Secret Heirs And A Forever Family

She squeezed her thighs together. ‘Neither can I,’ she said.

Dario stared at the girl in front of him—an artless seductress whose acute awareness of his touch had been torturing him all evening.

He had become spellbound by his own lust. He’d never wanted a woman this much, so much he wasn’t sure he could be gentle—and that frightened him. He could actually read every one of her emotions as they flitted across her face, her attempts to wrestle them under control almost as bewitching as the hard peaks of her breasts, which begged for his mouth.

Need coiled hard in his gut, the pounding in his crotch unbearable.

He cupped her breast. She jolted but didn’t draw away.

‘Are you sure, cara?’ He wanted no lies or obligations between them. He’d promised not to destroy her father’s company. But it had never been his intention to destroy it, only to take it from the man…tonight, when the final deal with the last of Whittaker’s shareholders went through at midnight.

‘Yes,’ she murmured.

He threaded his fingers in her hair, loosening the up-do. As the soft, silky strands teased his fingertips, her scent curled around him, fresh and vivid, and heat powered through his body. Her eyes widened, her breathing coming in harsh pants now. And he knew she felt it too, that tug of yearning, the driving need to finish what they’d started.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, mesmerising him, and calling to every one of his baser instincts, instincts he’d spent a lifetime trying to control.

Need overwhelmed him as he lifted her into his arms. Placing her on the couch, he lowered his head, unable to resist the pull of that lush mouth a moment longer.

He heard the soft gasp, tasted her excitement and her trepidation. It could only be a trick of the night, this veneer of innocence. No woman could be innocent and drive him this insane, but even so he enjoyed the challenge as he coaxed and cajoled, tempting her with his tongue.

Her lips opened at last on a shuddering sigh. His tongue swept into her mouth, exploring. Then she began to explore back. Tentative at first, then bold. Matching his hunger with her own. Driving them both mad. She tasted glorious, sweet and eager and new.

Her fingers glided beneath his jacket to cling to his waist. Heat slammed into him. He lifted himself up, yanking off his jacket and flinging it on the floor, pressing her back into the cool leather. Lifting her hands above her head, he bracketed her wrists in one hand to palm the pouting tip of her breast.

The nipple poked against his palm, standing proud as she arched her back, her breathing coming in desperate gasps as she pressed into the caress. He circled the tight bud, all thoughts of caution obliterated by her seductive response.

He trapped the peak between his teeth, tonguing it and then sucking it into his mouth. She sobbed something incoherent in the darkness, the desire in her voice rasping across his skin and sending the need spiralling out of control.

He wanted her, more than he’d wanted any woman, her artless response tapping into some primal desire to claim her, brand her, devour her.

‘Please, I can’t…’ She jolted against him.

‘Shh…’ he crooned, desperate to relieve the throbbing ache in his crotch. She wanted him just as much. He could feel it in her body, which was tight as a bowstring, and in the staggered rise and fall of her breathing; he could see it in the flush of arousal spreading across the delicate skin of her collarbone.

‘That feels so good—’ Her voice choked off as he sucked the nipple against the roof of his mouth, tugging hard. She jerked against his hold, and pulled her hands free to plunge them into his hair.

The thin thread on his control snapped, primal desire charging through his system. Damn thought and sense and reason and anything that would stop him from making her come apart in his arms.

The madness to have her consumed him. He inhaled the delicate floral fragrance, like a narcotic drug. Pressing the heel of his palm between her thighs, to test her readiness, he felt her warm and wet through the lace. She quaked with need, daring him to take her, claim her, control her. Here. Now. And satisfy the need driving them both insane.

He plunged beneath the damp fabric of her panties, circling the tight bud. She cried out, bucking against the intimate touch. But the slick folds told a different story. She needed this. Needed him.

Ripping her panties, he grasped her thighs, spreading them wide to press the aching ridge against her centre.

‘Let me have you,’ he growled, the ferocity of the demand foreign to his own ears.

She looked dazed, her eyes unfocused, but she dropped her head in the tiniest hint of a nod.

