Captured by the Billionaire: Brooding Billionaire, Impoverished Princess

Something had happened—an unspoken exchange of potent meaning that drove every trace of amusement from her.

And from Alex.

A heady awareness sizzled between them, blocking the breath in her throat. Serina’s eyes widened endlessly as he came towards her with the lithe, purposeful gait of a hunter.

Almost silently, he said, ‘It’s also very, very sexy. And when you look over your shoulder there’s something—I don’t even know what it is, but you look fey.’ His voice deepened. ‘And maddeningly irresistible.’

Serina swallowed to ease her suddenly dry mouth. Part of her wanted desperately to defuse the situation, to let him know that she didn’t…wasn’t yet ready…

And then he turned her to face him, and she looked up mutely into a face drawn and arrogant with desire. Her instinctive, protective resistance crumbled under the impact of a hunger so consuming she sighed as he fitted her into his arms and kissed her.

At first he didn’t give her the passion she craved; his mouth touched hers gently, almost tenderly, so that she wanted to stand on tiptoe and insist he satisfy the need he’d roused in her.

Yet a slow, languorous heat melted her bones until she could do nothing but accept that silky caress.

Against her lips, he said, ‘Is this what you want, Serina?’

‘You know it is,’ she whispered, unable to temporise, to hedge, even though some distant area of her brain was struggling to send out an All Systems alert.

He gathered her more closely into him, his mouth crushing down on hers in a kiss so ruthlessly demanding her knees almost gave way. And then she wasn’t aware of anything but the wild reaction of her eager body, a surrender that overrode every sensible limit she’d lived by until then.

When at last he lifted his mouth, Serina realised he was every bit as aroused as she was. She thrilled to the harsh indrawn breath he took and the urgent lift of his chest, the tense flexion of his arms around her.

And the hard, leashed power of him against her hips.

Yet, despite all the turmoil of thwarted passion, she’d never felt so safe, so wonderfully secure.

And that was the danger, she thought, confusion tumbling around her brain as her breathing slowed into harmony and his arms relaxed.

‘Serina,’ he said quietly, resting his cheek against her forehead. ‘That will have to be enough for now.’

A chill shuddered through her, and she had to stifle a small sound of protest. As though he understood how shaken she still was, he held her for several seconds more until she was able to straighten and trust her knees enough to pull away.

She could read nothing in his face; the dense, crystalline blue of his gaze hid his thoughts, his emotions.

Words falling into the stiff silence like pebbles in a pond, she said through slightly swollen lips, ‘I’m going to be crass and ask why.’

Alex’s twisted smile held more ruefulness than amusement. ‘Because it’s almost dinner time, and my housekeeper will wonder what the hell we’re doing if we don’t arrive for it.’

Her laughter sounded almost like a sob. Hastily, she controlled it, veiling her turbulent gaze with her lashes while she tried to sort out what she wanted to say.

Alex finished, ‘And because you’re not ready.’ He paused. ‘A year ago we looked at each other and wanted each other, but the time wasn’t right. I don’t know if it is yet. I sense some sort of restraint in you.’

His tone was neutral, but his keen scrutiny unnerved her. Not restraint—no, not that. What he sensed was shyness, the modesty of a woman who was still a virgin.

Should she tell him? No.

She bit her lip. ‘I didn’t come here hoping for—in-tending—any sort of—of…’ Her voice trailed away.

‘Relationship? I despise that word.’ His tone was cool, almost mocking. ‘Affair? Not much better. What exactly did you come here not expecting?’

Serina’s brows lifted and she said with a cutting edge to each word, ‘I don’t like relationship either, but it will suffice.’

She stopped because she didn’t know what to say next.

He was silent, his face expressionless, and then to her shock he linked his fingers around her wrist so that his thumb rested on the vulnerable pulse that beat there.

Sheer astonishment held her frozen, but to her dismay she felt the answering leap of her heart at that almost casual grip.

‘Whatever you hoped or intended or resisted,’ he said, holding her eyes with his own, ‘your response tells me—and should convince you, however much you’d like to deny it—there already is a relationship.’ He emphasised the word enough to lift the hairs on the back of her neck.

‘I don’t—’

Alex cut in ruthlessly, ‘What you decide to do about it is up to you, but don’t deny it’s there.’ He released her. ‘And you’re not in any danger. I can control my urges, and I’m sure you can too.’

His detached tone and ironic eyes set a barrier between them that hurt when it should have reassured.

After a glance at his watch he said, ‘Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll come and collect you in about twenty minutes.’

Once he’d left, the memory of the kiss hung in the room like the rose she’d packed so carefully—so foolishly—in her luggage. She opened her bag and picked up the bloom, limp and already fading in the tissue she’d wrapped around it, and made to throw it into the rubbish bin.

But something stayed her hand. Smiling wanly at her weakness, she put it back into the case.

‘A shower,’ she told herself.

As though she could wash away the memory of their kisses! She had a feeling they’d stay with her all her life—the first time she’d discovered such a depth of passion in herself that she literally had no control over her emotions.

The en suite bathroom was small but superbly fitted, and again she wondered how many women had been accommodated in this room, this house—in Alex’s arms.

He certainly wasn’t considered a playboy but, apart from Ms Antonides, his name had been linked with several other women, all beauties, and mostly women with high-flying careers in various fields.

About as far removed from her as anyone could be, Serina thought, turning off the water with a vicious twist of her wrist.

Then she shook her head. OK, so she didn’t have a proper career, but she’d had to put any hopes of that on hold when her parents had been killed. Left with an estate that was a total mess, she’d salvaged what she could, ruthlessly selling everything of any value so Doran could finish his education at his expensive school. And becoming Rassel’s muse—backed by years of serious scrimping—had provided her with enough to pay for his university studies.

Which was why she found his near-obsession with that game so infuriating. Once, when she’d taxed him with it, he’d told that one day he’d be looking after her and, although she was touched, she tried to convince him that it wasn’t likely. Some research on video gaming had convinced her it was big companies who came up with profitable new franchises, not rank amateurs.

But Doran was clearly having a fabulous time in Vanuatu, so she could stop worrying about him. For the moment, anyway.

She paced around the room, admiring the delicate, exquisitely precise watercolours on the walls. Alex’s grandmother had had huge talent, and her heart warmed at this further evidence of his thoughtfulness.

Her gaze drifted to the laptop. After dinner she’d make notes about what she’d seen so far while the memories were fresh.

Her heart raced when someone tapped on her door. Bracing herself, she opened it and found Alex, his expression coolly non-committal as he gave her a swift glance that encompassed her bare arms and throat.

‘You might want a wrap or a cardigan.’

‘I’ll get one,’ she said, wishing she’d thought of it herself. That impersonal survey had hurt a vulnerable part of her she’d never known she possessed.