Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1) (19 page)

“There’s an oversize tub in the bathroom,” she called out. “Big enough for two.”

Nick appeared at the bedroom door straight away. He’d shaved that morning, but evening stubble on the sharp planes of his handsome face gave him a sexy edge. The collar of his pin-striped, button down shirt was open at the throat and untucked, the sleeves rolled up on his strong forearms. He leaned against the doorframe, gazing at her with a seductive smile and arresting midnight blue eyes.

“Ah, so you’d rather have me than a cookie,” she teased, her pulse tripping up.

He stepped out of his shoes and headed toward her. “You’re the only sweet I plan on eating tonight.” He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his pants, tossing them on the bed before he reached her. “Get out of those clothes, baby, or I’ll strip you down myself,” he growled.

“Go ahead. I’m waiting…” she taunted, looking at him over her shoulder with a naughty smile. She turned and arched her back, her head tilted so she could see him while he unzipped her dress.

Nick’s eyes caught on hers, burning with carnal intensity and the promise of fierce lovemaking. “You like to play with fire,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm and tickly as his hands slid down her sides, squeezing and caressing the indentation of her waist, the swell of her hips. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes with a breathless moan of anticipation. A tight, coiling surge of desire made her knees buckle as she slumped against him.

Nick’s strong hands on her hips held her steady as his lips brushed the back of her neck and traveled down her spine. Inch by inch, he unzipped the dress and revealed her creamy skin, pressing kisses on her flushed skin along the way. With a practiced flick, he unsnapped her bra and slid his warm hands around her torso to cup her cool, bare breasts. His blunt fingertips tweaked her sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure so acute her skin tingled and moist heat gathered between her thighs.

“I want you now,” he whispered, his voice raw, his breath hot with desire in the sensitized shell of her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, caught up in a whirlwind of pleasurable sensations. He nipped the back of her neck and goose bumps spread over her skin as thrilling tingles made her moan huskily.

“I’m going to bury myself inside you. I want all of your tight, sweet warmth, over and over again,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

He spun her around and held her face between his hands as he kissed her deeply, his tongue mimicking what his body would be doing to her soon. Her dress and bra slipped off and landed in a pile around her ankles. His thumbs hooked into her silk panties and slid them down her shaky legs to join her dress. She stepped forward, her breasts pebbling into hard pinpoints as they rubbed against his hard chest. She clung to him naked and vulnerable,
wanting, wanting, wanting
.

Sliding his arms under her thighs, his broad palms cupped her buttocks and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders. His thick arousal pressed against her as he backed her to the wall.

Veronique gasped when he entered her in one neat stroke. Naked and primed for urgent lovemaking, their bodies fused together. She was so wet and violently aroused, she could scarcely breathe as he surged inside her, each stroke stronger, deeper than the last. Her pelvis lurched forward, taking in the raw hunger of his passion. His slow, deliberate thrusts made her go wild. She threw her head back and moaned loudly, so close, so close, her body began to implode. She couldn’t take another second. Pure, frenzied pleasure burst through her as she spiraled out of control, panting raggedly, writhing and crying out her release.

“That’s right, baby, shout it out,” he urged, his voice savage. “Open your eyes,” he commanded and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re mine. Mine,” he grunted, punctuating each word with greedy thrusts culminating in a vigorous climax.

“Yes, Nick. Yours,” she cried, quivering as delicious tremors of release rocked her senses.

Their bodies still joined, he walked her to the bed.

“Nick,” she whispered when the thrilling aftershocks subsided and she lay beside him in a blissful daze.

“Hmm?” His voice was a low, sexy rumble in his chest.

She propped up on her forearms and looked into his sated, heavy-lidded eyes. “Did you mean it when you said we’re going back when we’re done with business here?” She smiled hesitantly and added, “I mean…am I going back with you?”

“Yes, baby. I’m not letting you out of my sight. I can’t imagine home without you in it.”

Struck speechless at the certainty in his tone, her heart soared. “Thank you,” she said, when she found her voice.

“My pleasure…definitely mine,” he murmured, turning her on her side and spooning her. He pressed a kiss on the side of her neck and nuzzled it.

