At His Service: Millionaire's Mistress. Kelly Hunter

fingers into her tight wet centre.

      She arched into his hand, writhed against him, eyes glassy and unfocused. ‘Yes!’

      At her urgent demand, he levered himself up, swung a thigh over her hips, and, taking his weight on his hands, he looked down at the woman beneath him. My God, she looked beautiful in passion. ‘Protection.’

      Her mouth rounded into a soft ‘Oh …’ and she stared at him, her gaze sharpening. ‘Yes-s-s …’ She trailed off and their fast unsteady breaths mingling in the tight space between them were the only sounds in the room’s silence. Her eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t …’

      ‘Of course I have.’ He shifted slightly, pulled open a drawer in his night-stand and withdrew a foil packet.

      ‘Of course you have.’ A crisp edge to her tone—and her eyes—as she watched him rip the foil, roll on the condom. As if she thought he got laid by a different woman every night of the week.

      ‘Didi.’ Taking his weight on his hands again he positioned himself above her. ‘It’s you and me. Only you and me.’ Terms and conditions yet to be negotiated.

      He waited a beat, every muscle in his arms quivering, every pulse-point hammering. Saw her understanding and acknowledgement, then, with a groan that seemed to come from some uncharted place inside him, he entered her in one long deep thrust.

      She was different, was all he could think as he began to move inside her. Hotter, faster, it swept him up until everything faded except her body clinging to his, the fragrance of her fresh-soaped skin, her wet tightness surrounding him, accepting him. Claiming him.

      He felt her teeter on the brink then shudder, her inner muscles drawing him deeper, further, harder until he dived over the edge with her.

      Hours later, as dawn painted the clouds purple and gold behind the skyscrapers, Cam watched Didi’s gold lashes rest on her cheeks. Not only was she beautiful in passion, he thought, but also in repose. If he could take the image from his brain, scan it into his computer and have a master painter recreate it, it could hang in the most prestigious art galleries of the world.

      He watched her sigh, then snuggle into the quilt, and a small smile touched her lips, as if she was dreaming happy dreams. At some point they’d climbed beneath the covers. The room was warm, he couldn’t resist—he lowered the quilt so that they were both naked from the waist up and he could get a look at her breasts dusted in the new day’s light. He couldn’t resist some more and blew on them gently, making them pebble as he watched.

      His sex stirred. He wanted her again, with dawn’s light smattering pink into her silver eyes. She was the most responsive woman he’d ever had. Sure he’d had women who knew a few good tricks in the bedroom, but they’d performed them with the polished ease of practice. What Didi lacked in polish she more than made up for in a delightfully naïve spontaneity.

      A glance at his bedside clock warned him it wasn’t going to happen now. He was due at the office for an early meeting and before he left he wanted answers. She’d promised them this morning. Then they were going to have a discussion about what they expected from this new direction their relationship had taken. And it all had to happen before they could leave this room because her sister would be waiting.

      He leaned over, brushing his lips over hers. ‘Wake up, Didi.’

      Didi drifted on a tide of contentment. As she surfaced contentment turned to wariness as a deep voice and memories of last night dragged her awake. She opened her eyes.

      Cameron Black.

      She’d spent the night in his bed.

      And didn’t her body know it? she thought as vaguely pleasant aches and twinges in various places made themselves known.

      ‘Good morning,’ he murmured.

      Had she ever woken to a more mouth-watering sight than that of Cameron sporting nothing but morning stubble and a smile? ‘Good morning.’

      Morning. The feeling of well-being faded and tension grabbed at her belly. Their little whatever-it-was was over and now she’d have to live under his roof—and his gaze—and endure the consequences of what they’d done. And there was still the problem of Veronica.

      Suddenly all too aware of her nakedness, she dragged the quilt up to her chin, then, shoving a hand through what must look like porcupine hair, she sat up. ‘What time is it?’

      ‘Six-thirty.’ He played with the ends of her bed hair and there was a twinkle in his eye when he said, ‘We have a few things to discuss, Fairybread.’

      ‘I was going to get to that. Fairy bread?’

      ‘You know, buttered and covered in sprinkles and cut into tri—’

      ‘I know what it is—what I don’t know is why you called me that.’

      ‘Because it’s pretty—’ he kissed her nose ‘—it tastes sweet—’ he moved lower to nuzzle her neck ‘—and it was the best I could think of at short notice. We need to get our story straight before we face the dragon lady.’

      She saw his amusement sober as he shifted away creating a space between them, but her mouth was dry and she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘Any chance of a coffee?’

      ‘No. For all we know, your sister could be prowling the apartment looking for evidence to put me away.’

      ‘More like she wants to catch me out,’ Didi said. ‘She knows this isn’t real.’

      His brows rose and something intimate crossed his expression. ‘After that performance last night?’

      Her cheeks heated. That was just it—it was only a performance. As for the rest … how he’d taken her to heights she’d never been … she couldn’t think about that now.

      ‘Why would she want to catch you out, Didi?’ he asked quietly.

      ‘My family …’She steepled her hands at her lips. She wished she could put on a robe, anything to cover her vulnerability, but she couldn’t bring herself to climb out of bed naked. ‘My parents are … well off, my older sister’s married to a …’ pompous ass ‘… wealthy owner of a string of luxury yachts.

      ‘I never fitted in. You’ve seen my sister—tall, elegant, poised, sophisticated. Like my parents. They despaired of me right from the start. They wanted me to take piano lessons and study multiple languages. I wanted to use Mum’s silk brocade curtains to make clothes, learn origami and study art.

      ‘When I finished school I spent a couple of years overseas. But when I came back my parents said if I didn’t go to uni I was on my own. So I found a boarding house on the cheap side of the city and got a job in a café. I took casual employment for the next couple of years, including stocking supermarket shelves and kitchen hand.’

      ‘And somewhere along the way you met this guy who messed you up.’

      She sighed, staring at the ceiling. ‘I thought he was serious. Turned out there was someone else—that there’d always been that someone else. Which is why I don’t want a serious relationship ever again.’

      There had been too many painful memories of her broken heart and humiliation in Sydney. ‘I decided to come to Melbourne to make a fresh start, so I told my parents I’d got a job in an exclusive gallery with a luxury apartment to boot.’

      His chest hair rasped against her shoulder as he slid an arm around her in wordless support.

      ‘She’s just come to gloat. I couldn’t let her. I just couldn’t. Not when I saw an opportunity. I’m sorry I went behind your back.’

      He dropped a kiss on her head. ‘I’ve got a strong back.

      How do you want to play it today?’

      ‘Keep up the charade that we’re … involved—’

      ‘Lovers,’