Claiming His Hidden Heir. Natalie Anderson
flushed as if she’d already come. But instead of reproach in her green eyes there was the beckoning of an aurora as they glittered with the promise of what was to come.
‘It’s looks beautiful.’
The necklace fell between her breasts yet, as fine as it was, it garnered only a glance because he had found perfection elsewhere. He experienced a fierce desire to taste her there and to explore with his fingers, though they had not yet so much as kissed.
His lips were warm as they brushed over hers. Her breasts got the tease of his naked skin as their bodies came together, then his arms pulled her in as she moaned at the contact. He tasted of anise and all things forbidden and delicious.
And then he kissed her hard and she kissed him back hungrily, for she had craved him for close to a year. Her hands slipped through the arms that held her and came up behind his head to pull him closer.
He had expected reticence, that her tongue would require his coaxing, yet instead together they fuelled urgent desire. The woman who rarely blushed, who was always so cool and distant now burnt at his touch. He had imagined a slow seduction perhaps, and then he laughed in his head that he had thought her a virgin for the woman in his arms was wanton and wild.
He pressed against her hips and her grip tightened in his hair.
Tiny nips and wet, hot kisses were shared as Luka pressed her to the wall. She was grateful for the support it gave as her legs were trembling.
Luka pressed into her and moved her hands from his head and down past his flat stomach to the hard heat that was pressed into her.
He pulled back and their foreheads met as they watched her free him.
And, because it was Luka, of course he had protection to hand. But before he was lost to latex, Cecelia held him for a moment, as she had so long wanted to—stroking his thick, hard length as beads of silver moistened her palm.
She licked her lips and he moaned a low curse, for he wanted to carry her now to his suite. Luka wanted the rest of Cecelia’s clothes to be gone, but his want was more immediate now. He pushed her hand away and sheathed himself with rapid, practised ease and then got back to her mouth.
He was so tall that even with Cecelia in high espadrilles she was no match for him.
Their teeth clashed and suddenly too much was not enough. He pushed up the dress and his hands roughly roamed her inner thighs and felt her hot and wet as he tore at her knickers and then crouched enough to sear into her.
He was rougher than she had ever known yet there was liquid silk to ease his path.
Cecelia had never been more frantic and as he lifted her legs she wrapped them around him. He was strong enough with his grip to allow her to hold his face and kiss him back hard.
It was the roughest and most delicious coupling.
For they matched.
His hands held her buttocks and his fingers dug in so deep that they would surely leave a bruise, yet she ground onto him. And far from reticence, it was Cecelia coaxing him to come. ‘Luka!’ She could not focus on kissing, and she tore her mouth away. He could feel the tease of intimate muscles and he thrust in hard and then swelled to the tight grip of her orgasm and her sensual sob called him to deliver deep.
Luka did, shuddering his release deep into her to the last twitches of hers.
And that part had her dizzy. The moan of him carried without breath to her ears, and the sensual slide of their hot, damp bodies as they slowly brought themselves back from the far reaches of the divine space they had been in together. Kissing again, with languorous relish as the world faded in.
He lowered her down and she could feel the thump, thump of his heart against the flutter of hers. Cecelia rested her head on his shoulder and she was herself for the first time.
And herself was more reckless than she had ever dared to be.
‘Come on.’ He was tidying up, picking up discarded clothes, ready to be headed for his suite and to bed, to resume proceedings, this time at a more leisurely pace.
But she would not be waking up there, Cecelia decided.
One taste of heaven was more than enough and she had always sworn to leave before he dictated terms.
‘I need to get home.’
She picked up her bra, but since it would be almost impossible to do it up she pushed it into her bag.
‘Cece...’ he said, and she didn’t correct him, but she did pick up her shredded knickers and added them to her bag, and then with rather unsteady hands did up her halter neck.
‘I really do need to get home, Luka.’
‘You’re not just running off.’
‘I’m not running,’ she corrected. ‘I just want to go home.’
Her voice was incredibly composed. He looked at the necklace, heavy between gently curving breasts and the gorgeous flush of her climax.
But aside from throwing her over his shoulder, or dragging her, it would seem that he couldn’t stop her from leaving. She had made up her mind.
Usually it would be perfect.
A good orgasm, and then the absence of conversation—except there was more to her that he wanted to explore, and he was rather sure that there was more to come for them.
But she was checking herself in a small mirror compact, as she often did before she headed out.
‘Thanks for an amazing night,’ Cecelia said, and then, just as she had done previously, she leant forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, as if the past half an hour had not taken place.
‘Don’t go home yet,’ Luka said.
‘I want to, though.’
And he couldn’t really argue with that.
He watched as she walked to the elevator and pressed the button.
Cecelia stepped in and pressed for the lobby, unable to stop herself leaning against the cool mirrors, not really surprised by what had taken place.
She had wanted him so badly for months.
A man in a suit got in at the fourteenth floor and another at the seventh.
Cecelia nodded and smiled and then stared ahead as they inched down to the ground floor where she stepped out and walked across the foyer.
The cleaners had their buffers out and were polishing the marble floors.
Cecelia said goodnight to the doorman and stepped out into the night, but there was no cool breeze to greet her.
It was a sultry London night, but as she headed for the underground station she heard her name—‘Ms Andrews?’
She turned around and saw that it was Luka’s driver.
‘Mr Kargas said you worked too late to take the underground.’
And of all the experiences of this night, this was the part she both hated and loved the most.
Loved that she was being taken care of by Luka, that he had thought to see her safely home.
Hated because by his very nature it was a mere temporary, tantalising glimpse of his world.
CECELIA WAS TEMPTED to call in sick, but then that would suggest she regretted last night, which she didn’t.
Instead, she regretted how she felt this morning, because rather than getting up to her alarm and facing the very early start to her day, Cecelia had brought a coffee to bed and sat in it looking at the necklace that Luka had given her.
Cecelia did not want