Contracted For The Petrakis Heir. Annie West
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Adoni couldn’t banish the provocative idea of giving Alice her first orgasm.
Was it the idea of initiating her to pleasure that snared his imagination and wouldn’t let go? Or was it Alice herself?
The rose-pink colour of her cheeks would spread across her breasts. Those dark eyes would glitter and that decadent mouth would open on a gasp, or perhaps a scream as he toppled her over the edge into rapture.
The image of her naked beneath him, trembling with satiation, was so vivid it had him rock-hard in an instant.
The chirp of his phone, an urgent call from his North American manager, had saved both him and Alice from the embarrassment of a response. Then, when he’d ended the call and turned to tell her she needed to leave since he had work to do, Adoni had found her asleep.
Suspicious, he’d initially wondered if it was a ploy, especially as she looked ridiculously cute curled up, hands beneath her cheek and bare feet pale against the cushions. But her occasional tiny snuffles proved him wrong. They were too close to dainty snores for any would-be seductress to countenance.
Now, sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, reviewing the contract his manager had just sent, Adoni directed a darkling stare towards the woman lying on his sofa.
How dare she make such an invitation then go to sleep? She rolled onto her back, the too-big bodice pulling askew to reveal the gentle curve of one pale breast.
The pulse in Adoni’s groin pounded hard and fast as his gaze traced her slender figure. His mouth dried as she shifted and the edge of the fabric strained, close to revealing one nipple. Her skirt was rucked up above her knees from the way she’d twisted. Even so, most of her was covered by that appalling bridesmaid’s dress.
She shouldn’t look attractive, much less seductive. Yet Adoni registered the heaviness in his lower body, the restlessness, the powerful hunger.
Maybe it was that sultry mouth, those lush, slightly downturned lips, surely designed for sin. He looked at her and thought of those lips on his body and it was no wonder he couldn’t concentrate on the document before him.
Perhaps it was the novelty of not knowing what she was going to say next. Her cheerfully frank assessment of how she looked in that dreadful dress, or the apparently artless combination of guilelessness and insight.
Or was it the shy hints that she wanted him? The blush, the spark in her eye when she’d asked about him giving her an orgasm.
Of all the preposterous pick-up lines, that was the best he’d heard.
Except it hadn’t been a pick-up line. She hadn’t wanted to admit her inexperience. That probably explained her flippant question about him helping her rid herself of that particular lack in her life. She’d been bluffing. Of course she had.
Adoni turned back to the screen. Yet it wasn’t the legal document he saw, but the rosy blush that coloured her creamy skin and her haughty, challenging glare.
Give her an orgasm? The trouble was how much the idea enticed.
What had she said? She’d never had luck with men, never had a kiss that knocked her socks off. Never had an orgasm. Clearly she was unlucky if none of her lovers had bothered to take care of that when they sought their own pleasure.
Adoni’s heart might no longer be engaged when he had sex, but he prided himself on being a generous lover. His partner’s satisfaction added to his own pleasure, and he’d no more bed a woman and leave her wanting than he’d renege on a business contract.
The contract. He ploughed his fingers through his hair, sinking his head into his hands and forcing his attention back to the computer.
He’d finish the contract then wake Ms Trouble-on-Two-Legs Trehearn and send her off in a taxi. Then he’d get a decent night’s sleep ready for work tomorrow, despite it being Sunday.
Adoni ground his teeth at the sly voice telling him his life was lacking if that was the best he could do on a Saturday night. Send home the female he lusted after then get an early night ready for work.
Was this what all those years of toil had been for? He’d scraped himself up from the gutter when Vassili Petrakis, the man he’d believed to be his father, disowned him. He’d risen above the pain of his fiancée’s rejection and poured his anger and determination into building his company from nothing.
He’d let his drive to succeed fill the void where his personal life used to be. He had no family to distract him now. Fleetingly, he thought of his younger brothers, a pang of regret piercing his chest. But they belonged to another life, one barred to him for ever.
Now he was CEO of a company worth billions. He had homes in Greece and the UK, plus a ski chalet in Colorado and a yacht that shared its time between the Med and the Caribbean. Not that he managed much downtime to enjoy them.
Adoni sighed and raked his hand through his hair again. Maybe that was the problem. He needed a vacation.
Or an affair. Intense, enjoyable and short—just the way he liked them. He had no inclination for long-term now he’d taught himself never to trust a woman’s intentions, despite protests of undying love.
Rubbing his temples, he hunched over the screen, rereading clauses he’d skimmed half a dozen times.
He was just sending his response to his New York manager when the back of his neck prickled. He stiffened, instantly aware that his guest was awake. He felt her eyes on him. Worse, that needy throb in his groin was back full force, reminding him he’d been celibate longer than usual.
Even so his reaction to this woman was unprecedented.
Adoni didn’t turn to look at her. That would, for reasons he couldn’t identify, be a sign of weakness. Instead he finished his message, sent it, then closed the computer. Only then did he deign to swivel round in his seat.
She was standing, half turned from him. The satin of her dress slid over svelte, sinuous curves and delectably long legs as she raised her hands to fix her hair in a tight knot.
‘Don’t.’ The sound of his voice surprised him and made her swing round, eyes wide. ‘I like it down.’
He couldn’t read her expressive eyes from this distance but the sudden clamp of her jaw made him expect some dismissive response.
Adoni was surprised when, instead, she paused, arms still raised. ‘Do you?’
When he nodded she dropped her arms and a dark curtain of hair fell to cloak her shoulders. Now it was dry he saw rich hints of auburn in the dark brown. He curled his hands closed against the impulse to get up and stroke those shimmering tresses.
Her breasts rose with her deep breath and Adoni’s gaze trailed from her bare shoulder where one sleeve drooped down her arm, across the upper slope of her breasts then up via her slender throat to her lips.
Damn! That sulky, sexy mouth would be the death of common sense. Why hadn’t he fully appreciated it till she wiped the horrible lipstick away?
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your sofa.’ Had she misinterpreted his shudder of arousal for one of disdain? ‘I apologise for...’ she faltered and gestured wide ‘...for inviting myself in here.’ She looked around the vast executive suite as if she’d never seen it. Presumably she hadn’t taken in her surroundings earlier.
That, and the way she spoke, plus the shadow of tension where before there’d been nothing but a lack of inhibition, told Adoni the effects of the alcohol were wearing off.
He was torn between relief that she was obviously recovered enough to go home, and regret.
As if he wanted her to stay.
For her amusing conversation, or something else?
White teeth bit that plump bottom lip. Did she read the sexual interest he couldn’t douse?
‘No need to apologise. It’s been an interesting evening.’