A Deal With the Devil (10 page)

Feeling raw she straightened up, let his fingers slide from her grasp. Her heart was just about smashed but she didn’t pity him, not at all. “Oh my God, no. I’m in awe that you got out at all. That you got out whole.”

He took a moment to answer her, thought about his response. “Thing is, Kate, I don’t know if I did. I have nothing to give anyone—I’m empty. A shell. Cold.”

She took that to be more about the shield he wore, than a warning, even if he thought it was the latter. “No you’re not. Look at what you’ve achieved with your life. Look at you. Look at how you helped that street kid. Look at your amazing business success. Is that not enough?”

“I don’t know, Kate. Is anything enough?”

You are.
She reached her hand to him and he took it, gripping it like some kind of lifeline. He looked at her then, eyes filled with the agony of his past and she held his gaze as long as she dared.

And oh, he was beautiful. So beautiful it caught her breath. She inched backwards to take in the raw fierce energy, the scars of his life. A fighter. There was a script tattooed on his wrist. She pushed his jacket sleeve up, but she couldn’t read the words. “May I?”

He shrugged.

Wordlessly she shrugged the jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His eyes never left hers but he let her do it. Then she pushed back his sleeve and read the italic lettering:
fall down seven times, stand up eight
. A boxing mantra? She ran her fingertips down it, taking the meaning to heart—whatever demons he faced, he would overcome, and would never ever submit.

“I love it. Any more?”

His eyebrows rose, but without answering he unbuttoned his shirt, slid it off then turned slowly away from her.

“Oh. Wow. I mean … oh, my God, wow.” In black and white ink huge feathered wings opened across his shoulder blades, an angel down the centre of his spine, floating over the smooth curves of his back. Serene and beatific, the angel was looking down—a mysterious expression on her face; a mixture of love and despair. The words
C’est cela l’amour, tout donner, tout sacrifier…
across his hips.

Mesmerised, Kate ran her hands over the words, over the sculpted muscle and ink. Her mouth was dry, her heart beating a ferocious rhythm. “What does it mean?”

“‘
That is love, to give away everything, to sacrifice everything
 …’” Rey’s voice fractured. “She is my mother.”

“I see.” It was a strange quote, a strange idea of love. It was stunning, but haunting. Desolate. Kate’s hands continued to explore the contours of his back, traced the artwork reverently, the muscles, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades. “Watching over you?”

He shrugged, and for the first time she noticed he had that French way of shrugging, a kind of nonchalant
I don’t give a damn what you think
. She also knew instinctively that the tattoo and quote were deeply personal to him and he was trying hard not to show it. “Something like that.”

“It’s … astonishing. Amazing. I love it, I really do.”

“I didn’t write it—it’s by Victor Hugo.”

She’d meant to say that she loved the angel, not the words, they were too raw for her. “The French writer? I have to say, though, it’s pretty sad if that’s what he thinks love’s all about.” She thought about her own mother and how much she’d given up for her children, but had endlessly said they’d been the light of her life. Kate knew that there’d been sacrifices but a lot of happiness too. Love had enriched all their lives. “There is a give-and-take thing that happens in proper love.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Kate wanted to ask him more about his mother, but sensed he’d given enough. For a second Rey closed his eyes, but when he opened them again he smiled, made a pretence of checking her over, turning her round and round, pushing up her sleeves. “No tattoos?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” She smiled. He was back.

“You do know that’s an offer I’m not going to refuse?” His palm was on her neck now, sending heat shimmering through her, reaching to her core and stroking. “You’re not going to run away again?”

Oh, she knew she should. Run fast away from here and never look back. But it was as if some mysterious magnetic force pulled her towards him. She couldn’t have staggered, let alone run. Her feet seemed determined to stay exactly where they were. She also knew that this was her call, that he would not take without consent. And if she didn’t say those words out loud she would regret it forever.

“No. I’m not going to run.”

“In that case …” He cupped her face in both his hands and slid his mouth over hers. Gently at first, as if he sensed the tension coiling through her. Crazy thoughts buzzed through her head. That she should not be here, that he would use her. That this was wild and foolish. And yes, it was all those things, but it was so much more. As his tongue ran over her bottom lip she opened to him, her belly tightening in response to his heat. To his taste of liquor, and man, and an exciting impossible risk.

Snaking her hands over his bare skin she traced the delineated curves of his biceps, the bunched taut pectoral muscles punctuated with scars that made him more, so much more. When he dragged his mouth from hers and pressed it against her neck she curled into him, surprised at the moan in her throat. When he pressed closer she felt the full thick hardness of him against her belly causing her already unravelling control to disappear altogether. She wanted this enthralling man. Wanted all of him.

His hands grazed her nipples, first over her blouse, then under her bra, the heat of his skin against hers sending ripples of sensation through her. With confident fingers he undid the buttons on her blouse and ripped it from her. With a flick he undid her bra, then his mouth was on her nipple, suckling hot and wet and hungry. She dug her fingers into his untamed hair, twisting the soft strands in her fingers as every breath on her skin stoked the furnace in her gut.

Her words were ragged and rough. “God, please don’t ever stop.”

“No? Is this what you want, Kate?” Then he was laying her down on the desk, running his hands up and down her body. He stopped at the hem of her skirt and pushed it up, fingers finding her panties, the wetness he’d created. The intensity and desire in his eyes ablaze. There would be no stopping. His fingers brushed over her clitoris. “This?”

“God, yes.” Her body craved his closeness. Dragging him to her she slammed her mouth against his, taking what she needed. But it was not enough. She wanted to feel him inside her.

