A Billionaire for Christmas(64)

                “Look at me, Phoebe.”

                When she obeyed, she saw that every trace of his good humor had fled. His face was no more than planes and angles, painted by firelight to resemble an ancient king. Eyes so dark they appeared black. Still he held her chin. “I’m looking,” she quipped with deliberate sass. “What am I supposed to see?” His intensity aroused and agitated her, but she wouldn’t let him know how his caveman antics affected her. Not yet.

                He flipped her onto her back without warning, her brief fall cushioned by the many-layered pallet. Instead of answering her provocative question, he showed her. Kneeling between her thighs, he yanked a single packet free, ripped it open with his teeth and extracted the contents. Making sure she watched him—by the simple expedient of locking her gaze to his—he rolled the condom over his straining erection.

                She doubted he meant for her to see him wince. But the evidence of his arousal lit a fire low in her belly. Leo was in pain. Because of her. He wanted her so badly his hands were shaking. That meant he was more vulnerable than she had imagined. And knowing she was not the only one falling apart calmed her nerves.

                Clearly, Leo did not see her as one in a line of faceless women. Whatever their differences in lifestyle, or world view, or even sexual experience, tonight was special.

                She grabbed his wrist. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me.” She breathed the words on a moan as his legs tangled with hers and he positioned the head of his sex at her opening.

                Still he didn’t smile. His expression was a mask of frayed control…jaw clenched, teeth ground together. “I’m going to take you, my sweet. To heaven and back.”

                At the first push of his rigid length, she lost her breath. Everything in the room stood still. Her body strained to accommodate him. Though she was more than ready, she had been celibate a long time, and Leo was a big man.

                He paused, though the effort brought beads of perspiration to his forehead. “Too much?” he asked, his voice raw.

                “No.” She concentrated on relaxing, though everything inside her seemed wound tight. “I want all of you.”

                Her declaration made him shudder as though the mental picture was more stimulating than the actual joining of their flesh. Steadily, he forced his way in. Phoebe felt his penetration in every inch of her soul. She knew in that instant that she had been deceiving herself. Leo was more than a mere fling. He was the man who could make her live again.

                When he was fully seated, he withdrew with a hoarse shout and slammed into her, making her grab the leg of the coffee table as a brace. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped.

                “Then don’t stop, Leo. I can handle whatever you have to give.”





                                      Sixteen

                Leo was out of control. In some sane corner of his mind, he knew it. But Phoebe…God, Phoebe…she milked the length of him every time he withdrew, and on the downstroke arched her back, taking him a centimeter deeper with each successive thrust.

                Her legs had his waist in a vise. Her cloud of night-dark hair fanned out around them. He buried his face in it at one point, stilling his frantic motions, desperately trying to stave off his release. She smelled amazing. Though he couldn’t pinpoint the fragrance, he would have recognized her scent in a pitch-black room.

                Her fingernails dug into his back. He relished the stinging discomfort…found his arousal ratcheting up by a degree each time she cried out his name and marked his flesh.