Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire Page 4

  The air thickened between them, the anticipation building. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, dragged it out of his pants. It followed the tie to the floor and Lia stared. He was perfect.

  Broad shoulders, golden skin over the smooth swell of muscle, a lean flat belly, with an arrow of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his pants. His hand went to his belt and he unbuckled it, then flicked open the button, lowered the zipper. Lia struggled to breathe as heat washed through her. She edged back and sank down onto the bed as her legs threatened to give way. For a second, she clamped her eyes shut tight. When she opened them, he was naked. Her gaze flashed down his body. He was fully erect, his shaft vertical against his lean belly. At the thought of all that masculine power buried inside her, a spasm of pleasure ripped through her. Forcing her eyes upward, she found him watching her, his expression hot and hungry.

  He stalked toward her, nudging open her knees to stand between them. Curling one hand around the back of her neck, he lowered his head and kissed her, gently urging her back until she lay against the mattress.

  His mouth was on her breasts, nipping and sucking at her sensitive nipples, sending darts of exquisite pleasure through her body. Shifting lower, he spread moist, openmouthed kisses across her belly, the jut of her hipbone, dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel. He parted her thighs, so she lay sprawled, open to him, and for a moment, he looked up the length of her body, his gaze catching hers.

  “Remember, tell me…” he said and lowered his face between her thighs.

  The feel of his hot, wet mouth was like nothing she’d ever imagined. He licked long, slow strokes over her flesh, learning the shape of her, pausing to taste, to push inside, then higher to trace lazy circles around her clit until her mind blanked to everything but the pleasure building inside her. Then he sucked the small, engorged bud into his mouth and she came in a rush of pleasure so intense, she almost blacked out.

  His tongue soothed her, then he bit down lightly, and she came again, her back arching from the bed, pushing her against him, drawing out the pleasure.

  She was vaguely aware of him pulling on a condom, coming down over her, and then he was between her thighs, the tip of his cock already nudging at the opening to her body. He filled her with one smooth lunge of his hips. Bracing himself on his elbows, he looked down into her face.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded, unable to utter a word; he was moving inside her, huge and hard, stretching her, slowly at first, then faster as she rose up to meet each thrust. Finally, she closed her eyes, wrapped her legs around his hips, and gave herself up to the savage beauty of his lovemaking.

  …

  When Luc got back from the bathroom, she was sleeping, her lashes dark shadows against her pale cheeks, her lips swollen from his kisses and slightly parted. He lay on his side, resting his head on one elbow and watching the rise and fall of her small, perfect breasts, as he tried to work out just why she moved him so.

  Some small part of his mind nagged that he should be keeping his distance, that he couldn’t afford to let down his guard with this woman; she was after something and for his own safety he needed to find out what that was. But he couldn’t forget the feel of her as she came beneath him. From the shocked expression on her face, he knew no man had given her pleasure before. He also knew that fact shouldn’t matter, but it did—it filled him with an almost primordial satisfaction.

  He couldn’t remember anything as erotic as the way her eyes had eaten him up as he stripped for her. Her expression alone had turned him on so much he’d almost exploded right there. Their lovemaking had hardly been gentle, but she had been with him every step of the way. And at the memory of her coming apart for him, the blood shot to his groin. He was already hot and hard again, and he reached across for another condom. His movement must have disturbed her, because she rolled onto her side, still sleeping. He shifted so he lay behind her, curving his body against her back, wrapping one arm around her, and pulling her closer so her small, tight ass pushed against his groin. His cock nudged the cleft in her buttocks and he had to breathe deeply to get control. This time, he meant to take it slowly, draw out her pleasure, drive any devious thoughts from her mind, so when she thought of him all she would remember was this.

  Cupping one breast, he rubbed his palm over her nipple. It stiffened under his touch and he knew she was awake. He breathed against her skin, kissed the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder. A quiver ran through her as his hand drifted down over her satin smoothness of her belly, to the sweet curve of her hips. He curled a hand around one slender thigh, raising her leg so he could slip his fingers between the drenched folds of her sex. As he eased into her from behind, a small sigh escaped her throat—he was lodged deep inside her, her slick muscles surrounding his shaft.

  One arm held her still, his palm on her breast, fingers toying with her taut nipple, the other teased the swollen flesh between her thighs, rubbing and massaging, feeling her hovering on the edge and backing off until she was shivering in his arms. And all the while, he filled her with slow, controlled strokes, until his own orgasm tightened his balls, tugged at his mind, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer. Taking her clit gently between his finger and thumb, he squeezed lightly until she came with a small scream, her internal muscles clenching him tight, so his own release washed through him, and pleasure flooded his cock, his balls, and raced up his spine.

  …

  Luc awoke relaxed and satiated, his whole body filled with a delicious sensation of well-being. It didn’t last for long. He reached for Lia and found her gone. A wave of loss washed over him—already he missed her. Then he remembered who she was, and he swore softly. Dragging himself up, he glanced at the clock by the bed—it was after midnight.

  When was the last time he had fallen asleep with a woman? And why the hell did he have to choose this one?

