An Heir To Bind Them

“Having a career is important to me. Makricosta’s has been a second chance to build one and I haven’t wanted to do anything to jeopardize it. You won’t be surprised to hear I send money to my parents. I can’t afford to drop shifts because I’m hung-over.”

“I’m not surprised at all. You’ve always struck me as very loyal. And sweet. Virginal even.” It was almost a question.

The backs of her eyes stung and she lowered her gaze to her clenched hands. “I’m not,” she admitted in a small voice, not wanting those memories to intrude when she felt so safe with him.

“And you’ve been judged for that? Men and their double standards. I hate my sex. Judge me. I sleep with women and never talk to them again. I really do that, Jaya,” he confessed with dark self-disgust.

She heard the warning behind his odd attempt to reassure. She appreciated the effort—even though he had it all wrong. Yes, she had been judged, but for a man’s crime against her, not any she’d committed.

“I hate men, too,” she admitted. But not you, she silently added.

“Ah, some bastard broke your heart. I excel at being the rebound guy, you know.” Here was the generous tycoon with the hospitable expression who asked a guest if she was enjoying her stay and wound up sharing her table along with further amenities.

“Is that why you pick up those tourists?” she couldn’t help teasing, amused by this side of him in spite of her exasperation. “You’re offering first aid?”

“I’m a regular paramedic. ‘He cheated? He’s a fool.’” He shook his head in self-deprecation. “I should be shot.”

“Are you really that shallow?” She didn’t believe it. The women were always relaxed and euphoric, never morose, when they checked out. She was envious of that. Curious.

“I’m not very deep.” He rubbed his face. “But I don’t lie. They know what they’re getting.”

“One night,” she clarified, wondering why he thought he had nothing to offer a woman beyond that.

“One night,” he agreed with an impactful look. His hands went into his pockets and he rocked back on his heels, saying, “And apparently you restrict to one kiss. But I’ll take it if you’re still offering.”

The craving in his gaze was so naked, she blushed hard enough her cheeks stung. Covering them, she laughed at herself and couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m not a certified attendant.”

“There’s not a woman in the world with enough training to fix me. Don’t try.” Another warning, his tone a little cooler.

She shook her head. This was about fixing herself, not him. “I just keep thinking that if I leave without kissing you, I’ll always wonder what it would have been like.”

That sounded too ingenuous, too needy, but his quietly loaded, “Yeah,” seemed to put them on the same page, which was remarkable. He stared at her mouth and hot tingles made her lips feel plump. She tried to lick the sensation away.

His breath rushed out in a ragged exhale. He loomed closer, so tall and broad, blocking out her vision, nearly overwhelming her. But when his fingers lightly caressed her jaw and his mouth came down, she was paralyzed with anticipation.

There’d been a few kisses in her life, none very memorable, but when his mouth settled on hers, unhurried and hot, she knew she’d remember this for the rest of her life.

The smooth texture of his lips sealed to hers. He didn’t force her mouth open. She softened and welcomed his confident possession, weakening despite the nervous flutters accosting her. He rocked the fit, deepening the kiss so she opened her mouth wider, bathed in delicious waves of heat. Their lips dampened and slid erotically. His tongue was almost there, then not, then—

He licked into her mouth and she moaned, lashed with exquisite delight. This was the kind of kiss she’d only read about and now she knew there was a reason they called it a soul kiss. Her hand went to his shoulder for balance. She lifted on her toes, wanting more pressure, more of him settling into her inner being.

With a groan, he slid his arm around her and pulled her tight against him, softly crushing her mouth while digging his fingers into her bound hair. It was good, so good. She reached her arms around his neck, loving how it felt to be kissed and held so tightly against his hard chest and—

He was hard everywhere.

Like hitting a wall, she pushed back, perturbed by how intensely she had been responding and the dicey situation she’d put herself in.

He didn’t let her go right away, kind of steadied her first while staggering one step himself, then he ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “Hellfire, Jaya. I suspected it’d be good, but I didn’t know it’d be that good. Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?”

