Love Islands…The Collection. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.
that no matter how equal the sexual attraction between them was, he was always in charge.
It was all she could do to stay sitting on the sofa. But she couldn’t keep threatening to walk out on him like some Hollywood diva who didn’t like her dressing room. The fact was she had agreed to this ludicrous charade, and she’d known right from the start that he was going to enjoy tormenting her. Her skin tightened as she remembered exactly how good he was at tormenting her. How he’d used to love to keep her hanging on so that she was frantic, wild, almost out of her mind with sexual need.
Dragging her mind back to the present, she gritted her teeth. The mature response—the only response—was not to dignify it with any response at all and so not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d got under her skin. But just because she’d agreed to come on this trip, it didn’t mean she was some sort of concubine. She just needed to find a way to remind Malachi of that fact.
For a moment they stared at one another in silence, and then finally she shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I can entertain myself,’ she said, reaching into her handbag. She pulled out a large paperback book. ‘I thought this might come in useful on this trip,’ she said sweetly.
His eyes locked on to hers.
‘Emotional Intelligence in the Adolescent Mind. Sounds gripping. But I thought you were here to mess with my body. Not my mind.’
The thought of what form that messing might take made Addie’s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth, but despite her hot cheeks she lifted her chin to stare at him. ‘It’s actually very interesting and informative,’ she said loftily.
‘I’m sure it is.’ His eyes mocked her and, blowing her a kiss, he turned and sauntered out of the cabin.
He was back in less than half an hour. As he strode across the carpet every inch of him was humming with energy, like a racing car on the starting grid.
‘All done!’ His voice was hard with triumph. Collapsing onto the cushions beside her, he leaned over and picked up a handful of strawberries, tearing into them with white, even teeth. ‘And now you have my full and undivided attention.’ He plucked the book from her hand and dropped it casually onto the nearest table. ‘Now, where were we?’ His gaze slid down over her face, down lower to the pulse beating at the base of her throat. ‘Oh, yes... Why don’t you come over here and sit back on my lap?’
She stared at him in silence, too angry to reply in case she lost her temper. Did he think he could just swan back in and click his fingers and she’d come running? That she’d drop whatever she was doing or have it dropped by him.
She glanced across at the book. Take control! she told herself. Show him that he can’t walk all over you. He might have the plane and the limo and the money—especially the money. But he can’t have you, not unless he works for it!
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said slowly. Standing up, she smoothed her skirt over her thighs, watching his eyes drift down to the hem and then back up to meet her face.
‘Why don’t we get out of here? Go somewhere a little more private?’ His gaze was suddenly so focused, so intense, it made her stomach curl into a knot. But, ignoring the pulse leaping in her throat, she smiled at him coolly. ‘Shall I just pick a door? Or do you want to show me the way?’
Staring straight ahead, she kept her eyes glued to his broad back as Malachi led her up a floating spiral staircase to what must be the private quarters of the plane. She held her breath. He wasn’t even touching her but already her skin was quivering, the blood slowing and thickening in her veins. She wanted him so badly—but more than that she wanted him to want her as much, even more than she craved him. To be in thrall to her. She wanted to have power over him, to get past that mask and beneath that beautiful, lazy smile and see that formidable self-control slip away.
Her muscles gave an involuntary twitch. They had reached the top of the staircase. There was a moment of tense, pulsing silence and then, pushing open a door, he stepped aside. After a fraction of a second she walked past him. It was another, slightly smaller lounge. There were a couple of gilt-framed mirrors on the walls and on top of several narrow, pale wood tables piles of paperback books vied with one another for space. Looking up, she found Malachi watching her, his eyes more black now than grey, and she felt her body respond to their darkening.
‘So,’ he said softly. ‘Here we are. “Somewhere more private”.’
His words snagged on her skin and, pulse jerking, she nodded, trying to stay calm. ‘It feels different. Less—’
‘Flashy?’ For a moment he looked younger, more earnest.
‘I was going to say formal,’ she said carefully.
He laughed. ‘How worryingly diplomatic of you.’ He stared past her. ‘Downstairs is just an extension of my office. It has to present a certain version of me. Up here is mine.’
Some of his tension had slipped away and she stared around, liking the comfort and the easy elegance. ‘What’s through there?’ She gestured to a door at the other end of the room.
‘It’s a gym and a steam room.’
‘What about up there?’ She pointed to more curving steps that seemed to hang magically in the air. There was a moment of pulsing silence. He turned and his gaze slipped over her skin like warm silk. Suddenly she could feel her blood racing through her body like wild mustangs.
‘Come and see.’ He held out his hand.
She stared at it for a moment, letting his words hang in the air, needing a moment to clear her head of the pulsing beat of her heart.
Do it, she urged herself again. Do it on your terms. Take control.
Taking his hand, she slipped past him, turning at the bottom of the staircase. ‘I think I can find my way from here.’
She walked up the stairs slowly, his hand clasped in hers. At the top she stopped and stared—at a bed.
But only for a moment.
Then she turned and reached for him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, grabbing, tugging, pulling at buttons and hair and flesh. She’d caught him off guard, could feel he shook. But the next moment his mouth was on hers, fierce, bruising, heavy. Desperately she kissed him back, locking her arms around his neck, frantic with the freedom of being able to touch him, to kiss him, to run her fingers through his hair.
Catching the scent of his skin, she moaned softly, and her breath quickened as she felt his body move urgently against hers. She heard him groan and felt a rush of euphoria, and then suddenly his hands were on her waist, pushing her back and across the floor, his legs nudging and pressing between hers. She half slid, half fell onto the bed, pulling him with her, her mouth opening beneath the hard pressure of his lips.
His hands were at her waist, her thighs, her ribs—sliding all over her body, peeling away her shirt and her defences. Her breath felt hot in her throat, the tormenting touch of his mouth making her head swim and, moaning, she reached lower, pressing her hand against the smooth muscles of his stomach until she felt his body shudder.
‘Malachi!’ She whispered his name unsteadily and breathing in hard, she stilled as he raised himself up and stared down into her face, his grey eyes gleaming like polished steel.
‘What’s the matter?’ he murmured. ‘Have you lost your way?’
Addie shuddered. His fingertips, light and languid, were sliding over the smooth mound of her belly, stroking, circling, caressing lower, and lower still, so that a tingling, torturous thread of pleasure wove in and out of her breathing.
Suddenly he lifted his hand and she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering. His gaze fixed on her face, his expression so hard and hungry and knowing that she squirmed against the sheets. There was no way to hide how much she wanted him to keep on touching her, how much she needed to feel him on top and inside her.
‘Malachi...’