The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

completely satisfied because he’d not been satisfied. Another orgasm was yet possible. She wanted it. And she wanted it with him this time.

      ‘Demanding,’ he muttered.

      He’d felt her body tighten on him.

      ‘Is that a problem?’

      His eyes narrowed, more determined. ‘I like it.’ He moved again. ‘I like you.’ He kissed her ear lobe, tracing the whorl with his tongue before whispering, ‘I like being in you.’

      She angled her head as he kissed and sucked his way down the side of her neck. Helplessly she rocked her hips beneath him, cradling his, aching for him to simply screw them both to smithereens.

      ‘Show me how much,’ she asked. ‘Show me.’

      This time he didn’t stop. This time his breathing roughened along with his movements. This time he swore pithy and crude as he told her again how good she felt. How he couldn’t stop. How he wanted more. And he took more. Pushed for her absolute acceptance of him. Driving into her over and over and over.

      She moaned with every thrust. Louder, harder, faster, like the animal she was. He was almost as loud, feral and grunting as he fought to fill her—and fill his own needs. His lips parted, almost in a snarl as the pleasure sucked her under again and she screamed.

      He rammed into her deep and hard one last time, his body jerking, eyes closing as orgasm overtook him.

      He slumped, almost smothering her. His harsh groan rang in her ears, but she revelled in his weight, in the thump of his heart against her breast, in his exhaustion. In the sweat pooling between them.

      She smiled despite her swollen, oversensitive, kissed to glory lips. ‘You know that only counts as one, right?’

       SEVEN

      Caitlin moaned as she reluctantly woke. Her body tingled. He’d flipped her over for their tenth round only an hour ago, determined to prove that the woman’s gushing in that article hadn’t been a massive exaggeration and that he could, in fact, go much, much more.

      ‘So how bad was it?’ James asked teasingly.

      With effort she rolled away from where she’d been burrowed against his side and smiled, happy to take the bait—and bite. ‘I think you need a little more practice at being super bad.’

      ‘More practice?’ He lay face down in the centre of the bed, his words muffled by pillows and a delighted laziness in his voice.

      She prised her eyelids open with her fingers. ‘Much.’

      He half laughed, mostly groaned. ‘Tigress.’

      She’d barely slept—she couldn’t with the way he’d tended to her, tormented on her. The way he’d touched her... She was still floating in an utterly soothed, relaxed state. She’d never felt such freedom and yet such safety before. There were no morning after regrets here.

      With a growl and a curse he levered up from the bed. ‘I’m not looking at you.’ He stumbled into the bathroom.

      Caitlin closed her eyes again and stretched right out on the bed. Her aches began to ease; already she hungered for fulfilment again. With treatment like this, she could stay here for ever.

      Her eyes flashed open at that wayward thought. Instantly, imperatively she reminded herself of some fundamental truths. Just as there was no such thing as love-at-first-sight, nor was there such a thing as love-at-first-screw. There was definitely no such thing as life-changing, earth-shattering, cataclysmic sex. So this dreamy, whole-other-plane of happiness she was coasting on was purely hormonal. Not actually real. Her pulse would settle, the softness inside would harden up again.

      Dazed, she made herself drum up some emotional armour. Doubtless he had a million annoying habits—aside from the arrogance and occasional moodiness she’d already witnessed. And just because they were sexually compatible didn’t mean they had anything more in common. The ‘happy ever after’ fantasy flash could disperse into the thin air from which it had come. It was a moment, that was all. Everyone knew the initial rush of lust faded from any relationship.

      Not that this was a relationship.

      Hell. Her mind was shredded.

      This was just fun, easy sex. With the ground rules established and the end date already in sight, there was simply enjoyment to be had. Like having a regular booking at a fine restaurant, she’d be able to enjoy all the dishes over a few short days. Then end it satisfied, replete and with no ill effects after.

      The bathroom door opened and he walked out. Rippling abs, massive muscles, even more massive erection.

      Dear heaven. How could he possibly be hard again? ‘Did you pop Viagra while you were in there?’ She gaped, so tempted to climb aboard and take another ride to oblivion.

      ‘Who needs that when I have you to look at?’ he answered all husky voice, stubble and smoky eyes. ‘You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And the way you move? The way you moan? They way you whisper sweet filth in my ear?’ He shook his head and laughed. ‘I can’t not get hard for you.’

      ‘You say the most charming things.’ She shimmied into the sheets, wanting him to come back to bed. She’d discovered her inner nympho.

      ‘I know.’ He grinned.

      But to her horror he walked into the wardrobe.

      ‘Are you getting dressed?’ she asked, amazed. How would he ever get his trousers done up? And what was with the hurry? Didn’t he want to sleep? Didn’t he want to put that fine erection to use?

      She heard his bark of laughter.

      ‘You’re in New York,’ he said. ‘You should be making the most of your time here.’

      ‘I am,’ she called after him. ‘I’ve already walked my own New York marathon. What more do I need?’

      ‘You should be experiencing all the city has to offer, not just walking past all the attractions.’

      ‘This is all your travel expertise coming out, huh?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m experiencing local hospitality—getting to know one local very well. Isn’t that enough?’

      ‘No. There is so much to see and do. This is your holiday. And mine.’

      She hesitated. Seriously? He didn’t just want to have a holiday in bed? ‘What did you have in mind?’

      ‘Don’t look so wary.’ He waggled his index finger at her. ‘It won’t cost anything.’

      She steadfastly met his gaze. ‘There are different kinds of costs. Money is the least of my concerns.’

      ‘Really?’

      A small sigh escaped her. ‘You still don’t understand. You had trouble over one news story, James. One. Do you have any idea how many headlines I’ve been in? None of them good.’ She forced herself to get up off the bed and stalked towards the bathroom. The guy was never going to get it.

      ‘You’re still worried about being spotted?’ He followed her, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Well, so what if you are? Why give a damn? Why not just get out there and lift your chin high and screw them all?’

      She kept her back to him as she turned on the shower. ‘It’s not that easy—as well you know.’ She turned to face him. ‘You’re too scared to enter a new relationship for fear of the media finding out. Of someone letting you down.’

      His mouth opened, shut, then opened again. ‘That’s not why I don’t want a relationship.’

      ‘No?’

      ‘Of course it’s not. I’m not that pathetic.’

      He wasn’t? She stepped into the shower. ‘So why no relationship?’