Secrets Of A Billionaire's Mistress. Sharon Kendrick
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before reality started hurting and forced you to change. She’d noticed Renzo was starting to take her for granted and knew that, if it continued, all the magic they’d shared would just wither away. And she didn’t want that, because memories were powerful things. The bad ones were like heavy burdens you had to carry around with you and she was determined to have some good ones to lighten the load. So when was she going to grab the courage to walk away from him, before Renzo did the walking and left her feeling broken and crushed?
‘I’m early because I sent your driver away and took the Tube instead,’ she explained, brushing excess raindrops from her forest of red curls.
‘You sent the driver away?’ He frowned as he slid the damp raincoat from her shoulders. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’
Darcy sighed, wondering what it must be like to be Renzo Sabatini and live in an enclosed and protected world, where chauffeur-driven cars and private jets shielded you from rain and snow and the worries of most normal folk. Where people did your shopping and picked up your clothes where you’d left them on the bedroom floor the night before. A world where you didn’t have to speak to anyone unless you really wanted to, because there was always some minion who would do the speaking for you.
‘Because the traffic is a nightmare at this time of day and often we’re forced to sit in a queue, moving at a snail’s pace.’ She took the coat from him and gave it a little shake before hanging it in the cupboard. ‘Public transport happens to have a lot going for it during the rush hour. Now, rather than debating my poor timekeeping can I please have a cup of tea? I’m f-f-freezing.’
But he didn’t make any move towards the kitchen as most people might have done after such a wobbly request. He took her in his arms and kissed her instead. His lips were hard as they pressed against hers and his fingers caressed her bottom through her uniform dress as he brought her up close to his body. Close enough for her to feel the hardness of his erection and the warmth of his bare chest as he deepened the kiss. Darcy’s eyelids fluttered to a close as one hard thigh pushed insistently against hers and she could feel her own parting in automatic response. And suddenly her coldness was forgotten and tea was the last thing on her mind. Her questions and insecurities dissolved as he deepened the kiss and all she was aware of was the building heat as her chilled fingers crept up to splay themselves over his bare and hair-roughened torso.
‘Hell, Renzo,’ she breathed.
‘Is it really hell?’ he murmured.
‘No, it’s...’ she brushed her lips over his ‘...heaven, if you must know.’
‘That’s what I thought. Are you trying to warm your hands on my chest?’
‘Trying. I don’t think I’m having very much luck. You do many things very well, but acting as a human hot-water bottle isn’t one of them.’
‘No. You could be right. My skills definitely lie in other directions. Perhaps I could demonstrate some of them to you right now.’ He moved his hand from her bottom and curled his fingers round hers as he guided her hand towards his groin. ‘In which case I think you’d better join me in the shower, don’t you?’
She couldn’t have said no even if she’d wanted to. One touch from Renzo was like lighting the touchpaper. Two seconds in his arms and she went up in flames.
In the bathroom, he unzipped her drab beige uniform, soft words of Italian falling from his lips as her breasts were revealed to him. Disproportionately big breasts which had always been the bane of her life, because she’d spent her life with men’s attention being constantly homed in on them. She’d often thought longingly of a breast reduction—except who could afford an operation like that on the money she earned waiting tables? So she’d made do with wearing restrictive bras, until Renzo had taught her to love her body and told her that her breasts were the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen. To enjoy being suckled or having his teeth tease the sensitive flesh until she was crying out with pleasure. He’d started to buy lingerie for her, too—the only thing she’d ever allowed him to buy for her and only because he’d insisted. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let him spend money on her, but her reasons were raw and painful and she had no intention of letting him in on her secret.
But she let him buy her pretty underclothes, because he insisted that it enhanced their sex play—balcony bras and tiny matching panties, which he said made the most of her curvy hips. And didn’t it make her feel rather decadent when she was at work, knowing she was wearing the finest silk and lace beneath the drab check of her waitress uniform? Hadn’t he told her that he wanted her to think about him when he wasn’t there? That when he was far away on business he liked to imagine her touching herself until she was wet between the legs and her body bucking helplessly as she thought about him. And although his fantasy about how she lived when he wasn’t there was just that—fantasy—she couldn’t deny that it also turned her on. But then, everything about Renzo Sabatini turned her on. His tall and powerful frame. His black hair and black eyes and those dark-rimmed spectacles he wore when he was working on one of his detailed plans. That way he had of watching her as she moved around the room. And stroking her until she was trembling with helpless need for him. Like now.
Her dress fell to the floor and the delicate underwear quickly followed. A master in the art of undressing, her Italian lover was soon as naked as she, and Darcy sucked in an instinctive gasp when she saw how aroused he was.
‘Daunting, isn’t it?’ His sensual lips curved into a mocking smile. ‘Want to touch me?’
‘Not until I’ve got hot water gushing over me. My hands are so cold you might recoil.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said softly.
His eyes glittered as he picked her up and carried her into the wet room, where steaming water streamed down from a huge showerhead and the sensory impact of the experience threatened to overwhelm her. Hot water on icy skin and a naked Renzo in her arms. In the steamy environment, which made her think of a tropical forest, his lips were hungry, one hand stroking between her legs while the other played with one aching nipple. The warm water relaxed her, made her aware of the fierce pounding of her heart and the sudden rush of warmth at her groin. She ran her hands over the hard planes of his body, enjoying the sensation of honed muscle beneath his silken olive skin. Boldly she reached down to circle his erection, sliding her thumb and forefinger lightly up and down the rocky shaft the way she knew he liked it. He gave a groan. Hell. She liked it, too. She liked everything he did to her...and the longer it went on, the more difficult it was to imagine a life without him.
She closed her eyes as his fingers moved down over her belly until they were tangling in the wet hair at the juncture of her thighs. One finger took a purposeful route farther, until it was deep inside her and she gave a little yelp of pleasure as he strummed the finger against swollen flesh, the rhythmical movement taking her closer to the edge. And now it was her turn to writhe her hips against him, wanting release—and wanting oblivion, too.
‘Now,’ she breathed. ‘Make love to me now.’
‘You are impatient, little one.’
Of course she was impatient. It had been nearly a month since she’d seen him. A month when he’d been hard at work in Japan, before flying to South America to oversee the enormous new hotel complex he’d designed which was creating a lot of waves in the high-octane world of architecture. And yes, there had been the occasional email—an amusing description about a woman who had propositioned him after a boardroom meeting, which Darcy had managed to laugh off and act as if it didn’t hurt. He’d even phoned her once, when his plane had been delayed at the airport in Rio de Janeiro and presumably he must have had time to kill. And even though she’d been battling through the wind on her way back from the discount supermarket at the time, she’d managed to find shelter in a shop doorway and make like it was a normal conversation. She’d tried to tell herself that she didn’t mind his total lack of commitment. That they didn’t have an ordinary relationship and that was what made it so interesting.
He’d told her right from the start what she could expect and what she must not expect, and number one on his list