Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand: Lie With Me

“You’re a businessman, so I’m going to make you a deal. We’ll have an affair, but it will only last as long as we’re here on Corfu. And it will remain our secret. No one ever has to know. When we meet again in San Francisco, we’ll go back to our old relationship—big brother, little sister.”

He still said nothing. He merely looked at me. But the hunger in his eyes had my toes curling. I debated. I could just stand and take him with me to the room. But I wanted to nail down the deal first.

“Why don’t we pretend we’re strangers? We’ve just met for the first time tonight. I want you and you want me, and for the time we’re here at the Villa Prospero, we’ll enjoy each other. No strings. And no holds barred. Deal?”

There were three beats of silence and each one seemed like a mini-eternity. Finally Roman released my hand and rose. “I want to kiss you, and we can’t do that here.”

I couldn’t feel my legs as we started back to the room.

“I hope that you don’t regret this, Philly.”

I wasn’t sure about the regrets part, but I would worry about that later. What I had to concentrate on now was making sure that Roman would never forget me.

6

ONCE INSIDE THE ROOM, Roman moved fast, using his hands and body to trap me against the door. He threaded his fingers through my hair, then merely studied me. The light was dimming, but I had no trouble seeing his eyes. The heat had my breath catching, my body trembling.

He slid his hands to my shoulders, then down my arms. Flames licked along my nerve endings.

“Second thoughts?”

“No.” Saying the word aloud only heightened my certainty that this was what I wanted. He was what I wanted. The need that had been building inside of me all through dinner was bordering on pain. “Touch me.”

Settling his hands at my hips, he moved in closer. “I’ve been waiting all evening to do this.” He traced a finger up my spine. I trembled. Then he spread his palms against my bare back and slowly ran them down to my waist. Fire shot through my veins. His eyes stayed on mine as he moved his hands again, faster this time, sliding up my sides until his palms pressed against the sides of my breasts. I was throbbing at every point a pulse could beat.

“Last chance, Philly.” His voice had roughened. He was trying to be a gentleman, but I wasn’t in the mood for one tonight.

“I’m not Philly, and you’re not Roman, remember?”

I locked my arms around his neck and dragged his mouth to mine. It was hard and hot and I tasted barely leashed hunger. The flavor was so unique that I had to have more. His tongue took possession of my mouth, his teeth scraped my bottom lip, and the kiss teetered toward pain. And all the while those clever hands raced over me, tracing the curve of my throat, cupping my breasts, digging into my hips. The speed had my head spinning. Sensations swamped me as he lowered the zipper on the back of my dress and stripped me out of it.

I struggled with the buttons on his shirt. The sound of one dropping to the floor only made me more desperate. Finally, I ran my hands up that damp smooth skin, absorbing the hard ridge of muscles on his back.

He nipped at my bottom lip, then deepened the kiss until I felt as if I were drowning—sinking fast into someplace where the air was too thick to breathe. Wild fists of need battered at me, and the heat building inside me grew brutal. There was only one answer. I dragged my mouth from his. “Now. Right now.”

I cried out in protest when he set me against the door and stepped away. But then he took his gaze on a searing journey over my body. He’d never looked at me that way before, and every muscle in me quivered with fresh delight. When he met my eyes again, I saw a simmering violence. Still, it wasn’t fear or even apprehension I felt. It was a wild, hot thrill.

HE HAD TO GET a grip. Catch his breath. Think. This was Philly. She deserved gentleness, seduction. That had been his intention, but it had evaporated the instant she’d exploded in his arms. Even now that he wasn’t touching her, tasting her, he couldn’t get his head clear. The experience was unprecedented.

He prided himself on being a gentle, considerate lover, and he’d been about to mindlessly pound himself into her against a door. He still wanted to.

Stepping away from her wasn’t doing a damn thing to cool his blood. The dress had been bewitching enough, but what she was wearing under it was designed to bring a man to his knees. All Roman could do was stare. Hopefully, his mouth hadn’t dropped open and his tongue wasn’t hanging out.

He was going to have to turn and walk away if he wanted to regain control. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t—any more than he could prevent himself from reaching out to run a finger over the black lace that topped one thigh-high stocking.

