Exotic Nights: The Virgin’s SecretThe Devil’s HeartPleasured in the Playboy’s Penthouse Read online

  It would be ridiculous if she left now, so she went to the fridge in the corner and busied herself getting out a bottle, trying to ignore the way her pulse had rocketed. She hated to think that he might see something of how much she craved him.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Leo was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Angel glanced at him surreptitiously. He might have been working late in the study after he’d come home. She noticed that he had faint smudges of colour under his eyes and felt a spike of concern. Something else caught her eye then, distracting her. Despite herself she moved closer to where Leo sat at the gleaming counter, clutching the bottle of water to her chest.

  ‘Is that peanut butter and jam?’

  Leo nodded and finished eating a mouthful of sandwich. Angel must have looked bemused, because Leo wiped his mouth with a napkin and said dryly, ‘What?’

  She shook her head and moved closer to the stool opposite Leo, unconsciously resting against it for a moment. ‘I just … I wouldn’t have expected …’ she said inanely, feeling like a complete idiot. But there was just something so disarming about finding Leo like this that her stomach had turned to mush. Without realising what she was doing, she sat on the stool opposite him.

  ‘Want one?’ he offered, with a quirk of his mouth.

  Angel shook her head, slightly transfixed.

  Leo started putting lids back on the jars. ‘My ya ya was the one who introduced me to it. She used to say that peanut butter and Jell-O was the only thing that made living in the States bearable. We’d sneak down to the kitchen at night, and she’d make sandwiches and tell me all about Greece.’

  Angel felt a strange ache in her chest. ‘Sounds like she was a lovely lady.’

  ‘She was. And strong. She gave birth to my youngest uncle when they were a day away from Ellis Island on the boat from Greece. They both nearly died.’

  Angel didn’t know what to say. The ache grew bigger. She started hesitantly, ‘I was close to my ya ya too. But she didn’t live with us. Father and she didn’t get on, so she only visited infrequently. But as we grew up Delphi, Damia and I would go and see her as much as we could. She taught us all about plants and herbs … cooking traditional Greek dishes—everything Irini, my stepmother, wasn’t interested in.’

  Leo frowned. ‘Damia?’

  ‘Damia was our sister. Delphi’s twin.’ Familiar pain lanced Angel.

  ‘Was?’

  She nodded. ‘She died when she was fifteen, in a car accident on one of the roads down into Athens from the hills.’ Angel grimaced. ‘She was a bit wild, going through a rebellious phase. And I wasn’t here to …’ She stopped. Why was she blathering about all of this now? Leo wouldn’t be remotely interested in her life story.

  But nevertheless he asked, ‘Why weren’t you here?’

  Angel sent him a quick look. He seemed genuinely interested, and there was something very easy about talking to him like this. She decided to trust it. ‘Father sent me to a boarding school in the west of Ireland from the time I was twelve until I finished my schooling, so I could learn about the Irish part of my heritage and see my mother.’ Angel conveniently left out the part about how her father had basically wanted her gone.

  She looked down for a moment, picking at the label on her bottle of water. ‘The worst bit was leaving the girls and ya ya. She died my first term there. It was too far for me to come home in time for the funeral.’

  Angel looked up again, and pushed down the emotion threatening to rise when she thought of how she’d not been allowed home for Damia’s funeral either—hence Delphi’s subsequent clinginess and their intense connection.

  Leo just sat there, arms relaxed, and then asked quietly, ‘Why did your mother leave?’

  Immediately Angel bristled. She never talked about her mother to anyone. Not even Delphi. She felt so many conflicting emotions, and yet Leo wasn’t being pushy. Wasn’t cajoling. They were making bizarre late-night conversation. So with a deep breath Angel told him. ‘She left when I was two. She was a beautiful model from Dublin, and I think she found the reality of being married to a Greek man and living a domestic life in Athens too much for her.’

  ‘She didn’t take you with her?’

  Angel fought against flinching. She shook her head. ‘No. I think the reality of a small toddler was also too much for her to bear. She went home, and back to her glamorous jet-setting life. I saw her a couple of times while I was at school in the west of Ireland … but that was it.’

