly.

His fingers tightened again on her flesh and an overwhelming need to possess her
now
seized him, tossed him high where there was only heat and need and greed. Forget slow—skimming the dip of her belly, he plunged three fingers into her tight wet centre.

She arched into his hand, writhed against him, eyes glassy and unfocused. ‘Yes!’

At her urgent demand, he levered himself up, swung a thigh over her hips, and, taking his weight on his hands, he looked down at the woman beneath him. My God, she looked beautiful in passion. ‘Protection.’

Her mouth rounded into a soft ‘Oh…’ and she stared at him, her gaze sharpening. ‘Yes-s-s…’ She trailed off and their fast unsteady breaths mingling in the tight space between them were the only sounds in the room’s silence. Her eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t…’

‘Of course I have.’ He shifted slightly, pulled open a drawer in his night-stand and withdrew a foil packet.

‘Of course you have.’ A crisp edge to her tone—and her eyes—as she watched him rip the foil, roll on the condom. As if she thought he got laid by a different woman every night of the week.

‘Didi.’ Taking his weight on his hands again he positioned himself above her. ‘It’s you and me.
Only
you and me.’ Terms and conditions yet to be negotiated.

He waited a beat, every muscle in his arms quivering, every pulse-point hammering. Saw her understanding and acknowledgement, then, with a groan that seemed to come from some uncharted place inside him, he entered her in one long deep thrust.