The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

he began to move, slowly at first, so slowly she felt the passage inch by inch, and just as she began to think he intended to disengage, he slid in to the hilt in one excruciatingly sensual thrust, repeating the movement as he increased the pace. Until the rhythm became an hypnotic entity she had no power to resist.

      Mesmeric, urgent, libidinous…it became something she’d never experienced before. An intoxicating captivation of her senses as he swept them high to a point of magical ecstasy.

      She had no memory of the scream torn from her throat, the way her nails raked his ribs, or how she sought his flesh with her teeth. She was a wild wanton, driven beyond mere desire to a primitive place where passion became an incandescent entity.

      Diego brought her down slowly, gently, soothing her quivering body until she stilled in his arms.

      There were tears trickling down each cheek, and he felt his heart constrict at her vulnerability.

      She felt exposed. As if this man had somehow managed to see into her heart, her soul, and that everything she was, all her secrets were laid bare.

      There was little she could gain from his expression, and her mouth shook as he carefully rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

      His gaze held hers in the soft light, and she couldn’t look away. There were no words, nothing she could say, and the breath hitched in her throat as he lifted both hands to her breasts.

      With the utmost care he tested their weight, then traced the gentle swell, using his thumb pad to caress the swollen peaks.

      Her skin felt sensitive to his touch as he cupped her waist, then slid to her hips.

      Cassandra felt her eyes widen as he began to swell inside her, and a soundless gasp parted her lips as he began a slow, undulating movement.

      Again? He was ready for more?

      She caught the rhythm and matched it, enjoying the dominant position, and what followed became the ride of her life…and his, for there was no doubting his passion, or the moment of his climax as it joined with her own.

      Afterwards he drew her down against him and cradled her close until her breathing, his own, returned to normal.

      She could have slept right there, her cheek cushioned against his chest, and she began to protest as he disengaged and eased her to lie beside him.

      Then she did voice a protest as he slid from the bed and swept her into his arms.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Her faintly scandalised query held an edge of panic as he crossed to the en suite and entered the spacious shower cubicle.

      ‘We can’t share a shower,’ Cassandra protested, and earned a husky laugh.

      ‘We just shared the ultimate in intimacy,’ Diego drawled as he picked up the soap and began smoothing it over her skin.

      So they had, but this…this was something else, and she put a hand to his chest in silent remonstrance.

      ‘No.’

      He didn’t stop. ‘Afterwards we sleep.’

      She pushed him. Or at least she tried, but he was an immovable force. ‘I can take care of myself.’

      ‘Indulge me.’

      ‘Diego—’

      ‘I like the sound of my name on your lips.’

      ‘Please!’ His touch was a little too up close and personal, and he was invading her private space in a way no man had done before.

      ‘You get to have your turn any minute soon,’ he drawled with amusement, then had the audacity to chuckle as she took a well-aimed swipe at his shoulder.

      ‘If you want to play, querida, I’m only too willing to oblige.’

      ‘I’m all played out.’ It was the truth, for exhaustion was beginning to overpower her, combined with the soporific spray of hot water, heated steam and lateness of the hour. Plus she hurt in places she’d never hurt before.

      He finished her ablutions, then set about completing his own. Within minutes he turned off the water, snagged a bath towel and towelled her dry before applying the towel to his own torso.

      Seconds later he led her into the bedroom and pulled her down onto the bed, settled the covers, then doused the light.

      With one fluid movement her gathered her in against him and held her there, aware of the moment tiredness overcame her reluctance and she slept.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      CASSANDRA woke slowly, aware within seconds this wasn’t her bed, her room, or her apartment. Realisation dawned, and she turned her head cautiously…only to see she was the sole occupant of the large bed.

      Of Diego there was no sign, and she checked the time, gasped in exasperated dismay, then she slid to her feet, gathered fresh underwear and day clothes from her bag and made for the en suite.

      Fifteen minutes later she gathered up her bag and moved down to the lower floor. She could smell fresh coffee, toast…and felt her stomach rumble in growling protest as she made her way towards the kitchen.

      Diego stood at the servery, dressed in dark trousers, a business shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a matching dark jacket rested over the back of a chair with a tie carelessly tossed on top of it.

      He looked far too alive for a man who’d spent the greater part of the night engaged in physical activity, and just the sight of him was enough to shred her nerves.

      ‘I was going to give you another five minutes,’ he drawled. ‘Then come fetch you.’ He indicated the carafe. ‘Coffee?’

      ‘Please.’ She felt awkward, and incredibly vulnerable. ‘Then I’ll call a cab.’

      Diego extracted a plate of eggs and toast from a warming tray. ‘I’ll drive you home. Sit down and eat.’

      ‘I’m not hungry.’

      He subjected her to a raking appraisal, saw the darkened shadows beneath her eyes, the faint edge of tiredness. ‘Eat,’ he insisted. ‘Then we’ll leave.’

      Any further protest would be fruitless, and besides, the eggs looked good. She took a seat and did justice to the food, sipped the strong, hot black coffee, and felt more ready to face the day.

      As soon as she finished he pulled on his tie and adjusted it, then shrugged into his jacket.

      She began clearing the table with the intention of doing the dishes.

      ‘Leave them.’

      ‘It’ll only take a few minutes.’

      ‘I have a cleaning lady. Leave them.’

      Without a word she picked up her bag and followed him through to the garage.

      The distance between Point Piper and Double Bay amounted to a few kilometres, and Cassandra slid open the door within seconds of Diego drawing the car to a halt outside the entrance of her apartment building.

      There wasn’t an adequate word that came to mind, and she didn’t offer one as she walked away from him.

      The cat gave an indignant miaow as she unlocked her door, and she dropped her bag, put down fresh food, then took the lift down to the basement car park.

      Minutes later she eased her vintage Porsche onto the road and battled morning peak-hour traffic to reach her place of work.

      Concentration on the job in hand proved difficult as she attempted to dispel Diego’s powerful image.

      Far too often she was reminded of his possession. Dear heaven, she could still feel him. Tender internal tissues provided a telling evidence, and just the thought of her reaction to their shared intimacy