Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (119 page)

“About two and half hours north of here, in the Catskills.” It was her turn to stare as he bit into a fig. She imagined those teeth closing gently over her nipple, those sensual lips sucking the hard bud, and shuddered. Moisture flooded the already slick folds of her pussy. Why couldn’t she control herself around this man?

“That’s lovely country,” Henry said.

Sophie blinked at him, trying to remember what the last thing she had said was. It took a minute. She sipped her wine to cover the lapse. “Oh, yes,” she answered, remembering. “It is. I miss it sometimes.” She shrugged. “So how did you get a place like this?”

He rubbed his thumb idly over a rough spot on the table’s surface, glancing briefly up at her through his lashes. “I work in real estate. The company is my father’s,” he said. His voice had gone dead.

His answer was brief, conveying the barest minimum of information. Best to move on. “Do you have music you prefer? I’ve brought some, if not.” She raised her iPod. Henry’s eyes flashed up to her, and she read surprise in their inky depths.

He drained the last of his wine and stood. “You can play what you like. I’ve got a dock in the sitting room we can use.”

Sophie took his extended hand, letting him draw her up out of the chair. “Well then,” she said, “shall we dance?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he led her through another set of sliding glass doors, into what he’d called the sitting room. It was a rectangular room, with a fireplace taking up nearly an entire long wall. A pair of loveseats had been pushed back, clearing a wide space on the floor, and a rug that was surely Persian was rolled up against the fire’s immaculate grate.

The wood floor beneath was a deep cherry color and polished to a high shine. The iPod dock Henry had mentioned was on one of the matching cherry end tables, small and discrete. Sophie set down her bag. She took out her water bottle and drank a long sip before plugging her iPod into the sound dock. She keyed up a song and turned to Henry as the first beats drifted out through his speakers.

When he took her hand and drew her against him, his hold was even more intimate than it had been in the past. His hand on her back slid from her shoulder blade to rest against the small of her back, just above the curve of her ass. He pressed her so tightly against his body that she could feel the hard round outline of his shirt buttons and the cool metal of his belt buckle touching the flat plane of her belly.

Neither one of them added any space as they began to dance. Their hips and torsos twisted, their legs and feet moved to the beat, but they remained touching from shoulder to groin. Their previous two dances had stuck almost entirely to the accepted, classical form of tango. But not this time. This would be sensual.

Sophie gripped the hair at the nape of Henry’s neck with curled fingers, her face pressed into the warm length of his throat, her right arm dangling gracefully at her side while he dragged her forward, one big hand wrapped around her left thigh, holding it to his hip.

He pivoted, turning, supporting her entire weight as he bent over her, his breath ruffling against the hardened peaks of her breasts as he dropped his head. She slid her right hand over his chest, clutching at his shirt. His strength was the only thing keeping them up as she hung elegantly in his grasp. Sophie’s heart sank low into her belly, beating like a frantic butterfly between her thighs. She bit her lip as he spun her upright, swallowing her gasp as he moved into a calesita, like he had the other day. But this one felt different. That had been a bit of play, silliness. Today, he moved around her like a big cat stalking prey, his dark eyes hot on her face.

Henry pulled her into his chest, his cheek pressing against her hair. She could hear the rasp of his breath in her ear. His hard thigh slid between her legs, rubbing deliciously against her heated sex. Sophie undulated herself, stroking the length of his body with her own. Never before had she danced quite like this—a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, indeed. Horizontal, vertical, at an angle, she didn’t care how so long as she could express it.

She wasn’t the only one. Sophie felt the fleeting brush of Henry’s rock hard cock against her hip as he twisted and shuddered. His eyes snapped sparks at her, setting her skin aflame anywhere they rested. Pure, powerful want blazed through her veins, incinerating every other thought she might have had.

And then he leaned her back into a colgada, and her bad knee buckled. Sophie slipped, and would have fallen, heavily, onto her back if Henry hadn’t caught her and righted her. He made to move them seamlessly into a molinette, but her knee trembled unsteadily beneath her. Sophie wrenched herself from his arms, stumbling blindly to the nearest loveseat, eyes filling with stinging tears.

