A Mistress, a Scandal, a Ring Read online

  In the master suite he lowered her onto the bed, his brain waging a fierce battle with his body. One urged him to tuck a blanket around her and walk away. The other wanted to undress her and explore every inch of her luscious body.

  He started to straighten, but her arms tightened around his neck.

  ‘Xavier?’

  He looked down, straight into those extraordinary golden-green eyes, wide open now, staring up at him, searching his.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Her voice was deliciously husky. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

  It was all the invitation he needed. Planting his hands either side of her head, he lowered himself to the bed and settled his mouth over hers.

  She opened to him immediately, and he almost groaned at the feel of her plump lips softening and parting under his.

  For seven hours he’d thought about doing this. Seven hours of struggling to concentrate through meetings and phone calls and the usual endless influx of emails and papers crossing his desk, all demanding his time and attention.

  He cupped her jaw in one hand, holding her still so he could explore the contours of her mouth with his lips and tongue, forcing himself to take a gentler, more leisurely approach than he had previously.

  He intended to have her as many times as he desired—as many times as was necessary for his lust to burn itself out—but he didn’t want their first time to be a rushed, frantic coupling. He wanted to savour her, inch by exquisite inch, to prolong the experience and wring every drop of pleasure from it—for him and for her.

  The problem was, while frustration and anger weren’t driving him now, his hunger for her felt no less urgent and raw. Thirty seconds of kissing and already he was having to restrain himself.

  He angled his head and took the kiss deeper, dipping his tongue in, enjoying the way hers came out to duel and dance with his, her strokes and thrusts growing bolder by the second.

  He felt her hands slide to the back of his head, her fingers clutching at his hair, and then she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, the mischievous nip of her teeth shooting a dart of heat straight to the base of his groin.

  Now he did groan—a deep, masculine sound of appreciation that rumbled up his throat.

  She was honey and temptation—sugar and sin—mixed together in one soft, seductive package.

  He felt sweat film his brow just as Jordan tugged on his tie and whispered against his lips.

  ‘You’re overdressed.’

  Yes—and hot as hell. But to undress he would have to stop kissing her.

  Instead he yanked his tie loose, managed to shrug one shoulder out of his jacket, but finally frustration—and the desire to feel nothing but heat and sweat between their bodies—forced him to raise his head.

  ‘Don’t move,’ he growled.

  He shed his clothes, snapping a few buttons off his shirt and losing his cufflinks on the floor in his haste. Jordan was up on her elbows, watching, her eyes growing wider with each item of clothing he removed.

  When he pushed his boxers down and kicked them off, freeing the long, heavy shaft of his erection, her teeth sank into her bottom lip and her thick copper lashes swept down and shielded her eyes from view.

  He crossed back to the bed, leaned down and took her face in his hands, and kissed her, long and slow, before easing back.

  ‘Lift your arms,’ he ordered, desire roughening his voice, and she did so, allowing him to pull her top up and over her head.

  With deft hands he stripped away the rest of her clothing until she lay completely naked on the bed, and for a moment his breathing stopped as he feasted his hungry gaze on the long, graceful lines and lush curves of her body.

  A pink blush spilled down her neck, belated shyness making her move to cover herself.

  ‘No.’ He caught her wrists and pulled her arms above her head. ‘You’re beautiful.’

  And then he came down onto the bed and lost himself in a thorough, sensual exploration of her body. Her pleasure, he quickly discovered, intensified his, and he let her responses guide him, paying close attention to her soft gasps and delightful moans, to the little telltale shivers that rippled through her body.

  One by one he found her pleasure spots. By the time he trailed kisses along her smooth inner thighs he knew she was close to the edge.

  Remembering how he’d made her climax on the sofa, he used his hands and mouth in the same way now, and within seconds her spine arched and she cried out and came in a beautiful, shuddering rush.

  Heat ripped through his body, and in that moment he knew that watching Jordan in the contorted throes of orgasm was the single most erotic experience of his life.

  He sheathed himself with a condom and noticed that his hands shook.

  ‘Xavier...’ Her voice was husky, plaintive, and he moved over her, covering her body with his.

  ‘I’m here, amante.’

  Her hands stroked over the muscles of his shoulders and back and down to his buttocks, drawing him to her as he positioned himself between her spread legs. Their gazes meshed for a moment, then he drove his hips forward and they both gasped as he thrust himself deep inside her.

  His breath shuddered out of him, and then Jordan raised her knees and tilted her pelvis, causing friction, and he hurriedly sank his fingers into her hip.

  ‘Wait,’ he rasped, teeth gritted, needing a moment to rein himself in.

  He closed his eyes. She was so hot. So tight. He felt her flesh stretch to accommodate his considerable width, then contract again, gripping him along every sensitised inch of his shaft.

  ‘Xavier?’

  He opened his eyes, saw uncertainty and concern on her beautiful, flushed face.

  She reached up and lightly touched his clenched jaw. ‘Is...is everything all right?’

  He relaxed his expression. ‘Sí, querida,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘Everything is perfect.’ He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her on the mouth. ‘You’re perfect.’

