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But she hadn’t run as he’d anticipated. Because it seemed she never did the thing he anticipated.
Instead she’d only stayed where she was and let him touch her. Let his fingers trace her soft mouth, looking up at him, her eyes darkening with what could only be arousal.
He should have let her go. He hadn’t needed to keep holding on to her and he wasn’t sure why he had. He certainly shouldn’t have compounded his mistake by covering her mouth with his—not when he’d already decided that he wasn’t going to have her.
But something in his heart had stopped him. Because the way she’d looked so defiantly up at him, telling him that no one had ever wanted her before and why should he... Well, he hadn’t been able to stand it.
A kiss to prove her wrong—that was all it was supposed to be. A kiss to ease the hurt she hadn’t been able to hide. And maybe, too, a kiss to frighten her away once and for all.
No, you kissed her because you wanted to, because you wanted her.
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the furnace that had roared to life inside him the minute her mouth was under his. The very second he’d felt her soften and melt against him, a throaty, husky moan escaped her.
And he wasn’t sure why, or what it was about her that had got him burning hot and instantly hard. Yet as she arched against him, her fingers tugging on his shirt, the desire that just about strangled him was as if he hadn’t had a woman in months. Years, even.
He could taste her desperation, could feel it in the way she pressed against him, in the sound of his name whispered in her husky voice, so erotic it felt as if she’d reached inside his trousers and wrapped her fingers directly around his shaft.
Anna had never done any of those things during sex. She’d never clutched at him, never moaned his name or pressed herself against him. She’d found his brand of earthy, physical sexuality uncomfortable, telling him he was too demanding. He’d tried to be less so, restraining himself to make her comfortable, turning sex from something passionate into something softer, more palatable, and thus more acceptable. Though it still hadn’t been enough for her.
Since she’d left, and since his son had been claimed by another, he’d lost his taste for passion. Something easy, fun and pleasurable—that was all he wanted from sex, nothing more. His lovers could touch his body but they touched nothing else, and that was the way he made sure it always was.
But there was something about the way Leonie clutched at his shirt, her mouth open and hungry beneath his, whispering his name against his lips, that reached inside him, unleashing something he’d kept caged for a long time.
Raw, animal passion.
Perhaps it was because she wasn’t a random woman he’d met at a party, or some pretty socialite he’d picked up at a bar. A woman who didn’t want more from him than one night and a couple of orgasms, and that was all.
Perhaps it was the wrongness of it. Because there were so many reasons why it was a bad idea. She’d been living on the streets. She was homeless. She was a virgin. She was the daughter of his enemy and he was going to use her to get his revenge. He should not be hard for her, let alone kissing her hungrily late at night in his study.
And yet when she whispered, ‘Cristiano... Please...’ and arched against him, the soft curves of her breasts pressing against his chest, the sound of his name spoken in her husky voice echoing in his ears, all he could think about was giving her exactly what she was begging for.
After all, who was he to deny her? He’d never been a man to refuse anyone when it came to sex, still less one bright and beautiful woman whom he wanted very much.
Besides, perhaps taking her would cement what trust there was between them rather than break it. And when desire was this strong it was always better not to fight it. Always better to take command and sate it so it was easier to control later on.
That all sounds like some excellent justification.
But Cristiano was done listening to his better self.
He dropped his hands from her upper arms to her hips, letting them rest there a second to get her used to his touch. Then he slid them higher, until his palms were gently cupping her breasts.
She gave another of those delicious little moans, shuddering and then arching into his hands like a cat wanting to be stroked. He kept his mouth on hers, making the kiss teasing as he traced her soft curves with his fingertips before brushing his thumbs over the hard outlines of her nipples.
She gasped and he wanted to devour her whole, but he forced himself to lift his mouth from hers instead, to stare down into her face to check if she was still with him. Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her lips full and red from the kiss.
‘Why did you stop?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Please don’t.’
Oh, yes, she was with him.
Satisfaction pulsed through him and he took her mouth again, nipping at her bottom lip at the same time as he pinched her nipples lightly, making her jerk and shudder against him.
His own heartbeat roared in his ears; his groin was aching. He wanted her naked, wanted her skin bare to his touch, wanted her hands on him, clutching at him. He wanted her desperate for him.
He’d given her food and drink. Given her a job. Given her a bed. And now he wanted to give her pleasure, too. He didn’t pause to examine why this was important to him—he just wanted to.
Dangerous. You know how you get when you give in to your passions.
Ah, but this was only sex. It wouldn’t touch his emotions in any way. He’d make sure of it.
