Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress Read online

  He watched her dance for another moment, but couldn’t take it any more. He walked out without saying hello to anyone.

  They were flying out to Aristo tomorrow. Just the two of them. There would be no observers, no paparazzi on the plane. Just him, just her. And it was time to fight the fire with fire.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘LATE night, Liss?’

  Hiding behind her large dark glasses, she took the hint of disapproval on the chin. After her nil response they rode to the airport in silence but the atmosphere was thick with swirling heat. She stared out the window, not able to cope with seeing James as well as having him up close in the back of the taxi. He was looking too gorgeous in a white cotton tee that wasn’t too tight, but tight enough to show off that broad chest and long arms, jeans that were a relaxed fit but with enough shape to make her appreciate the length of his legs and the hint of their concealed power. She badly, badly wanted to touch.

  They cruised through check-in and waited in the club lounge for a few minutes before getting the call to board. She gripped her small flight bag and walked ahead so she wouldn’t have to see any longer how well he filled out those jeans.

  She’d danced and danced on into the night—needing to burn the energy. Now she was tired and strung out and he wasn’t helping because every time she glanced at him he met her gaze with a smile that set her every cell singing.

  She stepped into the cabin with relief. First class wasn’t usually fully booked and she planned to stretch out and enjoy the space. She fussed about, unloading a few essentials from her bag into the compartment by her seat: her own water, her warm wool socks, her vial of refreshingly scented oil—the little things she needed to make the journey as relaxing as possible. Then she realised that James was standing right behind her, patiently watching, waiting—for what? She raised her brows—hoping it looked like a cool question.

  He flashed the charm smile. ‘Actually the window seat is mine.’

  She checked her ticket quickly. Damn. Her consternation must have been obvious because his smile widened with wicked humour.

  ‘Don’t you want to sit next to me?’

  The flush flooded her—she could feel it all the way from her face to her toes, and she wondered how he’d react if she answered honestly. She wanted to sit on him, not next to him. She wanted to straddle his strong, heavy thighs—to feel the muscle-filled denim on her bare skin. She wanted to slide her fingers beneath that white tee shirt and feel for herself the heat of his chest—was it hair-tickled or smooth? Was it as bronzed as his arms or was it paler, less kissed by the sun…? Kissed…oh, hell, she was in trouble.

  ‘But you can have the window if you like.’ The lights in his eyes were brightening, the smile widening.

  ‘You’re sure?’ She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop sounding like a breathless temp offered the long-term placement of a lifetime.

  ‘I’ve already got a beautiful view.’

  OK. Deep breath—and time to get a grip on the situation. She stayed standing.

  ‘Take it.’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ she said, to remind herself as much as anything.

  ‘And you’re the princess,’ he said. ‘Interesting power play, isn’t it? Who do you think should be on top?’

  She sat in an awful hurry. On top? He wanted to debate positions? She tried to think of a witty reply—hell, any sort of reply. ‘You said my being a princess wouldn’t garner me any special treatment.’

  ‘Right.’ He sat next to her and leaned close, continuing with the chatty tone that softened the underlying determined quality. ‘And just because I’m the boss doesn’t mean I should get any either. Not in this arena.’

  ‘What arena’s that?’ He was all she could see—his large body screened the rest of the cabin from her. It was as if they were in their own little corner of the plane and he was shielding her from all observers.

  ‘The personal one.’

  ‘We’re talking personal?’

  ‘Come on, princess, we’ve barely talked anything else.’ His eyes held hers, daring her to be honest. ‘Have we?’

  She paused, looked down as she clicked her safety belt in place. ‘You’re the one who said it’s not a good idea, James.’

  ‘You said it too. And we’re both right. It’s probably really stupid.’ He tilted her chin with his fingers, making her look at him again, making her active in the conversation, making her skin sizzle. ‘But it also seems to be impossible to ignore.’

