To Claim His Mistress: Mistress at a Price / Mother and Mistress / His Mistress's Secret

Afterwards they had lain together, shaken by the power of their mutual consummation, caught between laughter and tears. And later Liam had taken her to the bedroom, where he’d removed her clothes, slowly and gently, between kisses, and made love to her again with exquisite, almost languid restraint, tempting her, leading her on with the promise of release, until a voice she’d hardly recognised as her own had whimpered in pleading for the long withheld fulfilment, all remaining inhibitions lost.

Sheer exhaustion had impelled them to sleep at last, but at dawn Cat had been woken once more by his hands on her body, turning to him warmly, eagerly, offering herself to his caresses and all that would follow, her senses already anticipating the peak of rapture.

It had been the most wonderful night of her life, she thought, her body shivering in swift delight, but it had done nothing to ease the inevitable morning parting from him.

She had not expected, she realised with bewilderment, to need him so much, in so many ways that transcended simple desire. Against her will, her feelings were becoming more complex—and more disturbing. And that was where the real peril lay.

Because she had no idea what Liam felt in return, if anything. Oh, he enjoyed her. There was no doubting that. He seemed to derive the same incredible pleasure from her body as he gave.

But he seemed to accept completely the strict limitations that she’d imposed on their relationship, and gave no hint that he wanted more than the fevered delight of physical union with her.

And it was these limitations that she was beginning to find so irksome. Because each time she saw him she found more and more that she wanted to share other things with him as well. She wanted to tell him about her job, and ask about how he spent his working day.

She’d been aware from the first of the dynamic, restless energy he concealed under his laid-back manner. Only when he was asleep was it ever wholly subdued. He looked younger then, too, and Cat thought she sometimes detected a trace of vulnerability. But that might be wishful thinking. Another vain attempt to figure him out.

His life was clearly hectic. He was either flying off somewhere, or going from meeting to meeting. Money was clearly not a problem either, she told herself wryly. He wore expensive clothes, and he still refused point-blank to let her contribute towards the running expenses of the flat they were sharing.

She was curious, also, about his family. Was he an only child, or were there siblings? Were his parents still alive?

There was so much about him she didn’t know—and might never find out, Cat thought, biting her lip.

And at the present time it would have been good to confide in him about David and Vanessa, and this witch’s brew of trouble they were concocting between them, but, like all personal topics, this was out of bounds.

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