The Billionaire Affair

His smile was so sexy it took her breath away, and she couldn’t breathe at all when he dipped his dark head and lapped each tingling, pouting nipple then took her parted lips with an intimacy that blew her mind.

Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling with the thick dark strands, as his tongue mimicked the staggering activities of the night, her body leaping with immediate, feverish response. But

he drew away, his hands capturing hers, his eyes glinting wickedly beneath the lowered fan of his thick, spiky lashes.

‘I’ve a proposition to put to you.’

Caroline dragged in a much needed breath as her heart twisted sharply. A proposition, not a proposal, thank the lord. She did not, most definitely not, want to have to think about his proposal of the evening before.

She didn’t want to think of anything at all. The focus of her world, just for these few precious moments, was this man, the love for him that had burgeoned into strong, new life.

‘We make today a holiday. We don’t talk or think about anything but the two of us, the way we are now. The past, the future, won’t get a mention.’

She saw a brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and gave him a glorious smile, assuring him throatily, ‘That’s absolutely fine by me!’

Couldn’t be finer, in fact. Another magical twenty-four hours when reality didn’t get a look in, when nothing bad marred the magic of letting herself drift with the flow of loving him.

‘Then—’ the wicked confidence was back in his eyes now, in the smile that curved the beautifully sculpted mouth as he reached over and put one of the delicate china mugs in her hand ‘—coffee first, followed by a shower—and it will be my pleasure to help you—and we’ll take it from there.’

The shower took longer than any shower she’d ever taken before, the touch of his long fingers on every part of her soap-slicked body a new and decidedly erotic experience, just begging her to do the same to him, to share with him the intense pleasure she was feeling. And when he eased her back against the marble tiled wall, parted her trembling thighs and thrust possessively into her waiting body she knew that heaven couldn’t offer a sweeter experience than this.

‘I can’t get enough of you.’ His voice was still hoarse long after their mingled cries of rapture had been swallowed by the hiss of the water. ‘It was always like this for us, remember?’

‘Don’t.’ She placed her hand over his mouth to silence him. The writhing tendrils of steam made his features blurred, out of focus. ‘We don’t mention the past. We are simply what we are,’ she reminded him, refusing to remember those long-gone good times because then she might have to remember the bad.

‘And we are spectacular.’ He grinned, conceding her point, reaching up to turn off the shower head.

And that she had to agree with, Caroline thought as he helped her out of the stall and wrapped her in a fluffy towel that smelt of sunshine and flowers. Cuddling into the folds she watched him, with dreamy eyes towel himself dry, drinking in the pagan splendour of his male physique, making one more memory to add to all the others.

As if he’d seen the sudden wistfulness behind her eyes, he reached out to cup the side of her face with one gentle hand. ‘Mop yourself up and dress, sweetheart. I won’t offer to do it for you because we wouldn’t get breakfast before supper time if I did. Will toast and tea be enough, or shall I boil eggs?’

‘Just toast,’ she said croaking around the sudden lump in her throat. Was it still the lingering remnant of steam or had her eyes misted with tears? She certainly felt like weeping all over again. Today was meant to be a stolen slice of paradise, wasn’t it? No room for looking back, or forward, no room for regrets, for tears.

She moved away, plucked a fresh towel from one of the heated rails and wrapped it around her dripping hair, rubbing vigorously. When she emphasised, ‘Tea and toast will be fine,’ she sounded nicely cheerful.

Apparently satisfied, he walked through to the bedroom and she gave him ten minutes before she made her way to the room she’d been using. Passing the place where the mahogany linen press had once stood she had a sharp pang of conscience.

She really ought to get in touch with base, tell them she’d be returning in the morning. In view of the small amount of actual work she’d had to do here they’d wonder why it had taken her this long.

But she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She’d phone first thing in the morning, before she set out. Today was hers. And Ben’s. One more day out of a lifetime wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

Tossing the things she’d worn the day before into her empty suitcase she slipped into clean silk undies and pondered what to wear as she stroked the brush through her damp hair. She didn’t know what Ben’s plans were but there was no one else in the house. The builders had removed the scaffolding yesterday morning, and the men currently at work making the golf course were on the opposite side of the estate.

Just the two of them, and whatever she put on wouldn’t stay on for very long, she was sure of that. Her stomach wriggled at the thought, excited anticipation already building up inside her again. Just like the old times…

She brutally strangled the thought and picked up the faded, much washed jeans Linda had lent her.

They were indeed too wide and too short in the leg but she took the narrow leather belt from her own linen trousers and anchored the denim waist to her own much narrower one. Teamed with one of her own blouses, pale blue crêpe with short sleeves and a smooth V neckline, her bare feet pushed into her loafers, her hair a wild cloud falling to her shoulders, she looked nothing at all like the aloof, elegantly packaged career woman who had arrived here only a few short days ago.

The sudden rush of relief as she gazed at her haphazardly attired and comfortably unsophisticated reflection made her grin. She felt and looked more relaxed than she had done for years. Eschewing her usual, perfect make-up, she left the room, her feet on wings as she sped down to the kitchen.

Ben had gone ahead and boiled eggs anyway and the aroma of fresh coffee and warm toast made Caroline’s mouth water. They were using the butcher’s-block table beneath one of the sun-warmed windows and he’d produced honey and orange juice too.

‘I can’t remember ever eating such a huge breakfast,’ she confessed, as she accepted a second cup of coffee after they’d stacked the used crockery in the dishwasher, wondering if she should loosen the narrow leather belt by a couple of notches.

‘Then, maybe we should walk it off,’ Ben suggested, smiling, as she drained her cup.

‘Good idea.’