Kathryn Ross – Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal (страница 5)
Drawing back, he said quizzically, ‘There now, that’s what you’ve been fearing all night, but it didn’t hurt a bit, did it?’
When she just looked at him with big, dazed eyes, he said, ‘So shall I do it again?’
Somehow she found her voice and lied jerkily, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘OK,’ he said, and kissed her again. This time there was nothing light or fleeting about it.
When, without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath the light pressure of his, he deepened the kiss until her head was reeling and her very soul had lost its way.
He could feel her trembling and, sensing that she was his for the taking, he suggested softly, ‘My apartment is quite close to here. Will you come up for a nightcap?’
Somehow she found her voice and objected huskily, ‘It’s late. I should get to bed.’
‘Exactly what I had in mind…’ he murmured.
She didn’t dare look at him.
‘With so much chemistry between us…’ He let the sentence tail off.
But then he didn’t need to say any more. Sex with him would be good, she knew that instinctively. Better than good. Mind-blowing.
Heat running through her, she said, ‘I’ve never gone in for one-night stands,’ and was uncomfortably aware that she sounded stuffy and old-fashioned.
Raising a dark brow, he asked, ‘Who said anything about a one-night stand? I have the distinct feeling that having you in my arms for a million and one nights wouldn’t be enough.’
Struggling to close her mind to the seduction in his voice and words, she looked down at her lap. For once in her life she was sorely tempted to do what Eve was always telling her to do, and live a little.
But the guilt that had been her albatross now became her saviour, reminding her that she couldn’t afford—either financially or emotionally—to get involved with this man.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, ‘I don’t want to go to bed with you. I’d like to go home, please.’
Chapter Two
MADELINE braced herself, expecting him to be angry, to try and persuade her to change her mind, but, showing no signs of temper or disappointment, Rafe said evenly, ‘Very well. If that’s what you want.’
Relieved that he’d accepted her decision, that she’d won so easily, she made an effort to relax her taut muscles.
The relief turned out to be premature, as he returned to the attack.
‘Have lunch with me tomorrow?’ Before she could answer, he swept on, ‘According to the forecast, it’s going to be another lovely day. We could go for a drive, and picnic in an idyllic spot I know.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t.’
‘You’re not working tomorrow, are you?’ he questioned.
‘No. But I’ve a lot to do.’ In a rush, she added, ‘Saturday mornings I clean the flat, and then I do some shopping.’
She always bought a selection of small gifts for her mother, before catching the two-thirty bus to the nursing home.
He raised dark brows. ‘Surely housework and shopping can wait? While this good weather holds, having a drive in the country and a picnic would be a lot more fun.’
Thinking of what had happened to her mother and Colin, and feeling the black taste of guilt in her mouth, she said sharply, ‘There’s a lot more to life than just having fun.’
Then, seeing the shadow that had fallen across his face, and regretting lashing out, she touched his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t very gracious of me.’
‘No.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘But you don’t have to be gracious with me. I’d much prefer honesty…’
She was surprised. None of the men she’d known had particularly valued honesty.
‘Tell me why the idea of having a little fun upset you so much,’ he pursued.
It wasn’t something she could tell him.
It wasn’t something she could bring herself to tell anyone. Not even Eve and Noel.
Pulling her hand free, she said jerkily, ‘It isn’t the idea of having fun…It’s just that…’ The words tailed off.
‘You really can’t stand the sight of me?’
She should have said yes, and be done with it. Instead, she said, ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’
‘So what is it?’
‘I—I don’t have time for commitments…’
‘I wasn’t asking you to sign your life over to me,’ he said mildly, ‘merely to spend a few fleeting hours in my company. If you’re busy Saturday morning, let’s make it the afternoon.’
‘I’m not free Saturday afternoon. I have to be out by two-thirty.’
‘What time will you be home?’
Naturally truthful, she admitted, ‘About six.’
‘Then have dinner with me.’
Before she could think of an excuse, they were turning into Danetree Court, an old-fashioned block in a tree-lined square.
As they drew up outside her ground-floor flat, fumbling in her bag for her key, she said quickly, ‘Don’t bother to get out.’
Ignoring her injunction, Rafe asked the driver to wait and accompanied her across the pavement. In the amber glow from the street lamp he unlocked the door and handed her back the key.
‘Thank you.’ Dropping it into her bag, she slipped inside and turned to face him.
He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body and his breath stirring her hair.
She glanced up.
His mouth was only inches away. Just the thought of it touching hers again sent shivers down her spine and brought her out in goose-pimples.
She backed a step. ‘And thank you for a very nice evening. I’ve had a lovely time.’
‘I’m pleased you’ve enjoyed it.’ Then, as though it was all settled, ‘I thought we’d go to Annabel’s tomorrow evening
She hesitated, knowing full well she should stop this thing in its tracks but wanting desperately to see him again.
Looking into her face, seeing her waver, he added firmly, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’
Though common sense told her she was being a fool, she agreed, ‘All right.’
When he lifted a quizzical brow at her lack of enthusiasm, her voice unsteady, she added, ‘I’ll look forward to it…Well, goodnight.’
He tilted his head to one side, a gesture she was coming to know. ‘Rafe?’
‘Rafe,’ she echoed obediently. It was the first time she had used his name.
‘Goodnight, Madeleine. Sleep well.’
‘Goodnight,’ she said again.
He didn’t turn away as she had expected. Instead he stood quite motionless, watching her.
She knew she should step back and close the door, but, fascinated by the unnerving stillness that generated so much sexual tension, she was still rooted to the spot when he bent and kissed her.
This time his mouth was not only sweet, but also
The last obstacle removed, his mouth began to move against hers in a sizzling kiss that melted her last defences as easily as a blowtorch melted butter.
He tasted like ambrosia. Her stomach clenched and her heart began to race wildly, while desire dried her throat and ran like red-hot lava through her bloodstream.