“Let’s take a hot, leisurely soak in that big tub,” she said after a languorous pause.

“Rest now, bathe later,” he said, smoothing her curls from her face as he wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and hugged her close.

“Okay,” she agreed readily, exhilarated at the thought of going back to Starfish Island with Nick. She sighed dreamily and closed her eyes.

It didn’t get any better than this.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next morning, Nick was all business. By seven he had showered, shaved and was dressed in a starched blue business shirt and tan tailored slacks that drew attention to his powerful physique and presence. Veronique’s face lit up with a proud smile, watching him in action. He was in his element, commanding and forthright while he talked to Fred on the phone in the living room area.

Giving him privacy to discuss his affairs, she stepped away from the doorway and called room service. Ravenous after their incredible night together, she ordered a potato, mushroom and gruyere omelet with buttered toast for Nick and a Belgian waffle with strawberries for herself. Adding orange juice and champagne for mimosas and a pot of coffee, she hung up and got ready. After the luxurious, hot bath last night, she just needed to get dressed and run her fingers through her hair to give it shape.

Twenty minutes later, she heard a knock on the door and ran to answer it. “Room service is here,” she crowed on her way to the door.

The server wheeled in a table covered with a white tablecloth. Two silver domed plates, a carafe of coffee, a bottle of champagne and a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice were arranged around a small bouquet of spring flowers.

Nick tipped the server and when he left, he lifted each dome and looked inside. “Looks good. Glad you ordered champagne too.”

Veronique couldn’t contain her joyful smile. She was thrilled to her toes to be having breakfast in a gorgeous suite with the gorgeous man she loved.

“Will you pour us some mimosas?”

“Sure,” Nick said, simultaneously pouring the champagne and orange juice into crystal flutes with two hands.

He handed her a glass, and she raised it to him. “To the CEO of The Cameron Hope Foundation,” she toasted with a warm smile.

Nick clinked his glass with hers. “And to the best investigative reporter I know.”

“Aw, thank you. How did your call go with Fred?”

“It went very well. He’s calling the other board members to meet with each one individually.”

“I just want everything to be resolved right away. I hate the waiting part.”

“Me too, baby. Let’s watch the news.” He turned on the TV with the remote control and switched channels until he landed on a national news station.

They ate with the news in the background on low volume.

“Yum, this waffle is delicious. I wonder who the chef is now. Teddy knows all the celebrity chefs in South Beach and she was trying to get—”

“Fuck!” Nick suddenly shouted. He shot up from the table, knocking over his coffee and scaring the living daylights out of Veronique.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed when she saw his livid face. She nervously blotted the spilled coffee with her cloth napkin as he raised the volume.

Nick didn’t utter a word. His rapt attention was riveted to the screen.

Veronique followed his gaze and choked on the bit of waffle in her mouth when she saw Nick’s picture on the screen with a banner across that said, “Breaking News.”

Listening intently, Nick didn’t move a muscle. His face was a shocked mask of disbelief as the veteran anchorwoman, Carla Kincaid, spoke.

“Reclusive billionaire Nick Cameron has been living on Starfish Island on the Gulf Coast for the past six months,” Carla said. “We bring you ACE News reporter, Veronique Whitcomb’s first hand report.” She chuckled and shook her head. “And from the likes of it, the hunky corporate raider may soon become an instant heartthrob sensation.”

The videotape opened with a sweeping panorama of his house and the land surrounding it, then it focused on Nick, bare-chested and chiseled in low rise jeans working in the yard. Close-ups of his face in deep concentration played on the screen as Veronique’s voice narrated, “Hurricane Abby tore apart Nick’s paradise, but that hasn’t deterred him. He’s powerful and unstoppable.” At the end of the segment, the camera zoomed in on the picture of him she’d taken in his closet when he was covered in dusty plaster.

“Uh oh.” Carla chuckled and turned to her co-anchor. “Looks like there’s going to be trouble in paradise!”

“Oh no,” Veronique mumbled, her hand going to her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t bear to look—it was unbelievable, strange…and disturbing. Her camera had been in her suitcase the whole time, underneath her clothes. No one had been inside the house but her and Nick. How had this happened? Her stomach constricted into a knot of anguish and her throat went dry. She could barely form words, terrified to meet Nick’s eyes.

