The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience(32)

Kathryn had never had any man stand up for her the way Hugh had just done. Really, he’d been quite magnificent.





He’d made her feel almost loved.





‘What are you doing, still standing out here?’





She whirled at his sudden return, shocked at the way just the sight of him made her heart pound.





Not with love, Kathryn realised ruefully, but with excitement sexual excitement.





She flushed as she glanced at the word on her door.





Maybe I am a slut, she thought. I must be if I’m wanting Hugh this much so soon after breaking up with Daryl.





‘Don’t let what that creep did upset you,’ Hugh said. ‘He’s gone now and he won’t be coming back. Trust me.’





Her eyes slowly returned to his. ‘Yes. Thank you, Hugh. For everything. You were quite wonderful.’





He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, staring deep into her eyes. His expression was unreadable but his body language reeked of the same sexual tension which had her insides in an excruciating knot. Kathryn knew that if she allowed herself to move, she would literally throw herself into his arms.





‘It’s no use,’ he muttered at last.





‘What’s no use?’ she asked way too breathlessly.





‘I can’t possibly wait a week. I can’t wait another single night. I have reached the point of no return, Kathryn. I have to have you. Please don’t say no.’





Her heartbeat, which had become suspended, lurched back into a wildly galloping rhythm. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that she felt the same way about him. But something—some well-honed survival instinct—warned her not to give him that much power over her. Better he think she was agreeing out of gratitude, or greed.





‘All right,’ she choked out. ‘But ’





‘But what?’ he snapped, exasperation in his voice.





‘Not here.’





‘Hell, no,’ he said. ‘We’ll go to my place. Now hurry inside and get that birth certificate. And anything else you might need for a sleepover.’





‘I’m staying the night?’





‘What do you think?’





‘I think I’m staying the night.’





‘Good thinking. Now, no more conversation, please, especially in the car. Or I’ll probably run into the back of a truck.’





CHAPTER ELEVEN





HUGH’S apartment block came as a surprise to Kathryn. Firstly, it was a rather ordinary-looking building, about five or six storeys high. Secondly, there was little security to speak of, although he did use a plastic key-card to get into the underground car park. Not quite where you would expect a billionaire’s son and heir to live. Still, it did overlook Bondi Beach and, inside, it was probably very luxurious.





Hugh parked his Ferrari in one of the two spaces allotted to apartment number twelve, then he escorted a—by then— extremely tense Kathryn to the lift.





‘You can talk now,’ he said with a wry smile her way. ‘We’re safely here.’





‘I’m not sure I want to talk,’ she replied somewhat stiffly. How could she possibly chatter when all she could think about was what they were about to do?





‘That’s fine by me,’ he said in gravelly tones, and pressed the button on the third floor.





That surprised her too. She’d been thinking he probably lived in the penthouse.





‘How about kissing?’ he asked after the lift doors closed and the lift began to move. ‘No, don’t answer that. I don’t really want to be compelled to ravage you in this lift. I want to take my time. And I want you naked.’





Kathryn’s hand tightened around her carry-all. Dear heaven





The lift stopped smoothly on the third floor, the doors opening with a soft, swooshing sound.





‘This way,’ he said, and led her down a plushly carpeted corridor to a door with the number twelve on it.





His apartment was spacious without being excessively large, the living room filled with an assortment of furniture and an eclectic mix of expensive objets d’art. The floor was polished timber, with an assortment of colourful rugs. The effect was warm and inviting, unlike his father’s designer-decorated but extremely cold-looking penthouse.





‘This way,’ he directed again, and taking her hand, drew her down a side hallway into a bedroom which was huge and utterly devoted to a billionaire bachelor’s pleasure: shag-pile carpet underfoot, a king-sized bed and a plasma television built into the wall opposite the bed. On either side of the TV, sliding glass doors opened up out onto a wide balcony with the most breathtaking view of Bondi Beach. A doorway in the middle of a side wall gave Kathryn glimpses of a spacious en suite bathroom with a corner spa bath.