  His touch both soothed and rasped over her stretched nerves. She moved her head enough to make him release her, but maintained the eye contact—she had the feeling he wouldn’t settle for less.

  ‘So,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s talk personal.’

  The engines of the plane revved and she felt the situation slipping from her control. She fought to reclaim it. ‘Are you sure this is the right place?’

  ‘Why not?’ The glints in his eye spiked. ‘We have a number of hours to fill in. What else do you suggest we do?’

  They stared at each other and in the darkness of his eyes she saw all her wild fantasies reflected—of closeness and warmth, of sighs and the sound of them slipping together, of naked sensation. Until finally she ducked away from his gaze in heated defeat, closing her eyes as the plane gained enough speed to lift off from the ground.

  It was only when the plane levelled out high in the sky, that she expelled the breath she’d been holding and replied, ‘Talking is good.’

  She couldn’t join him as he chuckled. This wasn’t that funny for her—it was full on. But OK. He wanted to talk personal? Maybe she’d take the opportunity to do some digging—she had a few questions she’d like answered. ‘Do you ever really have a good time, James?’

  He sobered instantly and placed his hand over hers. She had to concentrate extra hard to listen for the answer and not let her brain go fuzzy from the body contact.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ He sounded surprised.

  ‘You’re never really in the gossip pages of the papers or magazines—even though your family is almost as well known in Sydney as mine is on Aristo. And sometimes you don’t look like you’re having so much fun.’

  ‘How do I look?’

  She thought for a moment and then opted for the truth. ‘Intense.’ And definitely brooding. There had been times when she’d seen the serious look descend over the charming features and she figured he was thinking about something—some sort of bother. Was it work or was it a woman?

  His voice was low and gently mocked. ‘I know how to have a good time, princess.’ He shot her a look that made her more than aware of the kind of fun he was thinking of right now.

  Fantasies of dark nights swirled in her head once more.

  ‘Just because you like to party on the pages of the gossip magazines doesn’t mean the rest of us have to. I don’t need publicity to prove what a good time I’m having.’ His fingers tightened, stopping her from withdrawing her hand. ‘I prefer to keep my wild times private, not have them dissected in the papers.’

  That one really rankled. It was one thing that her brothers really frowned on. It had been OK for them to get up to whatever in the good old days, but the minute there was wind of a story on her they came down hard. She curled her fingers away from his.

  ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read.’

  His expression darkened. ‘Really?’ He smoothed the palm of his hand along the ridge of her fist.

  Liss watched as exactly the intense brooding look she’d meant descended on his features. Then she watched him take a deliberately deep breath, visibly aiming to relax. ‘Actually, I’ve been wondering about one salacious detail for some time.’

  She raised a brow and tried to look as if she didn’t care that much. The papers wrote an awful lot of rubbish—recycled pictures and added tired old quotes from people she’d never met.

  He leaned towards her, voice lowered. ‘Whether it’s true you usually go without underwear
in your trademark slinky party dresses.’

  She couldn’t help the smile at that, a bubble of laughter stirred and her flirt mood revived. ‘That’s for me to know.’ She couldn’t resist throwing him the challenge. ‘Think you’re going to find out?’

  ‘I’d be willing to bet on it.’ He shot the answer straight back.

  It almost stopped her—but not quite. ‘I’m not a betting woman.’

  ‘Wise girl. In your shoes I wouldn’t be either.’ He grinned wickedly, reminding her of their race the other week. ‘Who’d be fool enough to bet against a dead certainty?’

  She tried to think of something suitably cutting to say only her brain wasn’t working as fast as it usually did. ‘You’re very confident.’

  ‘I am,’ he agreed softly. ‘Want to know why?’

  He lifted his hand from hers, took a pinch of her hair and tugged so she turned her head his way again. One look into those eyes again and she was mesmerised.

  Utterly still she sat as he drew closer, blocking everything from her senses but him.

