Playboy Boss, Pregnancy Of Passion Part 12

'I can. It's my patience and my self-control. If you're going to do it, Sara... Just do it.'

'What happened to finesse?' she teased. But she loved the idea that she could turn this quick, clever man into a pile of mush. So she finished rolling on the condom, straddled him and slowly lowered herself onto him.

'Yes.' The word was a hiss of pleasure. He shifted slightly so he could push more deeply into her, and she began to move over him, varying the pace and the pressure. He'd reached back over his head to grip a rail on the wrought-iron bedstead, and his knuckles stood out white; his breathing was growing shallower and faster as his climax built.

This was power.

And she loved every second of it.

Loved the fact that she was taking him to the edge of pleasure.

Then he released his grip on the bedstead and twined his fingers through hers. 'Look at me, Sara,' he whispered. 'See what you do to me.'

She did. Exactly the same as he did to her. She could feel the ripples of pleasure starting to spread and overlap. And she could see in his face, the moment that his climax hit, dovetailing with hers. The moment when they both fell over the edge.

He wrapped his arms round her, drawing her down to him; Sara rested her cheek next to his, enjoying the way he held her close. She knew that Luke wasn't a man who let people close but, after this, no way could he possibly put the barriers back between them. They'd shared too much.

And after he'd dealt with the condom, he curled his body protectively round hers, wrapping an arm round her waist and holding her close to him. She laced her fingers through his and he brushed a kiss against her shoulder. 'Sleep well,' he said softly.

'You, too.' And tomorrow... They'd deal with that when it arrived.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE next morning, Luke woke Sara with kisses. Soft, sweet kisses that made her feel warm inside-a warmth that turned to heat when he began exploring her body with his mouth and his hands, finding places that made her want to purr with pleasure.

'I have an idea,' he said.

'Mmm.' As long as he carried on doing exactly what he was doing, she'd say yes to almost anything.

'You need to put your hair up first.'

'Why?'

'Health and safety.'

How come his brain was still functioning, when hers was out to breakfast? she wondered. She sat up-and then she remembered he'd loosened her hair the previous day. So she had no idea where her hairpins were. 'Sorry, no can do. Unless you tell me what you did with my hairpins.'

He looked blank for a moment, then grinned. 'Ah, yes. Give me a second.' A quick hunt on the floor, and he'd retrieved most of them from among their discarded clothes.

She put her hair up and let him lead her to the bathroom.

So that was what he had in mind. Sharing a bath.

He switched on the taps. 'What you said yesterday about the spa bath-it made me think this might be nice.' He picked up the three little bottles on the side of the bath, sniffed each in turn, then added a couple of drops from one to the water.

Foam began to form on the surface, and Sara frowned. 'Hang on. If we're having a whirlpool bath-I thought you weren't supposed to use bubbles in one?'

'A couple of drops is fine, as long as it's low-foam and not oil-based. Too much, and we'll have to mop the floor.'

Well, of course he'd know. He owned spas and health clubs.

He helped her into the bath, then slipped into the water next to her. He turned off the taps and switched on the whirlpool, and immediately the tiny layer of froth was whipped into deep bubbles.

She'd once accused him of not having fun.

Ha. She hadn't had a clue. This man definitely knew about fun.

She pushed aside the thought that he'd probably done this quite a few times before. With quite a few different women. This was here and now. That was what they'd agreed, wasn't it?

He dabbed foam on the end of her nose, then laughed at her.

She retaliated, and a vigorous foam fight ensued. And then Luke pulled her onto his lap. 'It's a shame your hair has to stay up-because in this bath, with your hair down, you'd look like a mermaid. All alluring and sensual.'

She laughed. 'Hardly. Apart from the fact I have legs instead of a tail, my singing voice isn't great.'

'You'll have to dazzle my senses with a kiss instead, then.'

She did.

And he responded, to the point that they were almost too late for breakfast. Sara still felt guilty about the fact that their sheets were damp-Luke hadn't waited for either of them to dry themselves properly before he'd carried her back to bed-but he was completely unrepentant.