  It sounded so pathetic now that Angel told it. Her own mother hadn’t deemed her worth keeping. If it hadn’t been for the birth of the twins, their instantaneous bond, Angel didn’t know how she would have coped.

  Leo, seemingly not content with that, asked, ‘What was the school like?’

  Angel had the strangest sensation of the earth shifting beneath her feet. She quirked a small smile. ‘It’s in Connemara, one of the most stunning parts of Ireland, but very remote. It’s an old abbey, and it looms across a choppy lake like something out of a Gothic nightmare fantasy. When I went that first September it was raining and grey, and it was just …’Angel couldn’t help a shudder running through her.

  ‘A million miles from here?’

  Angel nodded, surprised that Leo seemed to understand.

  ‘Yes.’

  Silence fell, and Angel felt awkward. She’d just told Leo more than she’d ever willingly shared with another person. When he got up to put away the jam and peanut butter she felt a question of her own bubbling up inside her. It was something her father had mentioned that fateful night she’d found him with the will. Afraid to ask, but emboldened after what she’d shared with him, as he came back she said, ‘What happened to your mother?’

  Leo stopped in his tracks and put his hands on his hips. The temperature in the air around them dropped a few degrees. But Angel was determined not to be intimidated; she was only asking him what he’d asked her.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ he said sharply.

  Angel gulped. She couldn’t lie. ‘Is it true that she committed suicide?’

  Leo went even more still. ‘And where did you pick up that nugget of information?’

  Angel had to say it, even though she knew that it would damn her to hell for ever in his eyes. ‘The will.’

  His body had gone taut, his eyes to obsidian black. No gold. He seemed distant, as if he wasn’t even really aware that Angel was there any more. And then he laughed curtly. ‘The will. Of course. How could I have forgotten? Yes, I do believe that my mother’s suicide is mentioned there—while omitting the gory details, of course.’

  Angel wanted to put out a hand and tell Leo to stop; he was looking at her but not seeing her.

  ‘I saw her. Everyone thinks to this day that I didn’t see her, but I did. She’d hung herself with a torn sheet from one of the banister railings at the top of the stairs.’

  Horror and sorrow filled Angel’s heart. But instinctively she kept quiet.

  ‘My parents’ marriage was an arranged one. The only problem was that my mother loved my father, but he loved building up the business and reclaiming our home in Greece more than her—or me. My mother couldn’t cope with being sidelined, so she got more and more manipulative, more and more extreme in trying to get his attention. She started with emotional outbursts, but that just turned my father in on himself. The more tears, the less he’d react. Then she started self-harming and claiming that she’d been mugged. When that didn’t work, she took the ultimate step.’

  Angel had gone cold inside. What a hideous, hideous thing to have borne. She knew from reading between his words that Leo had seen a lot more than anyone had believed. Not just the suicide. She remembered his reaction to seeing that couple arguing in public, how disgusted he’d looked.

  She stood up from the stool. ‘Leo, I …’ She shook her head. What could she say that wasn’t going to sound inept, ridiculous?

  Leo finally looked at her properly, as if coming to, and a shiver went down Angel’s
spine. She’d no doubt that he’d resent having told her this.

  ‘ “Leo, I …” what?’ he asked, his voice harsh.

  Angel stood tall. She knew that he hurt, but it wasn’t her fault. ‘There’s nothing I can say that won’t sound like a worthless platitude … except that I’m sorry you went through that. No child should have to see something so awful.’

  Angel’s lack of crocodile tears and her simple yet sincere-sounding statement did something to Leo. It broke something apart inside him. He felt a nameless emotion welling upwards, and knew the only way to push it down would be to find release. A release he’d been denying himself in the belief that he was regaining control, when control was the last thing he seemed to have in his possession.

  He was done with denying himself what he wanted and what he needed. But damned if he was going to let Angel know how badly he needed her. She was going to admit her hunger for him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LEO was looking at her so intensely that Angel quivered. And then he just said, in a hard voice, ‘We’re not here to chat and swap life stories, Angel, charming as this has been. I’m done with talking. What I’d like right now is for you to show me what you’ve learnt and seduce me.’

