Bedded by Blackmail / Millionaire's Secret Seduction: Bedded by Blackmail / Millionaire's Secret Seduction. Robyn Grady
your birthday tomorrow?”
“I’ll be twenty-six.”
He smiled that sexy smile. “Then I guess we have some celebrating to do.”
She crossed her ankles and sucked in a decisive breath. “I could whip up a cake.” She liked chocolate torte, but Black Forest with lots of cherries was his favorite.
Holding her tighter, he mounted the stairs two at a time. “I don’t want you in the kitchen, Ella. I want you in my bed.”
They crossed the threshold into his room. The but-terflies in her stomach went berserk when he flicked on a lamplight and the tawny satin coverlet and ruby-colored cushions of his king-size bed materialized out of the dark. She’d smoothed his sheets hundreds of times and had wondered about stretching out on them just as often. Difficult to believe that tonight her fanta-sies would finally come true.
He set her on her feet and his warm, steady hands slid down the sides of her satiny nightgown.
“This is nice.” His mouth lowered to sample the curve of her neck.
She angled her head, shivering as she gave him better access. Nice? Was he referring to their new situa-tion or her negligee? she wondered.
“I bought it the same day I picked up my evening gown.”
Her voice sounded thick as his teeth slowly danced down her throat, making her flesh tingle and nipples bead tight. When her fingers found his head and flexed longingly in his hair, she felt his smile on her skin.
“Do you always wear this kind of thing to bed?” he asked. “Or were you hoping we’d bump into each other tonight?”
“I usually wear button-up pajamas.”
His raspy jaw grazed as he kissed an adoring line of fire up her throat. “Tonight it’s difficult to imagine you in anything other than French silk.”
Through the haze of building desire, a vague sense of self-consciousness sparked. She wasn’t like the women with whom he usually kept company. She wasn’t at all…refined. “I don’t normally buy silk neg-ligees or spend a lot on perfume or jewelry.”
“Then maybe it’s time someone did for you.”
His sultry admission threw her. But before she could think more on it, he found the bow at her cleavage and tugged the ribbon loose. Then he cupped her shoulders and, with a sculpting movement, dragged down the thin straps of silk.
The negligee slipped into a soft puddle around her feet. She sucked in a breath at a kick of raw, physical need as he brought her close, his long, muscular legs creating a V either side of hers. His rumbling tones resonated through her as his hands massaged her upper arms, drawing her up and toward him. He tasted the slope of her shoulder as if she were a fine delicacy.
“Is this okay?” he murmured against her skin.
Dissolving into him, she sighed on a delicious shiver. “Okay isn’t the word.”
His slightly roughened hands combed down her arms, detouring over her rump to scoop her in and up. Her breath caught.
He was so hard.
He took a seductive, lingering kiss from the corner of her mouth. “You’re perfect.”
If he hadn’t been holding her, Ella would have swayed. And she could barely breathe. Every bubble of oxygen had been consumed by the fire raging inside of her.
He kissed her again—thoroughly this time, until her head spun and limbs floated away. When he left her lips and looked into her eyes, his gaze was hot and purposeful.
“Ella, I want you.”
Her body tensed as trapped air burned in her lungs and stars began to dance in her head. The reality of having Tristan Barkley kissing her, telling her he wanted her, was overwhelming, almost too much to absorb.
His knuckle nudged her chin up and he searched her eyes. “Remember, if I’m going too fast, we can take it slow—as slow as you want to go.”
She tried to even her breathing, to grasp what was happening and accept it. “Tristan…I…I…”
He blinked several times then let out a breath and pressed a kiss to her brow. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. It’s too soon.” He smiled as his gaze roamed her face. “Let’s get you dressed.”
Dropping onto his haunches, he found her negligee at her feet. She wanted to pull him back up, tell him he was mistaken and then lock her lips with his again. But she stilled when his hands slid up her legs as he towed the fabric along. Halfway up, when he reached her hips, his progress stopped.
His warm breath lingered on her thighs, high where her legs joined and a hypersensitive spot had picked up on the heat of his mouth and had begun to beat and glow. She was agonizingly aware of how damp her panties were—how desperately, shamelessly, she wanted him to touch her there. If he did, she just might explode.
Like a warm, soft breeze, his mouth brushed her navel and a whimper of longing escaped from her throat.
“I don’t mind you being shy, Ella. But I want you to know you don’t have to be. You’re beautiful.” His mouth brushed again and his hands slid higher to hold her hips. “Just…please, give me a moment,” he groaned, “then, I promise, I’ll let you go.”
He didn’t wait for permission this time. Instead he tasted long, moist kisses that led down from her belly to her panty line. The warm tip of his tongue trailed back and forth just below the elastic as his fingers dug gently in, angling her hips even more toward his skilled mouth.
Tipping back her head, Ella sighed as her hands drifted to his hair. Tristan thought she was beautiful. He’d asked if she wanted to make love. And with every word—every wondrous graze of his lips—she wanted him more and more.
She was about to surrender all when his mouth left her burning flesh. Pushing to his feet, he towed the negligee up with him, replacing the straps over her shoulders.
Ella exhaled as a chunk of her sizzling tension fell away. But she wasn’t ready to let that feeling go. She wanted that scorching, drugging heat to continue. She wanted his mouth on her again, but this time she wanted it everywhere and all at once.
She cupped his stubbled jaw in two hands and willed him to see the depth of the need in her eyes.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
His brows knitted then his expression changed in a way that made her feel all the more desired. A way that made her simmer then burn. He studied her for a long, super-charged moment.
And took her hand.
He led her to his bed, ripped back the covers then sat on the edge of the mattress she’d covered with fresh, fragrant sheets that morning. Standing before him, she dropped her negligee then he slipped her panties off her hips, down her thighs. When she stepped out of the scrap of silk and stood before him completely naked, she felt at once released, totally free and at the same time incredibly vulnerable.
His warm hands on her waist drew her toward him, twirling her as he brought her down onto the cool sheets so that she lay on her back, partly captured beneath him.
His smile flashed in the shadows. “We’ll toast your birthday with French champagne at midnight.”
A tantalizing thrill rippled through her. “I like the sound of that.”
Two fingers wove up the inside of her thigh. “I like the feel of this.”
He proceeded to show her how much.
He caressed her body from head to toe, and with so fine a skill she wondered whether she would ever descend from the clouds. When she was beyond ready, when her breasts were on fire and her core screamed for sexual release, he found a condom in his side drawer, then, dotting meaningful kisses on her brow, he gently nudged in.