“I—” Say no. Go. But what if he was the one? The man who would get her past the hurdle of burying her sexuality out of fear? “I really wasn’t expecting this.” Liar, an inner vixen accused. “You’re right that I don’t have affairs. I don’t know if that’s what I want right now, but...” She found herself wringing her hands like the virgin he’d accused her of being. “I really liked kissing you.”

“Are you trying to let me down gently? Because it’s not necessary.”

“No! I’m genuinely confused about what I want.” It was almost a wail of agony she was so frustrated with herself.

His mouth pulled up on one side in a half grin that might have been patronizing if he hadn’t softened it by saying, “You’re not the one-night stand type, but your life has been derailed and sex would take your mind off things. Believe me, I sympathize.”

She cocked her head, intrigued by these glimpses into the man behind the aloof mask. “Is that why you’re asking me to stay?”

“That obvious, am I?”

“You’re making me worry for my friends. Is there a problem with Makricosta’s?” she probed.

“No,” he assured promptly, then sighed and scratched at his hair like he could erase whatever was going on inside his skull. “Mine is a personal derailment. A family thing, not an illness like yours. I’ve been angry with someone for a very long time and learned today that I have no reason to be. I’m running out of people to hate and blame. I don’t know what to do about that.”

Kiss me, she thought. She couldn’t believe he was opening up to her like this and way in the back of her mind, she suspected he would regret it, but right now it softened her into wanting to heal him. Madness. She was more broken than he was.

“You told me not to try fixing you,” she reminded gently. “It’s good advice. I honestly don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for tonight.” She wanted to be, but the thought of that kind of intimacy opened such a gaping vulnerability in her, she could hardly breathe. “I keep telling myself to leave.” She gestured toward the door.

“But you’re still here.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It sends the wrong message, I know.”

Their gazes tangled and all she could think about was the heart-racing kiss they’d just shared. He claimed he was the opposite of a gentleman, but she sensed that despite his rock-hard physical power and authoritative command, he was capable of gentleness.

“Give up on me at any point. It won’t bother me a bit,” he coaxed with surface nonchalance, but she sensed a tighter intensity beneath. Because he wanted her that badly? Or the mental escape?

“Really?” She folded her arms, highly skeptical.

“It’s a lady’s prerogative to change her mind,” he said with a fatalistic shrug, then grinned with surprising wickedness. “But I’ll do my best to keep it interesting.”

Her equilibrium rolled and dipped again, making her unsteady on her feet.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” she said, shaking her head at her own waffling forwardness and his sexual arrogance. “With you.”

“I’ve trained myself not to fantasize about women wearing that uniform. It’s pretty surreal for me, too.”

She chuckled, then sobered as she met his avid look. He was holding himself under tight control and she suspected she’d always been aware of his ruthless self-discipline, that it was one of his qualities she was most attracted to.

“I really can’t decide, Theo.”

His expression eased a little. “You don’t have to.” He snagged her hand and led her to the sofa, his manner laconic. “We’ll take it one kiss at a time. See how it goes.”

“You really want to take your mind off things.”

“I really do,” he admitted, dropping onto the sofa and bringing her down beside him. “Will you take your hair down for me?”

After a tiny hesitation, she did, feeling incredibly vulnerable, like she was removing her clothing. Her severe appearance was a shield. Freeing her hair invited him to stroke his fingers through it. He fanned it out from her ear, creating tickling sensations in her scalp as he marveled at the length.

“It’s so silky,” he murmured.

No product or bleach to make it brittle, she almost said, then decided this would go better if she didn’t compare herself to other women whose hair he had petted.

His patience surprised her. She didn’t know why, seeing as he was the most unflappable man she’d ever met, but his contentment to take his time combing her hair with his fingers when he seemed so intent on getting physical almost made her worry he was changing his mind. Just when she grew restless, however, he flicked the tie at her throat.

“Can we take this off?” He tugged to loosen the bow.

“Are you going to tie me up with it?” she asked, trying to sound light, but filled with trepidation.

“Do you want me to?” His gaze skimmed over her as though he was reassessing all his preconceptions about her.

