Robyn Donald by Ruthless Billionaire Inexperienced Mistress

Author:Ruthless Billionaire, Inexperienced Mistress [Ruthless Billionaire, Inexperienced Mistress]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-05-07T17:54:57+00:00

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Courted since he’d grown into his shoulders in his mid-teens, experience had taught Slade that he could act like an ancient despot and some women would still pursue him.

Money, he thought cynically as Alli hovered in the doorway, talked very loudly.

‘You are not unwelcome,’ he said curtly. ‘I’m sorry if I made you feel that you were. Do you want this coffee or not?’

‘It certainly sounded as though you thought that—that I’d tried to set you up,’ she said, but she came back warily into the kitchen.

She lifted the mug to her mouth, hiding behind it, but when she drank her lips moved in a slight, sensuous movement that made him glad he had a counter between them.

Last night had been endless. He’d lain in her bed in the darkness, so aroused by her soft curves and satiny skin that it had taken all his control to leash his hunger. It served him right for telling her so pompously that will-power could do anything!

Even now he desired her with a desperation that came too close to clouding his brain. In spite of the promptings of caution he wanted to believe it had been a nightmare that had driven her in search of some human warmth during the night. Although she’d clung to him she’d made no overt indication of wanting sex, seeming content to snuggle in his arms like a bird sheltering from a storm.

But he’d learned in a hard school not to take things at face value, and lust guaranteed poor decisions. He didn’t know enough about Alli to risk trusting her.

Too much depended on not screwing up—and that, he thought, clamping down on memories of her body against him in bed, was not the most felicitous word to use!

‘Tell me about the dream.’ He poured himself a cup of coffee.

She hesitated, then shrugged. ‘It’s always the same—one of those self-repeating sagas. I’m looking for shelter, but no one will let me in.’

‘Orphan in the storm? You kept muttering about being cold.’ He watched as she took another mouthful of the hot liquid, noting the catspaws rippling its surface. Her hand was trembling.

‘Yes—well, that’s part of it. I know that if I don’t get warm I’ll die.’

She hadn’t been shivering when he’d found her outside his door. In fact she’d been locked in stasis, her body rigid, not even moving when he’d searched for the pulse in her throat.

He could still feel the silken skin beneath his fingertips.

Ruthlessly he forced his mind back to the straighter path of logic. Her hands and feet, however, had been cold. ‘No wonder you were terrified.’

Her shoulders lifted a fraction and she drank some more coffee, holding the mug as though she still needed to warm her hands. ‘Children often have that sort of recurring dream, but mostly they grow out of it.’

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