The madness took over. He grappled with his zip and released his erection, then, positioning himself against the swollen folds, he thrust hard.

But as he surged deep, he heard the cry of pain against his neck, felt the tiny barrier, before she tightened on him like a fist.

He stopped dead.

He was buried to the hilt, the orgasm already licking at the base of his spine. But the hot clasp of her body was so tight. Too tight.

‘What the…?’ He swore viciously, shocked and sickened by the evidence of her innocence. ‘You are a virgin?’ he said, the shock only countered by the fierce unstoppable desire to move, to finish.

Megan buried her face in his neck, her whole body reeling from the shocking invasion. It had been so good, so bright, so beautiful, but now she felt impaled. He was too big, filling up every space inside her, all those empty places that had ached for so long.

She stiffened as he shifted, the thick heat branding her insides, stroking a place so deep inside, it spun her mind away from coherent thought again and back towards that glorious heat that had consumed her just moments ago.

‘Cara…’ He cradled her cheek. ‘Answer me. Why you did not tell me I am…your first?’ His perfect English seemed to have deserted him, the words clumsy, those deep blue eyes alive with stunned disbelief and raw aching need.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not sure why she was apologising, but he looked so horrified, she didn’t know what else to say.

He held her hips, easing back, withdrawing that glorious heat. She gripped his buttocks, felt the muscles jump.

‘Don’t stop. It doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t. And it feels good.’ It didn’t exactly; it felt sore, and overwhelming.

‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ He bit out the words, torn between temper and what sounded like torment.

Why did this matter to him so much? She wanted to ask.

But what she wanted more was for the bright, beautiful feeling to return. So that she felt empowered and special, not crushed and broken.

‘I’m not fragile. I won’t break,’ she said, determined to make him believe it.

He swore softly in Italian, his fingers holding her thighs, poised at her entrance. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

She nodded, unbearably moved by the torment in his voice. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

He sank back into her to the hilt.

Her breath clogged in her throat. She could feel him everywhere, the stretching feeling unbearable again, but with it came the swift surge of pleasure as he nudged a place deep inside. He rocked his hips, and nudged it again.

‘Si sente bene?’ he asked, his English apparently having deserted him entirely.

‘Yes, it feels good,’ she said as the pleasure began to build in fierce undulating waves, sweeping away the pain, the confusion, until all that was left was the glorious swell of ecstasy, pure and perfect. The sensitive tips of her breasts rubbed against the hard contours of his chest through his linen shirt, sending arrows of sensation surging into her sex.

The slick sounds of their bodies slapping together, the scent of pheromones and sweat heavy on the air, the soft bump of her spine against the leather, faded into the background until all she could hear were the pants of her breathing and the grunts of his. He established a punishing rhythm, forceful, relentless, unstoppable. Then reached between them to press his thumb to the heart of her.

The huge wave crested, her whole being now focused on the burning core of her body, clambering for release.

She held on to him, terrified, frantic and overjoyed, all at the same time. He grew to impossible proportions inside her, his thrusts jerky and uncoordinated in their desperation.

She rode on that high wide plane between intense pleasure and unbearable pain for what seemed like an eternity, but could only have lasted a heartbeat. And her body soared.

Her thin cry cut the still air as the wave crashed over her, overwhelming in its intensity, and his shout of release echoed in her ear, the hot seed searing her insides.

What the hell just happened?

Sensation came back in small increments as Dario waited for his heart to stop battering his ribs like a wild stallion trying to kick its way to freedom.

The sultry scent of orange blossoms and sweat, the weight of her hands on his waist, the clinging cotton of the shirt he hadn’t bothered to take off. The tight clasp of her surrounding him as the iron-hard erection finally began to soften and the ache in his groin subsided.

He buried his face against her neck, the soft skin damp and fragrant, and felt the hummingbird flutter of her pulse, as wild and erratic as his own.

He couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, grateful for the shadowy light as they lay cocooned together on the couch.