Meeting her eyes, Roman watched them darken as he trailed a finger up to the hint of a thong that barely covered her. Never would he have imagined Philly wearing anything like this. As he lingered there, barely touching her, the sound of her breathing—or was it his own?—grew ragged.

“Very nice.” Still using a featherlight touch and keeping his gaze locked on hers, he moved his finger over her abdomen and up her midriff to hook it beneath the swatch of lace that barely covered her breasts. She was trembling now, and those brown eyes had misted over. He could see his own image reflected there and knew that she thought only of him.

Triumph raced through him along with a ferocious surge of need. To hell with seduction. He had to have her. The whispery sound of lace ripping only added fuel to the flash fire threatening to consume him. Lifting her, he took his mouth on a desperate journey from her breasts down the path his finger had traced. Her skin was damp, hot, her flavor so…necessary. But there was no time to savor, not when his blood pounded with such overwhelming greed. Lace tore again as he straightened and pressed her back against the wall. Then he found her center and pierced her with two fingers.

Here was a heat that matched his own. He felt her inner muscles tighten around his fingers and watched her eyelids lower.

“No,” he said. “Look at me when I make you come.”

Then he absorbed each separate sensation—each tremor, each hitch of her breath as he shot her up, watched her ride the crest and shudder down. Her eyes blurred and went glassy. His name was a whispered moan that sent a fresh wave of heat slamming into him. He nearly came right then.

“Again.” He didn’t know who said the word as her fingers tore at his belt.

“This time…I want you inside me.”

“Yes…” He wasn’t sure he could survive another ten seconds if he wasn’t inside of her. With whatever thin grip he had on his control, Roman managed to retrieve a condom from his pocket before his pants and belt hit the floor.

Her arms locked around his neck, her teeth sank into his shoulder. Then she whispered into his ear, “Make me come again.”

Roman’s head reeled.

“Protection,” he said in a desperate attempt to keep his focus. His fingers shook as he sheathed himself.

“You’d better hurry.” She nipped his earlobe, then pulled his mouth to hers. “I want you now.”

“Right now.” Gripping her hips, he hitched her up and drove into her where they stood. The door slammed hard into the jamb, and he was certain he heard his control snap in the same instant. Then her taste exploded inside of him, and he knew that he might never get enough. Of it. Of her.

His body took over, moving faster and faster. Hers kept pace, meeting him thrust for thrust until he knew nothing else, wanted nothing else but Philly. When she tightened around him like a slick, hot fist, he lost himself in her.

WHEN MY BRAIN CELLS clicked on again, I was straddling Roman’s lap, my head on his shoulder. Bright moonlight streamed through the open balcony door. I had no idea how long we’d been sitting there like that. But I didn’t want to move. Gradually, more details filtered through the sensual fog that still held me in its grip. I could see Roman’s slacks pooled on the floor beside us. His back was against the door, his arms were around me…and he was still inside of me.

As my brain alerted my body to that fact, I felt my inner muscles tighten around him. Incredibly, fresh desire rippled through me.

He slipped a finger under my chin and drew my face up until our eyes met. I read concern in his.

“Are you all right, Philly?”

I smiled at him. “I keep telling you I’m not Philly.” And I didn’t feel like Philly anymore. It was as if my decision to seduce Roman and then finally making love with him had changed me. “But I am fabulous.”

His gaze remained intent on mine. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” I trailed a finger down his throat to his shoulder. “But I left teeth marks on you.”

He smiled then. “Feel free—anytime.”

Maybe it was the fact that he’d never smiled at me in quite that way before—a mixture of friendliness and intimacy. Or perhaps it was because he moved his hand until his fingers were spread against my cheek—but something stirred in me then. A knowledge, a certainty that I usually only experienced when I was communicating with animals.

This is the one.

An alarm sounded at the back of my mind. How often had Aunt Cass used just those words to describe what she’d felt, what she’d known the first time she’d seen my uncle Demetrius?

No. Roman Oliver wasn’t the one. Panic bubbled in my stomach. That was something the old Philly had dreamed of for seven long years. I was not about to fall into that trap again. Roman and I were going to have a torrid affair, and I was going to get him out of my system. When we returned to San Francisco, we were going to go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.