  ‘This is why,’ he muttered. He let go of her hair, but his hand didn’t leave her head. His fingers slipped down the side of her face, and he traced around the curve of her jaw. The smallest touch was sensational—it was as if tiny fireworks had been set off along his path and the next patch of skin demanded its share…but most especially it was her mouth that wanted his attention. She had to open it, just a little. She had…to…breathe. The small creases at the corners of his eyes deepened a fraction. He knew. And then he responded—his finger traced up from her chin and slowly, with delicate pressure, he rubbed the tip of it back and forth over her lips. They felt dry and full and needy. What she’d give for a drink right now—a drink straight from his mouth.

  His slow, delicious, tormenting caresses didn’t stop. Just one finger, cruising the contours of her lips and she couldn’t look away from the promise of passion in his eyes. She forgot where they were, the low hum of the airplane faded to nothing—only conscious of the sound of her own breathing and the intensity of his attention.

  To her equal dismay and pleasure he moved his finger from her mouth, running it down the length of her throat, circling around the hollow at the base of it. Then he slid it first one side, then the other, to smooth over her collarbones.

  She wanted to say something, but couldn’t think what. Couldn’t think at all. His gaze dropped, breaking the stare, and the corners of his mouth lifted into that smile that she half loathed, half loved. And his finger went lower, right down the centre of her breastbone. He flicked to one side and with slow deliberation circled around her nipple.

  ‘This is why,’ he repeated softly.

  She looked down and discovered a bra wasn’t necessary when James paid attention to her breasts. He had a better effect than any support or surgery ever could. She could feel the way they’d swollen and lifted, tightening at his touch. Now, in her thin top, her nipples were clearly visible—peaks jutting out, begging for attention. They were so hard it hurt.

  She looked back at his sardonic expression and realised that he was still in control. While only the slightest of touches had had her almost on her knees wanting more, he was sitting back—the amused antagonist. She wanted him to be as affected as she was.

  She pushed his hand away and sat up sharply. ‘It’s the air-conditioning.’ She inserted as much frost as possible into her reply. ‘Planes. I’m always cold on them.’

  His laugh was warm and inside she softened in response. She responded the way she did to everything he did—uncontrollably.

  ‘Really?’ he teased. ‘Then why are you so hot here?’ His fingers traipsed leisurely across her brow. His voice dropped even lower, a lover’s whisper. ‘Where else are you hot, princess?’

  She stared into eyes that were dark and devastating. She knew she was sinking into them. Her body melting; if he kissed her again she’d lose it.

  The sexual attraction was like a third force—there was her, there was him, and there was this thing between them—drawing her closer, ever closer.

  And she was hot everywhere. Was it the same for him? Couldn’t be—or he wouldn’t have been able to stop so easily last time.

  James was making a claim. But he wasn’t relinquishing control—not of himself or of the situation. It made him a challenge she wasn’t sure she had the strength to pass on.

  But he was her boss. And there was something else about James that put her even more on alert. Partly, it was the sheer strength of that physical attraction, but partly it was because she had the feeling he’d see right through her if she let him.

  What would he see? Anything? It was strangely important to her that he think well of her. Stupid, when so few people in authority like him did. So, for now, she’d retreat. Laugh the whole thing off with some sarcasm. ‘Do you always try to sleep with your secretaries?’

  He sat back, obviously amused. ‘Only the ones above average height, with dark hair and who aren’t afraid to bite back.’

  She pretended to think for a bit. ‘Maria in Accounts would suit.’

  ‘Maria in Accounts has a husband and two children. That would be messy. I never do messy.’

  ‘Really? What do you do, then?’

  ‘Start it simple, keep it physical, end it clean and final.’

  She bit the inside of her cheek. That was honesty from him, then—short and to the point and now she knew where she stood. ‘And you’re thinking of starting it with me?’

  ‘Sweetheart, you know we’ve already started.’

  Yeah, but it didn’t seem that simple to her.

  ‘It is going to happen, you know.’ His eyes were lasers—truth seekers.

