to St. Barth not just because she was his willing mistress now.
She had to trust her heart that love would find a way.
That was so easy to do now, as his dark eyes glittered with blatant desire, caressing her in tantalizing increments. Her lips tingled, aching for his kiss. Her breasts felt heavy, tight, and her blood hummed with a strong sensual pulse.
His powerful presence filled the lift, filled her heart. She’d never met a man who captivated her so, who made her ache for such wicked pleasure in his arms.
Though the lift had whisked them to the penthouse, she was gasping for breath, her hand gripping the cool handrail as his gaze fixed on the juncture of her thighs. A deep throb of want vibrated low in her belly, her muscles contracting in erotic rhythm.
The apex of her thighs was growing hot, the scent of her sex making her cheeks warm more from arousal than embarrassment. She squirmed, as restless as if he’d touched her intimately.
The flames in his gaze blazed hotter. His wickedly sensual lips curved in a knowing smile—a triumphant smile, for he surely knew the power he had over her.
As if to prove it he licked his lips and moaned his pleasure. A tremor rocked through her and she pressed her thighs tight together, nearly coming in the lift, aroused simply by his gaze, by the carnal promise in his dark eyes.
With just one look she was lost. She was his.
He knew it, and so did she.
The lift door whispered open. André wrapped an arm around her shoulders and escorted her into the tower apartment, no doubt aware her legs trembled so badly she feared she’d collapse.
She’d expected him to whisk her to the bedroom, but he seemed in no particular hurry. If only she could be that relaxed.
Kira focused on the suite to calm her emotions. She’d not expected the apartment’s style to be so starkly elegant.
Open, yet intimate. The ultimate playpen for decadence.
Large windows on three sides welcomed sunlight to flood the open salon, which was sumptuously dressed in translucent swaths of lush green that mirrored the colors of the rainforest.
The curved sectional sofa in a warm butterscotch dominated the salon, affording an optimum view of the ocean and the vista stretching to the horizon. Her mind teased her with images of her and André frolicking on that sofa, having eyes only for each other.
An intimate glass-topped table for two sat by French doors that opened onto a white-railed Juliet balcony. A crystal vase overflowed with white lilies, cream isianthus and eucalyptus foliage to perfume the suite.
Her gaze climbed the curved staircase to the loft above. With André so close, and knowing what was to come, this was almost too much for her senses.
“The bedroom,” he said.
“Of course.” She studied the open plan again, noting one closed door on this level. “Are there others?”
“No.”
Her face flushed. She should be offended he’d brought her here. But all she could think of was making love with him on the plush sofa, and later in the tower bedroom.
“Do you want anything?” he asked.
She wanted him to take her now, to pleasure her—love her. “You,” she said simply.
An amorous glint lit his eyes. “Ah, ma chérie, you do speak my language. Unfortunately I have pressing business to attend to now.”
She crossed to him and laid a hand on his heart, emboldened by the strong rapid beat, unwilling to conform to the mistress’s role of waiting patiently for her lover. “When will you return?”
“An hour. Two at the most.”
A short time for him, but a boring afternoon for her. “Perhaps I’ll take advantage of the solitude and do a bit of shopping.”
“No—not with the paparazzi lingering.”
Her first impulse was to react with anger, but she didn’t want to confront the media. “Very well, I’ll stay here.”
“I’ll make your wait worth it.” His mouth closed over hers, hot, hungry, possessive.
She kissed him in kind, willing him to remember the promise awaiting him here. Willing him to hurry back to her.
He pulled back too soon, his eyes black with passion, his face taut. “Make yourself at home.” Then he was gone, disappearing into the lift and leaving her alone.
Kira stared at the green light on the lift’s keypad. He’d not locked it. Had he forgotten?
No, he wasn’t one to make that type of error. He’d left it unlocked for a reason. But what was it?
Kira fetched a bottle of sparkling water from the small refrigerator in the kitchen and paced the lavish salon, wondering if this was a test of her loyalty to him.
Could it be as simple as him knowing she wouldn’t go shopping and draw the media’s attention? Could he know she wouldn’t run away from him? Know that when he returned this evening she’d be here waiting for him?
Either way he trusted her—or at least had begun to.
She set the water aside and wrapped her arms around her middle, sick at heart that her secret would destroy that newfound trust. But even if she could prove she hadn’t conspired with Peter to ruin André, there was still the fact she was Edouard Bellamy’s daughter.
There was nothing she could do to forestall the inevitable. How much better it would’ve been to have lost him then rather than now. How much more heartache could she bear?
His avowal as they waited out the storm in the cave on Noir Creux came back to her. It’s too late. I paid your price.
But he didn’t know she’d been deceived, and she had nothing but her word to change his mind.
Kira crossed to the phone and quickly dialed the number of her solicitor. Her frustration hitched up another notch when the hotel operator answered.
“Pardon? I don’t understand,” Kira said.
The woman replied in French—then hung up on her! So much for placing a call.
She reclaimed her water and climbed the steps to the tower bedroom, her weariness eased marginally by the breathtaking view afforded by the bank of windows. No matter where she looked, her gaze fell on the sea.
A massive bed dressed simply and elegantly in jade and black dominated the space. She gripped her bottled water tighter, her body quivering with need. This was insane.
Her world was on the verge of collapsing and she was fantasizing about making love with him. Was she following in her mother’s footsteps?
No! She’d put her child first, even above her own needs.
She’d turned to descend to
