What The Magnate Wants: The Magnate's Mail-Order Bride / The Magnate's Marriage Merger / His Accidental Heir. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
his lead, as she had earlier, gave her confidence to let go and trust that he wouldn’t let her down.
In fact, she suspected he would bring her to greater heights than she’d ever known. Her past relationships had all been as careful as her professional life, each step rehearsed until she felt safe about moving forward. And where had that gotten her?
It had been bloodless companionship that amounted to little more than friendships, causing her peers to think she led some kind of sad, passionless existence.
There was nothing passionless about what she felt for Quinn. Nothing scripted. Just heat and wild fire.
The elevator bell chimed, the doors opened and he ushered her inside the wonderfully empty space. She held her breath as the door swooshed closed and, in an instant, he backed her up against the paneled wall. Hand burrowing in her hair, he loosened the few pins that held its shape so that the fragrant locks tumbled around her face, releasing the scent of her shampoo. Her cape slid from her shoulders to pool on the floor and she shoved his wool overcoat off in a quick, deft sweep.
She melted at his appreciative, predatory growl. When his lips brushed hers, she rose on tiptoe and fit her body against the hard length of him. A feminine thrill shot through her when he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid over the seam of her mouth, demanding entrance, and she moaned in the back of her throat. She felt winded, light-headed and incredibly turned on as he crushed her to him, his mouth slanting over hers, their tongues tangling in their own passionate dance.
His heart drummed against her chest, hard enough that she could feel it through his tuxedo jacket. Her head tipped back at the crescendo of sensations as he dropped his mouth to the crook of her neck, his tongue sweeping in intense, hot circles, his breath sounding harsh in the small space.
She gasped when he traced the outline of her rib cage through her dress. Her breasts swelled and ached as his fingers skimmed over her neckline before dipping inside to tease each tight peak. A sizzling tremble ran rampant through her body. His blue eyes burned into hers when the elevator lurched to a halt and he stepped away.
She pressed her hand to her chest as though she could slow the runaway beat of her heart. This was all going so fast, but she needed that speed now that she’d made up her mind not to wait anymore. She’d wanted Quinn, probably had from the moment he’d captivated her full attention at the airport even through her jet-lagged exhaustion. No more holding back. Their tango had been a prelude of what was to come and she wouldn’t waste another minute out of his arms now that she’d made the decision to take this risk.
To trust her partner.
When the elevator arrived at his floor, he backed her inside the apartment, guiding her through the vaulted great room and open kitchen that she remembered from the first time she’d been there. Tearing at each other’s clothes, they moved as one down a hallway she hadn’t seen before, and into a dimly lit bedroom where a lamp shone on a large painting of the Manhattan skyline. In the sitting area, she spied a large desk against one wall and a bank of shade-covered windows on another. When he made as if to tumble them both to the bed, she sidestepped at the last minute.
Just long enough to catch her breath.
Her lips burned from his kisses, her skin tingling everywhere underneath the sensuous silk gown he’d had delivered to her apartment today, complete with a tailor to ensure the hem fell just right. Then the gown had felt like a lover’s caress against her skin, the hand-sewn, designer original a decadent luxury. But now, she only wanted the real thing—Quinn’s hands all over her. No extravagant dress would do.
“Are we moving too fast?” he asked, brushing his knuckles down her bare arm. “We can slow things down. Take our time. Would you like a drink?”
“No.” She didn’t need anything to cloud her head. “I just want a moment to take it all in. Savor the sensations.”
She rested her hands on his broad chest, admiring the contrast of her pink nails against the crisp white tuxedo shirt, her glittering ring a reminder of all they pretended to be to each other. But she needed this much to be real.
He lifted her hand to kiss the back of her knuckles. The back of her hand. The inside of her wrist. Even that brush of his lips in such an innocuous spot made her simmer inside.
Somewhere in the suite of rooms, a clock chimed twelve. A fairy-tale time...only she wasn’t turning into a pumpkin or the girl she’d been before tonight.
Now that she’d stepped onto this path, she was desperate to see where it led. What she would discover. Most of all, she wanted to dance with him. The kind of dance they’d begun at the party and would continue here to its fiery conclusion.
She turned her back and peered over her shoulder. “I might need a hand.” She pulled her hair to one side, revealing the zipper. “I want to be careful with the gown.”
“Damn the gown.” His teeth flashed in the darkened room. “I want what’s inside.” He eased the zipper down past her hips and she felt the room’s temperate air caress her bare skin.
“Are you sure?” She slid the fabric from one shoulder and smiled at him, loving that he let her go at her own pace, giving her time to enjoy this kind of teasing pleasure.
“Lady, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he growled, unadulterated male appreciation roughening the edges of his voice. Still, he held himself back and she loved the command he exerted over every aspect of his life—even hers. It steadied the out-of-control tilt of her world and made her feel as though she might stop spinning for tonight at least.
The silk whispered as the gown fell around her silver heels. She stepped out of it then turned slowly. He gaped at her, his amusement gone, replaced by an intent, hungry expression that made her stomach clench and warmth pool at the apex of her thighs. As a dancer, she’d always been aware of her body. She’d felt every muscle, sinew and bone, commanded them to move and pose at her will. Yet now she felt less in control and more aware of her body than ever. Standing there half-nude in her black lace bra and panties, she felt her skin heat everywhere his gaze fell. With Quinn, she wasn’t just a dancer but a woman brimming with desire and needs that transcended her ambitions, her career, her future. She wanted to gulp down every second of this encounter with him.
When she slid each bra strap down over her arms, his eyes grew hooded. Exhilaration fired through her at his reaction. She commanded attention in a way that had nothing to do with her training, her skills, and everything to do with who she was...or maybe who she was discovering herself to be.
She turned again, unhooked her bra then dangled the scrap of lace from an extended hand, letting the lingerie drift to the polished wood floor. At his guttural groan she smiled, pressed an arm across her aching breasts and turned, crossing one leg over the other as his eyes drifted down then rose slowly, lingering.
“Enjoying yourself?” She stepped between his legs and her knees brushed the edge of the bed.
“Not as much as I’m about to,” he vowed then tumbled her down on top of him.
Sofia absorbed the feel of him, from the hard planes of his chest through the starched cotton shirt to the silken glide of his pants along her bare thighs. The metallic pinch of his belt buckle pressed against her abdomen, just above the jutting length of his erection.
He cupped her bottom, fitting her to him in a way that aligned the neediest part of her with that straining length.
“I’ve thought about doing this,” she admitted, skimming a finger along the edge of his jaw. “All week, I thought about it when I was on the phone at night with you.”
“When we were talking about the missing matchmaker? Our career hopes and the demands of ballet?” He captured her finger in one hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle bite. “All that time, you were thinking about being naked on top of me?”
“Maybe not every second. But the idea definitely crossed my mind a few times. Especially right after I disconnected the calls.” Those had been oddly lonesome moments. She’d felt a growing