Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

Pulling her hand free, she said jerkily, ‘It isn’t the idea of having fun…It’s just that…’ The words tailed off.

‘You really can’t stand the sight of me?’

She should have said yes, and be done with it. Instead, she said, ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’

‘So what is it?’

‘I—I don’t have time for commitments…’

‘I wasn’t asking you to sign your life over to me,’ he said mildly, ‘merely to spend a few fleeting hours in my company. If you’re busy Saturday morning, let’s make it the afternoon.’

‘I’m not free Saturday afternoon. I have to be out by two-thirty.’

‘What time will you be home?’

Naturally truthful, she admitted, ‘About six.’

‘Then have dinner with me.’

Before she could think of an excuse, they were turning into Danetree Court, an old-fashioned block in a tree-lined square.

As they drew up outside her ground-floor flat, fumbling in her bag for her key, she said quickly, ‘Don’t bother to get out.’

Ignoring her injunction, Rafe asked the driver to wait and accompanied her across the pavement. In the amber glow from the street lamp he unlocked the door and handed her back the key.

‘Thank you.’ Dropping it into her bag, she slipped inside and turned to face him.

He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body and his breath stirring her hair.

She glanced up.

His mouth was only inches away. Just the thought of it touching hers again sent shivers down her spine and brought her out in goose-pimples.

She backed a step. ‘And thank you for a very nice evening. I’ve had a lovely time.’

‘I’m pleased you’ve enjoyed it.’ Then, as though it was all settled, ‘I thought we’d go to Annabel’s tomorrow evening

She hesitated, knowing full well she should stop this thing in its tracks but wanting desperately to see him again.

Looking into her face, seeing her waver, he added firmly, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’

Though common sense told her she was being a fool, she agreed, ‘All right.’

When he lifted a quizzical brow at her lack of enthusiasm, her voice unsteady, she added, ‘I’ll look forward to it…Well, goodnight.’

He tilted his head to one side, a gesture she was coming to know. ‘Rafe?’

‘Rafe,’ she echoed obediently. It was the first time she had used his name.

‘Goodnight, Madeleine. Sleep well.’

‘Goodnight,’ she said again.

He didn’t turn away as she had expected. Instead he stood quite motionless, watching her.

She knew she should step back and close the door, but, fascinated by the unnerving stillness that generated so much sexual tension, she was still rooted to the spot when he bent and kissed her.

This time his mouth was not only sweet, but also familiar. His arms went around her, and he drew her close. His kiss was firm and masterful and when he sought to deepen it her lips parted as though there was no help for it.

The last obstacle removed, his mouth began to move against hers in a sizzling kiss that melted her last defences as easily as a blowtorch melted butter.

He tasted like ambrosia. Her stomach clenched and her heart began to race wildly, while desire dried her throat and ran like red-hot lava through her bloodstream.

She was no longer capable of thinking straight when, a few seconds later, he freed her mouth and, his voice husky, murmured, ‘You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to feel your naked body against mine, to make love to you…’

Looking up into his shadowy face, she knew she ought to send him away. But she couldn’t.

‘Is that what you want?’ he murmured.

She nodded silently and, her breathing shallow and ragged, waited impatiently while he went to pay off the taxi.

He came back and, taking her chin in his hand, lifted her face and began to kiss her again, kisses sweeter than wine, as he eased them inside and closed the door.

In the gloom, he continued to kiss her while he removed the clasp that held her hair. She heard his little murmur of satisfaction as the silky mass tumbled around her shoulders and he ran his fingers through it.

Then his hands slipped to the warmth of her nape and began to travel over her, tracing her shoulders, her ribcage, her slender waist, the flare of her hips and the curve of her firm buttocks.

‘I’ve never met a women I wanted so much,’ he murmured against her lips.

His touch was all she had ever hoped for or needed, and above his softly spoken words she could hear his heart beating. Or was it her own?

Caught up in a whirl of sensual delight, on a flight to the stars, she was hearing things, tasting things, feeling things that she had never heard or tasted or felt before.

While he continued to kiss her he unbuttoned her blouse and, unhooking the fastening of her bra, slipped one hand inside. Her breast fitted neatly into his palm. Enjoying the warm weight of it, he brushed his thumb over the velvety nipple and felt it firm beneath his touch. Shudders of pleasure running through her, she gasped deep in her throat. Hearing that muffled sound and interpreting it correctly, he bent his head to take the other nipple in his mouth and suckle until her whole body was on fire with longing.

When she could stand no more she pushed him away and, taking his hand, urged him towards the bedroom.

As the door closed behind them, the small voice of reason warned her that she was acting completely out of character. Acting like a fool.

But, having jumped into the deep end, she was in over her head and unwilling to be saved. Brushing reason aside, she moved to close the slatted window blind and shut out the night.

Turning to him, she saw the gleam of his eyes in the semidarkness before he switched on the bedside lamp, flooding that part of the room in amber light.

On the dressing table close by was a framed snapshot of a smiling, fair-haired man.

Reaching out, Rafe picked it up and, his voice a little wary, asked, ‘Is this your husband?’

She answered distractedly, ‘Oh, no, that’s Noel. He’s out in the Middle East. In the oil fields.’