British Bachelors: Rich and Powerful. Nina HarringtonЧитать онлайн книгу.
expression had started to ease a little, Drake stared at her as if once again cornered by something frighteningly threatening. ‘Please don’t ask me. It’s not something I feel ready to share and I don’t know if I ever will.’
‘This is one of those places you don’t want me to go? Is that what you’re telling me?’
He nodded and looked desolate for a moment, and although she desperately wanted to know Layla knew this wasn’t the time to enquire more deeply into why he didn’t sleep with the lights off. What he needed right now was unquestioning understanding, she decided, and maybe some consolation as well. Nightmares could disturb the strongest of characters.
Pushing aside the silk counterpane, she moved towards him, cupped his jaw, then tenderly kissed him on the mouth. It was like touching flame to dry tinder, and straight away the heat that flared between them made him haul her onto his lap so that her thighs spread over his, and the clash of lips, teeth and tongues became even more urgent and demanding.
When Drake moved his hands to her hips to position her over his already hard member, then pushed up inside her, Layla threw back her head and let loose a deep throated groan. She was still a little tender from their previous energetic coupling, but in a way this raw and elemental coming together was even more inevitable and necessary than both those occasions—because right now Drake really needed her. And for the first time in her life she discovered that she finally knew what it was to really need a man too …
As he started to move more deeply inside her his palms hungrily cupped and kneaded her breasts. Every now and then his fingers and thumbs tugged at her rigid nipples, sending fiery heat directly to her womb. With her tousled dark hair falling around her face Layla stared back into his blazing lustful glance, her heart pounding so hard it was difficult to think straight. But most of all she was struck dumb by the sheer intensity of the feelings she saw reflected in his eyes.
‘You are one seriously sexy and beautiful woman,’ he declared huskily, his breathing ragged with unashamed need and desire.
Leaving her breasts, his hands reached up to pull her face down to his. Just as their lips made contact she sensed him buck beneath her, and even as he kissed her it was with a mixture of shock and pleasure that she registered the hot liquid heat that spurted into her womb. But there was barely time to contemplate the event because in the very next moment her own climax burst upon her. Freeing her lips from his still demanding mouth and oh-so-seductive moist tongue, she let her head fall against Drake’s hard-muscled shoulder with a breathless gasp that was quickly followed by several more …
LAYLA was taking a shower and washing her hair. Having left her with one of his finest cotton shirts to replace the pretty blouse he had ripped open last night, Drake had nipped out to a local French patisserie to buy warm croissants and a pot of speciality fruit jam for them to enjoy with their morning coffee. Even as his mind teemed with provocative detailed reruns of the events of last night his body throbbed from the passionate lovemaking they had shared. He’d had little sleep, God knew, but this morning he felt on top of the world.
But as he let himself back inside the house, then made his way into the kitchen, it hit him like a steel wave crashing into his gut—how he had awoken in the suffocating dark and for chilling seconds been plunged back into the nightmare of his childhood.
Reaching for the kettle, he witnessed his hand shake slightly and cursed furiously. He still didn’t know why Layla hadn’t pressed him more for an explanation. Under the circumstances she’d had a perfect right to. What must she have thought when he’d told her that he never slept without the lights on?
He caught his breath when he remembered what she had done instead of probing him for answers. With her beautiful body moving over him, taking him to heaven instead of hell, Drake had quickly forgotten his nightmare of being locked in his bedroom in the dark and then hearing the slamming of the door that told him his father had gone out to the pub.
Even when his father had returned he’d never come up to unlock his son’s door or check if he was okay. No, Drake would be forced to stay there until he’d cried himself to sleep.
Needing to shake off the hurt that suffused him at the memory, he filled the kettle from a filtered water jug and pressed the switch for it to boil. Then he measured generous spoonsful of aromatic coffee grounds into a cafetière and arranged the warm croissants he’d bought on two patterned side plates. As he reached into the fridge for some milk, another disturbing realisation stopped him in his tracks. Instead of cursing, this one made him shut the fridge door dazedly and stand there shaking his head in wonder and disbelief.
Caught up in the vortex of uncontrollable need and lust last night, along with the fantasy that maybe Layla was the woman who really could help put an end to his nightmares and loneliness for good, if she genuinely grew to care for him, he hadn’t given a thought to using protection. And, having not had sex for a long time until her boss had so deviously seduced her by plying her with drink, he doubted very much that Layla was on the pill. In which case it was entirely possible that Drake had made her pregnant. If such an event occurred then it was the most reckless act he’d committed since he’d left his teenage years behind and become a man.
‘Hello, again … Are you making coffee, by any chance?’
Standing in the doorway with a shaft of sunlight playing upon her newly washed dark hair, wearing Drake’s too-large pristine white shirt over fitted blue jeans, his ravishing lover took his breath away. It struck him that he’d never seen a woman look more beautiful or desirable as Layla did right then.
As he moved towards her his heart skipped a beat. ‘Hi. Not only am I making coffee, but I’ve been out to buy us some croissants and fruit preserve too.’
Walking into his arms as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do, she teased, ‘You must be trying to win the Most Considerate Man of the Year award, then. Don’t worry, as far as I’m concerned you’ve already won the prize.’ Reaching up and kissing him on the mouth, she glanced up at him from beneath her lustrous dark lashes and blushed charmingly.
Drake chuckled. ‘Ain’t that the truth …? I certainly have won the prize.’ As his arms tightened a little more round her slender hourglass waist, he smiled. ‘By the way, I’m never going to wash that shirt of mine again when you give it back.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it will have the scent of your very sexy body all over it … From now on it’s elevated to being my favourite item of clothing.’
‘Well, on that rather provocative little note, I think we should sit down and partake of those delicious-looking croissants you’ve bought … of course that’s as soon as you get your act together and make the coffee, Mr Ashton,’ she added mischievously.
As she extricated herself from his arms to move towards the table he caught hold of her hand and, lifting it to his lips, reverently kissed her fingers.
‘What was that for?’
‘Do I need a reason other than that I simply felt like it?’ Feeling his heart swell with the kind of addictive warmth he couldn’t ever remember feeling before, Drake kept a hold of Layla’s hand, reluctant to let it go. ‘That’s not strictly true. I just wanted to thank you for last night … for understanding.’
It was a relief to him to know that he didn’t have to say any more than that, because staring back into her compassionate brown eyes he knew no other explanation was necessary … at least for now.
‘I hated seeing you so distressed. Whatever horrors you were dreaming about, I just wanted to try and help you forget them.’
‘Trust me …’ He grinned. ‘You did.’
As he released her hand so he could return to the counter and make the coffee Layla frowned and briefly touched his arm, indicating that she wanted to extend