“Sophie?” Henry’s voice was rough with desire and worry. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead, she desperately massaged her aching knee where the muscles were beginning to knot and prayed for them to loosen. This was what she had feared. The weakness and ugliness of her injury bringing her low in front of Henry. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as the tears spilled over her lashes and ran down her heated cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s my... I’m sorry. I’ll go.” She knocked the dock over in her haste to snatch her iPod as more tears poured down her face, wetting the front of her t-shirt as they dripped off her chin. She shouldered her bag hastily, trying to tuck her face against her shoulder so he wouldn’t see her tear-stained and blotchy. “I’ll just go,” she repeated, standing quickly. But her knee seized again and she cried out in pain, pitching forward. Henry’s strong hands caught her shoulders, cupping firmly, and pressed her back into the loveseat. She went, unable to stand on the knee anyway.

He touched her damp chin. “Sophie, stop. Look at me,” His voice was quiet, but firm. She obeyed, raising her face to his. He nodded. “Good. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Sophie’s fingers dug into the muscle above her left knee. She sniffled. “It’s my knee.”

“I gathered that. What’s wrong with it?”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. There was no way out of explaining at least some of it. She couldn’t get up and leave, after all. Her damn knee wouldn’t let her. “Six years ago I was in Thailand for a competition. I had an accident.” She swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks. “It was a stupid slip and fall and I landed on a sharp steel plate. It should have been nothing. But it ended up costing me my career, and it still isn’t fully healed.” She finally raised her solemn gaze to his. “It’s why I don’t dance anymore.”

“Until I asked you.” It wasn’t a question, but Sophie nodded anyway. Henry wiped some of the tears from her cheek. “And it hurts badly right now?”

She bit her lip, but she could hardly deny it. She’d screamed when she tried to get up.  She sighed. “Yes, it hurts badly.” It killed her to admit it to him, but when he asked her a direct question, she didn’t have it in her to lie.

“Stay right here.” He was gone before she could reply. She heard the sound of running water, drawers opening and closing, the clink of glass, and then silence. She frowned, trying to breath through the pain of her knotting muscles, massaging her knee.

She jerked up as the glass door slid open and Henry once more appeared from the terrace, arms laden with various objects. He thrust a glass of wine into her hand. “Here, drink this. It will help you relax.”

“I should probably—”

“Drink the wine.”

She blinked in surprise at his commanding tone and sipped the wine. He set a bottle of aspirin beside her on the end table, near her water bottle. Next to that he set a jar of Tiger Balm. Sophie recognized the distinctive red and gold container. There was one in nearly every room of her apartment.

Henry surprised her again, getting to his knees in front of her. The last item he held was a damp washcloth. He lifted her chin with his left hand, wiping her cheeks with the soft, cool cloth. Sophie sighed at the gentle gesture, and Henry smiled.

“There. Now, let’s have a look at this knee.”

His words sent hot shards of panic into her heart and she clutched her knee with her left hand. “That’s not necessary. Once I have the wine and the aspirin I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Sophie,” he said, his deep voice brooking no argument. “Let me see your knee.”

Sophie took a deep breath and moved her hand. She gulped wine, breathing heavily as he inspected the troublesome joint carefully.

Henry smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she breathed, answering automatically as she stared into the lambent ebony of his eyes. Sophie felt his hand lifting the hem of her pants leg, but didn’t care. Or rather, she cared, but she didn’t
mind
. His knuckles lightly brushed her calf as he raised the loose material up. He pushed it gently over her knee, fingers grazing her inner thigh as he tucked it out of the way. But his eyes never left hers.

He smoothed the fabric, stroking the curve of her thigh, before lowering his gaze. Sophie tensed, sucking in a sharp breath and squeezing her own eyes closed, anticipating the shuttering of that heated gaze, the blank plasticity of his face as he struggled to contain his disgust. Just like Christian had before he left.

She jumped, whimpering, as she felt him trace his fingertip along the side of her kneecap. The scar there wasn’t nearly as terrible as it had been, thick and twisted, before the cosmetic surgery. But it was still white and raised. And the flesh of her thigh, just above the knee, was pale and pitted where the infection had eaten away at her. Her leg looked as if a large beast had taken a bite of it. Which was, in fact, how it had felt at the time.

