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Against the scarlet silk of her bodice she could feel the ripening thrust of her nipples and, low in her belly, the first sweet rush of awakening, and in those few seconds she longed for him to touch her again. To do those things which used to give her so much pleasure. Most of all, she wanted him to kiss her. To put his arms around her. To make her feel safe and protected.
And that was the feeling which scared her most of all, because you could never rely on a man to provide you with sanctuary. Hadn’t that been just about the only thing her mother had taught her?
So concentrate, she urged herself fiercely. Don’t start thinking like that, and don’t start acting in a way which will lead you into trouble. Send out the subliminal message that this is strictly professional and if you start believing it yourself, then Alejandro might believe it, too.
‘You’re going to need to start protecting your own space a bit more in future,’ she advised. ‘You can’t just let parties happen. If things get out of hand it’s your image which will be damaged and you need to start guarding it more carefully. Image control, they call it.’ She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and subjected him to a cool look. ‘We need the world to start thinking of you in a new way, so your reputation as a playboy becomes a thing of the past and in its place comes the sometimes serious, always thoughtful would-be politician.’
‘But achieving that is going to be a monumental turnaround, I suppose?’ he suggested sardonically.
‘I’m not denying it’s going to be a challenge, but I have a few ideas.’ Feeling more confident now, Emily unzipped her shoulder bag and drew out a plastic-covered folder, keen to prove she’d done her homework. ‘I understand your team is going to present you with a special award after tomorrow’s race—as a thank-you for all your backing and support and for ploughing so much money into the sport. I think we can use that ceremony as a platform.’
He frowned. ‘A platform for what?’
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Tell me why you want to go into politics.’
A few seconds elapsed before he began to speak. ‘I’ve been approached by the progressive new party which is riding high in the polls and they are keen for me to represent them. A breath of fresh air blowing through the stale air in the political arena is how they’re terming my inclusion.’
‘That’s the method, Alejandro—not the reason. You haven’t told me why you want to do it.’
Alejandro saw the scepticism in her gaze, slightly disconcerted
by the thought that she might be more perceptive than he’d given her credit for. He felt a flicker of irritation. Did she see his ambition as nothing more than a stunt—the latest shiny hobby for a man who was bored with life? Was it that which made him want to demonstrate that there was more to him than the cliché? The daredevil sportsman turned billionaire playboy. The shallow, two-dimensional Lothario invented by the press. A wealthy man who cared for nothing but gambling and seduction and expensive toys. Because he was more than that. Much more.
And maybe because it was Emily, he found himself speaking with the kind of candour he might not have used with anyone else. Was that because once she had known him better than anyone? Before the helicopters and the private jets and the homes scattered carelessly around the globe?
‘Because there are still people who are born poor and hungry, just as I was,’ he husked. ‘People condemned to a deprivation which will be repeated through every generation which follows—unless, like me, they’re lucky enough to be born with a gift. People who die before their time because decent healthcare isn’t available. I want to help to change that,’ he finished. ‘And politics is a route towards making that happen.’
‘That’s good. In fact, it’s very good,’ she commented slowly. ‘I think you should say something on those lines when you accept your award tomorrow evening—especially if you can manage to replicate the same degree of passion and conviction.’
Alejandro heard the insinuation, which was highlighted by the look of surprise which had grown on her face while he’d been speaking. Was she suggesting his message was all about delivery, rather than content? That it was more style than substance? Did she believe in the cliché herself? His jaw tightened and suddenly he was angry with himself for caring what she thought. Because he didn’t have anything to prove. Not to her—of all people.
‘You think I’m just a showman, do you, Emily?’ he murmured as, without warning, he reached out to cup her chin between his thumb and forefinger so that their gazes were locked on a collision course. That first contact felt like pure, powerful electricity and he waited, wondering if she would push him away. But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Because the chemistry between them hadn’t changed, had it? She was as hot for him as she’d ever been. He could see it in the nipples which were thrusting like iron tips against the scarlet silk of her dress, and in the way her lips automatically parted. He had desired many women in his life but his lust for Emily seemed to be stamped into his very DNA and, even though he despaired of it, his blood was heating at the thought of what he was about to do. He stroked his finger slowly over her cheek. ‘You think my words are empty?’
‘I...’ The word was breathless and the sapphire of her eyes nothing but thin rims against the fathomless black pooling. ‘Alejandro...what...what are you doing?’
He could see the pulse which was hammering away beside an errant strand of blonde hair and already he could detect the faint perfume of her sex. If he’d been feeling stronger he might have denied her. Made her wait. Left her high and dry before going to relieve his own frustration, alone in his bedroom, in a way he hadn’t done for years. Because wouldn’t it make her even hotter if he spun it out? But he couldn’t. How could he, when his groin was on fire? When the hard bulge pressing so exquisitely against his jeans felt as if it might explode at any moment?
‘Let’s pass on the game-playing, shall we, Emily? I’m about to do exactly what you want me to do,’ he said, his throat thick and tight. ‘In fact, it’s the only thing you’ve ever really wanted me to do, because I sure as hell was never good enough for anything else.’
Emily saw his head lowering towards her in slow motion, giving her all the time in the world to stop him. But she didn’t. How could she, when most of what he said was true? Because yes, she wanted him. She’d never really stopped wanting him—not through all the arid years since last he’d held her like this. Because Alejandro Sabato possessed a power which he wielded over her like some dark and erotic spell. He could make her hot for him. Wet for him. Instantly.
She shuddered when at last he bent his head to kiss her because it had been a long time since anyone had kissed her, and never like this. Only Alej could kiss like this. His tongue slid inside her mouth and the intimacy of that fed her spiralling hunger as she looped her arms around his neck. And then she was close. Close enough to feel the sudden hard jerk of his erection pressing against her.
‘Alej,’ she whispered against his mouth and this time he didn’t object to the familiar use of his name.
His response was to stroke his fingertip down her neck, drifting a slow line to her cleavage—before slipping it inside her dress to cup her straining breast. And still she didn’t object. How could she, when he was tracing a tantalising circle over one rock-hard nipple which was thrusting eagerly against his finger? He deepened the kiss and she writhed against him. Hungrily. Restlessly. And then, without warning, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her over to a huge black leather sofa before depositing her on top of it. She was on fire...so eager for him to touch her again that she didn’t care about the implications of being horizontal. All she could think about was how much she wanted him in her arms and she groaned with pleasure as he lay down on top of her, his mouth reclaiming hers with an urgency as flattering as it was irresistible.
Her eyes closed as she gave herself up to sensation and suddenly it was nothing but sensation.
The honeyed beat of blood in her veins.
The throbbing heat between her legs and exquisite peaking of her breasts.
‘Mmm...’ he said as he continued his expert caress of one puckered nipple, through her bra. ‘I had forgotten just how delicious these were and now I want to see them again for myself.’
Each word was punctuated by the swift undoing of each tiny button, his fingers operating with a dexterity which spoke of vast experience. And even though that should have daunted her, Emily felt powerless to protest—especially when the air felt so deliciously cool against her heated skin. Or maybe it was because he forestalled any such protest by the highly effective method of using his other hand to inch up beneath the hemline of her dress. The breath shuddered from her lungs. It had been eight years since anyone had touched her like this and it felt as if she had tumbled into paradise.
But he seemed momentarily surprised as the sides of her dress flapped open to reveal her bra.
