Dreaming Of... Bali. Fiona McArthurЧитать онлайн книгу.
manic as he had been in his energy, he also had tremendous motivating capabilities. With the entire team working together in a conference hall, exchanging ideas and finding instant solutions for challenges they encountered, it had been the best workweek of her life.
There was something to his energy, to his credo of doing everything right then, of implementing an idea as best and as soon as possible.
Now the beta testing they had done of the model had been a spectacular success, and they had entered the next iteration. It was three weeks since Nate and she had struck that deal, and he had yet to see Robert.
She’d been trying to get a word with him for two days and failed. The man was a machine, traveling, working, managing teams all over the world... Knowing that tonight he was just a few floors above her, in the penthouse suite, she had to take this chance.
Squaring her shoulders, Riya took the elevator. The doors swished open and she entered the vast black-and-white-tiled foyer.
For a few seconds, she was lost in the brilliant San Francisco skyline visible through the French doors. Subdued ceiling lights cast a hushed glow over the steel and chrome interior.
She spotted Nathan in the open lounge, clad in gray sweatpants that hung precariously low on his hips, doing push-ups.
The line of his back, defined and pulling tight over stretched muscles, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The copper highlights in his hair glinted and winked in the low lights.
Sweat shone over the smooth, tanned skin of his back, his breathing punctured by his soft grunts. Warmth uncurled in Riya’s belly, her own breathing becoming choppy and disjointed.
In a lithe movement that would have made a wild animal proud, he shot to his feet and grabbed a bottle of water.
Her mouth dry, Riya watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed. A drop of sweat poured down his neck and chest, which was lean with sharply bladed muscles. A sprinkle of copper-colored hair covered his pectorals and formed a line down his hard stomach. His shoulder bones jutted out, his throat working convulsively as he swallowed. He wasn’t pumped up with bulging muscles, but what was there of him had such sculpted definition that her fingers itched to trace it.
She had the most overwhelming urge to cross the hall and to press her hands against that warm skin, breathe in the scent of him.
Shivering from a heat that speared across her skin like a fire, she was about to clear her throat when she saw him sway. He was so tall and lean that it was like seeing an immovable thing buck against a faint breeze. Her heart lurched into her throat as his knees buckled under him.
Riya didn’t know she could move so fast. Working on auto, she grabbed his shoulders just as he sank onto his haunches, his head bent. She tapped his cheek, fear twisting in her gut. “Nathan...Nathan...”
She ran her hands all over him, his shoulders, his neck, her throat aching. “Nate, honey? Please look at me...”
His fingers closed on her upper arm, almost bruising in their grip, and he slowly raised his head. His gaze remained unfocused for a second longer, before it rested on her face. He blinked then. “Did I scare you, butterfly?”
Fear still clawed at her, but she fought it. This was ridiculous. He was right in front of her, solid and arrogant, as always.
“Riya?”
“Yes?”
His fingers moved from her arm to her wrist, firing neurons left and right. “Don’t leave just yet, okay?”
She nodded, the stubble on his jaw scratching against her palm. He didn’t look dizzy or disoriented.
Slowly he peeled her fingers from his jaw but didn’t let go. “Are you all right?”
Breathing hard, Riya pulled her hand, but his grip was firm. “Me?” She licked her lips and his gaze moved to her mouth. “I’m fine. I thought you...Nathan? You almost fainted.”
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. For a second, Riya could swear it was fear. But it was replaced by warmth.
He flashed a grin that stole her breath. He dragged her hand to his chest.
Skin like rough velvet, hot as if there were a furnace under it, stretched taut over his chest. His nipple poked the base of her palm. His hand covered hers as his heart raced beneath it. “See? In perfect working condition,” he murmured, but Riya had no idea what he meant.
And his gaze locked with hers again.
It lingered there with such focus that she wouldn’t have known her name then. All she wanted was to sink into his touch, to make sure he was all there. He was always so incredibly focused, so unbearably driven that the seconds-long spell fractured something inside her. Something knotty and hard sat uncomfortably in her throat, and giving in, Riya threw her arms around him. Buried her face in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes. “You scared the hell out of me, Nathan.”
He was like a hard, hot statue for a second, and then his hands moved over her back slowly. For a second, his arms were like vines around her, holding her so tight and hard that her lungs struggled to work, and Riya felt her armor shatter.
“Shh. I’m okay,” he finally said, releasing her. Pulling her hands forward, he clasped her face with his hands, a burning resolve in his eyes. “I do, however, need a little fortification, butterfly.” His breath came in little pants as he made a lithe movement and tugged at her lower lip with his teeth.
A peal of shuddering pleasure rang through Riya and she shivered all over. Gasping at the sharp nip, she braced herself against him. Had every intention of pushing him back. But the moment her palms landed on his shoulders, she was a goner.
With a ragged groan, he covered her mouth again.
He was hot, sweaty, hard, trembling and he was everything she wanted right then. His fingers crept into her hair, held her hard as he stroked her mouth, changed angles and kissed her again.
As if he couldn’t stop, as if he couldn’t breathe if he did, as if his entire universe was reduced to her.
At least that was how it felt to her.
He pushed her to the floor, and her limbs folded easily.
“Nathan,” she whispered as he covered her body with his and claimed her mouth again. He didn’t just kiss; he devoured her, ensnared her senses. He made her feel giddily excited and incredibly safe at the same time.
“Please, Riya.” His tongue traced the seam of her lower lip; his fingers tightened in her hair. “Open up for me.”
The guttural request sent Riya over the edge.
He teased her tongue, nibbled her mouth, bit her lower lip and when she gasped into his mouth, he stroked it with his tongue. She couldn’t breathe with the pleasure as he sucked at her tongue.
This kiss was so different from the first one. It wasn’t about give or take. It was about claiming, possessing, about wringing an earthy response that she couldn’t deny. It was all about what their bodies did together, how perfectly soft she was against his hardness, how a simple touch and gasp could send them both shuddering.
Her breasts became heavier; her nipples ached. Her spine arched as he locked her hard against him, every inch of him pushing and pressing against her trembling body.
Because lying underneath his shuddering body, lying underneath all the rippling muscle and heated hardness, she felt he was her universe. She opened her legs to cradle him and he moaned against her neck, ground himself into her pulsing heat with a hard grunt.
To feel the hard length of him throb against her aching core, to hear the violent curse that fell from his lips as she moved her pelvis against that unrelenting hardness...it was bliss. It was heaven. And it was nowhere near enough.
“Oh, please, Nate...” Her whisper was raw, close to begging.
She wanted to peel her