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Ruling Sheikh, Unruly Mistress

Page 12

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He felt a surge of heat and triumph—not that the final outcome had ever been in any doubt. Lucy had needs and he had urges. It was a match made in…Val d’Isere. It was a match that would last for precisely one night. He’d leave her happy, but he’d leave. His playboy life was over. Duty beckoned and he was ready to serve.

He smiled as she came shyly towards him, all buttoned up and ready to be undressed. He’d serve Lucy Tennant and then he’d serve Isla de Sinnebar with the same focus and energy—though for a lifetime rather than a single night.

By the time they reached the chalet he had extended Lucy’s time with him to one night and one day to accommodate all his plans. He enjoyed her company. He loved her voice. She didn’t have the slightest idea how beautiful she was. Granted, the outfit she was wearing now was dull, but that only whetted his appetite for unpeeling her. She’d be like a ripe, delicious fruit emerging from layers of tasteless pith, and from what he’d seen of Lucy on stage there was enough sensitivity and passion to keep his interest way beyond a single night. It was just a shame life didn’t work that way. However he felt about her and whatever happened between them, duty would always come first for him, but that was no reason not to make the most of the time they had.

The chalet was empty when they got back. Taking off her boots slowly, she could feel herself blushing scarlet, second-guessing his plans. When it came to sex she knew she could only disappoint. What she knew about sex could be written on a pin head and to date Mac had only seen her camouflaged in layers of clothing, but when that came off—

‘Are you cold? Shall I run a bath for you?’

She stared at him incredulously. Mac run a bath for her? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

His smile widened. ‘Better still, let’s use the hot tub together. Don’t pretend it hasn’t occurred to you.’

Now his arm was round her shoulder and he was leading her up the quaint wooden stairs, past the cosy living room, and on up the next flight of stairs to the main bedrooms, and then up another flight to the master suite on the top floor, which was entirely his.

She was trembling so hard she hardly registered what was happening as he closed the door behind them. Unzipping his jacket, he tugged it off and tossed it aside. ‘Your turn,’ he said, flashing a glance down the length of her safely bundled-up body.

He wanted to play striptease? ‘I want to thank you for not sacking me,’ she said primly, clinging with everything she’d got to the one thing that made some sense.

‘I don’t talk business after six o’clock—it’s a rule I have,’ he murmured, toying with the toggle on her jacket. ‘And I’m still waiting. For you to take it off?’ he prompted, angling his chin to direct his amused stare into her eyes.

She supposed that was okay. Unzipping her jacket selfconsciously, she hung it neatly on a chair.

Mac flipped the braces off his ski pants and tugged off his top.

She gasped and looked away.

‘I’m waiting, Lucy.’

Match that impossibly hard-muscled torso with something he’d find desirable? Match Mac’s confidence? She couldn’t—She really couldn’t—

Mac gave her no chance to nurse her concerns. One minute he was leaning against the wall, looking relaxed, and the next she was in his arms.

‘Shy?’ he murmured. ‘I like that. Though I would never have guessed you were shy after seeing you on stage ton

ight.’ His mouth curved in a wicked grin, only millimetres from her mouth.

‘That was a one-off,’ she admitted, staring into his eyes.

This was all happening so fast she felt dizzy. But in a good way, Lucy decided. The sensation of being pressed into hard, unyielding muscle was amazing—and would have been even more so without quite so many layers in between. Mac toyed with the zipper on her fleece, sliding it down slowly. All she could think of was his erection, pressing insistently huge and hard against her. To say she was melting with desire was something of an understatement.

‘Say something,’ he murmured.

‘I can’t…’

Cupping her buttocks possessively, he smiled. ‘You’re right—why waste time talking?’

His hands tightened and released until every pleasurable sensation she had ever known in her life was exceeded by infinity. She couldn’t stifle a moan or breathe steadily or pretend a moment longer. Every nerve ending in her body was primed and ready—every resolution she had ever made to remain at least pure-ish until The One came along meant nothing. There was no past, no future, there was only this, longing for Mac to make love to her.

As if sensing this change, he took her hand, linking their fingers in a gesture that was both deeply intimate and reassuring. He led her past the king-sized bed she had dressed herself with crisp white sheets, and on towards the doorway leading into the impossibly luxurious bathroom and from there to the deck and the hot tub. She cleaned the area twice a day and knew it well. She had even stood here dreaming, but she had never imagined in her wildest dreams that one day she might use it, let alone make love in it. It was as if she was seeing it all again through new eyes—the exquisite apricot-veined marble that complemented the azure skies and shimmering snow-capped mountains in daylight, now framed in black velvet shimmering with diamond stars. There was an uninterrupted wall of glass overlooking the moonlit mountains, and, as far as she was concerned, it was the most romantic place on earth…

‘Second thoughts?’ Mac murmured, misunderstanding her silence as she stood gazing out.

‘None,’ she assured him.

‘Do you want to get undressed in the bedroom?’ Lifting her hand to his lips, he held her gaze.

She looked so vulnerable she touched some long-forgotten part of him. He had learned to switch his feelings on and off like a light bulb as a boy when it had been the only way to cope with the disappointment of promised visits from a mother who never came to see him. Now he understood his mother had had too much to lose. The ruling sheikh, his father, wouldn’t tolerate his mistress having another love interest—even if that love interest was their son. His mother had had to forget him, just as he had learned to forget all the other women who had passed through his life. But Lucy was different—at least, she was for tonight.



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