“No.” Firm. Prudish even.

His lips twitched, but when his gaze came up from watching the scarf trail down her lapel, his lids were heavy and his voice laconic. “Good, because I want to feel your hands on me.”

The scarf floated away and he moved in, settling a lazy, drawn-out kiss on her mouth that was reassuringly tender and sweet.

And, after a while, a tiny bit frustrating. She wanted more than this slow pace. She wanted the hand climbing her waist to quit stopping at the underside of her breast. Touch me, she willed, breasts feeling swollen and achy. She wanted the space where they leaned into each other to close so she could press herself to his wide chest. He’d come out of the private lap pool here once, when she’d arrived with a file. Even though he’d shrugged on a shirt immediately, his washboard abs had been full-on. He was gorgeous and she wanted to see his naked chest again.

She plucked at the buttons on his shirt, not quite nervy enough to tug them open.

He broke away to look down at where her indecisive fingers lifted away from his breastbone. Without a word, he one-handedly yanked, disregarding the exceptional quality by tearing its holes, pulling it free of his waistband at the same time so it hung loose on his shoulders.

Gasping at his near savagery, she touched her fingertips to her sensitized lips.

He caught her hand and bit softly against the plump pad at the base of her thumb. “I’m dying for you to touch me. Don’t worry, I won’t rip your uniform. We’d have to account for the loss.”

His husky comment made her laugh. Half of her dry chuckle was mild terror because he was taking her hand to his chest. She caught her breath as her fingerprints made contact with the heat of his skin, taut over his hard muscles.

He shivered under her touch.

“You’re so hot,” she murmured.

“Thank you. I’ve always thought the same about you.”

Smiling, she did something she hadn’t imagined she could. She leaned in and kissed his mouth while both her hands skimmed over the intriguing ripples of his upper chest, exploring the texture of a light sprinkle of hair and satin skin over muscles that flexed under her caress.

He groaned, but rather than gather her into a tight crush, she felt a tickling graze of fingers between her breasts. A second later, she was the one to draw back and watch as he finished opening her white-and-red Makricosta blouse.

Her ivory bra beneath was practical and almost adolescent. She didn’t have much to support and had never seen the point in spending money on something only she would see. An urge to apologize rose to the back of her throat, but the way he traced the top of one small cup, caressing the upper slope of her breast, had her holding her breath.

“I have a wicked addiction to cocoa,” he told her as he took his time spreading the shirt wide on her shoulders, patiently tugging it free of her skirt. His returning touch was whisper-soft as he grazed her ribs and found his way to the clasp in the middle of her back.

Her back arched from his caress and her bra loosened. She drew in a breath, hesitant, but his hand came around and cupped her breast. The sensation blanked her mind, holding her in thrall. So much heat. He was like an inferno, and so masculine, but reverent. There was aggression, she could feel the possessiveness in the way he enclosed her like he had every right, his touch firm, but he was gentle at the same time. Softly crushing, as if he knew she would enjoy the sensation of pressure increasing by degrees. He massaged flesh that felt heavy and achy and prickling in one tight spot.

His touch shifted as he leaned in to capture her mouth. Muscle flexed under her hands as she met his searching kiss with welcome. Sensations overwhelmed her, but a particularly sharp one pierced through her psyche. He thumbed her nipple, making it feel knotted and tighter and more sensitive. And so vulnerable, yet excited.

She whimpered, distressed by the rocketing spikes of pleasure going straight through her abdomen into a place that had retreated to hibernation a long time ago.

“God, Jaya, let me taste you.”

He pressed her onto her back on the cushions, covering her so smoothly she didn’t realize how she’d wound up under him, her bra pushed up and his weight pinning her hips, one leg between his, the other dangling off the edge of the cushions.

A gasp of shock scraped her throat as she pulled in air, trying to catch up to this new circumstance, trying to decide if she was okay with it.

“So gorgeous.”

Damp heat closed over the pulsing tip of her breast. Knifing spears of delight pulled upward from her flesh.

