‘I want you. I want you as much as I ever did from that very first moment I set eyes on you. It’s that simple, Talia. So very, very simple.’
His mouth lowered to hers again, but this was no demanding kiss, no leap of hot, instant passion. This was slow and sensual and quite, quite deliberate, and it was meant to make her yield to him, to make it impossible for her to hear what every ounce of fading sense was telling her: that this was madness and insanity and she should put a stop to it immediately.
How could she resist? How could she pull away from that honeyed feathering of her lips by his? From the continued arousal of her senses and the blood pounding in her ears? She revelled in the deepening of his kiss as he opened her mouth to him, to taste the sweetness within...
She felt his hands splay around her waist, drawing her pliant form towards the strong pillar of his body. She felt the edges of her robe brush the smooth fabric of his tuxedo jacket, felt the delicate peaks of her breasts unfurl at the frisson, felt her blood bubble and fizz, her desire thicken. Of their own volition her hands lifted to his torso, sliding inside his jacket, feeling, with a leap of her senses, the hard-muscled wall of his chest beneath her fingers.
Her kiss intensified with his and she felt him quicken, the hands at her waist moulding her against him so that her hips were crushed against his. With a smothered gasp, though it should have come as no surprise, she realised his arousal was full and strong. It fed hers—sent heat flushing her core, sent her fingertips into spasm, as her mouth feasted on his and his on hers.
She moaned low in her throat and it was like a match to dry tinder.
He swept her up into his arms, strode to the bed, and lowered her down upon it. He shed his jacket, impatience in every gesture.
She lay there, her blood pounding and leaping in her veins. Desire surged in her limbs, flooding her in hot, hungry urgency. Oh, this was madness, insanity, but she didn’t care. Could not care. She could only reach up her arms with a low laugh of delight, of wonder and glory.
This was happening. He was here again—with her—and he was all she wanted.
All she could ever want.
Everything else in the world fell away from her.
There was only Luke. Only his possession of her.
Only that...
* * *
The dim light of dawn was filtering through the louvered shutters. Luke lay, sated, with Talia’s soft, silken body in his arms. Idly, he curled a lock of her lush hair around his finger. She was half asleep, her rounded breasts crushed against his chest, her legs tangled with his. Warmth enfolded them both.
At some point in the night he’d turned off the air-conditioning, turned off the light over the dressing table, and let the warm tropical night embrace them as they lay in the wide bed.
A sense of rightness filled him. It was right that he had yielded, after all, to what he had been fighting so desperately, so uselessly...
He’d known it the instant she’d stormed away from him in the hotel restaurant. He’d known there was only one thing he wanted—only one thing he could do. And it was what he had wanted from the moment she’d walked into his office in Switzerland—what he had been denying himself.
He’d tried to steel himself against her by any means he could—he’d spoken to her harshly, treated her so distantly, so critically, and he’d tried for indifference with every ounce of his willpower. But his need for her had only grown, and he’d been able to maintain that impossible effort no longer.
He’d had to yield to what he had had wanted every minute of the day and the night.
To possess her again. To make her his once more.
After the night they had spent together, the passion that had blazed between them, there was nothing else but what was between them. His finger released the silken tendril and drifted to the silk of her skin instead. He grazed it lightly along the line of her shoulder and felt her quiver at his touch, even in her drowsing. He bent his head, brushing her mouth with his, arousing her...
He wanted her again.
How long he would want her, now that he had her here with him, he did not know. Perhaps he would tire of her eventually. But he would not think about that. One thing he did know was that this time she would not be leaving him. He would make it impossible for her to want to do so. Not this time.
She had rejected him once but she would not do so again. While he desired her she would crave him—he would make very, very sure of that.
His hand smoothed over her flank, then her thigh, and eased inwards into the vee of her body...her quickening body... He heard her moan and gave a soft laugh, letting his fingers go where her slackening thighs told him she wanted them to go.
He heard her moan again and felt his own desire mount and harden. His body moved over hers, possessing her once more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TALIA SIGHED LANGUOROUSLY and gave a rueful laugh. ‘I feel so guilty! I really should be getting on with my designs!’
Luke reached for her hand. ‘There’s no rush,’ he said lazily. ‘I haven’t even bought the site yet.’