  He got out of bed and stretched; his body felt good, even if his mind was raging, hunting for a reason she would have crept out in the middle of the night, a reason other than that she was up to no good. He didn’t want to accept that could be the case. How had she gotten beneath his skin so fast and so deep?

  After pulling on a pair of black, loose linen trousers, he padded barefoot through the sitting room and into the office. There was no sign of Lia, not that he expected one. He knew she was long gone.

  Picking up the phone from the desk, he rang the security guard at the gate. “Carl, the woman I came in with, what time did she leave?”

  He ended the call, sank into the leather chair behind his desk, and thought for a moment. She’d left around eleven thirty. Switching on the monitor, he pressed a few buttons. The CCTV cameras had been installed in his office a couple of years ago; it was useful to go over meetings afterward and study his “opponents’” expressions. Now, he sat back and watched. The screen flickered to life, and he fast-forwarded until he saw Lia come out of the apartment. Wearing his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, the hem skimming her thighs, she looked beautiful, rumpled, and sexy.

  And decidedly shifty.

  For a minute, she stared around the room, obviously searching for something before moving to where her pink dress lay discarded on the floor. Glancing at the door, she wriggled into the dress before slipping the shirt from her shoulders. She peered around the office, her eyes fixing on the bank of cabinets lining one wall. After another nervous glance at the door, she edged over then tried to open one. Luc swore; he’d known her innocent act was too good to be true.

  His eyes narrowed on the screen as he considered the possibilities. Maybe this had nothing to do with her father; maybe she was a setup, an industrial spy. Someone who knew his past could have set it up easily, known exactly who to use to bait the hook. Hell, she might not even be Jimmy Brent’s daughter. But Harley had recognized her, and frankly she was too inept to be any sort of spy.

  Maybe she was just curious. He shook his head in disgust. He could
n’t believe, even now, with the evidence in front of him, that he was hunting for excuses for her, anything to convince himself she wasn’t in league with her treacherous father.

  Now, she was tugging futilely at the handles, only giving up when she’d tried each and every one. Standing back, she glared in frustration then kicked the cabinet with her bare foot, scowling and hopping for a moment.

  Luc smiled grimly; all the locks in this room were controlled by thumbprint, his thumbprint. There was no way she was getting access to any information. Obviously, coming to the same conclusion herself, she gave up and returned to the desk. After staring at the computer, she shook her head, turned to the chair and seemed to consider it for a minute. Sitting down, she winced slightly; she closed her eyes and twirled.

  She got up and headed toward the rest of her things, picking up her jacket but then peering back to the door that led to the living quarters, where he was aware he’d lain blissfully sleeping in post-coital satisfaction, oblivious to the world around him. Dropping her jacket, she tiptoed across the room, through the door, and disappeared. Luc swore again. What was she doing? Probably deciding whether it was safe to murder him in his bed. He shook his head in self-disgust; he must have been out of his mind to let his guard down around Jimmy Brent’s daughter.

  But she reappeared a few minutes later and moved determinedly across the room, picked up her jacket, bag, and shoes, and left the office—this time without looking back.

  Luc switched off the monitor, slipped the disk from the machine, and locked it in the desk drawer. What had she been searching for? Could she be working for her father? Had Jimmy Brent decided to finally finish what he had started so long ago and take Luc out of the picture?

  He didn’t know. But one thing was for sure—he was going to find out.

  Chapter Five

  “Three weeks is not a long time in the whole scheme of things,” Lia told the horse she was grooming. “I need a little longer, that’s all.”

  Given enough time she was sure she would get over this. So what if she went to bed every night and dreamed about him, then woke every morning hot, sweaty, and frustrated? She would get over it. She had to because she refused to end up like her mother. There was no way she was going to wallow in misery over some man for the rest of her life.

  “Maybe for a little bit longer.”

  Looking back, she couldn’t actually believe she had come up with such a stupid plan, that she had thought for one minute she could pull it off, but when she had found those old letters from her father and realized what he’d done, she’d been furious. Ten years ago, he had taken out a mortgage on their home and then promptly disappeared, taking the money with him. And she needed it back or else risked losing her home.

  All she’d wanted was to find him, make him take some responsibility for his family. He hadn’t even met Mike, had never even bothered to visit the son he had fathered before he left.

  So, she had been going to put everything right. It didn’t occur to her that her mother had been searching for her father for more than ten years without success. Lia had thought she could walk in and Harley Watson would tell her everything she needed to know. She now realized she had been naïve and foolish to think things would work out so neat and tidy, but she had been desperate and still hurting from her mother’s death.

  She couldn’t quite believe that she was going to lose the home she had lived in all her life.

  Over the last three weeks, she’d racked her brains trying think of another way out of her problems. She’d even been back to the bank, but she knew it was no good. There was no way they were going to give her a bigger mortgage when she couldn’t even make the payments on the one she already had. The house had been in her mother’s family for generations, but she was going to have to face the fact that she had to sell their home and find somewhere else for her and Mike and Sally, their housekeeper, to live.