Be scared, she told herself, but the scariest thing was how devastating this pleasure was. Her hands couldn’t get enough of roaming his back. His bunched shirt kept getting in the way, irritating her. His weight on her should have terrified her, but when she bucked, it was slowly, because she couldn’t help herself. Her leg couldn’t find purchase alongside his so she let her ankle curl behind his thigh.

And she moaned. Aloud. Even though a distant voice said, Don’t. Don’t be sexual, don’t encourage him, don’t embarrass yourself. She couldn’t help it. He had both her breasts cupped into mounds that he sipped and licked and tortured. It was incredible.

“Theo, I can’t stand it.”

He lifted to kiss her, swooping like a predator to ravage her mouth as he shifted their position and was fully between her legs. The layers of her wrinkled skirt had climbed so his fly came into firm contact with the cotton of her underpants.

Panic began to edge out her arousal.

She pressed his shoulders and he broke their kiss to set his damp forehead against hers. “I know, I’m pushing it, but this is as far as we’re going. I’ve just realized I don’t have any condoms.” He smoothed her hair back from what must have been a stunned expression and kissed her once, quite hard. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”

She did. Her hips wriggled involuntarily and he shuddered, pressing that most assertive part of himself to her vulnerable softness, pinning her motionless as he released a dry laugh.

“Okay, maybe you do.” Kissing her with regret, he grazed his lips over her cheekbones and eyebrow. “You feel so good. You’re so pretty. I don’t want to stop touching you.” His hand skimmed the outside of her thigh, making her trembling muscles contract to tighten her leg against him. “Will you let me make it good for you, at least? Can I know what it feels like to touch you?”

He set a sweet kiss on her chin while his hand climbed under her gathered skirt and learned the style and texture of her mood-killing matronly underpants.

She opened her mouth, thoughts scattering in a dozen directions by arousal and conflicting misgivings. Her mind refused to fix on anything let alone a clear yes or no.

Before she could form words, he shifted enough to cover her mound with a compelling rock of his hand. Stars shot behind the backs of her eyes.

“Like that?” he murmured, licking her neck and easing his touch to a lighter caress through the layer of cotton. Just a soft trace against a very intimate place that made her pulse with need. “Softer? Tell me what you like.”

“I didn’t come here for this,” she managed to whisper, aware that she was becoming completely abandoned, letting her legs fall open to his incredible facility with a woman’s body. Wanting whatever he’d give her. “But it feels so good.”

“I know. Hate me later, but right now can I keep doing this? You’re so incredible...”

He kissed her neck and sidled his touch beneath the cotton, knowing exactly what he was doing in a way that should have alarmed her, but she didn’t care. At this moment, she really didn’t care about anything except that he keep his attention on that exquisite bunch of nerves tangled into a signal that sent ripples outward through her abdomen. He wasn’t in any hurry, seeming to luxuriate in circling and stroking, driving her crazy.

She bit at his lips, dying, wild, loving his touch and him for giving her this amazing build of pleasure, this incessant desire for physical contact with a man.

He said sinful things about what he wanted to do to her, sucked her nipple and said, “Let me kiss you here. I want to lick you. It’ll be so good, Jaya—”

“No,” she gasped. Her horror was pure, latent shyness, but the idea of him doing that was so wickedly intriguing her arousal spiked to something she couldn’t contain. Convulsively trying to close her legs, she could only squeeze his wide, masculine hips, unable to stop what he was doing. She couldn’t catch back her uninhibited response. Her only choice was complete surrender to him and her body’s sharp need.

Her reward was a deep throb of sheer joy expanding through her in shuddering waves. Her throat filled with a cry of release that was more than just physical. It was emotional triumph. Freedom from the past. Joy at a man’s touch.

CHAPTER THREE

INCREDIBLE TENDERNESS MADE her slither in sweet lassitude beneath him, loving the hard strength of him, the disheveled intensity holding him tense as she ran her fingers into his hair. She made him lift his head so she could look at him.

It was painfully intimate to let him look into her eyes when she had just shattered so completely. His hand stilled where he still had it tucked against her mons and an internal ache made her long to beg him to continue stroking her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping he put down her shiny eyes to arousal.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Stick around. There’s more where that came from.” He punctuated with a gentle, deliberate caress that slid low and penetrated her pulsing channel.

