Nine Months To Tame The Tycoon by Chantelle Shaw, Annie West

CHAPTER FOUR

STRATOPAUSED, HIS mouth a bare breath from hers, reading her emotions. Disdain morphing into expectation. Eagerness so bright it was like petrol thrown on the fire of his own desire.

Her eyelids flickered and that lush mouth opened a fraction. Not, he was sure, to spew contempt, but because, like him, she craved the kiss he delayed giving her.

He sensed part of her wanted to push him away. She was spiky and disapproving, and for the first time in for ever he found himself annoyed at being judged on his reputation. Usually Strato didn’t give a damn what people thought of him. He lived life on his own terms because that was the only way to survive.

He could walk away, except those golden-brown eyes blazed up at him with such expectation.

His Nereid was complicated and he made it a policy never to bother with complicated.

And yet...

And yet he couldn’t move back.

Couldn’t release her. Because something dark and primal inside refused to let go.

The urge to taste her mouth became a need. What had begun as teasing amusement became something elemental.

Why else would he put up with thinly veiled insults? As if this woman had the right to criticise him?

Was that why he held back? Forcing her to acknowledge that, far from trying to escape his hold, she was breathless with desire. Her breasts rose and fell with short, choppy breaths and her woman’s scent, warm and rich, took on a deeper tang. Arousal. His nostrils twitched appreciatively.

Taking his time, Strato bent and set his open mouth on the pleasure point where her shoulder met her neck, nuzzling. Then, as the texture and taste of her filled his senses, sucking greedily at her satiny flesh.

She gasped, stiffening then instantly sinking against him, bending her neck to one side to allow him free access. She tasted like the distillation of summer—heat, sunshine and golden honey with a touch of sea salt.

Her hands fastened on his upper arms, fingers digging into biceps so needily that his arousal notched higher.

Elation filled him, and the expectation of profound delight to come. Despite her dismissive attitude, Cora had surrendered. She would give him exactly what he wanted.

Nuzzling his way up her neck, Strato registered her little hums of encouragement. Would she be vocal when they were naked together? This was a passionate woman. Not one worried about getting messy hair or trying to second-guess his every move. From her responsiveness he guessed she’d meet him halfway in any erotic venture.

His erection stirred in anticipation and was rewarded with the press of her soft body. Cora moved her hips restlessly and he dropped his palm to her buttocks, pulling her hard against him.

There.

Better.

But he wanted far more.

Strato trailed kisses to corner of her mouth and she turned her head, lips seeking his.

So much for rejection. He stifled a huff of triumph, settling his mouth over hers.

And discovered something new.

Shock stormed his senses. His hold tightened and he braced his feet wider as an invisible blow rocked him from his scalp all the way down to the soles of his feet.

The taste of her, the melting sweetness of their mouths fusing, was a revelation.

He scrambled to gather his wits and catalogue the difference between this and past experience but his thoughts wouldn’t fix on anything except a silent mantra of Cora, Cora, Cora.

And more, more, more.

Strato took her mouth and she reciprocated, welcoming, inviting and demanding.

She gave as much as he took and more, leaving him wanting so much more than a kiss. He wanted all of her, all to himself. He wanted to give her everything he had, not because he always felt duty-bound to please a lover, but because nothing less than everything would do.

Not with her.

He wrapped both arms around her, gathering her close so their bodies melded. She was a perfect fit. Strato could kiss her for hours and not get a crick in his neck and the feel of her voluptuous curves up close made him desperate to explore in minute detail.

The thought of their bodies joining...

He bowed her back over his arm and she clung, her mouth mating with his as if they’d been lovers for ever.

That was what felt so different. The ease and rightness of them together. As if they’d done this before and their bodies already knew each other intimately.

Strato’s belly tightened and his groin grew heavy as he devoured her with languorous intent. He wanted Cora as he couldn’t remember wanting any woman. But he had enough functioning brain cells left to realise that couldn’t be here and now.

Regretfully he lifted his head, rejoicing in the way she rose against him, following his mouth, trying to prolong their kiss.

Oh, yes, my beauty. Soon. Very soon.

His breath came in great gusts and his muscles burned from the tension of standing still instead of hoisting her over his shoulder and carting her to the pier. They could be back on the yacht in fifteen minutes and naked in his bedroom fifteen seconds later.

Her eyes opened and it was like sinking into a pool of molten gold. Strato had never seen anything as powerfully enticing as that heavy-lidded stare and her lips, swollen and deep pink from passion.

Something twisted his gut. Something unfamiliar. Strato ignored it and concentrated on his next move.

