November Harlequin Presents 1(79)

A fierce passion surged between them.

Man-woman heat sizzling, blazing.

Peter erupted into action, sweeping her off her feet, cradling her in his arms, carrying her inside to his cave…his bed.

It was a long way from the end.





CHAPTER SIX




ERIN drifted slowly from a lovely languorous sleep, a deep sense of well-being seeping into her consciousness, her body uncurling and stretching, revelling in feeling good. She lifted her arms up over her head, arched her back and opened her eyes.

Shock slammed into her heart.

Peter Ramsey was standing at the end of the bed, watching her, a satisfied little smile lurking on his lips, his hair wet, slicked back, his blue eyes taking their fill of her, his magnificent body unashamedly naked except for a white towel slung over one shoulder.

He was definitely real.

And she was in his bed, his apartment at Bondi Beach.

Memories of all they’d done together last night flooded through Erin’s mind. Her vaginal muscles instantly squinched, recalling the incredible pleasure of one amazing climax after another. It had been so fantastic, but…what happens now?

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” Peter drawled in an indulgent tone. “You could have waited for my kiss.”

Relief poured into her smile. He wasn’t setting their fantasy aside yet. Maybe there would be more than one night. Lots of nights. “I haven’t slept for a hundred years, have I?” she tossed back at him, wondering what time it was and if he had any plans for today—plans that included her.

“No. But it’s time you were up if you want to come to the races with me.”

“Races?”

“I have a horse running at Randwick this afternoon. It’s her maiden race and I said I’d be there to watch.”

Horse-racing! Erin recollected he’d met with his trainer yesterday morning. Billionaire playground, she thought. It had never been a part of her world but she was up for any new experience shared with this man. More adventure. Colourful, too.

“Do people dress up for Randwick as much as they do for the Melbourne Cup?” she asked, having watched what was always billed as “The Race That Stops A Nation” on television. It was a huge fashion scene.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, arrogantly dismissive of the clothes aspect, strolling around the bed to sit beside her, smiling as he stroked the mussed tresses of her hair away from her face. “I’ll dress you like a princess.”

The connection to their fantasy didn’t work for Erin this time. It was okay for Peter to invite her to go along with him. She wanted to. But dressing her…did he mean what she thought he meant?

“How do you intend to do that?” she asked warily.

He shrugged. “I’m acquainted with the top designers in Sydney. All it takes is a call to get something suitable brought here. What style of clothes appeals to you…Lisa Ho, Peter Morrisey, Colette Dinnegan…?”

He hung the celebrity names out with such a blasé air of confidence, Erin felt herself bridling against his assumption that she would fall in with his plan—be his mannequin—because he had the power and the wealth to dress her any way he pleased.

“No, thank you,” she said decisively.

“No?” The caressing hand stilled. He frowned in disbelief. “You’re saying no?”

His eyes blazed into hers, determined on reigniting the intimate connection they had made last night. It had been good…great…incredibly fantastic…and her body instantly rebelled against any negative dictate that might end it right here. She wanted to be with him, wanted what they’d shared to continue, yet some gritty part of her brain would not let her be taken over or made over by anyone. If Peter thought he could buy her compliance…where was any respect for her in that?

“You don’t own me, Peter,” she said quietly. “Last night I chose to be with you and I still have the right to choose what works for me.”

His frown deepened. “You can’t want to end it now.”

They were fighting words. He was gearing up to battle any barrier she threw at him. Which was certainly proof that he cared about keeping her, though whether that was for the sex or driven by an attraction on a deeper level, Erin couldn’t tell.

The tension emanating from him tore along her own nerves. She didn’t want to be in conflict with this man. He was special. Uniquely special. But this was real life now, not an impulsive adventure, and real life had taught her that any kind of domination was bad.

She’d had too many experiences with men who expected her to fall into line with them, following wherever they led, not even considering or respecting the fact that she had a mind of her own—a mind that would not play second fiddle to anyone else’s. As powerful as Peter Ramsey undoubtedly was, Erin was not about to crumble under his will.