Kelly Hunter - At His Service - Millionaire's Mistress

That simple connection, the joining of hands as he looked into her eyes … She closed her eyes to block him out. No one had ever made love to her like this before. No one had ever made her feel this way before. But uncomplicated sex was all she was looking for, she told herself, and so was he—they’d both just admitted as much.

So she concentrated on his warm masculine scent, the friction of hot skin on hot skin. Every movement, every murmur, every breath, invoked a different sensation, a new experience in delight. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her, but the grip of his fingers held her fast.

Cameron didn’t want to loosen his grip, even when he felt her resistance. ‘Not yet,’ he whispered against her ear.

He had her right where he wanted her, with her hard little nipples prodding his chest, her heart beating out the wild rhythm echoing his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind it mystified him that someone as individual as Didi, as opposed to him as north and south, should match him in any way.

She was all compact curves and sinuous limbs. Fire roared through his veins, hammered in his groin. The urge to plunge into her wet heat without further preliminaries and satisfy himself slammed into him like a fully loaded cement truck on steroids. But he’d barely started. He wanted to see the passion build in those silver eyes, to watch her come undone beneath him—and he had to unlock their hands to do that.

He banked the fire, let it smoulder through his system. Slow. Freeing her to do her own exploring while taking her with him on his leisurely tour of discovery. As he brushed his lips over skin as smooth as satin—a cheek, a shoulder, the softer flesh of her neck, each with their own unique fragrance and texture.

She might be somewhat naïve but she wasn’t shy—a surprise given her innocent pixie-like charms. He hadn’t counted on the ability of those small deft fingers to fan the embers into a red-hot need with such swiftness.

Another surprise. He didn’t need women, he enjoyed them. And when the enjoyment faded, so did the relationship. Only Kat had managed to inveigle her way beneath his defences. His hand tightened a little over Didi’s breast. Never again.

What had happened with her ex-lover? he wondered, watching her eyes turn to pewter as her fingernails scraped over his nipples, a tease of pleasure, a hint of pain. He slammed the thought to the back of his mind. But he couldn’t shake the uneasy, unfamiliar feeling it evoked. Jealousy? Hardly.

His fingers tightened again on her flesh and an overwhelming need to possess her now seized him, tossed him high where there was only heat and need and greed. Forget slow—skimming the dip of her belly, he plunged three 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?’