His Inexperienced Mistress: Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation / The End of her Innocence / Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence

Dammit, Tristan was right. She had wanted him earlier in his office. Had, in fact, been completely enthralled by the sensations and emotions his touch had evoked.

The memory made her cheeks heat with shame. Hadn’t she learned anything from his first rejection of her? Was she just a glutton for punishment?

Lily sighed and leaned her head back against the butter-soft leather seat, wishing she hadn’t decided to come back to England after all this time. She should never have told Jordana she could make her wedding. Would be in her wedding!

It seemed that the stars had aligned and no matter which way she looked she was being sent a message that she wasn’t as ready to come home as she had thought. And maybe she never would be.

Thankfully her morose thoughts halted when Tristan’s powerful car pulled up and waited for the ten-metre-high wrought-iron gates to open. Lily glanced at the towering stone mansion softly lit by discreet exterior lights that made it seem as if it touched the skyline.

The car inched forward and down into an underground car park that held a motorbike, a four-wheel drive, and a gleaming red sports car.

A sense of entrapment suffused her, and Lily felt so tense she jumped out of the car before it had come to a complete stop. Then wished she hadn’t as she swayed and had to grab hold of the roof to steady herself.

Tristan’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t say anything as she followed him to a lift.

A lift!

‘The house belonged to an elderly couple before I bought it,’ he said, noticing her surprised reaction.

Lily didn’t respond; emotional exhaustion and jet lag were weighing her down as effectively as a giant bag of sand. She calculated that it was about 5:00 a.m. in Bangkok, which meant that she’d been up all night, and the effort it took to work that out made her nearly trip over her own feet when the lift doors opened.

Tristan cursed and reached for her, and cursed again when she stumbled trying to avoid him.

‘Don’t be a fool,’ he ground out as she wrenched her elbow out of his reach.

‘I don’t want you touching me,’ she snapped, wedging herself into the far corner of the panelled lift and staring at his shoes.

‘Fine—fall over, then,’ he mocked, moving to the opposite side of the small space.

Tristan had briefly considered arguing with her, but if she wanted to deny the sexual chemistry between them then that was her prerogative. He should probably take a leaf out of her book and do the same thing. It had been silly, goading her in the restaurant, rising to her challenge. A challenge, he’d sensed from her awkwardness afterwards, that had been more innocent than intentional.

And maybe he’d have more success ignoring the chemistry between them if she’d stop flinching every time he came within spitting distance of her? Because that just made a primitive part of him want to pursue her even more.

‘You need to stop doing that,’ he said.

She raised her eyes from his feet all the way up his body and looked at him from under pitch-black lashes. ‘Breathing?’ she quipped, folding her arms across her chest as he mimicked her leisurely scrutiny.

He barely resisted the urge to smile. Yeah, that would help.

She glanced away and worried her top lip and he wished she’d stop doing that as well.

The lift doors opened and Tristan strode out and dumped his keys on the small hallway table, walking through the vast foyer and up the marble staircase. He noticed her glance around at the pristine surroundings and the priceless artwork on the walls as she trailed behind.

His home was modern and elegant, with eclectic pieces he’d picked up from his travels here and there, and he wondered what she thought of it. And then wondered why he cared.

He stopped outside the room he’d asked his housekeeper to allocate to her. ‘This is your room. Mine’s at the end of the hall.’

He opened the door and stood back to let her precede him inside. When her scent hit him between the eyes he steeled himself against what he was about to do.

‘As you can see, your suitcases are already inside the dressing room and the en suite bathroom is through there.’ He flicked open another door and hit the light switch. ‘My housekeeper was instructed to make the room ready, so you should have everything you need.’

She didn’t say anything, just stood beside the silk-covered queen-sized bed clutching her bag.

‘I’ll need to see the bag before I go,’ he said evenly.

‘What for?’ She snapped her eyes to his.

Because after she had spent so long in the bathroom at the restaurant with that redhead with the fake lips he had wondered if she hadn’t slipped Lily a little something. Of course Lily might have already taken it, but he hadn’t seen any evidence of that when he’d backed her up against the cupboard in the restaurant. All he’d seen then was a heady desire that matched his own.

He knew the chances of the woman giving Lily something were slim to none, but with a Scotland Yard detective due to interview her in the morning he wasn’t prepared to take that chance.

‘The bag.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘You already know what’s in it. Remember?’

‘That was before you visited with your friend in the restaurant bathroom.’

‘Oh, come on. It’s not like I planned to run into her.’ Lily’s tone was incredulous.

Tristan held out his hand and Lily lobbed her bag at him as if it was a missile. ‘Have it—and good luck to you.’

Tristan walked closer to her and upended the contents onto the bed. There wasn’t much to see but cosmetics and a purse. He checked the purse and then dropped it back on the bed.

‘Now you.’

She didn’t move, and he clenched his jaw when he saw understanding dawn across her stunning face.

‘Tell me you’re kidding.’

He sincerely wished he could. ‘The way I see it we can do this one of two ways. Either I search you or you strip.’

She made a small sound and then slapped her hands on her hips. Her eyes, when they met his, were glacial. ‘Is this how you get your kicks? Trying to frighten innocent women into doing what you want?’

‘I didn’t ask for this,’ he grated, his eyes drawn to the little gap at the centre of her blouse where the red ribbon tied in a bow. ‘But it’s my house. My rules. So—arms out.’

He stepped towards her and she stepped backwards—and came up against the bedside table.

Her gaze flitted between him and the bedroom door, as if she was contemplating making a run for it. ‘I’m clean. I promise you I am.’

‘Don’t make this harder than it has to be.’ He stopped just in front of her.

The colour was high on her cheekbones and the pulse-point in her neck looked as if it was trying to break free. Just when he thought he’d have to consider force she surprised him by suddenly opening her arms wide.

‘Go ahead. You don’t scare me.’

Tristan stepped forward. Impudent witch. He might be as hard as stone at the thought of touching her but he actually resented having to touch her like this. No matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he knew that he would much prefer her willing and wanting. And he’d lied to her before. He was interested. Too interested.

Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible Tristan circled her tiny wrists and ran both his hands up the long sleeves of her blouse at the same time.