The panicky feeling receded, leaving me with the same breathless hunger I’d felt before and a pleasure that pushed at my boundaries, making me gasp and shake.
He kept moving, thrusting up into me, hard and deep, pulling away from me, like those big cars. Taking control.
And I let myself go, let myself feel the speed, moving with him faster and faster, the power of his hot, hard body pushing into mine, taking me with him, a race to the finish.
I could have raced for ever.
But then he took my hand and brought it down between us, putting my fingers against my own wet flesh and holding them down as he thrust, deeper, harder.
Then there was lightning behind my eyes, an explosion of heat inside me, petrol igniting and pleasure cascading through my body. So much pleasure...
I opened my mouth to scream but he covered it with his own, drinking down my release as he moved, faster and out of control, chasing his own ending.
Afterwards there was nothing but silence, the car full of the desperate sounds of our breathing. I couldn’t move, my body heavy and sated, happy to rest against his strength and immense heat.
Then the aftershocks of the orgasm began to recede and I began to feel cold and shaky. And somehow he must’ve sensed it, because he slid his hands from my hips and up my back, then down again, stroking me slowly, lightly, like a cat.
My family wasn’t physical. A back slap here, a handshake there, and that was it. We didn’t hug. Dad wasn’t much for displays of affection. And since my mother had died, no one had ever touched me like this, gently, as if I needed soothing or comfort.
Again, I was horrified by the prickling of yet more tears, my throat getting tight and my chest sore as another weird emotional tide rushed in where the pleasure had been not moments before.
I didn’t understand it. I’d never cried the few times I’d had sex. It had been nice, sure, but afterwards I’d only felt a bit awkward. Certainly not...whatever this was.
Maybe it was a girl thing. Either way, I did not want it, especially not in front of Mr Evans.
Moving quickly, I pushed myself away, wriggling out of his grip before he could stop me.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’
I kept my face turned away as I frantically grabbed my trousers and underwear, inelegantly shifting around on the back seat as I pulled them back on again. ‘Uh...gotta get back. You know, things to do.’
Thank God I sounded okay and not all husky and thick.
There was a moment’s silence as I hunted around for my cap, blinking furiously against the tears that threatened.
‘Are you okay?’ The edge of command was in his voice, leaving me in no doubt he wanted a response.
Dammit.
Forcing away the thickness in my throat and ignoring the pricking behind my eyes, I made myself turn around and meet his gaze.
It was sharp, the expression on his scarred face fierce as he scanned me like a quality inspector looking for faults.
I forced myself to hold his stare. ‘I’m fine.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why don’t you come up to my hotel room? I’ll order dinner and run you a bath.’
The heavy emotion in my chest gathered tighter. ‘Um, no, thank you,’ I said quickly, ignoring the part of me that very much wanted to do just that. ‘Like I said, things to do.’
‘Miss Little—’
I leaned forward and kissed him before he could finish. ‘Thanks for that, it was really fun.’ I turned around, pulling the door handle so I could get out.
It would have been better if I could have walked away, but sadly, I had to deal with the limo, which meant waiting until he was ready to leave.
So I got in the driver’s side, determinedly checking over my clothing to make sure everything was all buttoned up, resolutely not looking at him.
There was a silence in the back of the car. Then eventually, his voice curt, he said, ‘Tomorrow. 9:00 a.m. Don’t be late.’
I risked a glance in the mirror and found his searing blue gaze on mine again. It took effort to give him my usual smile, but I managed it. ‘See you then, Mr Evans,’ I said jauntily.
I waited until he’d got out of the car.
Then I burst into tears.
Ash
‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you’re rethinking the deal?’ I demanded, staring sightlessly at the view of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel suite.
Delaney sighed down the other end of the phone. ‘I told you yesterday that the islands have a certain...sentimental value. And I was very much hoping they would go to someone who has the same family values as I do.’
I scowled at the street outside, trying to get a handle on my already touchy temper. I didn’t much care about other people’s feelings in the normal scheme of things, but alienating Delaney would be stupid. ‘If you’re expecting Dumont to have the values you’re looking for, you’re sadly mistaken.’
‘Actually, Mr Dumont told me that he’s thinking of settling down and is looking for a place to raise a family.’
Like hell he was. My half-brother was a playboy extraordinaire and settling down was the very last thing he’d ever do.
The bastard.
If I wasn’t careful, my little plan to buy his precious islands out from under him was going to go tits up. Not that it was just my petty-yet-satisfying revenge that was at stake. There was also the success of Evans International, my luxury hotel business, to consider.
It was my first foray into the market and I wanted it to work, especially since all profits were to go into the charitable foundation I’d set up especially for the purpose.
A foundation for business scholarships, leadership programmes and mentorships for kids from poor areas who didn’t have access to the kinds of education and contacts that rich kids did.
All the things that I could have had if my own father hadn’t washed his hands of my mother and me, relegating us both to a hand-to-mouth existence on a council estate.
I’d made it my mission to succeed despite him. To be better than him in every way. To help people who needed it and never deny them.
And if I got a bit of private satisfaction out of privileged arseholes paying an arm and a leg to stay on some island so that the money could go to helping the very people those privileged arseholes looked down on, then that was just icing on the cake.
Another one in the eye for the old man.
‘I’ll be settling down too,’ I said. ‘Eventually.’
There was a pause down the other end of the phone. ‘You mentioned a girlfriend...?’
‘Yes.’ My gaze dropped from the famous view to the street below, tracking a long black car moving down it and drawing up outside the hotel. ‘What about her?’
‘You said yesterday that you were serious about her.’
The door of the car opened and someone got out. Small and curvy and female in black trousers and a white shirt, a chauffeur’s cap on her head. She moved to the front of the limo and pulled something out of the back pocket of