The Executive's Vengeful Seduction / Rich Man's Revenge: The Executive's Vengeful Seduction. Tessa Radley

sorry, Damien.”

      “Thanks,” he said, looking out to sea, making her think he had hidden depths she was only now beginning to notice.

      “So you’re all alone in the world?” she said, trying to find what made this man tick.

      He looked at her with eyes turned hooded and dark, a sure sign she’d touched a nerve. “If you want to think of it that way, yes.” Then as if he’d had enough talking, he rose up from his chair like some god ready to sacrifice a virgin. If she’d had time she would have laughed at the thought, but her heart was jumping inside her chest as he came around the table toward her.

      “Wh-what are you doing?”

      He stopped in front of her, took the glass out of her hand, and pulled her to her feet, his hands circling her waist. “What do you think I’m doing?”

      “No, Damien.”

      Something lazily seductive seeped into his eyes. “Yes, Gabrielle.”

      “Damien, I’m not ready—”

      “I’m five years ready.”

      She blinked. “Are you saying…you’ve been celibate for five years?”

      He snorted. “I’m a man, not a saint.”

      Of course. How silly of her. “Then what did—”

      “Shhhhhh.” He lowered his head and kissed her. She inhaled sharply and his tongue swept into her mouth, sweeping aside her objections like he did with everything else.

      The sheer passion behind it…the possessiveness in it…took her breath away. She melted into him with a low moan, a part of her dismayed at how easily she weakened, another part gloriously alive, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers.

      And with each passing moment those firm, manly lips hardened with increasing hunger, growing more urgent and demanding. She returned his kiss, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears, his scent hugging her lungs until all she knew was him.

      He lifted his mouth and sent her a heated look, and a private message passed between them. He, too, remembered how it had been. A delicious shudder swept over her. She could almost taste the saltiness of his skin and feel the heat of his body as they lay entwined in bed together.

      “It’s time, Gabrielle.”

      “Time?” she asked breathlessly, delaying the inevitable, though she wasn’t sure why now.

      “For our bodies to do the talking.”

      Before she could say anything…or do anything except admit to herself she had a need for him…he put her hand in his and drew her along behind him, down the stairs to the cabin below.

      She allowed him to lead her, all at once feeling this was meant to be. She could no more stop this from happening than stop the tide from turning. She didn’t want to stop it now. Deep down she’d known that all along.

      And then they were beside the bed and Damien stood looking at her, the lights from the deck filtering in through the windows, giving their world a pearly glow.

      A sense of intimacy swirled around them as his fingers feathered up her arm, igniting little sparks where they touched her skin…up over the curve of her shoulder…along her collarbone…under her hair at her nape, admiring the blond strands cascading over his fingers.

      “My blond beauty,” he murmured, and brought her mouth to his once more, this time capturing it in a slow and sensuous possession.

      She dissolved against him, loving the way his sinewy body embraced hers, his needing her as much as she needed him. And she was lost. As lost as any woman had a right to be when in the arms of a man she’d once loved.

      Moments crept by before he eased away from mouth. “It’s been a long time for us,” he said, placing his lips against the column of her throat.

      Ahh! She tingled at his touch, every pore in her body recognizing him, acknowledging him. It was five years since he’d made love to her like this. In her dreams it had sometimes seemed like yesterday. In her nightmares it had been forever.

      “Say it, Gabrielle. Say you missed this, too.”

      She stretched her neck back allowing him access to the base of her throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “I missed this.”

      His grunt of approval made her head spin as his hands slipped around to her back and slowly lowered the zip of her dress. The material fell to her waist and she stood in her lacy black bra, her nipples swelling in anticipation, her pulse rioting with need. She wanted to feel his mouth against her breasts.

      “Mine,” he said, his voice rough with need, arching her up for his indulgence, his eyes darkening as he took what was so willingly offered.

      “Yes,” she murmured, then gasped at the touch of his lips closing around a nipple.

      He sucked hard, the lace emphasizing the abrasive action of his tongue, and she clutched at his shoulders as he moved to the other breast and repeated the rhythm, creating wonderful little bursts of ecstasy within the very core of her.

      Then he undid her bra and it fell to the floor. Her breasts spilled into his hands and she moaned aloud with sheer pleasure when he began to fondle them. Oh my, did he know what he was doing to her?

      Then those hands…those superb male hands…slipped over her rib cage, his firm fingers kneading her skin. Her dress began to slip downward, over her hips, her stomach… and all at once she was conscious of what he would find, and she stiffened, preparing herself for the moment he felt her scar. It didn’t take long.

      His fingers stopped on the flat skin of her stomach. “What the hell!” He put her away from him, twisting her toward the light shining in through the window to get a better look.

      A flush seared her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I—”

      “What happened?” he demanded, holding her hips firm, a muscle jerking in his cheek, an angry look exploding in his eyes. Angry and…pained.

      She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. “A car accident. I know it looks horrible but—”

      “No,” he growled. “It doesn’t.” And he fell on one knee to place his lips against the two-inch jagged scar radiating downward from her belly button.

      She shuddered helplessly. Of all the things she expected, it wasn’t that he would touch her with such sensitivity. In a strange way it made her proud of him. Proud to be his woman, if only in a physical way.

      “Thank you,” she said softly.

      “No need,” he muttered, and placed his lips against her scar one more time. Then his hands left her hips and cupped her bottom, pulling her forward and pressing his face against the very intimate part of her.

      Her heart stopped for a long moment as he held her like that, as if discovering her scent again and reveling in it. She grasped his shoulders before her legs buckled beneath her.

      He took a deep breath and moved back to slowly peel her panties down her legs. Leaning on him, she stepped out of them, but he stayed where he was, just looking at her.

      Suddenly she felt self-conscious. Damien had been her only lover. And it had been five years since he’d seen her naked body like this. She went to cover herself, but he made a sound low in his throat and pushed her hands away, then began kissing his way upward, his lips like silk along her thighs, over the blond curls hiding her femininity, skimming up over the sensitized skin of her breasts before anointing each nipple again, then moving up further and settling on her mouth.

      His tongue danced with hers as he pulled her against him, his hardened body straining the material of his pants, sending a flash of heat through her. She was ready for him. More than ready.

      “I want to feel you against me,” he rasped, and stepped back, stripping the clothes from his body so fast he made