The Billionaire's Captive Bride(10)

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She and Peter Ramsey were together on that tonight.

Her prince … his princess … more than likely a one-night fantasy, but let it be, she thought fiercely.

Let it be.



Peter had to keep cautioning himself not to exceed the speed limit as he  drove. Exhilaration was pumping through him and it craved action. Fast  action. He was acutely conscious of Erin's presence beside him, could  still feel the imprint of her body on his … so soft and giving, stirring  caveman instincts that were running rampant.

He was so caught up in his own physical excitement, it was a while  before he realised she'd said nothing since the Oxford Street  intersection. Most women were full of chatter. He didn't want to talk,  didn't want to break the sense of being drawn into a magical tunnel that  promised the fulfilment of all he wanted with a woman. Fantasy,  perhaps, but the urge to give it free rein tonight was galloping through  him.

Yet was her silence one of contented acquiescence to spending this night with him, or did it hide less harmonious thoughts?

She'd said yes.

But then there'd been the question about his motives for pursuing a  connection with her-a game he played. Had she been satisfied with his  reply? How was she to know he'd never done this before?

He shot a quick assessing glance at her. Her head was tilted back  against the headrest, eyes closed, long strands of hair blowing into a  feathering dance around her face. No troubled frown. No sign of tension.  Her expression was completely serene, her body relaxed, her hands  loosely linked in her lap. Was she, too, floating with the night, not  letting any worry touch it?

Recalling a comment she'd made over dinner, he quietly asked, "Where have you gone in your mind, Erin?"

"I'm right here, living this moment with you," she answered and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"It feels good?" he prompted, wanting confirmation.

"It feels … marvellous."

The eloquent thrill in her voice relieved him of any concern about how  she was reacting to his initiatives in getting to this moment.

She was with him.

Or was she with the Ramsey billions, dismissing any sense of risk in  favour of riding this opportunity to get into a relationship with him  and …

His jaw clenched in frustration. He didn't want to think like that with  Erin. Not tonight. Just go with the flow. Don't spoil it, he told  himself savagely. She was beautiful, delightful, and cynical thoughts  would blunt his desire for her and tarnish the magic. Block them out,  let them go, enjoy having this woman.



His castle was a penthouse apartment, set up on the hill overlooking  Bondi Beach. An elevator from the basement garage took them straight to a  spacious living room, which spread out to a terrace with a swimming  pool. Erin caught only a glimpse of these luxurious surroundings in  passing. Peter led her straight up a staircase which took them to the  master bedroom where he opened a wall of curtains, revealing a view that  instantly evoked the sense of being on top of the world.

There was a balcony outside. He slid glass doors apart, smiled and  ushered her to the railing, staying behind her, his arms encircling her  waist, his head bent close to hers, his breath warming her ear as he  murmured, "This night is ours, Erin."

"Yes," she whispered, a huge welling of emotion sighing through her  voice. It was a beautiful cloudless night, stars twinkling above the far  horizon, a crescent moon shining brightly, a light breeze wafting the  salty scent of the sea, the rhythmic roar of waves rushing onto the  beach and withdrawing. But what made it incredibly special was the  presence of the man who was holding her.         

     



 

She leaned back against him, nestling her head into the curve of his  neck and shoulder, loving his strong masculinity, feeling safe in his  embrace, safer than she had ever felt in her life. Which was strange  because she barely knew Peter Ramsey, yet her instincts said trust him.  He was a big man, big in every way, a man who would fight for what he  believed was right, a man who would protect what he held dear to the  last breath in his body.

"You feel so good," he said as though bemused by his own feelings with her.

"You do, too," she answered, unhesitant about stating what was true for her.

"I want to feel all of you, Erin." His hands moved to the buckle of her belt. "Mind if I undress you out here?"

"No, I don't mind." She wanted to feel his hands on her, all over her.  Her mind was sure his touch would be magic, but her body wanted him to  be naked, too, naked to the night in a dark, primitive world of absolute  togetherness. "As long as you don't mind me taking your clothes off, as  well."

He laughed, a deep throaty sound of pleasure that made her pulse race  with excitement. She'd had sex many times before; out of curiosity, out  of loneliness, out of a need to hold onto a relationship, hoping that  the physical intimacy would forge a deeper bond, though it never had.  Too much else always got in the way-degrees of separation becoming  bigger and bigger, leaving her alone again.

Tonight was different. Her whole being was bubbling with anticipation.  There was no history of before, no expectation of after. The only  reality was here and now and she'd never felt so brilliantly alive.

He undid her belt, slid it away from her waist. She heard the buckle  clank onto the tiled floor of the balcony. He ran featherlight fingers  up her arms, over her shoulders, raising a host of goose-bumps on her  skin.

"Cold?" he asked, parting the long tresses of her hair to bare the halter neck-strap.

"No. I think madly stimulated covers it."

He laughed again-happy laughter that made her heart dance with  exhilaration. "Same for me," he said, kissing her nape as he separated  the straps that had held her bodice in place.

Her scalp tingled. The heat from his mouth burned a trail right from her  head to her toes. The top of her dress slid down, leaving her breasts  naked to the cooling breeze from the sea. Her nipples tightened into  longer, harder protrusions, sensitive to the sudden freedom and change  of temperature. Then the zipper at the back of her waist was released  and her skirt slithered down to her feet. Thumbs hooked into the  G-string, which was the only other garment she wore. It was lowered in a  quick swoop.

"Lift your feet, one at a time, Erin."

She did as she was told, listening to the rustle of her clothes being  swept out of the way. He did not remove her sandals. It was unbelievably  erotic, standing in strappy high-heels while his fingers circled her  fine-boned ankles, then drifted upwards, caressing her calves, gently  rubbing the hollow behind her knees, stroking her thighs, hands cupping  and gently squeezing the soft roundness of her buttocks, then gliding  around the curve of her hips to spread across her stomach, fingers  fanning back and forth over the sensitive area beneath her hip-bones.

Her heart was not dancing anymore. It was a wildly thumping drum. Her  mind was so tightly focussed on his touch, she barely remembered to  breathe, only releasing and scooping in air when her chest threatened to  burst. Every muscle in her body was quivering from a sensory overload.  Her breasts seemed to be swelling, yearning for his hands to be on them.  Then they were, possessively encasing them, the hard nipples trapped  between fingers that used a rolling friction to excite them into even  more prominence.

The desire to feel him in the same way surged over her enthralment with  his touch. She grasped his hands and pulled them down, took a deep  breath to fire herself up for action and swivelled around to face him.

"You, now," she said insistently.

He looked startled, frowning slightly, maybe not liking the abrupt  interruption to his taking pleasure in her body. Erin's stomach  contracted in nervous apprehension. Had she broken the magic spell of  the night? Spoiled what could have been?

Relief poured through her as his expression cleared, his eyes lighting  with amused understanding, a wide grin assuring her of acceptance.  "Control is yours, Erin. Do what you want with it."

Control?

The realisation flashed through her mind that he was remembering what  she'd said over dinner … I will not give control of my life to someone  else. But she had tonight, letting him take over, submitting to his  lead, trusting him …

Why?

Because it felt right to be with him.         

     



 

And he was proving it was right by putting himself in her hands. He  might stride across his own world with all the self-assurance of a  giant, but he was also a giver, and big enough for his male ego not to  be threatened by anything she did. He was saying, go for it.

An exultant joy raced through Erin. He was giving her complete freedom  to do whatever she wanted with him. "Okay … " A heady sense of power  beamed through her grin back at him. "Your princess commands you not to  move unless she says so."