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"Okay," I agree. “I won’t force you to abort any child you conceive.”
"I’ll need it in writing," she responds. "The contract needs to be adjusted."
"The updated one will be sent to you tomorrow morning."
"Okay," she says and starts to turn away, but I catch her hand and pull her back.
"Not until tomorrow," she mumbles, but I don’t hear her. Instead, I draw her closer and sliding my hand around her waist, I swoop down on her trembling mouth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
LARA
Iknow I should step back, and say NO clearly; it’s what I should do until I have my amendment in black and white. But there’s something about his barely checked power in the large hand on the small of my back that overwhelms me and bends me to his will. And there’s also the undeniable fact that the man’s nearly naked.
I couldn’t believe it when I first walked in and saw him wearing nothing but a towel, the fabric barely clinging to his hips. All the glory of his beautifully sculpted, gorgeously tight muscles on display. I knew I’d been deceiving myself all night. I’m undeniably attracted to him, and that’s the real reason I even considered this arrangement in the first place. If he had not been so attractive to me this would never have been an option. He’s stunning, confident, and exudes power, and it drives me wild.
He is my dream man!
And now it is clear to both of us that I have totally and absolutely surrendered to his will. He is kissing me with an intensity that leaves me breathless. My captured lips tingle and throb. Even in my wildest dreams I never imagined anyonecould kiss like this—so deeply, so desperately, and yet with a perfect balance of roughness and tenderness. He’s both delicate and demanding, teasing and relentless, and he’s doing things to me I’ve never experienced before.
I lose all sense of control. My arms instinctively circle his shoulders, pulling him even closer. It is unbelievable how much I want him, and how much I want to just surrender to this feeling.
"No, no," I whisper, as my hand brushes against his bare skin. I realize he’s completely naked. At some point, the towel must have slipped off, and now my hands are tracing the hard lines of his body and creeping towards his maleness. He’s rock hard, and my breath catches. I look up and meet his eyes. In this light, they seem almost black with heat and desire. Never has a man looked at me like this. As if he will die if he cannot have me. It is shocking.
I cannot look away from the naked need. For what seems like an eternity we stare at each other, almost in disbelief at the intensity of our craving. The desire is such that I actually feel a wave of dizziness engulf me and make me sway.
He catches me by my forearms. “What’s the matter?”
"It’s nothing. I just…I feel a bit dizzy," I stammer.
He scoops me up into his strong arms and holds me against his hard body. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Breakfast,” I reply, quite happy to pretend that the almost-fainted episode was caused by a hunger for food and not him. “You might as well put me down. The dizzy spell is gone now and I feel fine.”
He puts me down. “I’ll ring Muriel and get her to rustle something up for you.”
I swallow and step away from him. His nearness is so distracting I can barely think straight. “No, please don’t disturb her. She asked me if I wanted something to eat and I said no.She’s probably asleep now. There are strawberries in my room. I’ll eat them.”
He turns away from me and casually walks towards his towel. Good God, I can’t get enough of his naked butt. When he turns around to face me, I try my hardest to keep my eyes on his face and not on his very enticing lower half.
"Fine," he says, his tone crisp. "I’ll whip something up for you."
"You? You can cook?" I ask, quite shocked.
"I’ll make you my famous spaghettiaglio e olio," he says with a boyish grin.
The grin makes him look like a different man. One I would love to get to know. "A Russian specializing in an Italian dish?"
“I once had an Italian friend who shared his secret recipe.”
“You mean, a girlfriend?” I feel like kicking myself as soon as the words are out. I sound almost jealous.
He looks at me speculatively. “No, a male friend. He died in a car crash in Monaco.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble lamely. I’m such an idiot.
He nods. “Think you can walk on your own?”