  Angel just looked at him, hurt slicing through her at the way he was dismissing what they’d just shared and closing himself off again. She could deduce that he wanted to punish her in some way for having encouraged him to talk, but for her to seduce him? Show him what she’d learnt? She still had no idea what she was doing in bed—no conscious thought anyway. The minute Leo touched her she forgot time and space, everything but the building fire in her body, and now he wanted …

  He said it again, as if he could hear her inner dialogue. ‘I want you to seduce me … You’re my mistress, that’s what mistresses do.’

  More hurt sliced through Angel. She was his mistress, and she’d forgotten for a tiny moment. The last days when he’d not come to her bed had left her feeling on edge. She hated to admit it now, especially when he was being so cold, but a part of her thrilled at the thought of being free to touch Leo any way she wished.

  She told herself that when he pushed her back like this it should make it easier to cut out her emotions … but she caught his eyes and in a flash something glimmered in their depths. Something indefinable. She didn’t believe it for a second, but Leo looked almost vulnerable. It made her make her mind up. Along with the way her pulse had jumped to think he was inviting her to take the initiative.

  She put the bottle of water down on the island behind her and then turned back. She stepped up to Leo and stood in front of him for a long moment. He was so much taller than her, and so broad that she could see nothing behind him.

  From here she looked up, to see Leo looking down from under hooded lids. He wasn’t moving a muscle. But Angel could see the golden lights in his eyes again, and curiously that comforted her. She brought her hands to his chest and took a deep breath, spreading them out, moving them up over his pectorals, which she could feel under the material of his soft T-shirt.

  She moved her hands under the collar of his T-shirt and on tiptoe, spread them out and around his neck. She tried to bring his head down to her level, so she could kiss him, but he wasn’t budging. Angel bit back a retort. Determination fired her blood: he wasn’t going to make this easy.

  She manoeuvred him over to the stool, pushing him down onto it so he was more on her level, and she thought she caught a glint in his eye but couldn’t be sure. His feet were on the ground, the height of the stool no hindrance to him.

  Angel moved his legs apart with her body and stepped right up between them. She stopped for a minute and looked at the scar above his mouth. She put out a finger and traced it, before bending forward and pressing her lips there, above his top lip.

  He still wasn’t moving. Just looking at her as dispassionately as if she were speaking Chinese in a tedious lecture. For an excruciating moment uncertainty rose up within Angel and she had a flash of all the women he had been with. All those blonde scary-looking women who would no doubt know exactly what to do, who’d be bringing him to the edge of his control already, not leaving him looking as if he was about to fall asleep.

  Angel stopped, and her hands fell to his thighs. She felt stupid. Kissing his scar as if she could kiss away whatever had put it there. She hung her head. ‘Leo, I don’t think I can do—’

  ‘Keep going.’ His voice was rough.

  She looked up again. Leo’s eyes weren’t as clear as she’d thought. They burned gold. Angel’s heart started to thump erratically. Her hands were still on his thighs and she started to move them experimentally up his legs, until they rested near his crotch. Her thumbs were close to where the fabric of his jeans was slightly bulging out.

  Angel looked at Leo and moved one hand, so that it cupped him intimately. To her intense joy she could feel the evidence of his arousal and see the way his eyes flared. It gave her a heady confidence. She moved her hand up and down, stroking, caressing through the material. She could see Leo’s fists clench out of the corner of her eye, and he made a slight move. Immediately she moved back out from between his legs and away.

  She shook her head. ‘No touching.’

  Leo’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. Angel moved back and placed her hand on him again. He was even bigger now, and she started to tingle all over, anticipation coiling through her like a live wire.

  With one hand on him, and the other around his neck, she leant into him fully and pressed her mouth to his. In keeping with his letting her do the work, Leo didn’t respond to the kiss at first. Angel had to entice and cajole. At one stage she nearly screamed her frustration; despite his obvious arousal, she felt as if she was on the way to exploding, not him.

  Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and the tips ached so badly that she rubbed against him. She wanted to press herself against his erection, to feel the slide of it against her body.

  But his mouth … first she had to get him to kiss her. She flicked out her tongue and traced lightly along the seam of his lips, biting gently and then smoothing over the bites. When she tugged on his lower lip he opened them slightly, and Angel brought both hands to his head, holding him so that she could plunder and stroke her tongue against his exactly the way he did to her. His tongue duelled with hers, teeth nipping, biting her lower lip, making it sting deliciously.

  She was in danger of being sucked down into the familiar pool of pleasure—until she noticed that Leo was still restraining himself, even though he was kissing her back. Although when she pulled back slightly she could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. It helped her regain her composure. She tried to control her breathing, stood back and held out her hand. Leo took it and stood up, and Angel silently led him from the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom.

  It was all at once incredibly intimidating and incredibly arousing to have Leo just say nothing, be passive. When his bedroom door closed behind them Angel turned to Leo and tugged the bottom of his T-shirt up. He lifted his arms and Angel pulled it off all the way.

  Then she led him over to the bed and sat him down on the edge. She stepped back a few paces and bit her lip for a second, feeling nervous again. She reached up and pulled at the band that was holding her hair up haphazardly, and felt the mass fall down around her shoulders.

  Then she put her hands to the bottom of her flimsy vest and pulled it up slowly, more out of intense nervousness than an attempt to be erotic. She could see a muscle pop in Leo’s jaw, and his eyes had darkened. As he lounged back he put his hands behind him in an utterly nonchalant yet effortlessly sexy pose.

  For a second Angel’s eyes fell to his crotch and she saw the distinctive bulge. Her throat went dry, and she realised she’d stalled, baring her belly. With a deep breath she pulled her vest up and off completely, trying not to feel embarrassed. She let it drop to the ground. Her breasts felt tight and achy, the tips puckering under Leo’s hot gaze.

  Angel brought her h
ands to her pyjama bottoms and she undid the tiny bow holding them up. She pulled it loose and the bottoms sagged around her hips. With a little wiggle, she let them fall off.

  Angel stepped out of them, and now she stood before Leo in nothing but her tiny panties. He filled her vision. He was like a marauding pirate, inspecting her for his delectation.

  Angel walked over to him and pushed his legs apart, coming between them. She brought her hands to the fastening of his jeans and undid the button, slowly dragged down the zip. Her eyes followed the dark silky line of hair that disappeared under the top of his briefs. She saw him wince as her knuckles brushed his erection.

  When his jeans were open she put her hands around his back to encourage him to tip his hips up so she could slide them down. Her sensitised breasts brushed enticingly against his belly, and Angel nearly moaned out loud before sinking to her knees to pull them off completely.

  With shaking hands, she threw them behind her. She reached up again and tugged at the sides of his briefs. Leo’s face was tense, the lines stark. His eyes glittered, and Angel wasn’t sure how she was still operating.

  She pulled his boxers down, releasing him from confinement. And then, with her heart nearly leaping out of her throat, she looked at Leo and took him in her hand, slowly slipping it up and down over the thickness, feeling him swell and harden even more.

  Acting on instinct, wanting to taste every bit of him, she leant forward. But Leo stopped her, with his voice sounding tight. ‘No, Angel, you don’t have to—’

  ‘No talking.’ Her voice was husky and wound around his every sense, pulling tight. Leo couldn’t believe it. Angel was shielding those incredible blue eyes by lowering her lashes and taking him into her mouth, surrounding him with sweet, moist warmth. Caressing him with such innocent eroticism that he knew he wouldn’t last—not when he’d nearly exploded just at the touch of her hand on him through his jeans downstairs.

  Seeing her take off her clothes just now—first that skimpy vest which had shown all too readily the curve of her firm breasts with their hard tips, then the way she’d dropped her bottoms to the floor and stepped out of them. And then she had walked towards him and stripped him. He’d actually been afraid to touch her, afraid he’d scare her with the strength of the passion running through him, but he knew she’d pushed him to the edge now, and he wouldn’t be able to contain it any longer.