  ‘That certain bet?’

  ‘Dead certain—remember?’ He nodded slowly. ‘I’ve finally accepted that.’

  ‘Gosh, you sound so thrilled about it,’ she said with faux jollity, stung by the comment. Then she glared. ‘It’s not like you’re the only one with the decision to make.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t already decided.’

  Her jaw dropped at that.

  ‘I’m not being arrogant.’ He pushed her chin back up. ‘I’m being honest.’ He didn’t look that happy about it. ‘Besides, it’s a little bigger than the both of us, isn’t it?’ He spoke lightly, his eyes roaming over her mouth. ‘The want.’

  Her lips could almost feel the caresses from his gaze. It took a moment for her to hear his next softly spoken words.

  ‘And you’ve been a little cautious about it too, haven’t you?’

  Of course.

  Then he offered a solution for both of them. ‘If we give in to it, it will go away.’

  Her chest tightened. So he wanted it to go away. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. But he was—just as she was attracted to him. He wanted to work it through and be rid of it. She suppressed the shiver that ran through her body—a mix of desire and of despair.

  He unclipped his safety belt, got a couple of soft wool blankets from the locker and sat again. Reached across and unclipped her belt too.

  ‘Let’s get you comfortable, hmm?’ He spread one blanket out over her and the other over himself. The two overlapped. ‘Can’t have you getting cold.’ He smiled, oblivious to the mix of hurt and heat she felt inside.

  But as he drew closer it was the heat that spread, the desire to have him even closer still. His eyes were huge and seemed to read hers, seemed to know exactly what she was thinking—because they reflected it.

  ‘You warm enough?’ It was a whisper, spoken as his lips lowered. Still not quite close enough. And she was so focused on them, on willing them nearer, that she couldn’t manage to give the answer that was undoubtedly obvious anyway.

  ‘Princess?’

  She lifted her chin and tasted his smile as she pressed her lips to his.

  She meant to play it cool. She meant to stay in control. She meant to hide just how hot she was—how hot she thought he was—and try to find out how affected he w
as. But her mouth parted hungrily without her consent. Welcoming his wickedly teasing tongue once more, wanting him to work it the way he had the other day—and then some. His hands were firm on her jaw, fingers spread, holding her face up to his. Broad palms and long fingers meant he easily cupped her chin and sent fingers down the length of her throat. In a second the kiss was hot and deep and she was shaking with the joy of having him back inside—she wanted more of him inside.

  Too soon he lifted his head. He studied her. She couldn’t hide the way her breathing was fast and out of kilter.

  ‘Not getting too excited, there, are you, princess?’ he said, half-smile in place. ‘It was just a kiss.’

  Nothing of the sort. He knew it. She knew it. He was just proving how hollow her words of the other night had been. But he couldn’t blame a woman for wanting to salvage a little pride, could he? Not when he’d been the one to freeze over faster than a raindrop in Antarctica.

  Suddenly she feared that being with James could somehow strip her of all pride—and dignity. But just as the fear sent a chill through her, he banished it, simply by taking her mouth again in a lightning-fast move. She was breathless, her slim control toppled completely. She lifted her hands to his head, feeling his hair beneath her fingers. Eyes closing, she let touch and taste and scent envelop her. Shifting in her seat, wanting to move, wanting to moan.

  ‘Settle down, sweetheart.’ He lifted his mouth from hers again and stroked hands down her arms in a way she knew he intended to be soothing, not stirring. She was still stirred. He spoke some more. ‘I’m not having quick sex in some tiny toilet, even if it is first class.’

  What? The sex or the toilet? Oh, she knew the sex would be beyond first class—if his kiss was anything to go by, it would be the best of her life.

  She sucked in three lungs full of air and used the extra to clear her head enough to be able to come back with a sort of smart reply. She had to try to handle him and the only way seemed to be to keep it light—or at least try to. ‘Hell, no. Too small, too smelly.’