Nine Months To Claim Her by Natalie Anderson

CHAPTER THREE

ROSANNA’SSKIRTWASrucked up, her silk blouse open at her sides, her bra undone, the straps hanging like ribbons at her elbows. Her hair was half fallen from its bun. And who knew where her panties were? Honestly, she didn’t care. She was utterly undone—a breathless mess of wonderment—and she refused to allow any embarrassment to slither in, and no regrets either. How could she possibly regret something that had felt so good?

He was slumped over her, his heart pounding as arrhythmically as her own. She ran her hands beneath his shirt and across his back, feeling once more the powerful breadth of him. The sweat-slicked heat of his skin, the web of hard muscles beneath. Neither of them was fully naked, but the parts that were, where skin pressed against skin, were where pleasure pooled. He was still locked deep inside her, still feeling every aftershock of emotion shudder through her.

He lifted his head and looked at her and offered that lopsided smile. There was the tiniest hint of rue in his expression.

‘That went a little further and a lot faster than I anticipated,’ he admitted huskily. ‘But it was amazing. Thank you.’

She nodded, unable to answer because she had a lump in her throat the size of Australia. She couldn’t hold his gaze either. Not without her truth leaking out. Her emotions. Her gratitude. Her wonder. And already she felt the return of that low aching hunger. She wanted to do it again. She turned her head to hide that particular truth from him. And that was when she noticed the light flashing intermittently on the deck beside them.

He turned his head to follow her gaze, his eyes widening when the light flashed again. Abruptly he withdrew from her. Rosanna felt chilled the second he sat up. He stood and swiftly fixed his trousers before reaching down. His phone had fallen from his pocket to the floor. Face up, the screen flashed as notification after notification landed.

As he retrieved it and stood reading the messages, his face was illuminated by the blueish light. He was appallingly handsome—beyond movie star and straight into other planetary perfection. Because men this good-looking didn’t exist in the real world...moreover men this generous with their attention weren’t real. And sure enough, he was distracted now and, going by the frown deepening on his face, not in a good way.

She took advantage of his distraction to pull herself together—swiftly re-clasping her tangled bra, buttoning her blouse and smoothing down her crumpled skirt. She was still wearing her shoes so was spared the mortification of trying to find them, but she instantly abandoned any idea of finding her panties.

‘I’d better get going,’ she muttered awkwardly, walking towards the locked elevator before he had the chance to reply.

‘Let me...’ He huffed out a breath and rubbed his forehead.

She knew he was diverted now and she didn’t want to be a bother to him. She didn’t want to analyse this. Rosanna didn’t talk much to anyone, certainly not about intimate things; she was too wary. ‘I really need to get back,’ she said quickly.

There was a moment when he looked into her eyes when she saw a hint of regret. But he didn’t argue with her. He didn’t stop her. Which made her quest to leave asap the right one.

Doing this was a one-off. She needed to execute her vanishing act now before the lights came on and reality was exposed. Because if she lingered the magical facade would crumble and reveal the slightly sad, drab reality. He’d find out she’d lied to him—by omission yes, but it was still a lie and she didn’t like to lie. She was a guest, not a worker here. She was lacking in real social skills. He’d not seen her naked, not seen her surgery scar or her pale skin under bright lights. She wasn’t beautiful in the way he was—she couldn’t match his perfection. And as much as she might want it, there would be no replay—not one as gorgeously secret and somehow safe as that had been. So it was best to leave now before any of that morphed to the rejection she was sure was inevitable.

He swiped patterns on his phone and she heard the elevator whirr. Did he have access to the security system on his phone?

‘I’m sorry. I have to get back to work,’ he muttered. He was still serious and focused, just not on her any more.

‘Of course.’ She didn’t want his apology or any regrets.

It seemed to take an interminable amount of time for the elevator to arrive. She stepped in the second the doors opened. She turned to face him, making herself lift her chin and look at him one last time. Because this was a moment she’d always treasure. But the moment had now passed.

Leo Castle gripped his phone so tightly it was a wonder the screen didn’t shatter from the sheer force of pressure. Work was the one constant. It was what he did best. What he needed to do. Always. And he needed to get back to it now.

But he felt a terrible sense of frustration. That fragrant, stolen moment with this woman had given him the most intense pleasure he’d ever had and she tempted him to take more. They’d not even had a whole hour. But more time would mean more talk and from that the truth would slip out.

He’d misled her. He, who was used to other people keeping secrets, who had long ago vowed not to have any of his own. Yet tonight he’d been tired, and so, unusually for him, he’d kept his own truth back. Happy not to be Leo Castle for a few minutes. Not the boring, responsible, always working CEO. In a moment of weakness he’d wanted to be someone else. Anyone but himself so he could just enjoy a moment with a pretty little thief. Only that moment had become several more moments. Shockingly fast and intimate. Unstoppable. Undeniable. He’d had everything.

His half-brother, Ash, was the player, not him. Leo Castle did not seduce strange women in secluded corners. He did not have sex on a whim without even knowing his partner’s name.

Tonight he had. Damn it. Tonight he hadn’t wanted to be Leo Castle. Hadn’t wanted to be responsible and focused only on work. For those glorious moments he’d wanted to forget everything and it had been so easy with her standing before him with her kissable lips and big eyes, her firebrand hair and her breathless, blushing intensity. She’d fuelled the heat in his blood, the sudden onslaught of need that had overruled his reason from a single touch. And her trembling response had rendered restraint impossible. The only regret curling through him now was that he had to let her leave. And that he could never admit to her the truth. Not now. She would be angry with him—rightfully so—and Leo Castle didn’t deserve forgiveness.

He never had. Never would.

Leo Castle could never escape who he was—a man who’d failed.

He suddenly moved, shoving out a hand to force the elevator doors to open again. ‘Don’t forget this,’ he said huskily.

He leaned in enough to pass her the stem she’d snapped from the plant. He’d snatched it up from where it had been crushed beneath them on the lounger just before following her.

‘Thank you.’ Mortified, Rosanna took the cutting, unable to hide how badly her hand shook.

She must have lost it in her dishevelment and had forgotten about it completely as the ramifications of her actions sank in. She’d just given her virginity to a complete stranger in a heated, thirty-minute exchange. Now a wall of heat enveloped her. She didn’t even know his name. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to trade numbers with fumbling awkwardness. Didn’t want to hope that he might get in touch with her...some time. She didn’t want that inevitable disappointment. This magical moment was perfect just as it was, right? And it was over.

But he still didn’t release the elevator doors. Her heart thudded painfully as he stared at her, the blue of his eyes all but obliterated by the stormy darkness of his pupils, the full curve of his lips almost sulky. He was so intense she forgot how to breathe again. But she made herself mutter.

‘Bye.’ She knew she was blushing and she willed him to release the doors and let her leave.

Instead he lifted his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers down her jaw. It was the lightest of touches yet that sizzle beneath her skin flared. Her resolve started to crumble and all she yearned to do was lean back into him.

That couldn’t happen. She made herself step away, breaking the contact. He straightened and dropped both arms to his sides. As the elevator doors closed the last image she had of him was his gazing at her—fully focused, intense, devastating.

And desolate.

Her heart lurched but at that moment the elevator descended. She didn’t stop at the party floor. She repeatedly pushed the button to take her all the way down to the ground, desperate to get out of the place entirely. But she didn’t really run, she all but floated, her feet barely touching the ground as she fled with her perfect stolen treasure.