His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract. Kate Hardy

cried out, her head tipping back, closing her eyes from his intensity—only able to cope with the feel of him, not the vision as well…not yet. That was too much, too overwhelming. Once, twice, he stroked and then it hit. The tornado of excitement he’d been brewing in her all evening—all week. Her legs and arms tautened, tensing hard enough to cause muscle-burn, and her fingers caught in his hair, pulling, twisting as unbearable pleasure wrenched through her.

      The screams were pure instinct, an animal response to the experience of utter joy.

      He paused while her body shook out the sensations. Twisting. Trembling.

      Finally she opened her eyes and took in his look of arrogant satisfaction. She felt the confidence in the way his arms encircled her. The sight of such masculine control brought her feminine fighter to the fore.

      He was enjoying himself, oh, yes. But that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted him to lose it. As she just had. And she wanted to be the one to make him. She gulped in a hit of oxygen and smiled. Then she worked her muscles. She saw his eyes widen. Worked them harder—her smile growing as she felt the hiss of air forced from his lungs. Lifting her head to twirl her tongue around his nipple, she took a tight butt cheek in each hand and pressed him closer. He wasn’t the only one who could satisfy.

      She felt his power surge as the game went up another level. Felt him rally to challenge right back and she blindly laughed—a low, husky laugh that he echoed. And then she kissed him, her mouth caressing every available inch of skin within her reach as she trailed her hands over him, gently at first, then not so gentle, and then with authority, sweeping down his back, demanding he keep time with the rhythm of her body.

      His hands cupped her bottom, holding her to him, tighter as he took charge again. She clasped him close. All thought gone. All reason vanished. Only indescribable feelings that finally focused into rapture when she heard his cry and felt his control break.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       Objective feedback is always helpful

      SHE woke with a start. The chill of pre-dawn hit her together with confusion. For a split second she couldn’t think, couldn’t remember where she was, who she was with. All she sensed was the smell of stale beer and the stifling weight of someone on her. Terror-struck, she flinched and pushed in panic. Memories—old and new—rushed back.

      In the bar. Daniel. She was with Daniel. Real. Not the fuzzy stranger who invaded her sleep and gave her nightmares. She sucked in a deep breath and relaxed, safe. But then she realised she must have fallen asleep.

      At her movement he jerked his head up. ‘What?’ He blinked, looking into her eyes. For a moment the same confusion flashed across his face. Then he closed it down, shuttering his expression, and their eyes locked, neither giving anything away.

      For once she won the duel. He looked away, a small frown pleating his brow.

      She wriggled, wanting to escape the intimacy. He moved so she could sit up. She was amazed at her lapse. She never slept with a lover. Had sex, sure, but never allowed herself to lose consciousness—that was too intimate, too vulnerable. Lucy didn’t do vulnerability. She refused to put herself in the position of giving someone else control over her heart, mind or body.

      The scary thing was, she’d almost given Daniel exactly that. How much had she given away just now? Not just her body. Her heart was putting itself on a plate this very minute. She took it straight back to the fridge.

      ‘You’re getting cold?’ He clipped out the words as he moved away from her. ‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep.’

      She flinched. She wasn’t the only one going cold; he was as icy as the moment she’d first met him—remote, detached, disapproving. Her whole body hit sub-zero temperatures. She didn’t know why his emotional detachment bothered her. He’d said once only. She already knew he didn’t do commitment. Hell, she didn’t do commitment—not at this point in her life. So much for no regrets. He looked as if he was itching to get out of here. Definitely not wanting to talk about it. Well, she wasn’t going to do a cringesome cling-on act. She needed to save face and reestablish a protective layer. She’d never expected him to be so potent, so passionate. Time to back-pedal—fast. She hid behind the curtain of her hair. ‘Well, I guess we got that out of the way.’

      ‘Out of the way?’

      She flicked her hair back and bluffed indifference. ‘Yeah, scratched the itch. Quenched the curiosity.’

      ‘Curiosity?’

      ‘Mmm hmm.’ She swung her legs off the pool table. Oh, man, she was still wearing her boots.

      His hand caught her arm and he turned her to face him. ‘What exactly are you saying, Ms Delaney?’

      ‘I’m saying, Mr Graydon, that that was fun.’

      ‘Fun?’ He stared at her, but she couldn’t figure a thing from the lights reflected in his eyes.

      ‘Sure. It was OK. But we won’t be doing it again.’

      ‘We won’t.’

      She shook her head. ‘Too messy.’

      He glanced at the felt of the pool table. She followed suit and felt her cheeks fill with blood. Her wet and his sweat marked it. Hell. She’d have to hand in her notice immediately. Frustration flooded through her. She’d just done this job so well. For the first time she’d actually aced something. Now she’d stuffed it by sleeping with her Type A boss who’d just been waiting for her to trip up. Any other gig and she’d be on the road, not willing to put up with that kind of pressure.

      The frustration turned into fight. She was tired of starting over. She’d had her first taste of success and she wanted another. She wanted to show him three times over. Besides, she needed the cash.

      Even more reason to blow the whistle on this little interlude. She’d do it as coolly as she could and ignore the way she was quaking inside. Block out that secretly she wanted more. No vulnerability allowed—not around Mr Ice.

      ‘Look, Daniel. I’m working for you. I was curious. It was nice but we’re done. Let’s go back to our business relationship, shall we? I’m sorry. Blame it on the heat of the night—the success of the relaunch went to my head.’

      His eyes didn’t leave her face the entire time she spoke. She curled her fingers into fists and tried to ignore his superb nudity.

      ‘And caused you to ravish me.’

      ‘Ravish you?’ He’d done the ravishing. She sure felt like she’d been ravished. He’d broken down defences she’d been sure were insurmountable. But he didn’t know that and, even if he did, if his current expression was anything to go by, he didn’t care.

      ‘I wasn’t the one who ripped the buttons off this shirt.’ His muscles flexed across his back as he bent to retrieve it.

      OK, so she’d been eager to get it started.

      ‘I wasn’t the one who couldn’t open the condom packet because of having the shakes so bad.’

      There was nothing she could say to that so she went for the silent, avoid-eye-contact approach.

      He stepped back towards her as she sat on the edge of the table. ‘I wasn’t the one screaming the house down.’

      Now that was below the belt. She looked away from the rippling muscles on show and swallowed back the desire. Let icy anger trickle in.

      ‘Come on. You were all over me.’

      Well, of course she was. He was a god. He had the body of an Olympian and the technique of a master. She’d been weak just by looking and conquered with the first kiss. She had to pull back now because he was never going to be reciprocating her kind of stupidity. Once only. No analysis.