  He moved and felt the tight, greedy clench of her internal muscles as he slowly drew out and then, at the last possible moment, plunged back in. The sensations were exquisite, torturous.

  The slow, steady rhythm he’d intended to set to coax her towards climax again lasted all of five seconds.

  He couldn’t hold back. His body screamed for release. Demanded that he take. With a low groan of surrender he gave himself over to the dark, animalistic urges inside him and let go, each thrust harder, deeper than the last.

  Jordan wound her arms around his neck, raised her mouth to his ear and whispered something shockingly dirty that drove him over the edge.

  And then there was nothing but a streak of white-hot sensation and the rough, savage sound that ripped from his throat.

  * * *

  It took Jordan a long while to float back to earth. For a time she wondered how all the tiny scattered pieces of her could possibly reassemble themselves so that she looked and felt the same as before—and then she decided they wouldn’t.

  It wasn’t possible.

  After that mind-blowing, body-shattering experience she would never be the same again.

  She would certainly never look at sex in the same light. Because now she knew. Knew that what she’d experienced with Josh had been a pale imitation of what true unbridled passion looked like. That sex with a man who elevated her pleasure above his, who knew where to find every erogenous zone on her body and how to make her feel worshipped and desired, was a thrilling experience every heterosexual woman should have at least once in her life.

  Not that Jordan could imagine once being enough.

  Not even close.

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  The deep rumble of Xavier’s voice penetrated her thoughts. Without lifting her cheek off his shoulder she tilted her face to his. She lay in the circle of his arms
, tucked against his side, her forearm draped over washboard abs so impressive she’d already promised herself she’d eat less chocolate and do sit-ups every morning.

  Or maybe just sit-ups, she amended. Life was too short to deny herself chocolate.

  Or wild, exhilarating sex...

  ‘Jordan?’ His arms tightened around her and his large hand stroked up and down her arm.

  She felt her heart thud unevenly. She reminded herself she mustn’t enjoy this part too much. They’d had amazing sex, but she would not build it into something it wasn’t in her head. Her rose-tinted glasses would remain firmly under lock and key.

  But a little post-coital euphoria wouldn’t do her any harm. Besides, how could she pretend that being cocooned in these big, strong arms was anything less than bliss? Not to mention a surprise. Who would have pegged the formidable Xavier de la Vega as a cuddler?

  Smiling to herself, she tucked her chin back down and let her gaze drift across his hair-roughened chest. ‘What was the question again?’

  ‘What are you thinking about?’

  She was thinking he had ruined her future sex-life, because no other man would ever compare. ‘I reserve the right not to answer that question.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘On the grounds that my answer may go to your head.’

  ‘Which head?’

  She was slow to register his meaning. Then a snigger escaped her. ‘I can’t believe you said that.’

  ‘Says the woman who asked me to f—’

  She jerked up and slapped her fingers over his mouth. ‘That’s different,’ she defended, colour singeing her cheeks. ‘That was in the heat of the moment.’

  And the heat in that particular moment had been blistering—so intense Jordan had half expected the sheets to ignite and engulf them both in flames.

  She’d sensed the change in Xavier, known the exact moment his prized control slipped from his grasp. Had he been another man, his sheer size and the power of his body as he surged between her legs might have made her feel vulnerable, but she trusted Xavier, and instead of fear she’d felt a thrill of wild excitement. His control had been in tatters because of her, and that intoxicating knowledge had made her brazen. Daring.

  He grabbed her wrist and tugged so she ended up sprawled over his chest. Her pulse quickened. The light abrasion of chest hair against her sensitive breasts was far too tantalising.

  His grey eyes gleamed. ‘I never would have picked you for a dirty talker, Ms Walsh.’

  Neither would she. But then she wouldn’t have picked herself for a one-night stand kind of girl, either.

  The thought was unwelcome and sobering. A reminder that this—whatever ‘this’ was, exactly—was temporary. Just how temporary she hadn’t yet worked out. For all she knew Xavier could be intending on taking her back to the ferry terminal tomorrow. Maybe for him once was enough.

  A tiny sliver of ice pierced her euphoria.

  Quickly she rolled away, managing to reach the side of the bed before a strong arm looped around her waist and hauled her back against a hot, muscular body.

  Xavier growled in her ear. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  Treacherous heat poured through her. ‘I—I put my things in one of the other bedrooms.’

  She hadn’t wanted to make any assumptions about where she’d sleep—and she was glad now that she hadn’t. It gave her an excuse to vacate his bed without suffering the humiliation of being asked to leave. The cuddling had been nice, but just because he held her in the immediate aftermath of lovemaking it didn’t mean he wanted her in his bed all night.

  ‘I moved your things. They’re here...in the dressing room.’

  ‘Oh.’ And now she felt foolish.

  ‘Do you have a problem with sleeping in my bed, Jordan?’ His voice was dark and velvety, with the tiniest hint of menace.

  ‘No. I just...’ She tried for a careless shrug. ‘I don’t know what the rules are, that’s all...’ Her face burned. ‘I don’t usually do this sort of thing.’