Sophie knew the knotted muscles would be standing out beneath her skin, writhing like serpents. But Henry’s touch was warm and gentle. He cupped the back of her knee, fingers digging cautiously into the locked tendon there. His thumbs gently massaged the twitching muscles above her kneecap, easing the strain. Sophie groaned.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Henry murmured. He kept rubbing, firmly but not too hard, until the cramp let up. Sophie let out a long sigh of relief, the tension easing from her shoulders as the pain lessened. Henry’s hands kept working, warm and dry against her skin.

“Henry—”

“Drink your wine, Sophie.”

She did as he said, draining the last of the wine. He smiled at her. The look tugged in her belly, sexy and dark.

“Good. Now, take some of those aspirin.” He was still rubbing. The warmth that had begun at his firm touch was spreading up her thigh, into her belly. She set the wine glass down and twisted off the cap of the aspirin bottle, shaking two of the small white pills into her palm. She tossed them back, sipping from her water bottle to wash them down.

Sophie moved to draw her leg out of his grasp. “For a businessman, you’re pretty good at first aid.”

His hands remained firm on her knee, not letting her up. “I have many talents. Don’t move. I still have to put the salve on.”

“I’ll do that when I get home. So it doesn’t get on my clothes.” The second the words were out of her mouth, she saw the flare of heat in his eyes and knew he was picturing her naked. She was too, only adding him to the scene. They both inhaled sharply, staring at each other for a long, quiet moment.

Sophie was intensely aware of his hands on her bare skin, inches from the apex of her thighs. Kneeling as he was, he was almost eye level with her. She didn’t know if he leaned in, or she did, or they both moved at the same time, but his mouth was only a fraction of an inch from hers. She felt his breath against her lips.

“Sophie,” he murmured.

She licked her lips nervously. “Henry—”

But whatever she had been going to say evaporated as his mouth crashed down on hers.

His lips were flame and hers were tinder. She ignited at his touch. Sophie opened beneath his hungry mouth, whimpering as his tongue teased hers with sensuous strokes. He tasted of the wine they’d had earlier, and something else, some dark spice  she couldn’t name. She gripped his shoulders, fingers tightly curling into the fine cotton of his shirt.

Henry sucked at her lower lip, a soft growl in his throat as his strong arms came around her. Just as when they danced, he drew her close against his chest, angling his mouth back over hers. His kisses were hot, wet, voracious, as he returned to her lips again and again, tongues twining erotically.

Sophie ran her hands up the corded muscles of his neck, sliding her fingers into the thick fall of his dark hair. The touch of his mouth on her skin was hotter, more erotic than anything she could have imagined. Her muscles trembled with desire as he dropped little sucking bites along her throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh just above her collarbone sending a cascade of sparks down to the taut peaks of her breasts. She moaned, fingernails scratching against his scalp.

“Henry, please!” She tilted her head back, giving him better access to her throat. She shouldn’t be doing this. There was some reason she should be stopping him. But it seemed very distant and unimportant compared to the throbbing of her heart and the pulsing of her sex.

She felt his fingers curl around the edge of her t-shirt, his knuckles brushing the bare skin of her waist. He lifted his head, bringing his mouth back to hers, running his tongue along the inner satin of her lower lip and nipping it gently. “Raise your arms.”

In Henry’s rich, throaty voice, the words were a welcome command. Sophie obeyed, her eyes locked on his hungry gaze. She trembled as he pulled her shirt up and off, tossing it hastily away, baring her torso. Only the thin white lace of her bra shielded her aching breasts from his eyes.

“Take it off.”

Sophie bit her lip and unhooked her bra, drawing the scrap of lace down her arms and setting it aside.

“
Mio Dio
, Sophie,” Henry murmured gruffly. His hand rose, cupping one of her small breasts, pinching the taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Sophie whimpered at the spear of pleasure that spiked into her belly. He pressed his mouth to hers again with a kiss that left Sophie shaking.

She closed her eyes as Henry bent his head, crying out in delight as she felt the wet velvet of his tongue flick against her breast, tracing circles around the hard peak before sucking it into his mouth and drawing hard. Sophie’s hands came up, once again tangling in his hair as his teeth grazed her sensitive flesh, closing gently over the taut bud.