  The only good thing about the whole mess was that at least now she could forget her father ever existed. And if she could do the same for Luc Severino, erase him from her mind as easily as she could her father, then perhaps she could get on with her life. So far, it wasn’t happening.

  She realized bitterly that she hadn’t stood a chance from the moment he’d first touched her. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the way he’d made her feel. She’d been in the hands of an expert, and he had played her with an ease that made her cringe in retrospect. Lia hadn’t known anything could feel that good. A frisson of sensation ran through her at the memory, and she slid down the wall to sit in the straw, hugging her knees to her chest.

  The first time he had taken her had been like a storm, like riding a wild stallion, bucking and rearing so all she could do was hold on.

  The second time had been slow and gentle and relentless. He had stretched her so tight, taking her to the limit of her endurance time and time again, until she had finally snapped and exploded into a thousand pieces. And, unfortunately, three weeks later she still wasn’t back together again.

  She dropped her head to her knees. She had to stop thinking about this. It was only sex. Absolutely spectacular, mind-shattering sex, but still only sex. He was obviously very good at it, but then, he’d probably had plenty of practice. With his looks, he could have any woman he wanted. Except her. Not ever again anyway; and if she was frustrated, well then she could go shopping and buy herself a vibrator.

  “Lia?”

  She jumped and glanced up at the sound of a voice. Pete leaned over the stable door, a grin on his face, and Lia scrambled to her feet, brushing the straw from her back.

  Pete opened the door and came in, patting the horse as he passed. “Are you hiding in here?”

  She shook her head. “Not really, just thinking.” About vibrators!

  “How’s the wrist?” he asked.

  Lia held it up in front of her and wriggled her fingers. “Better.”

  She’d fallen while training a couple of days ago. Pete had accused her of not concentrating, and he’d been right. Luckily, it was only a sprain, but the doctor had banned her from riding until her wrist healed, so she didn’t even have that to take her mind off things.

  “Maybe you should take some time off,” Pete said. “You haven’t taken a holiday in years, and you’re not yourself at the moment.”

  No, she wasn’t, and she knew exactly who to blame for that. “I’d rather keep busy.”

  Pete was her boss and her trainer. He’d been a successful event rider himself when he was younger, though he’d told her he’d lacked the drive to make it big. Now he trained horses for other riders as well as training her. He was good; she would never have made it this far without him.

  He stood in front of her, hands in his jeans pockets, a small smile playing across his familiar features. Lia had known him forever, but it occurred to her now, for the first time, what a good-looking man he was—tall, rugged, his blond hair tousled.

  “I have some news,” he said. “Good news. But first, I want you to know that it isn’t charity.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “I want to buy the piece of land beside your house.” He put up a hand to forestall her comments. “Before you say anything, hear me out. You know I’ve wanted that land for ages. I even talked to your mother about it years ago, but I couldn’t raise the cash back then.” He paused and looked at her expectantly. “So what do you think?”

  Lia frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “I told you, it’s not charity,” he said. “Since you had that last big win, the business is doing great—everyone wants my horses. And I need the extra grazing. I’ve had a quick chat with some people and they’ve given me an idea of the value.”

  He named a figure, and Lia closed her eyes. It wasn’t enough to pay off the mortgage, but it would solve her financial problems for the next few years. And Pete had talked about expanding the farm. They could stay at the house; they wouldn’t have to move.

  A wave of relief flooded through her; she reall
y could forget about finding her father. Forever. She need never give him another thought.

  “And I should hear about the sponsorship deal any day now,” Pete said. “They’re being slow, but you’re just the clean-cut image they want. I think they’re going to go for it.”

  “That’s wonderful.” And it was. The deal would change everything. So far, she’d stuck to competitions in the United Kingdom, but with the sponsorship money she could enter all the big international competitions as well.

  Following Pete out of the stable, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Why are you so good to me?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with being good. It’s straightforward business.”

  “Of course it is.” She leaned across and kissed him on the cheek.

  Pete smiled then glanced down the drive. “Looks like we’ve got customers.” He whistled softly. “Nice car.”

  Lia followed his gaze. A black, low-slung, sex machine of a car had come to a halt across the yard. Unfortunately, the man who sat in the front was as instantly recognizable as his car. A sharp stab of excitement pierced her, followed closely by a tidal wave of shock. She had to force herself not to turn and run the other way.

  Pete seemed not to notice her reaction. “I’ll have to leave you to deal with them—I have an appointment at the bank. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  Lia watched him walk away, wanting to cling to him. Instead, she turned and slipped back into the stable. Crouching behind the door, she peered out at the stable yard through a knot in the wood.

  Crap! How’d he find her? What the hell was he doing here?

  “Come on out, Lia.”

  Lia straightened, her gaze flickering warily over his tall figure.

  He was dressed more casually than when she first met him, this time in black jeans and a black linen shirt, open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up. The last time she’d seen him he’d been naked, sprawled on the bed. Asleep he’d appeared younger, the hard lines of his face smoothed out, a hint of vulnerability in the curve of his full lips. Lips that had given her such pleasure.