Page 12 of Leon
"That's not prudent." He looked at her then, forcing a smile on his lips. He was well aware of her feelings for him. She made no secret of the fact that she was in love with him. But his heart was shriveled up from past hurt and he couldn't offer a woman anything more than the physical. He had made that plain from the beginning. His wife had cheated on him with his best friend and that had broken something inside him. He had no love foranyone, not even the daughter they had created. He was dead inside, a mere shell of a man. He liked it that way.
"You said Kadian would not be back until tomorrow."
"She could change her mind and what would she think if she saw you here?"
She came into the room and sat. "We could have a life together..."
"If you're going to start that again, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." His voice was harsh and threatening. "You knew what you were getting into when we started. If the arrangement doesn't suit you, you're free to look elsewhere."
Maggie felt the tears burning the back of her eyes as she stared at him. She had known his wife and never hoped that she could compete with a woman of such incredible beauty. Kadian was the spitting image of her and sometimes she would catch Luke staring at her as if in a trance. She also knew about the affair and what had happened back then. He had confided in her one night while they were alone and had passed out drunk in her arms.
"You're wasting your life on a woman who has been dead a number of years." His ominous expression sent shivers along her spine, but this time she was determined to have her say. The most he could do was fire her. "I'm here, alive and willing to be with you and yet, you refuse to move on from the past."
Shoving back the chair, he approached her. "Get out."
"Luke..."
"Now, before I say something we'll both regret."
Without another word, she fled, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter 4
He undressed her slowly, lingering over every inch of exposed skin. He had insisted on preparing lunch, making them huge, messy sandwiches that should last them until supper. That was the idea. He wanted time with her—time to draw out the lovemaking until they were both crazy with need.
"You have a very fascinating mole right here." He touched the black mark in the hollow of her throat. "It's a flaw on otherwise perfect skin." His eyes lifted to hers. "It might just make me rethink this marriage."
"Is that so?" she asked archly. When she started to lift her hands to his chest, he shook his head.
"Not yet."
"I want to touch you."
He lowered her to the floor, onto the blankets he had laid on the scuffed pine wood. A fire was blazing in the hearth, and the rain was a pleasant sound beating on the windows and the roof.
"No touching." He took off her bra slowly, sliding the straps off her shoulders. "The first time we made love, you were wearing black lace." He trailed a finger down her throat. "I remember thinking how striking the contrast was to your skin." He looked up at her, a smile touching his lips. "You bowled me over completely."
"You persuaded me to sleep with you the very first night. I could not seem to help myself. After it was over, I felt like a slut."
He smiled at the memory. "You cried, and I thought you were regretting what we did."
"I insisted on going home."
"I refused to let you go. I never knew who you were and did not care." He circled the rigid flesh and watched in fascination as it sprang to life at his touch.
"Leon—"
"You captured me from the very first sight. I thought the feeling would dissipate." He had to taste her; there was no help for it. No resisting her. Bending his head, he blew on the flesh and watched it burgeon. Stifling a groan, he used his tongue to lave the flesh. Her breath stopped and started again in a rush through her open lips.
Sensations hit her like a thunderbolt, causing her to surge upward, trying to get him to go deeper, to put more pressure on her nipple. But he was barely touching her. If he was planning to torture her, he was doing an incredibly good job of it.
When he tugged the flesh between his teeth, she gripped the edges of the thick blanket, her body vibrating. He suckled hungrily. The realization that he could never get enough of her hit him full force. He craved her. Making love to her once or twice would never be enough for him. She undid him—just by being, just existing had become his one weakness, his greatest vulnerability. He was always hungry for her.
At first, he had thought it was just mad lust. She was beautiful and sexy and desirable, so it wasn't a surprise that he wanted her. But it quickly escalated. He had spent his adult life dodging matrimony with the knowledge that his money and his name were what made him so attractive to the opposite sex.
They wanted what he could give them. He loved women, enjoyed the obvious differences—their femininity, the sex, which had always been good.
But nothing had prepared him for the blast of emotions that rocked him back on his heels. And the fact that he could never get enough of her.