‘I want—’

Her finger on his lips stifled his words. Even that, a gesture not in itself erotic, sent a tremor of longing through him.

For a second longer they stood body to aching body. Then, on a sigh that sounded more like a groan, Cora stepped back and Strato let her slide out of his arms.

Instantly he felt bereft. He wanted to haul her back where she belonged, against him.

But this wasn’t the place. Not with her father likely to appear at any moment. Seducing his daughter in full public view wouldn’t be a good move. Besides, Cora deserved better. Strato knew that ravishing this delectable woman thoroughly would require time and privacy.

She stood, staring up at him, slumbrous eyes, heaving breasts, hands hanging loose against the cut-off edges of her shorts. She wore no make-up and wasn’t dressed to entice yet Strato couldn’t conceive of any woman more attractive than she was right now.

Even with that prickly attitude, Cora was something special. In fact, he liked that she didn’t make everything easy for him.

But the time for games was over. They both knew what they wanted.

‘I’d like you to go now.’

Her words froze the smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

‘Sorry?’ He felt as if he were underwater, sound muted by the blood rushing in his ears.

She backed up a step and folded her arms. He wished she wouldn’t. It tugged the cotton tight over those abundant breasts and made it hard to think about anything else.

‘I’m not interested in what you’re offering, Mr Doukas.’

Strato stiffened. Each carefully enunciated word hit like a slap. The only fire in her expression looked like anger.

Why was she angry? He’d given her a chance to walk away before kissing her. She’d been a more than willing participant. It was too late to pretend otherwise. Her mews of pleasure had been impossible to miss, as had her enthusiastic body-to-body response.

He drew himself up and watched her eyes widen, fixing on his swelling chest. ‘I don’t recall making any offer, Ms Georgiou.’

At least not verbally.

She’d made one. The way she’d ground her pelvis against him spoke more clearly than any words.

Her eyes narrowed, her stare sharpening. ‘My mistake.’ She hefted a breath that looked painful, her mouth twisting. Strato wanted to reach out and...

What? Pacify her? Reassure her?

‘Let’s get one thing clear.’ She paused. ‘I’m not here to amuse you. If you’re after a diversion don’t expect me to provide it.’ Her gaze skated down his body then back up, her expression dismissive. ‘I hear you have quite a smorgasbord on your yacht, Mr Doukas. Don’t come here looking for extras. I’m not interested in playboys.’

Strato felt every nerve and muscle stiffen. He relished a challenge but there were limits.

He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to reach for her and remind her how interested she was.

‘That would be more convincing if you hadn’t rubbed yourself against me like a cat on heat.’ Deliberately he let his gaze drop to her proud breasts. ‘Your nipples still give you away. I know for a fact you’re not cold. The attraction is mutual.’

Her indrawn breath was a hiss. ‘It didn’t mean anything.’ Her voice was hard and regret pierced Strato’s annoyance. He wanted her soft and eager, not spitting ire. ‘I admit I was...curious but I have more self-respect than that.’

His eyebrows arched and his mouth tightened. He didn’t care what people thought of the way he lived his life but he wouldn’t stand for direct insults.

What was her problem? All he’d done was kiss her. By her response she’d been hanging out for just that. Either they were phenomenally well-attuned physically or she was suffering from a desperate level of sexual frustration. Maybe both.

‘Have you finished?’

She nodded, the movement jerky, her mouth a flat line.

‘Good. Then let me clarify. If ever I make an offer to a woman, it’s for shared pleasure, no strings attached. I have no interest in women who consider sex an insult or some sort of test. I find martyrs unattractive. If my lifestyle bothers you, look away. I don’t have time for women who play hot and cold because they’re too scared to confront what they feel.’

That hit home. He saw her register it like a blow. But instead of cringing back she jerked her chin up as if daring him to continue.

Strato was torn between admiration and annoyance.

She really was unique.

He moved into her personal space. She swallowed hard and he repressed a smile. Despite her veneer of outrage everything about her broadcast repressed hunger.

‘I don’t want someone who’s afraid of herself or her physical needs. But if ever the other Cora returns, the sexy, confident woman who kisses like a goddess, let me know. That woman I’d like to know better.’

He let that sink in, watching with gratification as Cora’s pupils dilated. ‘I’d gladly offer that woman the most memorable interlude of her life. I’ll be on my yacht. The smorgasbord is gone so there’d be just her and me. And more rapture than she’s ever known.’

Strato didn’t wait for a response but strode away.

Two weeks later he stood on the terrace of his Moroccan hotel suite, watching the sun sink over the sea in apricot and amber splendour. When he turned he had a perfect view of the Atlas Mountains. The best money could buy.