He’d had good sex before. Hell, he’d had spectacular sex before. He’d never had sex like that before, or an orgasm so intense it had felt as if it were ripping out a part of his soul.

Who is this woman? And what has she done to me?

He eased up on his elbows and felt her flinch beneath him. The sob of discomfort whispered against his face, making shame twist in his gut.

She had been innocent, and he’d ravished her like a man possessed. Not only that, but he had taken her without protection. Spilled his seed inside her. He should have stopped, withdrawn, but she had transfixed him somehow. And he had been unable to focus on anything but her. And the need to possess her.

Why hadn’t she told him? She should have told him she was a virgin. He would never have—

Stop lying to yourself.

No force on earth would have stopped him, once she had given him her consent and unleashed the wild hunger inside him.

He climbed off her, careful not to jostle her. He couldn’t make out her expression in the shadowy light, but he could see the tremors raking her body.

Lush and lovely, her pale skin looked somehow ethereal in the soft glow of light from the lobby. He felt the renewed stirring of desire, and shame mixed with anger in his gut.

You are not an animal.

The admonition seemed like another lie though as he zipped his trousers and walked to pick up the jacket he had discarded. He returned to the couch to find her seated, her arms wrapped around her waist. He laid the jacket over her shoulders, and drew her close under his arm.

‘Why are you shivering? Are you cold?’ he asked, his voice hoarse.

She had to be sore, but was she also scared of him?

He tucked a riotous curl behind her ear, relief assailing him when she turned to him and smiled. The urge to kiss her gripped him again at the guileless tilt of her lips.

He resisted it. Not a good idea, given that kissing her would lead to other, more dangerous pursuits.

‘No, I’m not cold. I just… I think it’s a reaction…’ She hesitated, biting down on that full bottom lip that had driven him wild, was still driving him wild. He forced himself to look away from her mouth.

‘A reaction to what?’ he prompted, determined to distract them both with conversation. He didn’t usually like to talk much after sex, but this was different. He’d never been a woman’s first before. It wasn’t a responsibility he wanted or would have chosen, but he felt it nonetheless.

‘A reaction to…’ She hesitated again, but she didn’t look embarrassed or unsure, just as if she were searching for the right words. ‘Well, the orgasm, I guess. It was pretty intense. You’re much better than my vibrator.’

The chuckle rumbled up from his chest, part amusement, part desire, but mostly relief. Her blunt honesty was ridiculously charming, especially when she blushed.

‘Grazie, that is quite a compliment,’ he murmured.

She gave a shy smile, looking embarrassed now but also amused. ‘Sorry, I’m not very good at this.’

He looped the wayward curl behind her ear again, let his thumb linger on the smooth skin of her jaw, the laughter dying on his lips. ‘On the contrary, you are very good at it, especially for someone with so little practice.’

The blush climbed up to her hairline, but she seemed pleased with the compliment. He felt a strange sensation in his chest and dropped his hand. What was he doing? Behaving like a besotted fool, when he needed to make sure that there would be no fallout from his irresponsible behaviour.

‘Megan, we must talk about practicalities.’

‘What practicalities?’ she said, the guileless expression making him feel uneasy. Could anyone really be this innocent? Was this whole scenario some kind of set-up? Had Whittaker been devious enough to offer up his virgin daughter as a means of trapping him?

‘I did not use a condom,’ he said bluntly. ‘Are you on the pill?’

The flush fired across her cheeks and her eyes widened. Either she was an actress worthy of an award, or the shocked reaction was not faked.

‘No, I’m not, I’m sorry, I didn’t—’

‘There is no need for apologies.’ He cut off her stumbling words, feeling oddly ashamed at the cynical direction of his thoughts.

Megan Whittaker was that rare thing, a person as genuine as they appeared to be—just as he had originally suspected.

‘We are both responsible for the error,’ he added. ‘I am clean, I have a regular check-up and testing for my company insurance—and I never usually have sex without protection,’ he continued, suspecting the threat of disease was probably the reason for her horrified reaction. His conquests after all had been well documented in the press, and made to seem much more indiscriminate than they actually were. Because, until Megan, he had always chosen his sexual partners with exquisite care. Which was precisely why he had never found himself in this position before. ‘If you need proof,’ he said, when she didn’t respond, ‘I can get my doctor to contact you.’

