Nine Months to Claim Her Read online

  ‘Just a little longer,’ he added gently, as if coaxing a timid creature.

  A thread of something new pulled tight deep within her. A thread of strength, of defiance. For once she didn’t want to be timid or silent. She sucked in a breath. ‘Why?’

  His striking gaze drilled into her, seeming to seek knowledge while impressing his own will upon her. ‘You know why.’

  Did she? He still stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. It was the softest of touches yet it sent sparks up her veins and she felt a dragging sensation deep in her belly. An inexorable pull towards him. An inevitability that she couldn’t deny. The desire—the need—for more of his touch. Only his.

  Lust at first sight? Apparently it really was a thing and it was unbelievably strong. Yearning caused her to tremble—like an abandoned animal craving connection. Once again that thread buried deep within tightened. She didn’t want to be meek. So yes, she did know why. Because she felt it too. And for the first time in her life she felt like acting on it. Because there was a perfection in the mystery of him—of her. A safety in which she could finally take a risk. To be swept off her feet.

  ‘Please,’ he muttered.

  Not a whisper, but a low masculine request that both sought permission and promised pleasure.

  Rosanna lifted her chin to look him more squarely in the eyes—reading the heat and intensity in his. Keeping hold of her hand, he reached out with his other to cup the side of her face. She so easily could’ve stepped back to avoid that more intimate touch. She didn’t.

  She released a harsh breath at the gentle rub of his fingers against her jaw, her lips parting as she exhaled. He stepped closer, an effortless glide into her space. Still she said nothing, nor did he, lost in each other’s gaze, in the heat weaving around them, drawing them closer still.

  So very slowly, so very carefully, he brushed his mouth against hers. It was the lightest, briefest of kisses. It should have been shocking. She should have stepped back. To kiss a complete stranger within only minutes of meeting him? It wasn’t the sort of thing Rosanna did. But the second that mouth of his slid against hers? Rosanna was gone and all that remained in her place was a woman who craved more of the man standing before her. And at her soft gasp he returned. This time his lips lingered and her mouth parted. She heard the sound low in his throat. A growl of satisfaction that stoked something equally primordial within her. An echo of the most basic instinct of all. The drive for physical connection. Lips, tongues, hands. Suddenly they were entwined as the next kiss—kisses—engendered more heat and stoked more want. He released her hand only to immediately place his hand on her waist. His palm was big and sure and she couldn’t resist leaning closer. She wanted to feel more of him. She wanted to let him take her weight. She trusted that he could. And he did. He pulled her close and kissed her deep—until she was wax in his hands, warm and willing and pliant. Then he lifted his head and she read the message in his eyes.

  Want. Need. Now.

  Yes.

  It was as if time had entered a small loop creating this space all of their own. Their understanding was unspoken but she knew this was an escape for him too. She briefly wondered from what it was. He didn’t seem as if he ought to have any great concerns, yet she was sure he did. A second later the thought evaporated. It didn’t matter. There was only this. Only now. And it was perfect.

  Every kiss fanned the flames building within her. The hunger mounted. She rose on tiptoe, pressing against his hard body, rejoicing when he cupped her bottom with both hands and pulled her closer still so his arousal pressed against her, turning her on even more. Awash with sensual excitement, she understood for the first time just what he wanted. She wanted it too. Sexuality. Pleasure. A physical fulfilment. For the first time, she truly ached for it. And her body moved purely on instinct to get it. In the arms of a stranger—it was madness. But she reached higher still on tiptoe, her body tumbling into his. He caught her, as she’d known he would. But then he spun them both and pushed her down. She sank back against the soft cushions of the lounger, exhilarated as he followed, keeping the contact of hands and kisses.

  He touched her, saw her. Yet to her own surprise she wasn’t self-conscious about her skin—because he seemed to like it, given the teasing way he was tracing the patterns of her freckles. And she knew her uneven waist wasn’t noticeable in this dimming light, while her scoliosis surgery scar remained unseen as she lay on her back. She wouldn’t have to mention it, let alone explain. Besides, he seemed to be focused on something else—something within her. Something far more important. Something raw. Something that sucked all his attention.

