Yvonne Lindsay - Propositioned By The Tycoon - Mr Strictly Business / Bought - His Temporary Fiancée / A Win-Win Proposition

“Just for my own edification, is this how I’m supposed to react when the shoe is on the other foot?” he asked.

That stopped her, if only for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that your business is as demanding as mine. Most of your events take place in the evening or on the weekend when I’m off work. Having spent the past two years building up your business, you know there are times when the unexpected arises and you have no choice but to deal with it.”

“Damn you!” She glared at him in frustration. “I’m not in the mood for your brand of logic. You can’t turn this back on me.”

“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to make you see that every once in a while something like this is going to happen. We’d better learn to deal with it starting right here and right now. Tonight was on me, and I’m sorry, Cate. I’m more sorry than you can possibly know. I wanted your homecoming to be special, and instead it was a nightmare. But you tell me how to handle it the next time or how I should react when you’re the one calling with the last-minute emergency.”

He could tell she was at a loss for words. The fire died, leaving behind pain and confusion. “I was looking forward to tonight so much,” she confessed.

The admission hit and hit hard. “So was I.” He stripped off his shorts and tossed back the bedcovers. Then he held out his hand. “Robe.”

When she didn’t immediately comply, he simply took matters into his own hands. He flicked buttons through holes with ruthless efficiency before sweeping it from her shoulders.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

If she’d used anger against him, or that ice-cold wall of defiance, he might have ignored her request. But he couldn’t resist her when every scrap of defensive armor lay shattered around her and unhappiness coursed from her in palpable waves.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said in a husky voice. “It’s okay. We’ll just sleep.”

He gathered her close, locking her against him, and his eyes shut at the feel of her body curving into his. This time she didn’t protest when he urged her toward the bed. How long had it been since he’d had her head pillowed on his shoulder and felt those crisp, wayward curls tickle his jaw? How long had he waited to have that silken skin flowing over his, her small, perfect breasts pressed against his side? He’d craved this, just this, for endless, torturous months. Now that he had her back in his arms he could afford to be patient. As much as he wanted to make love to her, this would do until the time was right. He could give her some space while they worked through their issues.

“Are you asleep?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“Did you make the deal?”

He smiled. It was a start. He could be satisfied with that.

Gabe woke at first light and realized that this time he wasn’t dreaming. This time it was real. He held Catherine safely tucked within his arms, tight against his side, the rhythm of her heart and breath and sleep-laden movements perfectly synchronized with his. He’d always considered her an elegant woman, small and delicate. But not here. Not now. Not when she abandoned herself to sleep and was at her most unguarded. Then he saw through all the defenses and shields to the very core of the woman. Mysterious. Powerful. Gloriously female.

She’d entwined her body around his, all slender shapely arms and legs. Even in sleep she clung to him, a delicious, possessive hold that cut through all the conflicts and difficulties that separated them and simply lay claim. In the real world she dressed with style, presented herself with calm self-confidence. She’d always impressed him with her cool, professional demeanor. But here in their bed she revealed a passion that never failed to set him on fire.

He traced the planes of her face, reveling in the sensation of warm, silken skin, skin covering a bone structure of such purity that it quickened his breath and annihilated reason. He thought he would forgot, that over the long months they were apart that time would steal precious memories. But it didn’t. He knew each curve, remembered them all, would have recognized the feel of her, even if he’d been blind.

She was back. Granted, it wasn’t out of choice. But in time, that would change. He’d make sure of it. His fingers trailed downward, across a pale shoulder, sculpting the feminine dip and swell of waist and hip. The hem of her nightgown had bunched high on her slender thighs, offering him a tantalizing view of the shapely curve of her backside. He’d missed waking up to this. Would she still moan if he caressed those sinewy lines with his fingertips?

He put thought into action and was rewarded with the lightest of sighs, one of undeniable pleasure. She shifted against him, softening and opening. Her head tipped back, spilling golden curls across their pillow, offering up the long sweep of her throat. He buried his mouth against the hollow at the very base and at the same time cupped her breast through the thin layer of silk covering it. It felt warm within his palm, the nipple a small perfect bud, ripe for the plucking. He grazed the tip. Once. Twice. The third stroke had her stirring with his name on her lips, the sound escaping in a strangled cry of sheer need.

There wasn’t any just-woke-up confusion about Catherine. There never had been. She went from a dead sleep to aroused woman in the blink of an eye. Her arms circled his neck and she pulled him in for a hot, hungry kiss. He didn’t need further prompting. He rolled over on top of her, sinking into her warmth.

He’d planned to give her a moment to adjust to both his weight and his embrace. But she took the initiative. Hooking a leg around his waist, she anchored him close and deepened the kiss. In this area they’d always been in perfect accord, each the perfect mate for the other. Her lips parted and he delved inward, stoking the heat. He could feel her tremble in response to his touch, feel her heartbeat pounding against his palm, and his own pulse caught the rapid-fire rhythm and echoed it.

Need ripened between them, escalating with dizzying speed. As though sensing it, she ended the kiss with a small, nipping tug of his bottom lip. “Not so fast.” The request was half plea, half demand. “Give me time to think.”

“Forget it, Catherine. No more waiting. This is all that matters,” he told her fiercely. Once again he plied her lips with small, biting kisses while his hands traversed sweetly familiar pathways that had been left unexplored for far too long. “This is what’s important. What we feel right here and right now.”

“I wish that were true.” Her breath hitched when he reacquainted himself with a particularly vulnerable curve of skin, just along the outer swell of her breast. “But we can’t just forget what came before. What about my reasons for leaving you? What about all the empty space during the time we were apart? As enjoyable as it will be, knotting up the bedsheets isn’t going to make all our problems go away.”

“But it’ll ground us,” he maintained. “It’ll give us a common base from which to work.” He swept his hand across her heated flesh to prove his point, watching as her eyes glazed and her breath exploded. “We were meant to be together.”

She managed to shake her head, but he could see the effort it took her. If he pressed, she’d cave. And though parts of him wanted her any way he could have her, the rational part of his brain preferred her willing, not fighting regrets. He leaned in and gave her another wickedly slow, thorough kiss before easing back.

She eyed him in open suspicion, while she probed her swollen lips with the tip of her tongue. “Are they smoking? They feel like they’re smoking.”

He choked on a laugh. How did she do it? How did she take him from overwhelming hunger to heart-melting amusement with one simple question? “Your lips aren’t smoking, but your tongue is. Just a little around the edges.” He leaned in. “I can show you where. Make it all better.”