The Billionaire Boss's Bride(40)

Even though the room was dark, with only the side light switched on, she could still make out the fine lines around his eyes, laughter lines, giving his face character.

The realisation that she loved this man, had fallen head over heels with his impossible, unpredictable, utterly mesmerising personality was just something that she accepted. It didn’t leap out at her like a bolt from the blue, more revealed itself finally and inexorably. And yes, she should protect herself from him, from getting hurt by him, but hadn’t the damage already been done? He had wormed himself deep into the very core of her and pretending that he hadn’t wasn’t going to make her feel any better. It was a ploy that certainly hadn’t worked over the past few weeks.

‘You have a beautiful body,’ Curtis said thickly, looking down at her and reaching out to cup a breast in his hand. He felt her shudder as he rubbed the pad of his finger over her nipple. It stiffened and the reaction made him draw his breath in sharply.

This was no game. It was nothing like the romps he had had with the women he had dated over the years. He felt suddenly disoriented and when he raised his hand to caress the nape of her neck, it was shaking.

‘Your foot…’ he murmured roughly. ‘I don’t think the doctor would advise…’

Tessa lay back, spreading her arms wide, revealing herself to him in a gesture of pure, abandoned trust.

No, she thought, she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t hurt her. In fact, it was a dead cert that he would. Curtis Diaz wasn’t into all those things that came with relationships, proper relationships. But she could only say how she would feel if she carried on denying the truth to herself.

A slow, thick wave was washing over Curtis, making his thinking sluggish. Lying there, she was bewitching. It went way beyond the contours of her body. It was something glimpsed in her eyes, in the soft, suggestive smile curving her lips. She was the perfect combination of woman and child, tempting and cautious at the same time.

His hands were shaking as he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, watching her watching him. He tugged the shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and pulled it off, feeling like a man performing a striptease.

‘All I need is some music,’ he joked huskily. He hoped to God he wasn’t blushing. That was something he had never done in his life before, but right now, the way those eyes were making him feel, he might just be breaking the habit of a lifetime.

The gossip columnists might have overrated his sexual prowess, but Curtis Diaz was no shrinking violet when it came to the fairer sex. He enjoyed the company of women and he enjoyed making love with them. He certainly never felt nervous in their presence but right now, he was as nervous as hell.

She was leaning up on one elbow, half smiling as his hand rested on the top button of his trousers. Instead of wresting them off, however, Curtis squatted down next to the bed so that his eyes were level with hers.

‘Do this often, do you?’ The clichéd line sounded a little strangled and he was disturbed to find how much he was hanging on for her answer, even though he knew what it would be.

She was an innocent. He had sensed that from the very first. But what if he was wrong? What if she had a secret side? It was known to happen, wasn’t it? Secretary by day, stripper by night…?

When he thought about that possibility, his blood seemed to freeze over in his veins.

‘You know I don’t,’ Tessa confessed truthfully. She sighed and stroked the side of his face. ‘And I make a particular habit of staying away from my bosses.’

Curtis captured her hand and turned it palm upwards, so that he could press his lips against the soft flesh. With his trousers still on, he joined her in her bed so that he was lying next to her.

‘Funnily enough, I make it a policy of separating work from pleasure myself,’ he murmured. The temptation was too much. No matter how hard he concentrated on her face, willing himself to rise above this strange, sinking feeling that was enveloping him, he couldn’t resist the lure of her breasts. And touching them wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Not when he could lower his head so that he could take one demanding nipple into his mouth and tease it with the wet caress of his tongue. And that breathless groan was enough to draw his hand along her leg, along that smooth thigh, until it made contact with the soft dampness that she offered to him by parting her legs. His finger found the crease that brought forth a gasp of pure pleasure and he rubbed it gently and rhythmically, struggling to control his own pounding arousal.

Take it easy, he told himself, but, when her sweet moistness was enveloping his exploring fingers, that was nigh on impossible.