‘No, that’s not necessary. I trust you,’ she said, marking out her innocence even more. He wanted to tell her not to trust him, not to trust any man, but before he could find the words she added, ‘I don’t either, by the way… Have sex without protection, I mean. Just in case you were wondering, and were worried too.’

The gauche statement was so earnest, his lips tipped up in a wry smile. ‘With your vibrator, you mean?’

‘Um, well…’ The blush intensified on her cheeks, before she buried her hands in her face and groaned. ‘Oh, God, I feel like such a clueless muppet.’

‘Not at all, piccola.’ He laughed, he couldn’t help it; her found her reaction charming. ‘We do still have one problem though,’ he said, sobering. ‘When did you have your last period?’

‘Oh, I…’ She raised her face, the blush still burning brightly. ‘About a week ago. I think.’

‘Then we are not quite in the middle of your cycle,’ he said. ‘But you should take emergency contraception. Yes? As a precaution.’ He watched her intently for her reaction to the request, his anger at himself increasing. What would he do if she refused?

‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll go to a pharmacy.’ She jumped up from the couch, her panicked reaction easing the tension in his gut. ‘I better go now. I’ll need to find an all-night pharmacy. I don’t even know if you can buy it across the counter.’

‘Megan, there is no need to panic.’ He rose from the couch too and tucked a knuckle under her chin. Raising her face to his, he touched his thumb to her mouth, the heat powering through him surprising him. ‘And stop biting your lip. Or I will not be responsible for the consequences.’

She released her lip instinctively. ‘But I should go, Dario. I need to get the contraception. I don’t want…’

‘You have up to a week to take it.’

‘I do?’

‘I believe so. Don’t look at me like that, piccola.’ He smiled again, captivated once more by how easily she was to read. ‘I promise you, I don’t make a habit of making love without contraception.’ The truth was he had never made this mistake before, even as an untried boy, but she didn’t need to know that. ‘But I am a cautious man.’ Or he had been until now. ‘As I have no desire to father a child.’

‘Yes, of course.’ She nodded, her cheeks still as bright as beacons. ‘I’m sorry, I’m making a hash of this, aren’t I?’

‘Not at all. This is new to you, I understand.’

She shuddered slightly, his tux jacket dwarfing her as she tucked her arms into the sleeves and held it close. ‘I should probably leave now anyway though. I’ll make sure I go to a pharmacy first thing in the morning.’

She was correct, of course, this had just been a chance for them to slake the lust that had sparked between them as soon as they had met.

But as she stood before him, beautiful and beguiling in the half light, he knew the spark hadn’t yet been extinguished. And tonight would be their only opportunity, because he would not be contacting her again.

In a few hours, his agents would complete the hostile takeover of her father’s company, giving their encounter a one-night embargo.

It was of course dishonest of him not to clarify his earlier statement about Whittaker’s, so there could be no confusion about what he’d meant. But he didn’t mix business with pleasure. And for that reason, he did not feel guilty for giving her the cryptic answer he had. What happened in the boardroom had no bearing on relations in the bedroom—or rather the couch. What had passed between them, however wild and uncontrolled, could never be more than a physical attachment after all.

Once she discovered the truth, she would be upset. She might even feel he had got her here under false pretences. After all, his reply to her request had been deliberately ambiguous. But as his gaze drifted down her bare legs and he remembered the sweet shudder of her release, the feel of her thighs clasping his hips as she came, he knew he didn’t want their one night to end so soon.

In fact, he almost felt regretful that she would no doubt hate him in the morning.

She picked her gown up from the floor and clasped it to her chest. ‘Is there somewhere I could wash up,’ she said, looking shy again and unsure.

He walked over to her, his mind made up. They would have this night.