  That need. That matched his own.

  Desire surged through her as if a dam had been released. A froth of foam masked the dangerous swirl of desire deep within—this unstoppable drag towards him. Towards the heat bursting between them. This was new. This was undeniable and it was most definitely insane—a moment of pure risk. But she didn’t care. Hidden in this shadowy, verdant corner, there was no stopping this magic beneath the stars. With skilful fingers he swiftly unbuttoned her blouse. Even though the air was warm she shivered and suddenly realised the threat of exposure.

  ‘No one can see us?’ she asked breathlessly. Privacy mattered. She wanted this to be theirs alone.

  ‘No and there’s no cameras up here,’ he assured her. ‘Motion detectors, yes. But not cameras.’

  ‘You know your stuff.’

  ‘It’s my job to.’

  He knew other stuff too. How to kiss her so she trembled. How to touch her so she moaned. He undid her bra, pushing the cups away so he could tease her tight-budded nipples. That hunger and need burned. But she squirmed as he slid those skilful fingers up her thighs.

  ‘At least let me do this for you,’ he muttered softly.

  She understood he wanted to give her pleasure—and the novelty of someone wanting to do something for her? She couldn’t resist—could only bathe in the attention, the wonder. She watched him as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled, sliding them down and off, exposing her most private part to the air, to his eyes, to his touch. At the light skim of his fingertips across that so private part of her she melted. And when he levered up and slid down the lounger to press his lips to the place where his fingers had just touched...that was when she was lost completely. When he tongued her so intimately she was shocked into stillness and silence. But as his mouth sucked and his hands teased, he stirred the most agonisingly desperate feeling within her and she could only fall into his hold—trusting him implicitly to take care of her. And he did—with lush sweeping relentless caresses.

  She knew it was madness for him too—his breathlessness, the slight shaking of his hands, the film of sweat on his skin, the passionate determination to please her. Just at the moment when she thought she could take it no more he slid a single finger inside and his tongue flicked across her most sensitive little bud. She closed her eyes and screamed as waves of ecstasy rolled over her.

  Long moments later she was still flushed and shaking, awed by the intensity of what he’d done to her—what he’d made her do—to abandon all caution or reserve. But it had been so worth it. So deliciously, sinfully good—so good it should have been enough. Yet there was a pulsing sensation at the apex of her thighs, a slick hunger not quite assuaged despite the bliss still coursing along her veins. She opened her eyes and saw him looking down at her, his smile that little bit uneven, as if he wasn’t used to smiling. But when he did—wide enough—there was that dimple. She couldn’t help but smile back. For such a strong, serious-looking guy, he had a sweetness about him when he pulled it out. And if he could do this for her? She wanted the rest. With him. This once. Barely knowing what she was doing, she pulled him back up towards her. He braced his hands on the lounger either side of her, holding back enough to look directly into her eyes. His smile faded as the question flickered in his bur
ning indigo-blue eyes.

  ‘Please,’ she muttered.

  Not a whisper, but a low feminine plea that both sought permission and promised pleasure.

  She felt his muscles flex in response. She lifted her head enough to kiss him, stroking her tongue into his mouth the way he’d done to her over and over. And to her pleasure and relief he met her, matched her, finally lowering to crush her body with his again. She groaned the second he did. Yes. This was what she wanted. All of him, encompassing all of her.

  She relished in his strength. In the power of his body over hers and in the power she was discovering within herself. That she could make this big, strong man tremble? Make him gasp? Make him moan? All with only kisses and caresses? She felt free to explore his magnificent form—she unbuttoned his shirt, loving the soft silkiness of his skin and the steely muscle beneath. She rubbed against him like that eager kitten who craved touch. She couldn’t get enough of it now, couldn’t get close enough to him. His hold on her tightened, his sweeping hands soothing her restlessness and the small sounds of desperation she’d barely recognised as her own.

