The Billionaire's Disgraced Virgin (Billionaire Knights Book 2) (9 page)

Oh, God, he’d wanted her so desperately that the moment she’d parted her lips he’d felt the last vestiges of his self-restraint collapse under the onslaught of the fierce passion she engendered in him. And then he was kissing her, branding her as his own with his lips and his tongue. The anteroom was covered in dimness, the drapes drawn against the sun, a single shaft of brilliant light slanting across her face—illuminating her most gorgeously erotic features. His hand cupping her jawline he traced heated kisses along her throat and when he reached the top of her breasts his fingers were already on the buttons of her blouse, peeling away the garment that protected her dignity from his heated gaze and his hungry kisses. Pulling down her lacy bra he devoured one swollen darkly pink nipple, sucking it into his mouth and licking it into aching life with his tongue, raising its peak into painful contraction with his experienced touch.

She was mashing and grinding her hips against him, and the hardening of his arousal was so all-consuming that it was all he could do not to flip her around, press her up against the wall and take her right here, right now. He’d never felt like this before, he recognized in some distant corner of his fevered mind that was still responding to reason. Never been this attracted and aroused the way he was by this seemingly demure but deceptively sexy woman.

And it was only when there was a deferential knock on the door and the voice of Roderick Holmes announced, “Ready to continue when you are, Knight!” that he managed to lift his mouth away from Chloe’s breasts with extreme effort. The look in her eyes was so bone-meltingly hot that for a moment he considered telling Roderick to go to hell!

But then reason finally returned to its throne and he responded hoarsely, “Coming!” While Chloe buttoned up her blouse his eyes never left hers. “This isn’t over yet,” he warned her, before turning away and striding to the door.

The moment he resumed his place at the head of the negotiation table he knew that it was over, however. He was not the kind of person to sleep around, nor was he the kind of boss who took advantage of his position to proposition women who worked for him. And since he effectively was Chloe’s boss, and thus in a position of power, he vowed that this was the end of whatever was transpiring between himself and his unexpectedly enticing accountant.

Besides, he didn’t like the confusion that was her relationship with Dixon.

He resented playing second fiddle, and it was obvious she was emotionally committed to the guy. And as he watched her enter the room, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen, he cursed inwardly, for in spite of his solemn oaths his body’s response to her was unmistakable, judging from the fire burning in his gut and the telltale hardening of his arousal to the point of painfulness. No matter. Willpower trumped the animalistic responses of biology. And that was all this was: the sheer biological need of a body too long without sexual release.

T
he aching need
Mike’s kisses inspired added to the maelstrom of guilt and distress Chloe experienced, even if Mike appeared oblivious of the emotions warring in her bosom. He and Holmes spent the rest of the day threshing out the details of the deal, with the occasional assistance of their advisors.

Increasingly the two men would lock themselves into a separate room to discuss matters of a more delicate nature and Chloe was forced to endure the lascivious stares of Lewis while they all waited for white smoke to curl from the Knight Castle chimney. At least there was one advantage to being cooped up in here with Lewis Dixon: she was finding herself less and less intimated by his presence. Where before she’d been mortally afraid of the man she now saw him for who he really was: not a monster but a mere mortal, and a very nasty one at that. How she could ever have felt attracted to him she didn’t understand, but then she’d been very young, and hadn’t had the benefit of previous relationships, unlike some of her friends. She’d been a true innocent, and quite unforgivably Lewis had taken advantage of that fact.

And as she threw dirty looks at Dixon, so did Eileen Holmes throw dirty looks at her. Apparently she seemed to consider her a rival for Mike’s attentions, though she could have assured her there was no competition. Mike had kissed her, yes. Twice, in fact. But that didn’t mean he was the least bit interested in her—he merely wanted to show her who was in charge. That and the fact that for some reason his male dominance was challenged by the presence of Dixon.

No, if Mike ever did choose a wife he’d go for the likes of Eileen Holmes over her every time, she knew. Mike and Eileen were simply made for each other: sophisticated, privately educated, well-connected, raised in families steeped in privilege and wealth… If Tatler, the go-to style guide for the upper crust, were to publish an article on England’s most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, Mike and Eileen would feature at the very top as most likely match, she thought somberly. And why that should hurt her so much she didn’t know. Only that the more time she spent in Mike’s company, the more she feared her heart was becoming involved and not merely her body. Her body, like a desert in need of rain, had welcomed his kisses achingly, but was her heart yearning for Mike’s love as well? Was she starting to fall for the powerful male?

She watched him as he emerged from yet another one-on-one with Holmes and announced they could all take a break. She expelled a small sigh of longing. He’d flipped the top button of his shirt, and the dark body hair covering his massive chest was visible. He was so overpoweringly masculine, and suddenly visions flashed before her eyes of Mike, bare-chested as he moved over her, licking a trail along the valley of her breasts, down her belly button and into the heated triangle of her sex, where his tongue would lap a trail of fire along her wet chasm, her clitoris eager for his touch. She admonished herself that such fantasies would only lead to more frustration, and vowed not to go there.

