Taming the Tycoon (8 page)

She felt his gaze drop to her cleavage where the sheet had ruched and drooped a little. The urge to pull it up to her neck like some virginal maiden itched through her fingers, but she refused to let him intimidate her. She had a hard road ahead and he had to know upfront that she wasn’t going to fold at his paltry attempts to push her away.

He gave her a sardonic smile. “You’re practically naked in my bed, posing as my girlfriend. I can see enough in that shirt to know you’re not wearing a bra. And now my mind is busily wondering about your underwear—I’m thinking you’re a thong type of girl?”

Addie swallowed as her belly went into free-fall. She was
not
going to fold at his paltry attempts to push her away.

“Trust me,” he muttered. “This is
so
not a level playing field.”

She sucked in a breath and dragged her resolve from the big puddle it was melting in—right along with her sense, caution, and pride. “I know you, Nate. I’ve done my research. I know you’re a pretty straight arrow. I know you’re not a chip off the old block. And even if I didn’t, I’m a pretty good judge of character. I don’t think destroying something of beauty and value to so many sits that well with someone whose company regularly supports Kew Gardens and the London Zoo.”

She noticed him tense again, but what the hell. She wasn’t here to stroke his ego—she was here to prick his conscience. Maybe even help him live a little.

Nathaniel’s gaze didn’t waver from hers and Addie felt his intensity reach inside her and squeeze hard. “Don’t think you know me, Addie, because you don’t. I am a businessman first and foremost.”

His low voice was just above a rumble and it gave her goose bumps.
Everywhere
. She knew it was meant to intimidate her and part of her recognized he would be a formidable enemy.

But another part of her, the part that was very aware of their state of undress, was hopelessly aroused.

Bloody hell. What was wrong with her? She was turning into one of those women who liked their men dark and dangerous. That wasn’t her. She liked men who were easy going, who could laugh and relax and not take themselves so bloody seriously.

She swallowed as his gaze refused to release hers, but she was determined not to back down. No matter how turned on she was, or how crazy that made her.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Nate.”

He broke first. He snorted and rubbed his jawline that was significantly darker now than when she’d first seen him in his doorway earlier that day. A delicious rasping noise whispered along taut nerve endings and she tried really hard not to think how that slight midnight shadow would feel scraping against her belly.

“Do you think we could give it a rest for the weekend?” he asked. “Resume hostilities when we get back to London? I really need to get this done, especially when I’m taking the entire day off tomorrow.”

Addie blinked. She’d believe that when she saw it. Even helping out on the farm this afternoon, he’d answered a dozen phone calls, gingerly wandering around to different spots to get the best signal while barely keeping his temper in check.

Hell, the man had been lying injured in a gutter and yelling about some deal or other.

“Really?” she said derisively. “
You’re
going to take a
whole
day off?”

He shrugged. “They’ll need a hand setting up for the party. There’ll be lights and ladders and all kinds of hazards. And their even crazier friend Kathy is going to
help,
which means she’ll bring some of her organic wine. And then it’ll be
But darling it’s five o’clock somewhere,
which means they’ll be tipsy
and
trying to hang decorations. Someone’s got to keep an eye on them.”

Addie could hear his concern and her derision melted. It was patently obvious he’d rather be having root canal than taking time away from his ridiculous work schedule, but the way he worried about his mother and grandmother was endearing, even if it did make him gruff and cranky.

“That’s probably the best present you could give your grandmother,” she murmured.

She watched as his hands faltered a little on the edges of the papers as he ruffled them into order. “What? Better than a farm store voucher?”

She met his gaze, refusing to let him trivialize it. “Yes.”

For a moment she swore she could see uncertainty there, but it was gone in a flash and he looked away.

“Right,” he said pointedly. “I can only take the day off tomorrow if I get this done tonight.”

Addie nodded, his profile set in a determined line. “Good night,” she said, rolling away from him.

If she was going to have any hope of falling asleep, he couldn’t be in her line of vision every time she opened her eyes.

Not that she really thought she would sleep. She was in bed with a man she hadn’t even known this time last week, and while she’d indulged in the odd one-night stand with laid-back foreign men on her travels through Europe, Nate was an entirely different prospect.

Strangely enough, though, her eyelids started to droop quite quickly. She didn’t know if it was the country air or the soothing domesticity of the shuffle of papers. If she shut her eyes all the way, she could even imagine they were an old married couple. She smiled at the thought and drifted into sleep, thinking hot thoughts about marital benefits with an endearingly cranky tycoon.

Try as he might—and he did try—Nathaniel just couldn’t concentrate on the papers. He wished he could blame the dull ache in his thigh, but he suspected it had more to do with Addie’s hair spread on the pillow behind her, and her delectable shape beneath the sheet—both of which taunted his peripheral vision.

He wished it was the dead of winter and she was covered in a puffy, duck-down duvet that hid rather than emphasized.

But, oh no, they had to be in the midst of a mini heat wave.

Just the right weather for sheets and shoe-string straps and God alone knew what she was wearing down further, but he couldn’t see any fabric lines and he suspected she was probably just wearing her underwear.

Which led again to speculation about her choice of underwear. Frilly, lacy, silky? Thong, g-string, boy-leg?

Those soft, satiny, loose-legged French knickers?

The possibilities were endlessly distracting.

Although, knowing Addie, they were probably made from rose petals.

Possibly wrapped in crystals like barbed freaking wire.

He dropped the papers in disgust—he’d been staring at the same report for an hour and even if someone put a gun to his head, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them what it said.

He could, however, without even glancing at Addie, describe the exact way her neck sloped into her shoulder, how deeply she breathed, and the differing shades of blond in her hair.

