Australia: In Bed with the Playboy: Hidden Mistress, Public Wife / The Secret Mistress / Claiming His Mistress. Emma DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.
him now with an intense shaft of pleasure as he came back to her and thrust deeply, driving to the edge of her pulsing womb.
Wild excitement coursed through her with each repeated plunge, the rhythm of it rolling through her in euphoric waves, cresting in marvellous peaks, finally carrying her to an explosion of utter ecstasy and a flood of sweetly lulling peace. Yes, she thought blissfully. It was worth any hurt later to have this with Jordan now.
She lay with her head resting over the strong beat of his heart, smiling as she listened to its pace gradually lessen to a quiet, steady thump. Peace for him, too, after the long waiting, she thought, and was glad she had surrendered to his patient pursuit. His hands started gliding over the curves of her back and her skin tingled with pleasure. He picked up her plait, removed the rubber band that kept it fastened, and slowly unwound the skeins of her hair, fluffing it out with his fingers when it was freed of its constriction.
‘With your hair and skin, you could have posed for Botticelli’s Birth of Venus,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a wonderful painting, displayed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. We could go on to Italy after the cruise and…’
‘I don’t think so,’ Ivy stirred enough to protest. ‘We’ll be away for a month as it is.’ She lifted her head to give him a teasing look. ‘And you haven’t even shown me all the paintings in this house yet.’
He laughed, raking her hair out on either side of her face. ‘You outshine them all, but when I summon up the energy and the inclination I’ll give you a tour.’
‘Mmmh…I’m not in any hurry.’
‘Good, because I don’t want to hurry anything this time.’
He kept every kiss and caress deliciously sensual. They moved around each other in a long, languorous dance of gliding, nestling, touching, feeling—a glorious sexual wallowing that simmered with excitement without blazing into imperative need.
He spoke seductively of the fantastic sights they would see and the pleasures they would share in Europe: the amazing array of statues in Prague, the magnificent Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna—‘I’ll dance you around the gold ballroom’—the vineyards climbing the hills in the Wachau Valley—‘We’ll go wine-tasting’—the amazing amount of castles along the Rhine, the totally eye-popping quantity of gold decorating the cathedral at the Melk monastery.
‘You’ve seen it all before,’ Ivy commented ruefully at one point.
‘Not since I was in my teens. My parents took Olivia and me on a world tour as part of our education.’
Not with another woman then, Ivy thought with a rush of relief. It was ridiculous wanting something exclusive to herself, knowing how very experienced he was, yet she instantly felt happier in her anticipation of their travels together.
‘Besides, I’ll enjoy it so much more being with you,’ he said, smiling into her eyes, making her heart melt with longing for that to be true.
‘Talking of paintings, why did you choose to hang Sydney Nolan’s Ned Kelly images in this bedroom?’ she asked, wanting to understand more of the man. ‘Do you feel some affinity with our famous bushranger or do they simply complement the decor with him wearing his black armour?’
He sidestepped the question, asking, ‘Do you like them?’
‘They’re great, but I thought you’d be more into nudes in here.’
He grinned. ‘I don’t need that kind of stimulation.’
She laughed, well aware that he had no problem with impotence. ‘You still haven’t told me why Ned Kelly?’
His eyes were hooded as his fingertips feathered her lips. ‘He reminds me always to be armoured. Especially in the bedroom. Only you have ever made me forget that, Ivy.’
He kissed her, as though wanting to draw that power from her soul, be the man who never lost control again. The simmering excitement instantly escalated, compelling them into another climactic union. It wasn’t until long afterwards that Ivy thought about what he’d said about always being armoured.
A billionaire’s son, a billionaire in his own right—a target for people who wanted a piece of him for their own ends, in the bedroom and out of it. She imagined very few people would ever fool him in business, but there was a natural vulnerability with intimacy, a wish to trust. Jordan had seen his sister be a victim of it three times because of her wealth.
Was it any wonder that he’d chosen a playboy lifestyle?
Essentially a lonely life, Ivy thought, always armoured.
And she was lonely, too.
She enjoyed his company on the tour of his house, enjoyed his company over the delicious dinner Margaret served them, enjoyed the seductively sensual skinny-dipping in the solar-heated pool later in the evening and revelled in the lovemaking that followed. She didn’t feel lonely with him and she hoped he didn’t feel lonely with her.
Before Jordan had to leave for his family meeting the next morning, they had a happy, relaxed breakfast together and made plans for him to spend the next week-end on the rose farm with her. Ivy drove home feeling brilliantly alive, hoping they could make a lovely self-contained world together that nothing could spoil.
She knew it was a rather silly hope.
Other things would inevitably intrude.
But she was determined to enjoy what she could with Jordan while she could.
ON Monday, Heather was cock-a-hoop over Ivy’s capitulation to a relationship with Jordan Powell, insisting that his persistence proved he was really, really attracted, and the fact that Ivy had enjoyed her time with him showed it to be the right step to take. And when he came to the farm next weekend, could she please, please, please meet him.
Sacha called late in the afternoon to report that no roses had come and what did that mean? Had Ivy met Jordan? Had he persuaded her into seeing more of him? Given an affirmative reply, Sacha was delighted, bubbling over with a list of advantages to be had in associating with such a man, uppermost of which was experiencing a far broader and more civilised way of life than Ivy had been leading on the farm.
Ivy didn’t mention the cruise to either woman, thinking it was probably too far in the future to count on, even if Jordan did manage to get them places on it. Who knew what would happen between now and then? She was confident that Heather and Barry could take over running the farm and managing the business on short notice and would be happy to do it for her, if and when required. She simply couldn’t shake the fatalistic feeling that this harmony with Jordan was too good to last.
Each night during the week he called her to chat for half an hour or so, just normal conversations about what they’d done throughout the day. Without going into nitty-gritty details, he told her the blackmail threat to his sister had been dealt with, a reasonable divorce settlement agreed upon and Olivia was off to a health spa for some recovery time. And hopefully she would grow some armour against being taken for a ride again.
There was definitely a downside to being incredibly wealthy, Ivy thought. On the other hand, when Jordan arrived at the farm on Friday evening and presented her with confirmation that a stateroom had been secured for them on a cruise in May, she couldn’t ignore the suspicion that he’d used the power of wealth to obtain it.
‘Did we luck into a cancellation or did you bribe someone to give up their trip, Jordan?’ she asked, searching his eyes for the truth, wanting an honest answer.
He shrugged. ‘I made an offer. Someone took it. What other people choose to do doesn’t concern us, Ivy. What matters is we’re going.’
It didn’t feel right. ‘You’ve spoiled their plans. They would have been