Feel his eyes follow her every step.

At the door she did not pause or turn. One of the staff was there before her, opening the door for her, but she did not acknowledge it. This was not the moment for other people. This was the moment only for her—and the man who would any moment now push back his chair and follow her.

She crossed the hall, her footsteps loud on the marble, and began to ascend the stairs. The wineglass was still in her hand and she paused halfway. She didn’t need this now. She could feel its power already creaming in her veins like a silken veil.

As she moved she felt the sleek material of her dress move against her body, like a whispered caress over her skin. She could feel her body, feel its contours, feel the heat flushing slowly through her flesh as she made her swaying ascent. She paused at the landing, and then made her languorous way to the bedroom. The master bedroom.

The mistress bedroom.

Well, that was, after all, exactly what she was about to become. One of Theo Theakis’s mistresses. One of so many. Enjoying with him an affair that was sensual, sophisticated and entirely pleasurable.

Just right for a mistress.

And therefore, with immaculate logic, entirely appropriate for her now…

So, now that she was to become Theo Theakis’s mistress, she must do only what a mistress would do in these circumstances. Be only what a mistress would be.

Feel only what a mistress would feel.

Pleasure. Nothing but pleasure. Sensual and sophisticated and above all untainted by emotion. Quite, quite untainted by anything so completely unnecessary…

As she walked in, still with the same slow, undulating walk, she left the bedroom door open behind her. Moving towards the vast bed, she drew back the pristine counterpane and pressed the light switch to illuminate the room with a soft, flattering light. Then she slipped off her sandals and lowered herself down on to the bed. She posed herself carefully, languidly, one arm stretched out over her head, which lifted her breasts, the other hand splayed on her thigh, her legs slightly crooked. She could feel the hem of her dress, taut and high across her upper legs, feel the mounds of her breasts strain against the silky material covering them so skimpily.

She felt ripe and wanton.

And quite, quite alien.

But that was good. It was fine.

More than fine.

Necessary.

I can do this—I must…

The last echo of her mantra sounded in her head, then faded away, quite away.

She did not need the mantra any more. The ripe, wine-laden wantonness of her body was all she needed.

Right now, at this moment, as she lay arranged in her deliberate, knowing pose, her breasts full, her skin warmed and lustrous, deep within the slow heat building, it was all she wanted…

There was a shadow by the door—a dark presence electrifying her senses.

He was there. Coming towards her. His gait steady, purposeful. His features taut. His eyes—

Dark, so dark. Intense.

Intent, so very, very clear, on one purpose only…

She felt her breath catch, felt the shiver of what she knew—welcomed and rejoiced—was raw sexual excitement. The wine that filled her veins was had been replaced by this new feeling, and she could feel it absorbing into her consciousness. Nothing mat

tered except this moment, this sensuous, voluptuous now. The now that filled her, possessed her—changed her.

He came up to her. He was still formally dressed, and the sight of him in his business suit, with his broad shoulders moulded by the superb tailoring, the glimpse of the grey silk lining of his jacket, the pristine whiteness of his shirt stretched across his chest, slashed by the expensive discreet silk of his tie, made her feel, with a shiver of that same raw, sexual excitement, the full frisson of his power.

For a long moment he looked down on her, and she was what he saw—a woman displayed for him—beautiful, willing, and waiting for him. A mistress…

Some last, frail shadow of herself haunted the recesses of her mind, but it died away. She simply lay there, her sensuous pose displaying her, as his eyes worked leisurely along the languorous length of her supine body.


Tags: Julia James Billionaire Romance