Secrets In The Boardroom: A Perfect Husband / The Boss's Secret Mistress / Between the CEO's Sheets. Fiona BrandЧитать онлайн книгу.
if I’d had time.”
Lilah’s fingers tightened on the phone. “I know this might sound silly to you, but I made a certain … vow. I might have forgotten it for a few minutes this afternoon, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s important to me.”
There was a ringing silence, punctuated by raised voices in the background.
“I have to go,” Zane said curtly. “Whatever you do, don’t leave the suite. Spiros will be out in the corridor if you need anything. And don’t use the hotel phone. It’s not secure and the press are still camped in the foyer.”
The phone clicked quietly in her ear.
Feeling suddenly flat and a little depressed, Lilah walked through to her room and showered in the opulent marble bathroom, which not only contained a large walk-in shower, but a sunken spa tub. After slipping on a silk chemise, she belted one of the fluffy hotel robes around her waist and walked back out to the kitchen.
She found a bowl of fruit and a basket of fresh rolls on the counter. The fridge was groaning with food.
Abruptly starving, because she had been too wound up to eat anything but a few canapés from the buffet at the auction, Lilah helped herself to bread and cheese and a selection of mouthwatering dishes from the fridge. To balance out the decadence, she made herself a cup of tea.
Loading her snack onto a small tray, she carried it through to the sitting room and set it down on an elegant coffee table. She flicked through TV channels until she found a local news station.
Wrong choice. She stared at the live footage of Zane with Gemma at some point during the charity auction that evening. Her arm was coiled snugly around his. Young and fresh, with an ultrasexy fuchsia gown, Gemma was the perfect foil for Zane’s dark, powerful build.
Suddenly miserable, she flicked to another channel and stared blankly at an old black-and-white movie. At eleven o’clock, she turned the TV set off. Too restless to sleep and worried that her apartment might have been broken into, she decided to call Evan and check if he had managed to fix the window. She retrieved her cell from her handbag and discovered the battery was dead. In her hurry to pack, she had not included her cell phone charger.
She spent another half hour kicking her heels. Her irritation at her isolation in the fabulous suite was edged by the dreaded notion that maybe Zane hadn’t yet returned because he was now with Gemma.
It wasn’t as if she had a claim on Zane, or should want to make one. Despite the attraction that sizzled between them, the crazy, inappropriate sense of attachment, Zane Atraeus did not fit into her life.
The one area in which they were in complete harmony was the most dangerous part of their relationship. No matter how tempted she was to fall into bed with Zane, she couldn’t forget that sex had gotten her mother and her grandmother into trouble, literally.
At eleven-thirty, she retreated to her bedroom, climbed into the Hollywood fantasy of a bed and tried to sleep.
At midnight, tired of tossing and turning in a tangle of silken bedclothes, she pushed out of bed and walked back out to the kitchenette. On impulse, she picked up the hotel directory, found out how to dial out and called Evan, who was a night owl and didn’t normally go to bed until one or two o’clock.
Evan was terse and to-the-point. He had fixed the window, but now he was busy, entertaining a friend.
Cheeks burning, Lilah apologized. She was on the point of hanging up when Zane walked through the door.
Zane shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. “I thought I told you not to use the hotel phone.”
Lilah said goodbye and hung up. “I had to make a call. My cell phone battery was dead.”
He frowned. “Who is it? Howard?”
“No.”
“Lucas?”
“I called Evan to see if he’d fixed my window.”
He removed his bow tie and jerked at the buttons of his dress shirt. “Peters. Just how many male friends have you got?”
Annoyance zinged through her. “I don’t know why that should worry you, when you’ve got so many ‘friends’ yourself.”
Zane’s expression cleared, as if she had just said something that had cheered him up immeasurably. “I’ve spent half the night with a bunch of scared kids.”
She stared resolutely at his jaw, desperate to avoid the softening in his gaze. “It’s after midnight.”
Comprehension gleamed. “And you thought I was with Gemma.”
He closed the distance between them and framed her face so she was forced to meet his gaze, and suddenly there was no air. “Why do you think I became the patron of a Sydney charity, when I’ve been based in the States?”
Zane answered his own question. “Because I wanted you.”
Zane logged the moment Lilah accepted that he genuinely wanted her.
Desire burned away the jealousy that had gripped him when he had found her talking on the phone.
He didn’t get jealous. Ever since his early teens, he had controlled his emotions and his sex drive. He had been selective in his bed partners.
For two years, since he had severed his last short liaison, he hadn’t needed a woman at all. It was not unusual for him to have periods of celibacy, but this one had stretched beyond personal preference.
Lilah’s sea-green gaze locked with his.
The attraction didn’t make sense. He didn’t want Lilah to matter to him, but it was a fact that she did.
Bending his head, he touched his mouth to hers.
Long, drugging seconds passed. He lifted his head before he lost it completely. He was male, he loved women, their softness and beauty; he just didn’t trust them.
Until now, he’d had no interest in changing.
The thought that he could change, that he wanted to trust Lilah, made his heart pound.
Her fingers slid into his hair. The faint, tugging pressure as she lifted up and pressed her mouth to his was stunningly erotic. A wave of intense, dissolving pleasure shimmered through him. Dimly, he noted that he was on the edge of losing control.
Lilah lifted up on her toes, pressing closer to Zane. Subconsciously, she realized she had been waiting for this ever since Elena had interrupted them that afternoon.
With a stifled groan, Zane took a half step forward, pinning her against the edge of the counter.
She felt him tugging at her thick, fluffy robe, the coolness of the air against her skin as the robe slipped to the floor. He dipped his head and took one breast in his mouth through the silk of her chemise, and sensation jerked through her.
A split second later, the room tilted as he swung her into his arms. Depositing her on the soft cushions of one of the elaborate, overstuffed couches, he came down alongside her.
Blindly, she fumbled at his shirt until she found naked skin. She tore open the final buttons and impatiently waited while he shrugged out of the shirt.
She felt the heat of his palms gliding along her thighs, the warm silk of her chemise puddling around her hips.
In twelve years of dating, this was the closest she had come to feeling anything like the intensity that friends wept over and talked about, that she had absorbed second hand through books and movies.
Being desired, she discovered, was infinitely seductive; it undermined her defenses, dissolved every last shred of resistance. Even the idea of holding on to her virginity seemed vague and abstract. Especially in light of the fact that she had already more or less surrendered to Zane two years ago. After grimly hanging on to that bastion of purity for so long she couldn’t help thinking