The fountain beside him and the exclusivity of his accommodation in the gracious palace-turned-hotel meant he couldn’t hear the noise of the opening night party.

Which suited him. Because, now he was here, he found he wasn’t in the mood to party.

You’ve got it all and still you’re not satisfied?

He stared at the glass in his hand.

What was wrong with him? The ennui that had dogged him was worsening.

For a week he’d stayed on his yacht, expecting Cora to contact him, his frustration increasing daily. Finally he’d headed to Canada on the spur of the moment for white water rafting, then Africa for off-road racing.

Neither had dimmed his discontent.

Strato had accepted this invitation anticipating the usual distractions. A sophisticated atmosphere. Like-minded acquaintances and enough gorgeous, willing women to entice any man.

Amber Harris, the sexy actress he’d met in the Bahamas, had greeted him in the lobby when he arrived. Her welcome had been warm and the invitation in her eyes and voice abundantly clear.

Then there was the French socialite he’d met on the ski slopes last year. Nadine had wit, charm and a lithe athleticism that appealed to his earthier side. She’d rung to check he was coming to this party, but he couldn’t see himself beginning a liaison with her or Amber.

As for the sultry Brazilian singer taking the world by storm, maybe six months ago he’d have been diverted by her obvious interest.

Now though...

He swallowed his drink and put the empty glass down with more force than necessary.

Strato was unsettled. For years he’d had everything he wanted. Success. Wealth. Luxury. Beautiful companions. Yet increasingly he felt dissatisfied.

Globetrotting, extreme sports and self-indulgence palled, leaving what?

His dead uncle would have called him an empty shell of a man, refusing to create a family to which he could pass his wealth. His dead aunt would have looked at him with sad eyes and prayed he’d find peace and a good woman.

As if Strato would ever find that sort of peace.

His aunt and uncle, of all people, should have understood the baggage he carried made that impossible. How could they not have understood?

Thinking about a family of his own, of settling down with a woman, good or otherwise, curdled his belly and created a seam of sweat across his hairline and down his spine.

Bile rose in his gullet and Strato stalked to the edge of the terrace, needing to move. To escape the graveyard of memories beginning to stir.

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and told himself he’d feel better when he joined the others and lost himself in the usual distractions.

Except he knew, as he’d known for a fortnight, that it wouldn’t work.

Whenever he thought of losing himself in a woman it was his Nereid who came to mind.

His pulse quickened as he remembered the flash of humour and even the glint of disdain on her features. Remembered the sway of her hips as she walked along the sand and the feel of her hourglass figure against him. Her taste, like nectar from the gods...

His listlessness wasn’t boredom. It was because he wanted her. Cora. And no one else.

He wanted her to eat her disapproving words and beg for the pleasure only he could give her. Pride still smarted at her dismissal.

He wanted more of her banter, her quick intelligence, even her feisty attitude.

Almost as much as he craved her body.

With a sigh of resignation he hauled out his phone and dialled his head of security.

‘Petro? I want everything you can get on Cora Georgiou.’ He detailed everything he knew about her.

‘This woman’s bothering you?’

‘No.’ Strato almost laughed. She was, but not in the way Petro meant. ‘She’s not a security threat. But I want a full dossier. History, employment, financial situation. Anything and everything, and I want it straight away.’

‘I’ll get onto it.’

Strato ended the call and tossed the phone onto a seat. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiffness that had settled in his bones after two weeks of being denied what he wanted.

Jaded, spoiled and tainted too. Is it any wonder she doesn’t want you, Doukas?

He had the unnerving suspicion that when Cora Georgiou looked at him she saw more than anyone else. Not the hedonist or the head of one of the world’s most successful logistics companies, but right down to the nothingness deep inside. To the dark maw of dread and hollow emptiness that most of the time he managed to ignore.

At thirty-three he’d had twenty-five years to camouflage it. To appear like everyone else. Sometimes he went whole days without thinking about it, deliberately diverting himself with work and play and one enticing distraction after another.

But though he still worked, he’d achieved a level of success where he could delegate most day-to-day decisions and he always employed the best. As for distractions, they didn’t gratify as they once had.

Maybe you only want her because you can’t have her. Because if you have her you’ll feel like you’ve conquered the emptiness for a little longer. So it won’t consume you.

Strato’s expression set in a scowl.

He prided himself on his honesty but sometimes self-reflection was overrated.

He toed off his loafers and hauled his shirt over his head. A few quick movements and his clothes dropped to the flagstones. He strode across the sun-warmed terrace and dived into the pool.

What he needed wasn’t a party. He needed to numb his mind with exertion until Petro came through with his report and Strato could make his next move.