Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire(13)

"To getting to know you," Callie responded and tipped her glass to take a sip of the golden liquid.

He was right. It was a delight to taste and the gentle fizz in her mouth  mirrored the bubbling sensation of lightness that suffused her body.  She was glad she'd dressed up for this evening. The fittings and  accoutrements surrounding them on this massive statement of luxury and  wealth deserved no less.

As she lifted her hand to take another sip of the champagne, the fabric  of her gown gently grazed her nipples, sending a shock of awareness  through her again. She'd never felt so conscious of her body before, nor  so attuned to her companion. Although, truth be told, from the minute  she'd set eyes on Josh Tremont, even knowing what he was purportedly  capable of, he'd attracted her on a level that was purely instinctive.

Josh gestured toward the curved leather seats arranged at a low coffee table, fixed to the deck.

"Would you like to sit down?"

In response, Callie walked across to the chairs, conscious with every  step of Josh only a few centimetres behind her. She could feel the heat  of his body like a wall against her back, even though he didn't touch  her.

The steward returned with a silver tray with artfully arranged canapés displayed on it.

"Just leave them on the table," Josh instructed.

"Certainly, sir. The chef asked me to let you know your main meal will be ready in half an hour."

"Thank you. That'll be all for now."

With a small respectful bow, the steward withdrew.

Despite the low-pitched purr of the vessel's engines belowdecks,  indicating that there had to be others on board, at least to guide it  through the waters, Callie felt as if the world had narrowed down to  just her and Josh. The sensation made her both nervous and excited at  the same time. Desperate to fill the void of conversation between them,  she commented on the appetisers before them.

"Here, let me choose for you," Josh said with a smile.

Without waiting for her reply, he lifted a sliver of crostini topped  with tiny shrimp in a spread of what looked like cream cheese and  chives. Obediently, Callie parted her lips, as he leaned across and slid  the morsel between them.

Josh watched as Callie slowly chewed and swallowed. Something hot and  tight clenched deep inside him as her tongue swept her lower lip.                       
       
           



       

"That was delicious," she said, her voice husky.

"Another?" he managed, through a throat that had suddenly grown thick with desire.

His plan had been to woo her tonight. Slowly, deftly, with every sensual  weapon in his considerable arsenal, before bringing the evening to its  inevitable climax. He would have smiled at the unintentional pun, but  all he wanted to do was skip the pleasantries and cut straight to the  chase-or, more particularly, the main stateroom that awaited them  belowdecks.

He forced himself to clamp a lid on his needs, to slow his reactions to  her. To savour every second of this intricate dance. But it proved a  great deal more difficult than he had imagined.

"My turn first."

Callie surprised him, taking the initiative, and his advantage from him,  as she selected another canapé and held it to his lips. Advantages in  human affairs, as in business, could easily be wrested from the  inexperienced, he decided, as he took the bite-sized food into his  mouth, his lips closing around her forefinger and thumb, and his tongue  sliding up to suckle between them.

Her startled gasp broke the heaviness of the air between them as she  withdrew her hand and cradled it in her lap. He couldn't have said,  later on, what it was that she'd given him to eat but he could describe  the expression on her face in intimate detail.

Callie's eyes looked huge, her pupils dilated. A faint hint of colour  swiped her cheekbones and mirrored itself on the smooth, slender line of  her neck. Beneath the filmy black fabric of her dress, her chest rose  and fell, as if she couldn't draw quite enough air into her lungs.

She was the first to break eye contact, and he acknowledged the silent  victory with a surge of triumph. Oh, yes, tonight would be spectacular.  She was so responsive, so open. In the world in which he lived, such  transparency was a novelty, one to be savoured.

There'd be no faking with Callie. He'd know with every sigh, every  shudder, every heated flush over her skin, exactly what she was feeling  and how much she liked it. The thought was intoxicating, far more so  than the excellent champagne.

It was time to turn down the heat a little, though, he decided and he  turned to general conversation to offer some respite to the cacophony of  need that threatened to derail his legendary cool.

"You were a bit nervous on the flight out. Is flying a problem for you?" he probed as she took a sip from her glass.

He watched as she slowly replaced her glass on the table, noted how the  sun gilded the light sheen of moisture on her lips. So much for turning  down the heat. He fought with the urge to lean across and trace that  shimmer with the tip of his tongue and then to delve into the moist heat  of her mouth and find out how she tasted with the hint of vintage  champagne on her tongue. It would be so easy.

"I've never been a relaxed flyer. No real fear, but just that sense of not being in control. That unnerves me."

"You don't trust easily?"

Josh reached out and took one of her hands in his, and lightly stroked  his thumb across the inside of her wrist. Her pulse responded beneath  his touch with a sudden flutter.

"No."

She pulled away from his touch, ostensibly to help herself to another  canapé but he knew it was to distance herself from his question. And  what she didn't say intrigued him.

"But you did trust the Palmers?"

Her eyes sharpened. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well, you spent time in one of Irene's homes and you've worked for them ever since. That implies a certain level of trust."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, not at all. Do you trust me?"

"Should I?" she hedged, meeting his gaze briefly before her eyes flitted away again.

Josh let one side of his mouth draw up in a half smile. "What's not to trust?"

"What, indeed? Maybe I should ask the same of you? Do you trust me?"

"Would I have hired you if I didn't? Don't worry, Callie, I trust you."

Her eyes flew back to his. Silently he cursed himself for letting the  mood of the evening grow too clinical. General conversation was one  thing, but right now he preferred the loaded atmosphere that had  undulated between them. An atmosphere heavy with promise, one he  intended to deliver on.

"Dance with me," he commanded, rising to his feet and offering his hand.

"Is that what's necessary right now?" Callie parried, even as she lay her hand in his.

"Oh, yes, it's absolutely necessary." Josh smiled in return. "What would  a beautiful evening, out on the water like this, be if we didn't make  the most of every second?"
                       
       
           



       
He drew her close against his body. He was more than semi-aroused, a  state he'd grown used to in her proximity, and he wasn't afraid for her  to know it. He sensed the moment she recognised his desire for her, and  felt her stiffen in his arms before relaxing once more. As their steps  moved in perfect synchronicity across the deck, he made sure she  understood that this dance was only the beginning of what they would  achieve together tonight.

Her breasts brushed against his chest-their movement confirming his  suspicion that she wore no bra. It was all he could do to restrain  himself from undoing the knot of fabric at her nape and letting the  pieces drop to expose her to his sight, his touch.

The light spice of her fragrance teased his nostrils. It was a headier  perfume than the one she wore in the office, which was so light it was a  mere hint of femininity. But this perfume, it spoke of so much more.

Josh bent his head and inhaled her scent more deeply, letting his lips  graze across the curve of her neck where it met her deliciously bare  shoulders. Callie trembled at his touch, but he knew it was not in fear.  The tips of her breasts hardened against his shirt. The knowledge that  only two layers of fabric separated their skin was both a torment and a  thrill.

He traced the cord of her neck with the tip of his tongue, punctuating  its track with small kisses. Fire roared in his veins as she moaned with  pleasure, and he captured the sound with his mouth, his lips closing  over hers, his tongue gently caressing the soft membrane within with  intimate care.

He was rock hard, his body now trembling with suppressed need. With one  kiss she drove him to the brink as no woman had ever done before. He  wanted her with a passion that bordered on compulsive. He dragged his  lips from her mouth and rested his forehead against hers.