He could also, if pressed, have given his opinion on the current thinking related to her underwear.

Boy-leg. Cotton. Patterned.

He placed the reports on the bedside table as his boxers started to grow a little tight in the crotch. His gaze fell on the book she had bought him and he seized it as if it were the elusive billion dollars he’d been chasing for almost fifteen years.

Even the simplicity of a children’s book was preferable to the complication of a very grown-up woman.

He rolled on his side, away from her, as she had done to him and turned to the first page. He seriously didn’t expect it would help, but in no time at all, the adventures of a boy wizard swept him away, and somewhere between the world of the Muggles and the magic of Hogwarts he actually fell asleep.

…

Addie wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke, but she was aware of three things. She was teetering on the edge of the bed. She’d kicked the sheet off at some stage and was feeling a bit cool. And there seemed to be an awful lot of light for…she squinted at the clock. Two thirty in the morning.

Half asleep, she rolled over to discover Nathaniel on the other side of the bed, on his back sound asleep, not a snore to be heard. The bedside lamp was blazing and the book she’d given him was open on his chest.

Her brain was too fuzzy to get pleasure out of the knowledge. Or out of the pure beauty of his slumbering male physique. On auto-pilot, she crawled across the bed, reached over the top of him, and switched the light off.

She broke out in goose bumps as the heat he was generating fanned over her skin. He felt like a hot water bottle and in her semi-drowse, the primitive urge to be warm, to snuggle up to him, was a powerful force. But something nagged at her and she resisted the temptation.

Just.

She settled instead for pulling the sheet up over them and moving in just close enough to benefit from some radiant heat. And, like an experienced tanner soaking up sunbed rays, she drifted back to sleep.

The next time she stirred she was blissfully warm, cocooned in heat, surrounded by solid warmth. Warmth down her spine, at her neck, against her belly, along the backs of her thighs.

She sighed, murmured, wiggled.

Snuggled into the heat a bit more.

For five seconds.

Then was wide, wide awake.

Nate.

And his five a.m. wakeup call.

Her first instinct—to leap up from the bed as if it had caught fire—hit a snag when she realized she was imprisoned by an arm slack but solid in the throes of slumber. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him and have him find her—find
them
—in this compromising position.

Good Lord, in this old-fashioned room, it would probably necessitate an instant marriage proposal to save her reputation.

She eased slightly away but Nate shifted in his sleep, pulling her closer.

She lay still for a moment, her heart pounding, her breath sounding like a tornado in the pre-dawn silence, trying not to think about his erection snuggled against her bottom.

Although “snuggled” was far too passive a word for the rigid length of him.

Potent. Rampant
. They were good words.

Ready
was another.

Heat flared to life at the juncture of her thighs. How long had it been since she’d been in bed with a man. Five, six months?

She shifted her hips slightly, angling herself against him as the slow burn picked up pace. His girth pressed against the crutch of her underwear and it felt heavenly, the delicious friction licking flames higher to where his hand rested on her belly and furling along muscles and nerves.

She rocked—just a little. Just to relieve the ache.

She felt a faint movement of his hand on her belly and she stopped, her breath husky in the breaking light, her pulse tripping like a faulty switch. She bit into her lip, her senses straining to detect any signs of his waking.

She barely breathed for a full minute but her brain was busy castigating. What was she doing? Had she temporarily lost control of her senses? Rubbing herself against a sleeping man just wasn’t on. It was morally questionable.

Probably illegal.

Definitely icky.

But why oh why did bad things always feel
so damn good?

Just once more, she promised herself as she pushed back into him again.

“Addie, I am not made of stone.”

The rumble in her ear, the firm press of his hand on her belly, the slight rock of his hips both shocked and tantalized.

He sure as hell felt hard as stone right this minute.

“Stop now,” he warned, low and husky, “or forever hold your peace.”

Addie froze, mortified. “I’m…”

What
? I’m what? Depraved? Disturbed? Disgusting? How long had he been awake? How badly had she humiliated herself?

“Go to asleep, Addie.”

His lips brushed her neck, the rough buzz of his whiskers beading her nipples. She shut her eyes tight then moved to ease away from him. “No, I think I need to explain—”

His arm tightened around her halting her words. “Stop thinking,” he murmured. “It won’t be so bad in the cold light of day and at least I know your underwear is satiny now.”

In the cold light of day it would be ten times more embarrassing. She already wanted to sneak away before it got any lighter and never see him again. But damn it, if he could be nonchalant about a woman rubbing herself against his giant erection like it was a stripper’s pole, then so could she.

“Life’s too short for boring underwear,” she said defensively.

She swore she felt his lips smile against her neck. “I agree.”

…

Nathaniel looked up from the breakfast table when Addie joined them at eight-thirty. He grinned at her and she blushed. She had her hair back in some braid thing and was wearing faded denim jeans this morning that hung loose and low on her hips and a plain navy T-shirt that didn’t quite meet the jeans.

He’d had his hand on that strip of skin he could see. Held it there while she’d wiggled and squirmed against him. Just thinking about it got him hard again.

It hadn’t been what he’d expected—hell, developing a fascination with Addie was one complication he didn’t need—but there were worse ways to wake up.

“Here she is. Morning, my pretty,” Eunice boomed her welcome. “Nate said you were wide awake at five for a while, so we just let you sleep.”

Addie faltered as she sat down, glancing at him, and he winked at her as he said, “I do hope that itch I couldn’t quite scratch has settled. Darling.”

She shot him a wan smile before turning to his grandmother. “Happy birthday, Eunice,” she said, her smile genuine this time.