  ‘Easy, sweetheart,’ he muttered. ‘I got you. I’m not going anywhere until we’re done.’

  That promise—awesome as it was—still wasn’t enough. She trembled with renewed passion. He huffed out a breath, suddenly pulling back to reach into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve a slim wallet. Fascinated she watched him extract a small foil square. Her breathing quickened. She hadn’t even thought about contraception. Thank heavens he had. For a heartbeat she contemplated telling him but changed her mind the same second. She didn’t want anything stopping this. Her sexual status didn’t matter. It was nobody’s business but her own, right? He probably wouldn’t even notice. And she wasn’t worried that he might inadvertently hurt her. He was gentle, generous, his touch like fire. She knew how much he’d wanted to please her just then. And maybe it was crazy, but she trusted him completely with her body.

  And maybe, most of all, it was selfish, but she wanted this. She wanted him. Now.

  He gazed at her, bracing above her again. Neither of them said anything. The kiss said it all. Here. Now. Everything.

  She wanted to know what it was like to be had by him. She wanted to be held secure like this in the cage of his arms, beneath the glorious weight of his tight muscled body. A prison, a paradise, a weapon of pleasure that he suddenly, sharply wielded as, with a sure thrust, he took her final secret for his.

  She gasped, shocked, and for a split second froze. So did he.

  ‘This okay?’ he gritted through clenched teeth, his powerful body rigid around hers. ‘You’re very snug, sweetheart.’

  Releasing a tight breath, she gazed up into his eyes—drowning in that almost purple blue. She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want him to stop. She grasped him on pure instinct, pulling his head to hers. Needing his kiss as she needed oxygen. For life.

  And he gave it to her—his lips coaxing hers. He slowed right down, giving her time to accept him, time to be overwhelmed again. She forgot the sharpness of his possession as somehow her own strength surged. That new thread within her scaled up into a cord of steel. And now she’d adjusted to the heady sensation of him pinning her to the lounger, she realised she had him caught too. Instinctively she’d curled her legs around his. He was locked within her body now, within her arms, and it felt so good to move against his magnificent form.

  His lopsided smile returned and his eyes gleamed as she arched beneath him, learning to meet him stroke for stroke. He paused, rolling his hips against hers before he thrust deep again, setting off a maddening, delighting sensation that she wanted more of. She moaned as he did it again, her desire for retaliation igniting when she saw his smile of satisfaction widen and that dimple emerge. Her hands clasped him harder, her hips lifted quicker, both caught their breath. He arched, tossing his head with a growl as she flexed on him and felt her femininity surge.

  They exhaled deeply in unison as pleasure bit hard. Sensations scurried through her with every rock and thrust of his body. She was melting, disintegrating, her form turning not to dust but glitter—she was a sparkling mass of euphoria. The urgency rose. A burst of energy rapid-fired from him and through her. Suddenly it was passionate and frenetic and utterly unstoppable. They ground against each other in ecstatic agony, seeking the release that was so, so close it was torture. He was so strong he overwhelmed her. His breath was rough and hot in her ear, his groans rapid and unfettered, his possession fierce and relentless until she was the one who came apart. She was the one who screamed, shuddering as the orgasm stormed through her like a tornado, shattering her completely. Only then did he unleash with a final fierce thrust, his guttural groan ringing in her ears.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ROSANNA’S SKIRT WAS rucked up, her silk blouse open at her sides, her bra undone, the straps hanging like ribbons at her elbows. Her hair was half fallen from its bun. And who knew where her panties were? Honestly, she didn’t care. She was utterly undone—a breathless mess of wonderment—and she refused to allow any embarrassment to slither in, and no regrets either. How could she possibly regret something that had felt so good?

