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Bound To The Billionaire. Christina HollisЧитать онлайн книгу.

Bound To The Billionaire - Christina Hollis


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The interruption gave Drago the opportunity to mull over everything she had told him. He did not even question whether he believed her story. The emotion in her voice when she had spoken of how she had been so cruelly betrayed by the man she had loved had been too raw to be an act. But the question of whether or not he trusted her still remained. Until his cousin’s memory returned there was no possibility of discovering if Jess knew what had happened to Angelo’s missing inheritance fund, Drago acknowledged frustratedly.

      As they were about to leave the restaurant a gondola drew up alongside the terrace. Like most Venetians, Drago was unimpressed by a mode of transport used almost exclusively by tourists, but after catching the hopeful look in Jess’s eyes he called to the gondolier to assist her into the boat.

      Dusk was falling, and the sun was a fiery orb sinking below the horizon, streaking the sky with gold and pink and casting golden shadows on the elegant buildings which lined the canal.

      ‘It’s so beautiful,’ Jess breathed.

      It was also incredibly romantic, sitting beside Drago in the gondola, but it was doubtful he thought so, she acknowledged ruefully. He had given no indication that he believed she had unwittingly been involved in the fraud scam when she had worked for Seb. She wondered why she cared about his opinion of her. She wasn’t dishonest, and when Angelo regained his memory he would explain what he had done with his inheritance fund and Drago would realise he had misjudged her. But what if Angelo never recovered from his amnesia? she thought anxiously. The truth about his missing money might never be uncovered and Drago would always think the worst of her.

      He could not force her to stay in Venice for ever, she reminded herself. But in order to return to England she would first have to organise a new passport, and to do that she needed her bank card, which was also in her rucksack at the bottom of the canal. Everything seemed complicated, and sleeping with Drago last night had confused the situation even more. She must have been mad. It was no excuse that her common sense had been obliterated by the firestorm of passion that had ignited between her and Drago. No excuse at all…

      She darted him a glance, and her heart missed a beat when her eyes met his brooding gaze. The evening air was cool, and he frowned when he saw her shiver.

      ‘Here—take this,’ he said as he slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

      ‘Thank you.’ Was that breathy, seductive whisper really her voice?

      The silk lining of the jacket retained the warmth of his body and felt sensuous against her bare arms. She wished it was his arms around her rather than the jacket, and recalled with shocking clarity how wonderful his naked body had felt when he had pulled her beneath him and made love to her. Desperate to banish her traitorous thoughts, she closed her eyes. But images remained of Drago’s bronzed chest, overlaid with the whorls of dark hair that had scraped the sensitive tips of her breasts when he had lowered himself onto her.

      ‘I still want you, too,’ his deep, gravelly voice whispered in her ear, and his breath feathered her cheek. Her lashes flew open and, startled, she caught her breath when she saw the hunger in his eyes that glittered like polished jet.

      ‘I don’t…’

      ‘Yes, cara, you do.’ He captured her denial with his lips and banished it with a kiss that was fiercely passionate yet held an underlying gentleness that was unexpected and utterly beguiling.

      Jess lost her battle with herself. The pleasure of having Drago’s mouth move over hers was impossible to resist, and when he traced his tongue over the tight line of her clamped lips she gave a little moan and parted them so that the kiss became intensely erotic.

      Lost in the magic he was creating, Jess stared at him helplessly when at last he lifted his head. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t know what the hell is going on either,’ he told her roughly. ‘This was not meant to happen.’

      Drago’s taut voice revealed his frustration. He disliked public displays of affection and could not believe that he had kissed Jess on a gondola in the middle of Venice’s main waterway. At least the gondolier had discreetly averted his gaze, and when they drew up by the Palazzo d’Inverno he handed the man a large tip.

      Jess walked ahead of Drago into the palazzo, her stiletto heels tapping on the marble floor, echoing the staccato beat of her heart.

      He caught up with her as she reached the stairs. ‘What would you like to do for the rest of the evening? I have a selection of English DVDs if you want to watch a film.’

      She tore her eyes from the sensual curve of his mouth that only a few moments ago had decimated her ability to think, and knew that she dared not spend another minute alone with him. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go straight to bed.’

      His sudden grin stole her breath. Without his usual arrogant expression he looked almost boyish and heart-stoppingly sexy.

      ‘Excellent idea,’ he murmured.

      She flushed with mortification when she realised he had taken her words as an invitation, but her frantic, ‘I meant alone,’ was muffled against his shoulder as he scooped her into his arms and strode up the stairs. ‘Drago—we can’t,’ she whispered when he reached his suite of rooms and carried her through to the bedroom. ‘Last night was a mistake.’

      He tumbled her onto the bed and came down on top of her so that she felt the hard proof of his arousal nudge her thigh. Threading his fingers through her hair, he stared into her eyes, the amusement fading from his.

      ‘Last night was inevitable from the moment we met,’ he said harshly.

      It was the truth. She had taken one look at him and fallen in lust—not love, Jess quickly assured herself. No way would she risk her heart with him. But no other man had ever made her feel this way. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids—light, delicate kisses that melted the last vestiges of her resistance. His fingers tugged open the buttons running down the front of her dress and he gave a low murmur of approval when he pushed the material aside and discovered that she was not wearing a bra.

      ‘Bellisima,’ he said thickly as he cupped her small breasts in his hands and anointed one dusky peak and then the other with his lips.

      She caught fire, arching her slender body to meet his mouth and eagerly helping him to remove her dress and knickers. This was not the time for words; their need was too urgent. Drago stripped with a clumsy haste that was strangely touching, and after taking a condom from the bedside drawer and sliding it over the proud jut of his arousal he moved over her.

      Jess caught her breath as he entered her. He filled her, completed her, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on tightly to his shoulders as he possessed her with deep, measured strokes, driving her higher. As her body trembled with the exquisite ripples of orgasm her heart soared, and when Drago groaned with the power of his own release she felt a fierce tenderness and the strangest sense that their souls had joined.

      The crowds of tourists in St Mark’s Square had thinned in the early evening and the restaurants became busier. Sitting beneath the striped awning of a café on the edge of the square, her elbow propped on the table and her hand cupping her chin, Jess had a clear view of the ornate and incredibly beautiful Basilica.

      ‘I think I’m in love,’ she murmured. Beside her she felt Drago stiffen, and when she glanced at him and saw his startled frown she laughed. ‘Not with you. With Venice.’

      ‘Ah.’ His relief was evident in his smile.

      For some reason Jess felt a little pang of regret that he wanted nothing more from her than sex. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself sternly. She knew their affair was based purely on their physical attraction to one another. Their sex-life was amazing, but inevitably the fiery passion they shared would burn out.

      ‘At the weekend we can climb to the top of the Campanile again, if you like,’ he offered. ‘I know how much you enjoyed the views over the city. Or I’ll take you to see the Doge’s Palace. The interior is impressive, and filled with stunning artworks. And


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