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And why should she? Or the scandal that had erupted the following morning to rip them apart. The nausea that had been her constant companion the past few weeks threatened to return.
One dragon at a time. If he chose to ignore her…. Kira frowned at the floor, willing away the dark premonition that crept into the room like a cold London fog roiling off the Thames. But her trepidation only grew, because she knew someone stood in the doorway, watching her.
She stilled, her breath catching in her throat as a wedge of light arrowed across the plush carpet and darted beneath the table to inch up the wall. A chill born of anxiety hopscotched up her spine, and she shivered despite the luxurious blanket draped over her bare body. Just to touch him, kiss him. Not that she needed a reminder. She dug her fingernails into the armrest, likely scoring the butter-soft leather.
Of course. He was here to haggle with her over the Chateau again. Kira had expected this quarrel. But his presence commanded all her senses. He glided a hand up her spine, sliding the blanket over her sensitized skin slowly, and the desire churning to life within her silenced the protests in her head. She gritted her teeth, fighting the feelings erupting in her: annoyance, desire, need.
To the way his unique scent of spice tempered with the tang of the sea called to her, stripping her inhibitions bare. That firm, yet gentle caress muddled her thinking. Her body reacted to him with shocking welcome, her breasts growing heavy, the sensitive nipples peaking. She bit back a sigh of pleasure, her emotions roiling in utter turmoil.
Wedlock – for revenge or pleasure? Untameable conquistador blood runs fiercely through Miguel Gutierrez's veins. He's conquered the business world to make. Wedlock – for revenge or pleasure? Untameable conquistador blood runs fiercely through Miguel Gutierrez's veins. He's conquered the business world to m .
A heavy ache of want converged at the apex of her thighs, spreading upward, making her quake with desire. Damn him! One caress had reduced her to a quivering wanton, sweeping her away on a wave of raw need. She detested his power over her. Hated the magnetism that drew her to the powerful throb of his touch. Kira forced her voice to remain steady when her emotions were anything but. The crackle of paper echoed in the tense stillness. A pristine white sheet was thrust beneath the face cradle.
She huffed out an annoyed breath, expecting another decadently outlandish offer for the Chateau. Her gaze skimmed the header, and her stomach plummeted as her world tipped on its axis. She read each damning word, her racing heart nearly stopping as the meaning sank into her soul. How could she have believed her future was safe from his power, from his dominance?
His hand glided over her shoulders in a mock caress, the fingers playing her skin like a fine instrument. Only the dirge sang her doom. He laughed, no doubt gloating over his conquest and her reaction to him, and her humiliation was absolute. Kira sprang up so fast the room spun. She clasped the blanket around her heaving chest and shook her head to toss her heavy hair away from her face, too gripped with shock and anger to feel satisfaction when his eyes flared with sensual awareness, with masculine appreciation.
At least they were alone. The brute was undoubtedly in the hall, making sure nobody interrupted his decadently wealthy employer. French, of course, the cut emphasizing his long powerful legs, lean hips and broad shoulders. His snow-white shirt was a startling contrast against his darkly tanned skin, and his silvery tie complemented his platinum watchband that had probably cost more than what she earned in a year. His thick black hair was combed off his brow, his clothing meticulous, his bearing indomitable. It had been this way from the start.
There had been no love involved, only an overpowering attraction and an intense demanding need. Hands trembling, she dug her cold fingers into the blanket and met his eyes, such an intense dark brown they gleamed black. A dizzying rush of emotions slammed into her, staggering her with their strength. Kira turned her back to him and slipped a blue silk sundress over her flushed body, hating the way her hands shook and how her body pulsed and quivered with awareness of him.
Though the garment she donned was modest, she felt exposed under his knowing stare. My God, he was an extraordinarily gorgeous man—tall, bronzed, strong, like a god come to life. And he was just as arrogant, just as domineering. Her skin pebbled as a cloying sensation settled over her. A muscle pulsed madly in his cheek.
He snapped his fingers and she jumped, slamming her back against the wall. Your shares would be worthless. Is that what you want? This was blackmail.
Kidnapping at the very least! But to balk would bring about the destruction of her hotel. Yet she felt the underlying steel and rage in him and knew fighting was futile. And she was so weary already. No wonder Bellamy had given her forty-nine percent of Chateau Mystique. Kira Montgomery was sex personified. She had certainly beguiled him with the oldest trick in the book. It had never let him down—until Kira had invaded his island three months ago.
Marc to charm him after his last offer to buy the Chateau had been turned down. It had worked. For that one night. His most fierce rival. Oui , she was the brains of the maneuver that had ultimately eliminated the old man—that had earned her control of Chateau Mystique. The dark thought stayed with him as he followed Kira to a fifth-floor door. She slid a card key in the slot and stepped into a small but cozy suite.
He noted the room bore quaint personal touches, typical of an English parlor, and carried her light floral fragrance. It seemed too benign.