He would show her the finesse, the reverence he had failed to show her so far. She deserved better than a frantic romp on a couch. He wasn’t a romantic or a sentimental man, but he was a good lover.

The last of the shame drained away. He could keep the wildness in check; he would not ravish her again.

‘There is no need to leave,’ he said, tugging the cool satin out of her hands.

‘But I…’

He placed a finger on her lips. ‘No buts. We have all night. Why not let me show you all the other things your vibrator cannot do for you?’

The blush intensified, and he found the lightness, the laughter threatening to roll up his torso again. Not a response he was used to when in the process of seducing a beautiful woman.

No wonder this woman was so damn captivating. She was simply the opposite of his usual type. Her uniqueness would wear thin quickly enough, but he was enjoying himself for now. And he planned to enjoy himself a lot more tonight. While making sure Megan enjoyed herself too, of course. She might hate him in the morning, but eventually she would thank him for showing her that sex was much more enjoyable when not compromised by emotional entanglements.

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ she said.

‘Why not?’ He cradled her cheek, enjoying the way she leant into his palm instinctively. And her pupils darkened dramatically. Did she know he could see exactly how much she wanted him?

‘Because, to be perfectly honest, I’m a little sore.’

The delightfully gauche statement, delivered with complete sincerity, had him throwing back his head and laughing out loud for the first time in longer than he could remember.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked, grumpily.

He scooped her up into his arms.

She grabbed hold of his neck, her frown of protest only making him laugh harder as he headed to the stairs and the deluxe king-size bed and lake-size bath with power shower he planned to make good use of in the next few hours.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, enjoying the feel of her bottom against his forearm. Why not keep her naked and wanting the rest of the night?

Why had he never considered before how arousing it would be to help a woman discover the frontiers of her own pleasure?

‘Do not look so worried, cara mia,’ he said as he took the stairs two at a time. ‘There are many ways to make love, not all of them require penetration. Clearly your vibrator does not help with this either.’

‘I wish I’d never told you about my vibrator,’ she said. ‘Now you’re never going to stop making fun of me.’

‘I am not making fun,’ he said, although of course he was. ‘But I do intend to remedy the situation. With your permission?’

She huffed out a breath, but the excitement and arousal dancing in her eyes told a different story, especially when she tightened her grip on his neck and said, with mock severity, ‘Oh, all right, then—if you insist.’

CHAPTER FOUR

DIDN’T THE MAN EVER EAT?

Megan stared at the dazzlingly clean and startlingly empty shelves in the huge double wide fridge. Apart from a couple of bottles of pricey mineral water, a bottle of expensive champagne, some imported Italian lager, some milk and an untouched box of expensive chocolates, there was nothing to eat. She searched the cupboards a second time. Nope, still nothing there except some strong Italian coffee.

She turned in a circle. The oversized Italian football shirt she’d fished out of a drawer in Dario’s walk-in closet skimmed her bare thighs as she took in the acres of granite and polished steel. The tingle of sensation as the material brushed her nipples had a memory flushing through her. Of Dario ravishing her breasts in the shower.

Moving swiftly on.

She concentrated on the sun, which had begun to climb over Central Park, shining off the lake and adding to that magnificent view. She’d woken up with Dario’s big body wrapped around hers in sleep. He’d tucked her against his chest after he’d brought her to a stunning orgasm for the fourth time in one night… She lifted the glass of mineral water she’d poured herself from the meagre supplies in the fridge and took several gulps to ease the dryness in her throat.

Dario De Rossi a snuggler. Who’d have thought it?

She smiled to herself, feeling a little giddy. It was a Saturday, so she didn’t need to go to work today. She knew her father would want her to call him to confirm if she had discovered anything, but there would be no need for that now. Dario had told her he wasn’t going to go after Whittaker’s. Maybe he had never intended to.

But unlike last night, she didn’t feel the need to run off and hide. He’d been so solicitous after they’d made love that first time. And so devoted for the rest of the night. He’d soaked with her in the bathtub, then done things to her body that had proved that, yes, vibrators could not replace a flesh-and-blood man.