That night, as she prepared for bed, she kept darting anxious glances at the closed door of Mike’s room, somehow hoping he would suddenly emerge and announce that he’d decided to share the bed. But of course he didn’t. In fact, now that she came to think of it, as she drew the sheet over her body, he hadn’t paid any attention to her after the heated kiss they’d shared in that small salon.

As if he’d wanted to erase the event from his memory he’d been rather brusque and even cold to her. At dinner, even though she’d been seated next to him, he hadn’t even spoken to her, lavishing his attentions on Eileen, to the latter’s extreme and clearly visible delight. Whether her father appreciated it to the same degree was anyone’s guess. The old man looked tired and haggard, and it was obvious he was eager to close this deal and enjoy a well-earned retirement.

Moodily, Chloe tossed and turned, unable to find sleep for the longest time. Even though a cooling breeze wafted in through the window, billowing the curtains and acting like a balm to her heated skin, she still felt feverish, and the excruciating guilt that had now settled like a physical pain in her neck and shoulders and tensed up the walls of her stomach to the point that a sharp pain had flared up there, prevented her from finding sleep.

And when finally she did drift off it was to nightmares of a house ablaze, and the screeching cries of her parents as they perished in the fire she had wrought.

She awoke, her skin damp and burning, to find that she’d slept through daybreak, and the sun was already streaming in through the windows. She dragged her weary bones from the bed and into the shower. Today was the final day of the negotiations, her ordeal almost over.

When she arrived in the breakfast room she was surprised to find it empty. Frowning, she picked up breakfast items from the buffet and placed them on her tray—fresh coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs and toast—and carried the tray through the French windows outside, to sit on the terrace.

And she’d just taken her first heartening sip of coffee when Mike stepped out and took a seat next to her, gazing out across the grounds, just like she was doing. Birds were gaily singing up a storm in a nearby tree, and the world was such a peaceful place she wondered why she couldn’t find that same peace.

“Where is everybody?” she asked when he retained a stony-faced silence.

“Taking the morning off. Holmes and I threshed out the entire thing last night, and our legal teams are checking the details as we speak. Once they give us the go-ahead we’re ready to sign. Tomorrow morning, I should think.”

She couldn’t suppress a little cry. “You’re signing already?” She’d hoped she’d have more time. More time with Mike? No, of course not. More time to find a solution and warn him about Roderick Holmes’s dirty games.

Mike’s face was cloaked in a noncommittal shroud. “If nothing crops up, of course, which I’m pretty sure there won’t. This deal has been in the making for months now. As for the others, Holmes went on a country ramble with his daughter, and Dixon had some business to attend to and drove to London.”

“Dixon’s gone?”

Mike eyed her darkly. She sounded so hopeless. It was obvious she was hurt that Dixon hadn’t told her he was leaving. “Don’t worry,” he said acerbically. “He promised to be back in time for the party tonight. And so will the others.”

Her eyes widened, shadows suddenly crowding there. “Party?”

“To celebrate the reaching of the deal. There will be a small celebratory dinner and party tonight. My brother Stuart will be there, as well as some members of the management teams of both companies. I told you about that.”

She nodded, and from the look on her face it was obvious she was dreading this weekend to come to an end. Because this was her last chance to win back Dixon’s affections? He assumed that was the only reason she was looking so forlorn and dreadfully lost. Suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he rose to his feet, grasping her hand. “Come,” he told her viciously, and the startled cry she uttered cemented his decision to get her away from here—away from this place that seemed to remind her over and over again of the love she’d lost.

Mike wasn’t letting go of her, she found to her delirious surprise, the warmth spreading from his fingers along her arm to her heart, setting it ablaze with a longing yearning that sent hope surging. Hope of what? That he would kiss her again? That he would make wild, passionate love to her? Did she want him to? Yes! Yes, she wanted him! She wanted him to want her and make her his!

“Where—where are we going?” she asked breathlessly as he took her round the back of the castle as she struggled to keep up.

“Out. We’re getting out of here,” he grunted through gritted teeth. He was a man on fire, she recognized, though why that was she couldn’t understand.

She saw they’d arrived at what must have been the old stables, where horses were kept, but when Mike flung wide the wooden gates she saw that it housed a different kind of horse these days. And when he opened the passenger door of a sleek silver Bentley and ushered her inside, she felt a thrill of anticipation.

Mike entered, slamming the door shut, and without offering her a glance pressed his thumb to the ignition pad and the car roared to life with a throaty rumble. Then he was spraying gravel as he sped across the driveway and soon they were purring along the road, zooming beneath the arched gateway that guarded the perimeter of the domain and they were out in the open, speeding along hedged country roads before passing into the open fields and rolling hills, spreading like an undulating sea of green magnificence in every direction.