  With a manoeuvre that left her startled and breathless, he flipped her on her back and loomed above her. ‘“This sort of thing”?’

  She swallowed. ‘Casual sex.’

  He made a low, rough sound. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  Pleased to hear what? That she was nowhere near as experienced as him? She wished she’d said something different. Something that would have portrayed her as a woman of the world. The type of woman who could blithely indulge in a sexual fling and walk away without a backward glance.

  He circled her left nipple with his fingertip. ‘There’s only one rule you need to know, amante.’

  She tried to ignore the little ring of fire his finger created. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Amante?’

  His lips curved in a smile that was altogether too sexy. A smile that made her body heat and her insides melt. The heat was welcome, but not the melting. The melting of organs—especially the one in her chest—was strictly forbidden.

  ‘Lover,’ he said, and then dipped his head and drew her nipple into his mouth.

  Oh, God.

  She fought to concentrate. ‘And—’ She gasped as he sucked harder. ‘Wh-what’s the rule?’

  After several more seconds of inflicting sweet torture on her he lifted his head and locked his glittering gaze onto hers. ‘You don’t walk away from this—from me—until we’ve burned it out.’

  Which meant he believed their attraction had a shelf life. Was that how it was with this kind of crazy, intense chemistry? Did the passion flare hot and bright for a brief time and then naturally extinguish itself?

  She didn’t know if she found the idea reassuring or depressing.

  His hand trailed over her stomach and she lost her train of thought. Tiny tremors of anticipation quaked through her. His mouth descended towards hers.

  And then a grumbling noise, horribly loud and endlessly long, filled the air.

  Jordan froze.

  Xavier lifted his head and looked at her. ‘Was that your stomach?’

  Wishing she could disappear, she covered her face with her hands. ‘Yes!’ She glared at him through her fingers. ‘Are you laughing at me?’

  He was. Which meant she had not only his sexy smile to contend with, but the rich, delicious sound of his low laughter.

  He straightened, took her hands and pulled her into a sitting position.

  She gave him a look of dismay. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We are getting up,’ he said. ‘And then I’m ordering some food.’

  She dropped her gaze to the very impressive semi-erect appendage between his legs. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t you rather do something else?’ She would.

  ‘Sí. But you need to eat.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  He tipped up her chin. ‘That’s a lie. We both need to eat. And believe me, amante—’ his sudden smile was wolfish ‘—you’ll need the energy for the night ahead.’

  * * *

  If watching Jordan climax was at the top of his list of most erotic experiences, then watching her devour half a dozen raw oysters came a close second.

  She picked up another shell. ‘These are so good. Aren’t you having any?’

  She angled the shell, swallowed the oyster down and closed her eyes, savouring the taste on her tongue for a moment before tipping her head back and letting the fish slide down her delicate throat.

  Xav shifted on his chair, grateful they were seated at his dining table in the open-plan living area. The tabletop hid what his sweatpants most definitely did not.

  ‘I can take or leave shellfish.’

  ‘You don’t mind if I have the last one?’

  He flourished a hand. ‘Be my guest.’

  She ma
de short work of the last oyster, wiped her mouth on a napkin and took a sip of her white wine. Her gaze moved over the selection of tapas dishes spread across the table. ‘This is fancy for takeout.’

  ‘It’s from a local restaurant.’

  ‘And they deliver?’

  ‘They do for me.’

  She pulled one of the plates closer, eyeing the deep-fried balls of potato and minced meat drizzled with aioli and spicy sauce. ‘I think I know these—they’re bombas, aren’t they?’

  ‘Sí. You’ve had them before?’

  She nodded. ‘My first night here. I went for a wander through the city and ended up eating at a small tapas bar.’ She picked up her fork. ‘I remember these were delicious.’

  He frowned. ‘Alone?’

  She finished her mouthful. ‘Yum! Even better than the ones I had before. Yes.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Alone.’

  The thought of her walking the city streets at night unaccompanied sent an icy trickle down his spine. ‘Why do this trip on your own?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Don’t you have someone who would have travelled with you?’

  She shrugged. ‘My friends are working. And if one of them had taken some leave to come with me it would have meant a more disciplined timeframe and itinerary. I don’t have a job waiting for me, and travelling by myself gives me flexibility. If I want to spend a few extra nights somewhere, or change the order of places I visit, I can.’

  He couched his next question in a more casual tone. ‘How much time did you plan to spend in Spain?’

  She pushed her hair out of her face. ‘About three and a half weeks. I plan to travel for about a month altogether, but I want to do a few days in London on my way back.’

  ‘Why London?’

  Another shrug. ‘It’s on my list. I’ve always wanted to see Les Misérables in the West End.’

  ‘You have a list?’

  She broke off another chunk of bomba. ‘I have two lists. A “must” list and an “if there’s time” list. Both include places to see and things to do.’

  He sipped his wine. ‘What else is on your “must” list?’

  She swallowed her food. ‘Mallorca,’ she said with a pointed glance. No doubt to emphasise that Mallorca was where she’d be now, if not for him.