  He was slumped over her, his heart pounding as arrhythmically as her own. She ran her hands beneath his shirt and across his back, feeling once more the powerful breadth of him. The sweat-slicked heat of his skin, the web of hard muscles beneath. Neither of them was fully naked, but the parts that were, where skin pressed against skin, were where pleasure pooled. He was still locked deep inside her, still feeling every aftershock of emotion shudder through her.

  He lifted his head and looked at her and offered that lopsided smile. There was the tiniest hint of rue in his expression.

  ‘That went a little further and a lot faster than I anticipated,’ he admitted huskily. ‘But it was amazing. Thank you.’

  She nodded, unable to answer because she had a lump in her throat the size of Australia. She couldn’t hold his gaze either. Not without her truth leaking out. Her emotions. Her gratitude. Her wonder. And already she felt the return of that low aching hunger. She wanted to do it again. She turned her head to hide that particular truth from him. And that was when she noticed the light flashing intermittently on the deck beside them.

  He turned his head to follow her gaze, his eyes widening when the light flashed again. Abruptly he withdrew from her. Rosanna felt chilled the second he sat up. He stood and swiftly fixed his trousers before reaching down. His phone had fallen from his pocket to the floor. Face up, the screen flashed as notification after notification landed.

  As he retrieved it and stood reading the messages, his face was illuminated by the blueish light. He was appallingly handsome—beyond movie star and straight into other planetary perfection. Because men this good-looking didn’t exist in the real world...moreover men this generous with their attention weren’t real. And sure enough, he was distracted now and, going by the frown deepening on his face, not in a good way.

  She took advantage of his distraction to pull herself together—swiftly re-clasping her tangled bra, buttoning her blouse and smoothing down her crumpled skirt. She was still wearing her shoes so was spared the mortification of trying to find them, but she instantly abandoned any idea of finding her panties.

  ‘I’d better get going,’ she muttered awkwardly, walking towards the locked elevator before he had the chance to reply.

  ‘Let me...’ He huffed out a breath and rubbed his forehead.

  She knew he was diverted now and she didn’t want to be a bother to him. She didn’t want to analyse this. Rosanna didn’t talk much to anyone, certainly not about intimate things; she was too wary. ‘I really need to get back,’ she said quickly.

  There was a moment when he looked into her eyes when she saw a hint of regret. But he didn’t argue with her. He didn’t stop her. Which made her quest to leave asap the right one.

  D
oing this was a one-off. She needed to execute her vanishing act now before the lights came on and reality was exposed. Because if she lingered the magical facade would crumble and reveal the slightly sad, drab reality. He’d find out she’d lied to him—by omission yes, but it was still a lie and she didn’t like to lie. She was a guest, not a worker here. She was lacking in real social skills. He’d not seen her naked, not seen her surgery scar or her pale skin under bright lights. She wasn’t beautiful in the way he was—she couldn’t match his perfection. And as much as she might want it, there would be no replay—not one as gorgeously secret and somehow safe as that had been. So it was best to leave now before any of that morphed to the rejection she was sure was inevitable.

  He swiped patterns on his phone and she heard the elevator whirr. Did he have access to the security system on his phone?

  ‘I’m sorry. I have to get back to work,’ he muttered. He was still serious and focused, just not on her any more.

  ‘Of course.’ She didn’t want his apology or any regrets.

  It seemed to take an interminable amount of time for the elevator to arrive. She stepped in the second the doors opened. She turned to face him, making herself lift her chin and look at him one last time. Because this was a moment she’d always treasure. But the moment had now passed.

  * * *

  Leo Castle gripped his phone so tightly it was a wonder the screen didn’t shatter from the sheer force of pressure. Work was the one constant. It was what he did best. What he needed to do. Always. And he needed to get back to it now.

  But he felt a terrible sense of frustration. That fragrant, stolen moment with this woman had given him the most intense pleasure he’d ever had and she tempted him to take more. They’d not even had a whole hour. But more time would mean more talk and from that the truth would slip out.