An Heir To Make A Marriage. Эбби Грин
of the fact that he was looking at her as if she truly was...something special.
For all that she had a soft, romantic core that she didn’t show to the world, and in spite of her unfashionable lack of experience, she was street-smart and had a healthy cynicism about men and love.
You couldn’t be a woman living in the twenty-first century in New York and not know that fairy tales really only existed in movies or books. But Zac Valenti was dangerous, because he made her yearn for something that she’d seen between her parents. He made her think that perhaps the fairy tale was possible...
Zac’s head ducked at that moment, and before Rose could finish her thought his mouth was settling over hers and words and thoughts fused into one blinding white flash of heat.
Fairy tales were the last thing on Rose’s mind now, under the masterful and expert touch of Zac’s hard mouth. Carnality—that was on her mind as heat raced through her bloodstream and into every erogenous zone, breathing fire into her nerve endings until they were tingling and jumping.
He’d cupped both hands around her face now, and his tongue was sliding past her shamefully weak and shy resistance to stroke and explore, urging her mouth open, compelling her to accept him.
The sheer power of his kiss was breathtaking, and so was the arrogance with which he calmly and methodically went about stealing her sanity.
Rose only realised she was clinging on to his waist when her fingers encountered hard, unyielding muscle. The kiss was hard, yet soft, and rough enough to send a thrill through her. She was gasping when Zac left her mouth to kiss along her jawline.
He pulled her closer, one arm wrapped so far around her back that his hand slid under her dress, across her bare skin. His fingers were tantalisingly close to her breast. His other hand undid her hair and Rose could feel it fall down and his fingers exploring, threading through the silken strands, cupping her skull.
Rose let her head fall back, giving him better access to her jaw and neck, and his mouth blazed a trail of fire across her skin.
Dimly, she knew she should be making some kind of effort to stop this, but the temptation to go deeper into this new world of sensations was too great to resist. She felt powerful, feminine. Desirable.
Zac lifted his head from her neck and Rose looked up, dazed. Her breath was coming fast and harsh and her breasts were moving against his chest, making her aware of how hard her nipples were.
His eyes burned a bright blue, his cheeks were flushed, and a lock of hair flopped onto his brow. It made her feel curiously tender amidst the tumult rushing through her system.
Then he subtly moved his hips, and the bold thrust of his erection told her far more starkly just how real this was. And his words.
‘I want you.’
His voice sounded guttural and almost coarse. It should have jarred against this beautiful and civilised backdrop, but it didn’t. Because high on this terrace, overlooking the shining city, Rose felt disconnected from everything but this moment and this man. His coarseness and his arousal resonated deep inside her.
She struggled to put some kind of brake on this crazy, all-consuming urge just to say yes. She put her hands on his chest, forced some space between them. She felt undone, with her hair around her face and her mouth swollen from his kisses.
‘I don’t...do this.’ The words were a hopelessly ineffectual attempt to articulate her confusion.
Zac finally—mercifully—straightened and moved back a little too. His mouth twisted. ‘Would you believe me if I said I don’t do this either?’
The space between them finally restored some of Rose’s functioning brain cells. Because she knew very well that Zac might not have brought a woman up to this garden, but he did do this. Very frequently, if the gossip columns were to be believed.
She stepped back, burningly aware of the telltale dampness between her legs. She folded her arms across her chest, residual heat making her feel prickly. ‘You might not do this here, but you do seduce women elsewhere. So, no, I don’t believe you when you say you “don’t do this”.’
His expression hardened, giving Rose an insight into another, more intimidating side of this man that she hadn’t seen yet.
‘I’m not a monk, but I’m not a player. Women know where they stand with me, and when I take a lover I’m faithful to her for as long as it lasts. We have fun and then we move on. I’m not into commitment.’
I’m not into commitment. Rose hated the swoop of her insides to hear it articulated so baldly.
She lifted her chin. ‘And is that what you’re offering here?’ She cursed herself, feeling impossibly gauche. Show the girl from Queens a cool club and an even cooler secret rooftop garden and she’d be eating out of your hand like a bird. Throw in one of the world’s most gorgeous and eligible bachelors and she’d be ready to do a lot more.
But that’s why you’re here, a snide voice reminded her. So who was she to judge him? He didn’t deserve her judgment!
Rose whirled away from that penetrating blue gaze before he might see something, her stomach in knots and her brain freezing at the thought that what she’d been sent to accomplish had so nearly become a reality...
Zac cursed behind her, and even though she’d only known him a few hours she could already imagine him raking a hand through his hair.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said frigidly. ‘No doubt you’re used to a more...sophisticated response.’
It’s not that,’ he grated harshly. ‘I’m angry with myself. I’m not in the habit of propositioning women within hours of meeting them.’
Slowly she turned around to face him again. His face was unreadable but his eyes glowed. The knots in her belly loosened. She didn’t doubt his sincerity. This man was proud. Prouder than anyone she’d ever met.
She could at least be honest about this. ‘I don’t even know you.’
Zac’s mouth quirked with that easy sexiness and he leant back against the railing, his hands behind him. Lord and master of all he surveyed. Power and privilege sitting easily on his shoulders.
‘Most people assume they know me.’
Rose felt shy and lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘That’s understandable, I guess.’
He turned and faced forward again, leaning on the railing. He looked out over the view for a long moment, and then he looked sideways at her. His voice had a resigned quality. ‘What do you say to a coffee and then I’ll arrange for my driver to take you home?’
The rush of disappointment was acute, even though Rose knew she should be welcoming it. Zac was obviously bored rigid. But even that thought couldn’t compel her do the right thing when she had the chance. She longed for a few last seconds basking in his golden aura.
‘Okay, that sounds good.’
She told herself that she welcomed the chance to sober up, even though she’d hardly even drunk. She felt drunk though—drunk on this man.
Zac just nodded, showing no discernible emotion at her acquiescence, and she preceded him back through the garden.
He directed her to a different door this time, not back to the lift. He opened it and indicated for Rose to go first. She went down a spiralling set of stone steps and then he was reaching past her to push open another heavy door. A huge vast space with floor-to-ceiling glass windows was revealed as she stepped over the threshold.
‘This is my apartment.’
Of course he had the apartment below the garden. Above the nightclub. He probably owned the building.
‘Make yourself comfortable. How do you like your coffee?’
Rose was momentarily distracted by the views outside the massive windows. ‘White with one sugar, please.’