Despite the fact that they were the last ones in the restaurant, the waitress greeted them cheerily and brought them freshly squeezed orange juice along with really good coffee.

'It's Sunday, so I'm having a proper breakfast,' Luke said, and ordered soft creamy scrambled eggs, granary bread toast and crisp bacon.

The sea air-or maybe making love with Luke-had given Sara an appet.i.te, so she joined him.

When they'd finished, she leaned back against her chair with a sigh of pleasure. 'That was an excellent choice on your part. Right now, I feel as if I could conquer the world.'

'I think your parents misnamed you. They should've called you Scary,' he teased.

She pulled a face at him and laughed. Right at that moment she felt eighteen again. And Luke, too, looked younger. More carefree.

It didn't take them long to pack and check out. 'I cheated you out of your paddle yesterday,' he said. 'So we'll do it today.'

'You really don't have to.' She'd pushed him into the seal trip and he'd hated that.

'No. You're right. It'd be fun. The sun's shining, it's summer and we're at the seaside.'

'Am I hearing things?' She blinked. 'Are you going to tell me next that you're not going to work today?'

He laughed. 'I'm not going quite that far.'

After he'd put their things in the car, they headed for the beach. To Sara's surprise and delight, at the edge of the beach Luke removed his shoes and socks, then rolled his black trousers up to his knees. With his white shirt partly undone and his sleeves rolled up, he looked just as she'd imagined him, all barefoot and s.e.xy and gorgeous. And only the fact that they were in a public place stopped her grabbing him and kissing him stupid.

'Remember that film with Burt Lancaster in it?' she asked as they walked along the edge of the sea, the waves swirling round their ankles.

'Film?' He looked blankly at her.

'I forgot, you don't do TV or films. Anyway, there's this film from the 1950s called From Here To Eternity-a real cla.s.sic. Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster kiss on this Hawaiian beach among the crashing waves. And...' Her mouth went dry.

She couldn't see his eyes behind his dark gla.s.ses, but she was pretty sure she could guess at their expression because his voice had grown deeper, s.e.xier. 'We could,' he said. 'But, apart from the fact that this is North Yorkshire, not Hawaii, and the sea's pretty calm today, I think we could end up getting arrested.' He drew the tip of his forefinger down her bare arm. 'Because we don't seem to be able to stop at kissing.'

Very true. They'd already proved it several times, to their mutual satisfaction. She moistened her lower lip, and he groaned.

'Don't. Because it makes me want to taste you.'

It was the same for her.

'I need a cold shower,' he said.

'I could push you into the sea.' Except then his chinos and his shirt would be plastered against his skin, reminding her of the lake scene in Pride and Prejudice-a moment she'd savoured on several occasions with friends and wine and chocolate. 'Uh. Scratch that. We need ice cream.'

'After the breakfast we've just eaten?'

'To cool down,' she said.

He didn't take her hand as they walked to the little kiosk. Which was just as well. She had a feeling that as soon as they touched they'd combust. She bought them both a whippy cornet with a chocolate flake, then wished she hadn't when she watched him eating his; the way his tongue curled round the ice cream reminded her of the feel of his mouth against her skin.

In retaliation, she sucked on the end of her chocolate flake, and was rewarded with a groan. 'I'm going to have to turn my back,' he said, 'because you've put all sorts of ideas in my head, and they're definitely not suitable for the middle of a public beach.'

'You started it.'

'How?'

'Licking that ice cream.'

There was an impish quirk to his mouth. 'It's how you're supposed to eat ice cream.'

'Even so. It was positively indecent.'

He laughed. 'And what you just did was demure, was it?'

In answer, she just licked her lips, and he groaned. 'You're a bad, bad girl. And I'm very glad you are.'

When they'd both dried off and put their shoes back on, Luke drove them back to London. Though it wasn't quite the same as their journey north-apart from the fact that there were no traffic jams, Luke didn't ask her to make calls or check his diary, and they stopped halfway for a late lunch in a little pub in a village off the motorway.

Back in London, Luke parked the car outside Sara's block of flats in Camden.

'I'll carry your suitcase up for you,' Luke said.

'Thanks. Do you want to come in for a coffee?' Sara asked.