And then, from nowhere guilt ripped through her once more. He had shared so much of himself and she was living a lie, making him believe she was someone she wasn’t. It was time to be as honest as him. But what to tell him? All of it? Part of it? Wrenching her mouth from his she made a start, “Rey, there’s something I need to say—”

His mouth brushed hers to silence her. “Shhh … no more talking.”

“But—”

“No more pasts. I’m through with that.” He was still hard, pressing against her. Still hungry. His fingers on her mouth, tracing her lips. “I want you, Kate. I want you now.”

“God, yes. I want you, Rey. So much.” So much that she wouldn’t break this moment—she might never have it again.

She would tell him the truth. She would. She would lay everything open to him. Later. Soon. When he was ready to hear it, when all this urgency was no longer a deep distraction that needed to be fed. For now she lifted her face to his and melted into his kiss, gave herself up to him, as honest and as open as she could be. She told him, without words, that she had nothing but admiration for him and what he’d survived. That she wanted him more for knowing about his past. That he was enough.

Rey had come back to life with her kisses, a gnawing, desperate need. No one knew the full trauma he’d suffered, and no one ever would, but saying just that small amount out loud to someone who wanted to hear it had set something alight in his chest. Something had shifted, there was light there in the blackness. Pushing her on to the desk he looked at this woman and something stirred deeper within him, something base and feral. And he wanted nothing more than to be inside her.

He wanted her, even though he didn’t understand her. Even though there was still that something he couldn’t put his finger on—something out of place. And he was going to have her, exquisitely slowly, upstairs in his suite, not down here like a clumsy office boy catching a quick tawdry grope. Maybe then, when they’d given in to this insatiable need, the pieces of Kate’s complicated jigsaw would fall into place.

And yes, he knew that a better man would not take her deeper into his world when he could never give her what she’d no doubt ultimately want, despite her protestations to the contrary—a piece of his sullied heart. But they’d already crossed a line and there was no going back. He hauled her against his chest, fisted his hands in her hair and pressed his mouth over hers. Greedy, hungry. “I want you, Kate. Forget the past. I’m not going back there, not for you or anyone else. I’m going upstairs right now and you’re coming with me.”

K
ate imagined the
penthouse suite was impressive, with panoramic views to die for and plush expensive furniture befitting one of London’s rich-listers, but she didn’t notice; her attention was focused entirely on the face in front of her. On the mouth that had already given her so much pleasure. Truly, she could have been back down in the office, on his motorbike, anywhere, just so long as she was in his arms. Money and power were nothing compared to this, to his touch, to his scent.

His kiss was slow and giving as he carried her to the bedroom. His tongue gentle against her neck, kissing a slick trail to her throat, heat rushed through her, pooling deep.
I want to know more,
she thought
. An honourable man in a dishonourable world.
He was nothing like the man she’d created in her head.

And she was nothing like the woman she’d created for him, a manufactured lie. But now she could show him who she was, what she wanted, what she could give. Who she could be. Now she could be real.

The bedroom was lit in soft golden tones, a large dark wood bed with gilded covers. She let him lay her down on the duvet and then she kneeled, reaching for the top button of the shirt he’d hurriedly thrown back on for decency’s sake as they’d navigated the back corridors and service lift. As she plundered his mouth she popped the pearl buttons, pushed the fabric from his body. Then she ran her fingers across tanned skin, the tight belly, ridges of muscles and dips. The defined abs were magnificent, a stepladder down to a fine trail of dark hair. She pressed her mouth above his belly button and inhaled his soothing, exciting smell.

“Not so fast. You first.” He lifted her hands from his body and wound his fingers into hers, lay her back against the sheet and kissed her again. His taste was fresh and new and yet familiar … addictive. Her hands went to his back, cupping his buttocks as she ground against him, desperate to feel him against her, inside her. But he pulled away a little, removed her blouse again and then paused as he looked at her. “I want to taste you.”

“God, yes,” she just about managed to say, before she gasped. His lips grazed first one nipple then the other. Heat coiled in her gut as he kissed down her stomach. Then he dragged her skirt off, discarding it on the floor, ripped her panties aside. His tongue tickled her thigh and she opened her legs for him. His mouth was hot against her curls and she thought … no, she lost all train of thought when his fingers parted her folds and his tongue was on her, in her, lapping against her nub.

Pure bright light flickered behind her eyes. Pressure began to mount deep inside her. She bucked against his mouth, against his hand. He slipped a finger inside her, two. And she was gasping and reaching for him, tugging her hands through his untamed hair and crying out. “Rey. Oh, God, Rey. That’s … that’s … Oh, my God.”

And he held her firm against the bed as the orgasm shook through her.

For a few seconds she lay gasping for breath, both depleted and energised at the same time, a smile she couldn’t stop on her lips. “That was … fun.”

“It certainly was.” Licking her nipples he nudged her back to life. “I reckon a man would never tire of watching you come. Quite a show.”

“Why thank you, kind sir. But now it’s your turn.” He was thick and hard beneath the suit fabric, pressing against her thigh.

But he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. “Na-ah. I can wait … I prefer to take the PADS approach.”

“Oh yes? Which is?” Her hand strayed to his trousers, tugged on the zip, her knuckles grazing against his erection, his groan sending shivers of heat skittering across her belly. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It stands for: passion, attitude, determination and sacrifice.” He ticked the words off on his fingers. “It’s how I got where I am. It’s my approach to life, work and fighting.”

“And hopefully sex?” Because it would be a damned shame if it wasn’t.

“Hell, yes.”

“I like the way you think.”

His hand stilled hers along with the zip. “So now, back to you. I get to give you what you want … and only then do I get what I want. Although watching you come again would hardly be a sacrifice.”