Mike punched a button and the top of the car rolled down and for the first time in what felt like forever she was laughing when the wind suddenly whipped at her face. And then Mike was reaching over and unleashing the ribbon tying her hair and it fanned out and she laughed again, turning to him to see the hint of a smile in his eyes as he regarded her with visible pleasure.

She looked gorgeous, Mike decided. Color stained her cheeks, and with her blond mane freely flowing around her face she looked like a fierce amazon, ready to take on the entire world. A strange sensation twitched inside his chest, a niggling catch that seemed to press on his heart like a heavy weight. All this, and that idiot Dixon had let her go, he found himself thinking.

He didn’t know where he was taking her, just that they both needed to get away from the old family pile. He’d had wonderful times there, granted—some of the best of his life, in fact—but he’d also known heartache and pain, and being back at the house had stirred up old memories. And it was obvious that being locked up with Dixon hadn’t done Chloe any good, either.

He needed her sharp and alert for the final phase of the negotiations, he told himself. That was it. He wanted to offer her a respite before asking her to dig in one last time and go over the financial stipulations in the documents the legal teams would come back with that afternoon. He wasn’t taking her out because he wanted to bring a smile to her face and color to her cheeks. Nor to hear the tinkling delight of her laughter. No, his was simply an employer’s duty to make sure his staff was well taken care of and motivated for the next round.

What next round? The deal was made, the final details ironed out by others. He had no more need for her. He could very well have sent her back to London right now. And he would. Tomorrow. She deserved to be at the dinner tonight just as much as the other members of his team. Perhaps even more so, for she’d laid the foundation stone with her initial financial report, proving beyond a doubt joining the two companies made sound business sense.

Mike took her to a small village a couple of miles outside of Oxfordshire. The sleepy little hamlet was just waking up when they passed through, and Chloe was enchanted to see the colorful flower displays in the shop windows, the immaculate cottages and the town square where elderly men were seated on a bench watching the passersby and the world go by with a benevolent eye.

Mike parked the car in front of a small pub and helped her exit the vehicle, chivalrous to a degree, escorting her inside. They walked through the wood-paneled barroom with its old bar and dart board and out the back, where a terrace looked out across a sloping garden, a small duck pond at the bottom and flowerbeds lining the delightful property. It was almost like a scene from The Hobbit, she thought, enchanted. And as they ordered and she sipped from the best coffee she’d ever tasted, for the first time in a very long time she didn’t think of the terrible events that had derailed her life, nor of the treacherous role Dixon had forced her to play. Instead she sat back and enjoyed the peace of the summer morning, sun rays filtering through the trees, the only sounds to be heard the fluting of the birds and the soft quacking of the ducks.

“My mother loved this little nook of the world,” Mike finally broke the silence. “This is where my dad took her on their first date, and it remained her favorite place. She used to take us here for our birthdays,” he continued, a slight smile playing about his lips, “so it kinda became my favorite place as well.”

He wondered now why he’d taken her here. He shrugged off the unwanted implication that he’d wanted to take her out on a date. This wasn’t a date. This was a meeting. So why didn’t he feel like discussing business with her? “It’s tinged with sadness, though,” he went on. “As this was also the place where we were last together. Shortly after Steve’s seventh birthday, which we celebrated here, Mum became bedridden, and the disease took her in the next fortnight.” He’d never talked about that moment in his life with anyone, he briefly acknowledged, but seeing the compassion etched on Chloe’s face, he added, “I haven’t been here since. Now that I am, though, I only remember the good times, not the sadness, oddly enough.”

“It’s often like that,” she confirmed, her voice soft and gentle. “More and more when I think about my parents I don’t think about the fire—all I see is the love and the times we spent together as a family.” And it was true, she thought. Less and less the fire that had consumed their lives was the one thing that defined her past. She’d learned to see beyond that and be grateful for the eighteen wonderful years she’d spent with the people who’d offered her nothing but love and kindness. The parents who had raised her and made her into the person she was today. A person who’d survived a terrible ordeal and was still standing.

She offered a smile to Mike, and when she saw the responding sparkle in his eyes the tugging sensation in her heart suddenly exploded into the full-blown realization of the nature of the feeling she’d been experiencing these last few days. Love. She’d fallen in love with Mike Knight. This powerful alpha male who’d stirred her blood and touched her heart like no other man had ever done. And she was just reaching out a hand to place it on his arm when her phone chimed.

As she’d placed her phone on the table Mike was able to glean the caller ID. Lewis Dixon. Of course. His heart hardened, and so did his face, the muscles in his jaw working. Chloe’s eyes had turned from the brilliant blue to the haunted darkness he’d seen there since he’d made her acquaintance, and before she could pick up the phone, he snatched it from the table and flicked it off, directing a cold glare at her, daring her to countermand his decision. She didn’t. “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked her icily. For a moment it appeared as if she was going to speak, but then she shook her head and he added disgustedly, “I’m not in the habit of interfering in the lives of the people who work for me, Chloe, and this is probably none of my business, but let me ask you this: would your parents have approved of the way you’re mooning over this Lewis Dixon?”