At six in the evening, there was a fair chance that her brother Justin was home. Luke really wasn't in the mood for meeting any of Sara's family-but, then again, how bad could it be? Justin knew they'd gone away on business, so it wasn't as if he'd start playing the tough big brother, grilling his baby sister's new boyfriend about his intentions. Besides, Luke could see in Sara's eyes that she'd be disappointed if he said no. So he could do this. Treat it like a business meeting. 'Sure. Coffee would be lovely.'

She tapped in the code on the keypad by the front door, then led him up the stairs to the first floor and unlocked the door to the flat.

'Oh. Justin isn't home.'

'Pity,' he lied. 'Where do you want me to put your case?'

'Leave it here in the hallway. Come through,' she said, ushering him into the living room. 'I'll bring the coffee in.'

Sitting and waiting patiently wasn't Luke's thing, so instead he wandered round the living room. The mantelpiece was full of photographs, including graduation photographs; one was Sara, and the family likeness told him that the others were her two brothers and Louisa. There was another photograph with Louisa wearing a wedding dress, Sara in a bridesmaid's dress and their brothers in top hats and tails, another that was obviously of their parents, and less formal ones of a toddler he a.s.sumed was Louisa's. There was a photograph of their father walking through an orchard with four a.s.sorted dogs, and one of their mother up to her arms in flour in a farmhouse kitchen, clearly spontaneous rather than posed-her smile, he thought, was very like Sara's.

A close-knit family.

A world away from his own-well, his was close, but only if you toed the family line. Which he hadn't wanted to do. Whereas Sara's family... He had a feeling they'd all encourage each other to follow their dreams, even if they weren't in line with the rest of the family. After all, Justin was a barrister and Sara was an office troubleshooter-neither of which had anything to do with their parents' orchard.

Unsettled, he joined Sara in the kitchen. 'Want a hand with anything?'

'No, you're fine.' She was reading a note and smiling; she looked up at him over the edge. 'Justin left me this in the middle of the table, so I couldn't miss it. He went home for lunch today. Mum says she missed me and she's sent me some apple cake.'

'Apple cake?'

'Kentish speciality. And obviously Mum's big on apple recipes because of the business.' She grinned. 'Justin's a star. He stopped off at a supermarket on the way home and restocked the freezer with my favourite ice cream.'

'You and your ice cream,' he teased.

'Absolutely. And I love this bit. "Hope you had a chance for your paddle and you didn't work all weekend."' She laughed.

It was all affectionate and warm-and it scared the h.e.l.l out of Luke because it was so far from what he was used to. In the days when he had a family, they never used to do little things to please each other; everything had been focused around the family business and the strange code of honour among thieves. Looking back, he remembered that his mother had diamond earrings, but he could never remember his father bringing her flowers or a box of chocolates or some little thoughtful token. And any paintings he'd done at school had always been left on the side, never pinned up on the wall.

Sara finished making the coffee; she added sugar to his mug and milk to hers. 'So can I tempt you?'

'Tempt me?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Wake up. Apples. Would you like some Kentish apple cake?'

'No, thanks. I'm fine.'

'Your loss,' she said. 'My mum's cooking is the best. OK, so this is reheated, but even the smell of it reminds me of home. She cooks this in the Aga and the whole house smells of apple and cinnamon. It's gorgeous.' She took a covered box from the fridge and spooned some of the apple cake into a bowl. 'Do you mind if we sit out here?' she asked.

'No, it's fine.' And there were fewer photographs to unsettle him than there were in the living room. Just postcards attached to the fridge with little magnets.

He sat at the table, his hands wrapped round his mug of coffee, while she warmed up the apple cake. The scent of cinnamon made his mouth water.

'Sure you don't want a taste?' she asked as she retrieved the bowl and added ice cream.

He thought of the way they'd shared a pudding the previous night. And how easy it would be to do it all over again. And how embarra.s.sed Sara would be if her brother came home while Luke was still naked in her bed. So it was best not to start anything. 'Sure.'

'Good. All the more for me.' She looked slightly put out. 'I didn't know Justin was going home today.'