The Gold Collection: Surrender To The Tycoon. Chantelle Shaw
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Dante slipped his hand between her thighs and made a hoarse sound when he discovered the drenching sweetness of her arousal. But, instead of lowering himself onto her as she was impatient for him to do, he trailed a line of kisses over her breasts and stomach. Rebekah’s heart lurched when he moved lower still. This was new to her and she stiffened when he gently eased her legs wider and ran his tongue over her so that he could access the heart of her femininity.
‘I’m not sure …’ she began in a startled voice, her faint protest turning to a gasp of pleasure.
‘Relax,’ he murmured, ‘and let me pleasure you, mia bella.’
Dear heaven, Rebekah thought shakily, as Dante continued his intimate exploration. She was on fire, so hot down there that she twisted her hips restlessly, not wanting him to stop, but afraid that if he didn’t she would not be able to hold back the orgasm that she could feel building deep in her pelvis.
‘Please …’ It was unbearable torture, and she clawed at the silky bedspread beneath her as the first spasms of her climax made her body tremble. Pausing briefly to take a condom from the bedside drawer and slide it on, Dante positioned himself over her and entered her with a fierce thrust that elicited a ragged groan from his throat as he felt her relax to accept him.
Rebekah closed her eyes for a few seconds—her body and her soul, she would swear, utterly enraptured by the feel of Dante inside her, filling her, completing her. He began to move, slowly at first so that each thrust seemed to fill her even more as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and angled her for maximum effect. Then he set a rhythm that echoed the drumbeat of her blood, faster, faster, while she clung to his sweat-slicked shoulders and hurtled towards the peak. He kept her there for timeless moments, laughing softly when she implored him to grant her the release she craved, until with a final devastating thrust they climaxed simultaneously, their bodies shuddering as waves of ecstasy pounded them.
For a long while afterwards they lay replete in each other’s arms while the serene silence of the house closed around them and the outside world seemed far away. But at last Dante lifted his head and dropped a light kiss on her mouth, surprised by how reluctant he felt to disengage from Rebekah.
Her ex-fiancé was an idiot, he mused, as he shifted onto his side and trailed his fingers over her body. Rebekah was everything a man could want in a wife. It was almost a pity that he had absolutely no desire to try wedded bliss again, because she would be a strong candidate for the role of his wife.
Frowning at the disconcerting train of his thoughts, he rolled onto his back and curled his arms behind his head.
‘You know I’m not going to let you go,’ he murmured, watching her long hair spill around her shoulders as she sat up.
Rebekah tried to control the way her heart leapt at his surprising statement, and it was lucky she did because reality quickly doused her excitement as he continued, ‘I don’t know what Gaspard Clavier said he would pay you to work at his new restaurant, but I’ll better his offer. The Caribbean’s not all it’s cracked up to be, anyway.’ He reached out and touched one of her nipples, smiling when it instantly hardened and she drew a shaky breath. ‘If you carry on working for me I can promise there will be lots of perks,’ he drawled.
‘Mmm, but none that will further my career as a chef, I suspect,’ Rebekah said drily.
Not for the world would she allow Dante to see how much he affected her. He had made love to her with fierce passion but there had been an unexpected tenderness in the way he had kissed and caressed her and it would be easy to pretend that what they had just shared had meant something to him. Fortunately, her common sense reminded her that it had just been great sex, and probably for him it had been no different to sex with any of his previous mistresses.
Reclining indolently on the pillows with a satisfied smile on his lips, he looked like a sultan who had just been pleasured by his favourite concubine. His chiselled, masculine beauty made her heart ache, but his arrogant, faintly calculating expression sent alarm bells ringing inside her head. Dante was used to being adored by women and no doubt he expected that because she had fallen into his bed she found him irresistible and would agree to his every demand—including withdrawing her resignation. It was vital she showed him that their affair was on her terms.
‘One day I hope to open my own restaurant and my ambition is to gain the highest awards,’ she told him. ‘The chance to work for Gaspard will be an invaluable experience that I simply can’t turn down.’
He could count himself lucky that Rebekah was clearly not going to turn into a clinging vine, Dante told himself. It was good she understood he did not want a long-term relationship, and from the sound of it neither did she. He respected that her career was important to her. So why did he feel irritated and strangely let down by her casual attitude? He was tempted to pull her back into his arms and see how cool she remained when he kissed every inch of her body. The memory of how she had writhed beneath him a few moments ago when he had dipped his tongue into the honeyed sweetness of her womanhood had a predictable effect on his body.
But when he rolled towards her and saw her long eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, a different feeling swept through him. Recounting how her fiancé had dumped her shortly before their wedding and gone off with her best friend must have been emotionally draining and it was no wonder she had fallen asleep. He had a whole month in which to sate himself with her beautiful body, he mused, as he settled her comfortably against his chest. No doubt he would have broken free from the spell she seemed to have cast on him by then.
Rebekah found that she was alone when she opened her eyes. Alone, but in Dante’s bed, and the indentation on the pillow beside her was a clue that she had not been dreaming and she had really spent all night in his arms. But where was he now? Had he left to give her privacy to get up, and would he expect her to be gone when he returned to his room? She wished she was more experienced in the rules of having an affair.
She was about to slide out of bed when the door opened and he strode into the room. Dressed in faded jeans that clung to his lean hips and a cream polo shirt, he looked heart-stoppingly sexy and disgustingly wide awake, which made her painfully conscious that she had just woken up, even though it was—she glanced at the clock—nine-thirty, and sunshine was streaming through the half-open blinds.
‘I can’t believe I slept so late. You should have woken me. If you give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll go and make your breakfast.’
‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve made you breakfast for a change.’
She had been so focused on his handsome face that she hadn’t registered the tray he was holding. Her eyes widened when he set it down on her knees. On it was a pot of coffee, a plate of toast, butter and jam, and a plate covered with a lid. Lying on the napkin was a single pale pink rosebud, just unfurling and so exquisite that Rebekah felt a lump form in her throat.
‘I’ve never been served breakfast in bed before,’ she said huskily.
Dante’s smile stole her breath. ‘It was my fault you were so tired,’ he murmured with a wicked gleam in his eyes that made her blush. ‘I thought it was only fair to let you sleep in.’ He lifted up the lid covering the plate with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. ‘I cooked scrambled eggs. I hope they’re done.’
To death, she thought as she stared at the congealed greyish mass on the plate.
‘The toast might be a little crisper than the way you make it.’
And considerably blacker, Rebekah discovered when she picked up a piece and saw the charred underside. ‘Everything looks wonderful,’ she assured him. She was touched that he had gone to so much effort, especially when she noticed that his thumb was bleeding. ‘What happened to your hand?’
‘The rose put up a fight,’ he said ruefully. To tell the truth, Dante was faintly embarrassed by the moment of impulsiveness that had made him pick a rose from the garden for her. It was not the sort of thing he ever did. When he wanted to give flowers to a woman he instructed his PA to phone a florist and arrange