She tightened, part of her reaction instinctual resistance, but the sensation of clasping his thick finger was so delicious she moaned and lifted her hips a little, encouraging more.

“Ah, Jaya...” His hot mouth opened in a wet kiss against her neck and he deepened his possession of her.

“Wait,” she gasped, still clasping his head and this time clutching him close with her arms hard on his shoulders while she stared at the back of the sofa. Was she really going to do this? Her body was on fire while her mind was cleaving in all directions.

He removed his hand from her underpants and she moaned in loss.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, skimming his lips against her jaw before he lifted his head and removed her hand from his hair. “You don’t have to rip my hair out. This has gone further than you wanted to, I get it.”

“No, I—” Disconcerted, she dropped her twitching fingers to his shoulders, sorry she’d hurt him, sorry she’d lost his exquisite caresses. She didn’t want this to end, not yet. This was her chance to get over her past. “I have a pill in my room. One that, um, prevents a pregnancy after, um, unprotected sex.” Please don’t ask me why I have it.

Her voice faded toward the end. She was grossly unsure of herself and given how he’d pulled away, maybe he wasn’t all that invested. He became very grave as he pondered what she’d said, making her hold her breath.

“I always wear a condom.”

Disappointment sliced surprisingly deep. She swallowed and nodded. “I understand. It’s okay. Like you said, this isn’t something we intended, so—”

“No, I mean I’m clean. I’ve never gone bareback so you don’t have to worry I’d give you anything.”

“I...” Had tests. Again, she didn’t want to think about Saranya taking her to the doctor once she’d got her out of India. That dark time was being overcome, here, tonight, with this man. “I’m clean, too.”

He searched her face. She recognized the glaze of concentration in his eyes as a passionate force. It nearly squeezed the air right out of her.

“Swear to me you’ll take that pill.” His lips barely moved.

“My family would take out a contract on me if I had a baby outside of marriage.”

He held himself in steely control and she could almost hear the computations of risk against desire. “I don’t want to be a father. Ever. If you’re thinking this might lead to something—”

“No!” she insisted, casting for the right words. “It’s like you said about not wanting to think about certain things. I want something different in my mind.” A new memory. A good one. “A baby would be a disaster. But I want to feel...you,” she ended in a whisper.

His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath, his nod brief and sharp before he pulled away, gathering her up as he found his feet. The strength in him as he lifted her and held her cradled to his chest made bells ring in her ears, but she found herself curling her arm around his neck and burying her face into the masculine scent in the crook near his shoulder.

What she had said was broad enough to be true in many ways. She wanted to think of men differently, but there was a part of her deeply enthralled in the now. She could barely form a thought beyond her need for physical contact with this man.

He set her on the bed and straightened, not turning on the light. Only the faint glimmer from the pool deck through the windows penetrated.

She hugged her knees as she watched him slide his belt free and toss it away, toeing off his shoes at the same time.

“Are we taking turns? Because I’m dying to see you,” he said with enough ragged edge on his voice to make her shiver.

She looked down at her crumpled uniform, her shirt open, her bra still loose across her chest. Shyness was the only thing holding her back from undressing, she realized with a glistening lilt of joy. Not fear, just natural self-consciousness about undressing in front of a man.

As she hesitantly drew her shirt off her shoulders she confessed, “You’ve seen a lot of women. I don’t know how I’ll compare.”

Down to his briefs as he peeled away his socks, he said, “I’m not very sure of my ability to hang on until I’ve given you everything I want you to have. I do not want to be the selfish bastard you compare every future lover to.”

He wouldn’t be, not by a long shot. And even though a quick coupling was probably better for her, given her hang-ups, she doubted it was a good thing to say. Besides, he stole the shirt she was trying to fold and lifted her bra away, dropping both to the floor. The air-conditioned room made her curl her toes, incredibly self-conscious of her naked breasts and beaded nipples as she forced her hands to remain beside her hips.