Mr. Imperfect(17)

"Let me touch you," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Kezia leaned back on her elbows. Dark hair tumbling over her bare  breasts, she considered with a half-smile on her face. Torture was such  fun. Christian growled his frustration.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked. But she lost her smugness as he  told her, graphically, exactly what he wanted to do to her-and how much  it would cost.

"Sold," she said weakly, and he reached for her with a glint in his eyes that thrilled her.

And then he played her.

Played her until there wasn't an inch of her body that didn't know his  touch, his mouth, until she was mad for him. With his naked body, finely  covered in perspiration, poised above hers, Christian waited as Kezia  scrabbled around the bed for more cash. Waited as she came to a  sickening realization. "I've run out of money."

His smile suggested he'd planned it that way. "This," he whispered,  entering her with slow, exquisite control that stripped her of rational  thought, "is the gift part."

She let him thrust, once, twice before croaking, "Stop!"





CHAPTER EIGHT




BREATHING DEEPLY, CHRISTIAN held himself away from her on arms sculpted  out of corded muscle. She closed her eyes to block out the sight of his  gorgeous male body, but that concentrated all her senses on the one  place they still joined, a place hot, slick, yearning for movement.  Involuntarily she lifted her hips and he groaned.

"What do you want me to do?" His voice was hoarse.

Get off, get out, go away and never come back because I can't stand to  feel like this again, alive and crazy in love. But, oh, he felt so good.  Her hips lifted again.                       
       
           



       

"Kez, please."

He pushed back and she panted. "Lend me some money."

"Take it all," said Christian, desperate now. He watched her open her  mouth, form the word yes, and his phone rang, a zippy little tune  programmed by a friend's ten-year-old. No, No, No! For an interminable  moment he hung over Kezia while every instinct screamed at him to ignore  it.

"Don't you dare take that call," she cried fiercely, tempting as Delilah, her body promising to bring him home.

Home. With a force of will he didn't know he possessed, Christian rolled  off her with a groan. This call might save hers. "I'm sorry, I have to.  Just … don't … move!"

He retrieved the phone from the pocket of his discarded pants and  snapped into the receiver, "Make it good news." It was. He only half  listened as Cathy gave him all the details that made him the new  owner-once removed-of the hotel.

His gaze stayed on Kezia who was pulling the bed-clothes around her  luscious curves. She was angry with him for taking the call but his news  would change that. He could admit it now; he wanted to leave her happy.

And he wanted to leave her. When he'd delivered his ultimatum at  eighteen, she hadn't known how desperate his home situation was because  he hadn't wanted pity to affect her choice. In a world that had been  reduced to black and white he had given her a test of loyalty. And she  had failed.

He might have matured into seeing shades of gray but emotionally he  couldn't forgive her. Even if he could feel the siren's song in her  touch, he could resist it. If he left soon.

"Thanks, Cathy, I'll be home tomorrow so we can finalize last details  then." He rang off to see Kezia, tight-lipped and furious, pulling on  her nightdress under the blanket. "You think you-this-means so little to  me that I'd interrupt it for any old business call?" He tried to look  wounded but he was feeling too damn elated to carry it off.

She noticed. Snap went the sheet and she was out of bed and gathering  his clothes with short jerky movements. "Get dressed and get out." Kezia  thrust his clothes at him and he caught her against him with a jubilant  laugh.

"Get naked and get grateful. Hell, you can even do this place up  properly now." Picking her up, he whirled her around, forcing her to  drop his clothes and grab his shoulders.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're looking at the new owner of the Waterview Hotel."

Kezia stared at him, all the color leaving her face, and Christian  steered her toward the couch. He grabbed a bedsheet, wrapped himself in  it and sat beside her, taking her hands in his. "Muriel's will specified  that none of my money could come near the hotel. So I got my partners  to buy the place, then I bought it off them."

"It's the middle of the night!"

"I know a tax department head who saw a few hours' overtime as a small  price to pay for offloading this white elephant. My lawyer prepared the  paperwork and Internet banking did the rest."

"But you hate it here. You can't be thinking of staying?"

There was hope there, he heard it. Faint, barely articulated, perhaps  Kezia wasn't even aware of it, but like an early warning system, it told  him it was time to go.

"I'm still leaving tomorrow." She didn't flinch … maybe he'd imagined it. "And I didn't buy the hotel for me. It's for you."

She pulled her hands away from his. "For … me?"

"Tomorrow we'll sign a deed of transfer. Your troubles are over." He  waited for the realization to sink in, for Kezia to throw her arms  around him and hopefully drag him back to bed to express her gratitude.  And he waited.

"And I'm to accept a four-hundred-thousand-dollar gift from you just like that? For what, services rendered?"

He didn't like that. "Sex has nothing to do with it. If you recall, I  initiated the deal before you came to my room." At a loss, he resorted  to humor. "But, hey, render away."

Her slap hit him square on the left cheek.

With stinging heat radiating from one side of his face Christian sat  back. "So much for basking in your gratitude." His tone belied the anger  building steam inside.

"It must be great to be Christian Kelly," she raged. "Patron of the poor!"

Now he couldn't keep the exasperation out of his voice. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm giving you your inheritance back."

"You're trying to strip me of the last remnant of pride I have left, that's what you're trying to do, mister!"                       
       
           



       

He threw up his hands in disgust. "Stop being so paranoid. I have no agenda."

Kezia regarded him with contempt. "Christian, your agenda would take up  two pages. First, you're a man who pays off ex-girlfriends so he doesn't  have to dirty his conscience, only in this case your recipient is an  old lady. Well, live with the guilt like the rest of us. Second, you're  paying back-and I quote- 'the only woman who ever dumped you,'by putting  me in a situation where I'm hopelessly beholden to you. Damn it." Her  hands balled into fists. "You're trying to have the last word!"

The echo of his thoughts, only days earlier, infuriated him. "That's bullshit. I got over you years ago."

"I don't doubt that." Her voice was bitter. "But have you forgiven me?"  He remained silent and she rose to her feet, her eyes flashing sparks.  "I haven't forgiven you, either. You wouldn't compromise then and I'm  not compromising now. I will not start over again owing you for  everything I have. I want to be free of you, do you hear me?"

"Let me get this straight," said Christian very quietly. "I've just  spent the past week working my guts out to redecorate this dump,  groveling to your ex-boyfriend banker, sleeping in that godawful bed and  now-" he sucked a deep breath and stood up "-now, when we can finally  do this the easy way, you're saying no?"

"Damn right I'm saying no!"

His temper exploded. "And what the hell am I supposed to do with a hotel I don't want? I'm going home tomorrow."

Kezia tipped her head to one side, considering. "Oops," she said sweetly, "I nearly forgot. That's your problem."

Christian hadn't yelled in years but he yelled now. "Either you accept this place or I'll burn the damn thing down!"

Under his glare, Kezia stalked over to the dresser beside the bed and  took something out of the top drawer. "Here!" She tossed it over and  Christian dropped the bedsheet to catch it. It was a box of matches.



WHEN NIGHT LIGHTENED TO dawn Kezia gave up on sleep. Her fury had long  since abated and the regret was so much harder to bear. In her mind's  eye she saw herself, seminaked, tossing Christian money and asking him  to … oh, God.

She scrambled out of bed and turned on the shower, determined to scrub  all trace of the previous night away. If only it were that easy. Behind  the walls, ancient pipes creaked and groaned, and she experienced a rush  of bitter satisfaction-Christian's problem now.