Exotic Nights: The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse. Natalie Anderson
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But just as quickly her smile faded again, when the enormity of it all sank in. How could she be feeling like this for someone who had so coldly set out to take her because he wanted her and wanted to punish her? She frowned minutely, staring at the ceiling. She felt confused; Leo had taken her innocence with such devastating generosity that she reeled. Several times she’d seen the strain of his efforts to hold back, as if he was afraid he’d hurt her.
Angel lifted the sheet and looked into the bed, ignoring the signs of having been seriously seduced on her body, the faint bruises and reddish marks. There was no blood. Angel let the sheet drop; she knew rationally that there wasn’t always necessarily blood, but there was a stinging between her legs that spoke of the potential of it if Leo hadn’t been so gentle. And yet she could remember the desperation with which she’d urged him on, even when he’d tried to hold back for her sake.
With a burgeoning feeling of something huge in her chest Angel got out of bed and pulled on the robe which still lay on the floor. To think of how Leo had pushed it off her shoulders with such singular intent made Angel blush all over again.
Without really thinking of what she was doing, Angel went to the door that connected their rooms. After hesitating for the merest moment, she turned the handle and went in.
She stumbled to a halt when she saw Leo standing at the mirror of his wardrobe, knotting a tie. His eyes merely flicked to her through the mirror and then back to his task, with no change in expression. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been that. Angel was immediately tongue-tied. Leo looked so distant and intimidating in a dark suit, white shirt and tie. He looked like the phenomenally successful businessman he was. And nothing like the tender lover of last night. She suddenly knew she’d been an abject fool.
His eyes flicked to Angel again, and she felt heat rise in her face when she registered how cool they were. One dark brow rose quizzically. ‘Was there something you wanted, Angel?’
Was there something you wanted, Angel? Angel balked and died a tiny death in that moment. Was this the same man? Acting as if the most cataclysmic thing on the earth hadn’t just happened? But then, she realised in sick horror, it hadn’t—not for him. If anything, last night for him must have been excruciatingly banal. How could it not have been, with a complete innocent?
She shook her head vaguely. ‘I just …’ I just what? she mocked herself bitterly, cursing her impulse to come in here. How could she have disregarded everything that lay between them, forgotten why she was there?
A lot of things were impacting upon Angel, all at the same time. Leo turned from the mirror, his tie perfectly knotted, his shoulders broad and awesome in the jacket, hair smoothed back, jaw clean shaven. Aloof.
Very quickly Angel assessed the situation, her brain working overtime. She brought her hands to her robe and tightened it, barely registering the way Leo’s eyes dropped there for a split second. She tipped up her chin, forcing her voice to be cool. ‘I was just wondering what time the stylist will be here? You did say that you’d have someone come today?’
Leo’s jaw clenched and he strolled nonchalantly towards Angel, barely leashed power in every step. A flash of memory—those muscular thighs between hers last night—made a light sweat break out over Angel’s top lip. She fought not to retreat, not to show that she was barely holding it together in the face of his obvious distance. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze sweeping up and down in a blistering moment that nearly scuppered Angel’s precious composure.
‘You were an eager student last night, Angel. I can see our time together being most … enjoyable.’
Angel burned inside. With humiliation and, more treacherously, with hurt, in response to his whole demeanour and his calling her eager. She had been desperately, awfully eager. She had fallen into his bed more easily than a ripe apple falling from a tree. She wanted to lash back, and hitched her chin a mite higher.
‘I wouldn’t know, as I have so little experience to compare it to. But for what it’s worth last night was … pleasant enough.’
Leo laughed out loud, a big burst of sound that made Angel flinch. When he looked at her his eyes flashed a warning, and a mocking smile played around his sensual mouth. Angel had to fight against the pull in her belly, the desire to just stop and look at it. She dragged her gaze back up to his.
He stepped even closer and put out a hand, touching her jaw. Angel clenched it.
‘Sweetheart, I know exactly how it was for you. I felt every ripple of every one of your orgasms, so don’t pretend that it was anything less than pleasant.’
Angel knocked his hand away, dying somewhere inside. ‘Like I said, you’d know so much more than me. I’m sure the novelty won’t last long.’
Leo calmly replaced his hand, taking a firmer grip on Angel’s jaw. ‘On the contrary,’ he drawled, ‘I don’t see this novelty fading for some time. You’re all fire underneath that angelic exterior, and I’m looking forward to seeing a lot more of it. This is only the beginning.’
With that, he dropped his hand and stepped back. Angel thought for a split second that she saw some chink in his composure, and it had her heart beat hard in response. But then he looked at his watch and said crisply, ‘The stylist will be here at noon, followed by someone to give you some beauty treatments. We’ve got our first public outing tonight, Angel—a ball to celebrate my taking over Parnassus Shipping as CEO. It should be fun for you. It’s at the Grand Bretagne, where you’re more intimately acquainted with the dirty sheets. I’ll be back later. Wear something appropriate for your first viewing as my mistress.’
He ran a finger down her hot cheek. ‘I’m looking forward to stirring things up with you by my side.’
CHAPTER SIX
AS LEO sat in a meeting in his new boardroom later that day, to his utter chagrin he found he wasn’t concentrating on the discussion—which didn’t disturb him too much; he was already two steps ahead of everyone else in the room. All he could think about was Angel and last night. And how she’d looked this morning when she’d come into his room, the lurch he’d felt in his chest when he’d seen her hesitation. How hard it had been to stand there and see her softly flushed face, those huge blue eyes, and not rip her robe from her body and spread her underneath him again.
His body was tight with arousal even now—not a state he welcomed in the middle of the day, surrounded by work colleagues, and with Ari Levakis looking at him with a small frown. Leo smiled.
But it was futile. He kept getting flashes of moments: when he’d thrust into her for the first time and heard that telltale indrawn gasp, how tight she’d clamped around him, how sweetly she’d opened up for him, allowing him to sink deeper and deeper. How her skin had tasted, like sweet musk and crushed roses.
Like sweet musk and crushed roses? Leo gave himself an inner shake. He had to get it together. Angel Kassianides was a piece of work.
For a moment that morning he’d thought that he’d seen something achingly vulnerable in her face, and it had made him close up inside. Close up against the inevitable attempt of a woman to turn intimacy into something emotional. But then, when he’d walked over to her, she’d been composed and cool. So much so that he knew he’d be a fool if he trusted any of her reactions for a moment.
She was his mistress, she was his, and the thought of the evening to come, when he could parade her in public and know that he was her only lover, was tantalising in the extreme.
Angel sat beside Leo in the back of his car later that evening. Her throat ached with a huge lump. She hated the fact that she was so raw about what had happened. All day she’d not been able to get out of her head the coolness Leo had subjected her to that morning.