“I’m just as stunned as you are,” she said, her voice strangled.

“
You’re
stunned.” He faced her, his eyes blazing with cynicism, the corners of his mouth turned down harshly.

“Yes. I have no idea how that video was leaked. I never meant anyone to see it but me. And especially not you!” she cried, her whole world crashing down.

“Who
are
you?” he demanded, his tone razor-sharp with censure.

“I’m Ronnie, the girl who loves you,” she said, her heart squeezing painfully. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t look at me that way, Nick. It’s true. I told you I’ve loved you since I was a little girl.” She felt awkward saying it, like she was begging him to love her back, but she had to. Earlier this week, he’d finally told her he trusted her. She couldn’t let that trust be destroyed by an inexplicable turn of events.

He shook her off and turned away. His body rigid, he stalked to the bedroom.

“Nick! Please. Listen to me,” she pleaded.

Ignoring her calls, he threw his belongings into his suitcase and snapped it shut.

She raced to his side, her heart thudding at harrowing speed as she tried to breathe. She grappled with shallow breaths, gulping air into her tight chest, trying not to hyperventilate.

She grabbed her purse and pulled out her camera. “Look my camera’s in my purse. It’s never been out of my possession!”

His eyes, sharp blue glass shards, sliced through her heart with accusation. “You fed it to the press to boost your career. What’s next, the inside scoop?”

“Stop it! How can you say such a despicable thing?” she asked, devastated he could think so little of her. “Is that what you believe? That I’m a selfish person who’d sell your soul for my gain?”

“Spare me your lies,” he said furiously.

Scalding indignation rose inside of her, scorching every pore of her body. “I’m
innocent
, Nick!”

“You lied when you said you wouldn’t take any more pictures. I should have known not to trust you,” he said scathingly.

She flinched at his brutal tone. Thick, bitter humiliation clogged her throat as she blinked back burning tears. She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling, but her chin quivered pitifully.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

She put her hands out in supplication, hoping to reach the Nick she’d been intimate with all week…the Nick she loved. “Nick, please be reasonable. Don’t you remember what it feels like to be falsely accused?”

His jaw unyielding, his mouth formed a grim line as his eyes turned chillingly somber. “I do remember. Very clearly in fact. I’ve already dealt with one treacherous woman. I won’t deal with another,” he said, his face frozen, his eyes uncompromising. “I’m done.”

His words tore into her like a thousand daggers, shredding the last of her hope.

“You can’t mean that,” she pleaded, but her pleas landed on deaf ears as he stalked away.

“Nick!” she shouted and fell to her knees. Tremors of despair racked her body, rendering her helpless to rise from the floor.

He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Hugging her quaking body, Veronique told herself it was a nightmare and that she’d wake up soon. But it was real and too convoluted for her to figure out.

She lay huddled on the ground for a long time, unable to get up, unable to even cry, shell-shocked beyond tears and words. Why? How had this happened? They’d been alone in the house the whole time. She’d fallen so deeply in love with Nick, she couldn’t imagine him disposing of her that way. As if she meant nothing to him.

The scene played itself in her mind over and over again, not making any sense and making her feel more panicked by the moment.

I’ve already dealt with one treacherous woman. I won’t deal with another
.
I’m done
. Nick’s callous words broke her heart with their awful finality. The look of bitter condemnation in his eyes would remain imprinted in her mind forever.

Veronique covered her face and toppled over sideways as sobs rose from her chest and tore through her throat. Her tears let loose and poured out of her eyes like a waterfall. She sobbed until she was limp with exhaustion.

Nick was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nick tipped the valet, threw his suitcase in the car’s trunk and slammed it shut. When he got in the car and turned on the ignition, his sunglasses fogged up from the steam heat trapped inside. Even after being parked in the hotel garage, the interior was hot enough to cook a meal, but it was nothing compared to how steamed he was. His hands shook as he cranked up the air conditioner and aimed the vents at his face, welcoming the cold blast of air on his fevered skin.