His Inexperienced Mistress

Of course that brief kiss would be headline news in the papers tomorrow. Would be on the internet right now in this era of instantaneous news reports!

She knew she shouldn’t be angry about what he’d done. He’d only been trying to help. But her own response to his sensitivity both now and this morning, when he’d made a Scotland Yard detective wait two hours until she woke from an exhausted sleep, and yesterday when he’d eased her headache while she slept in the car, made it harder for her to keep ignoring her feelings for him.

Especially after his disclosure about his parents and the pain in his voice when he had referred to his mother. The knowledge that he’d been hurt as a child made Lily feel differently towards him. Made her want to soothe him. To find out what had been worse than his mother leaving. Feeling this way about him wasn’t clever. It could only lead to heartache—her own!

She sighed heavily and felt his gaze linger on her. She really didn’t want to have any reason to lessen the animosity between them. Without that it would be far too easy to fall back into her adolescent fantasy that he was her dream man. What she needed to remember was that deep down he was essentially a good person, but any solicitude he extended towards her didn’t automatically cancel out what he really thought of her.

‘No comment, Lily?’

And he was calling her Lily now, instead of Honey. Oh, she really didn’t want him being nice to her.

‘You shouldn’t have done that before,’ she berated him, letting her embarrassment and uncertainty at this whole situation between them take centre stage.

He glanced at her briefly. ‘Tell you I enjoyed your film?’

‘Divert attention away from that reporter on the red carpet by kissing me.’

His direct gaze made her nervous, so she focused on the darkened buildings as the big car sped along Finchley Road.

‘You looked like you needed it,’ he said softly.

‘I didn’t.’ Lily knew she was being argumentative, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. ‘And now your picture—our picture—is going to be splashed all over the papers tomorrow. They’ll think we’re lovers.’

The car pulled up outside his exclusive mansion and he turned to her before opening the door. ‘They’d probably have assumed that anyway given that I accompanied you.’

Bert opened the door and Lily smiled her thanks to him before stalking after Tristan, annoyance at his cavalier attitude radiating through her. ‘Assuming and confirming isn’t the same thing,’ she retorted. Realizing too late what her words implied, she hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it.

Movement further up the street alerted them to a lurking photographer, and Lily allowed Tristan to usher her up the short walkway to the black double front doors that looked as if they shone with boot polish.

He pushed one open and she preceded him into the marble foyer, and then followed him through to the large dining room where he turned to face her.

‘Interesting phrasing. But I’m not sure how I could have confirmed something that’s not true?’ he drawled, a dangerous gleam lighting his eyes.

‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ she said, flustered by the strength of her confusing emotions. ‘I’m tired.’

‘Is that your way of defending your Freudian slip?’

‘It wasn’t…’ She noted his raised eyebrow and swore. ‘Oh, go to hell,’ Lily fired at him, walking ahead of him through to the vast sitting room, dominated by a king-sized sofa that faced plate-glass windows overlooking the city.

‘You know, all this outraged indignation over my attempt to help you before seems a little excessive to me,’ Tristan said from behind her.

Lily turned, her eyes drawn to his lean, muscular elegance as he propped up the doorway even though she was determined not to be drawn in by his brooding masculinity. ‘Oh, really?’

Tristan leant against the doorjamb and studied Lily’s defiant posture. Her face was flushed, and more wisps of hair had escaped her bun and were kissing her neck. Her lips were pouting, and he’d bet his life savings that she’d crossed her arms over her chest to hide her arousal from him. He knew why she was so angry. He knew she felt the sexual pull between them and was as enthralled by it as he was.

And, while she might be upset with the media fall-out from his actions on the red carpet, he hadn’t missed the way her lips had clung to his and how her violet eyes had blazed with instantaneous desire when he’d kissed her.

‘Yes, really. Want me to tell you what I think is behind it?’ he asked benignly.

‘Pure, unadulterated hatred.’ She faked a yawn and he laughed.

‘You know what they say about hatred, Lily.’ Tristan stalked over to the drinks cabinet and threw a measure of whisky into a glass. Two days with her and he was beginning to feel like an alcoholic!

‘Yes, it means you don’t like someone. And my reaction to your behaviour is not excessive in the slightest. All you’ve done tonight is give the tabloids more fodder—and for your information I could have handled that reporter by myself.’

Tristan raised his glass and swallowed the fiery liquid in one go, welcoming the sharp bite of distraction from the turn the conversation had taken. All he’d done was compliment her performance!

‘Was that before or after you had the panic attack?’ he asked silkily.

‘It wasn’t a panic attack! And just because I tell you something personal it doesn’t mean you get to take over. You’re not God’s gift—even though you clearly think you are.’

Tristan turned slowly and stared at her. He’d heard the clear note of challenge in her voice and he knew the reason for it. And, by God, if he didn’t want to do something about it—regardless of everything that lay between them.

He wanted her, and he knew for damned sure she wanted him, and looking at her right now, with her legs slightly apart and her hands fisted on her hips, her chin thrust out, he knew she wanted him to do something about it too.

Not that she would admit it.

He let his eyes slide slowly down her body and then just as slowly all the way back up. The pulse-point in her throat leapt to life, but she made no attempt to run from the hunger he knew was burning holes in his retinas.

There was something interminably innocent about her provocative stance, almost as if she didn’t know what she was about, and it pulled him up for a minute. But then he discounted the notion. She might not be the Jezebel he thought she was, but women like Lily Wild always knew what they were about. He’d had enough of the simmering tension between them, and knew just how to kill it dead.

‘Okay, that’s it,’ he said softly, placing his empty glass on the antique sideboard with deliberate care. ‘I’m giving you fair warning. I’m sick of the tension between us—and the reason for it. You’ve got exactly three seconds to get moving before I take up from what we started six years ago. But this time there’ll be no stopping. You’re not seventeen any more, and there’s no secretary to interrupt us like yesterday. This time we’re on our own, and I’m not in the mind to stop at one kiss. Neither, I suspect, are you.’

Lily didn’t know what thrilled her more—his blunt words or the starkly masculine arousal stamped across his handsome face. Her heart took off at full gallop and her stomach pitched alarmingly.

Six years ago she had wanted him with the desperate yearning of a teenager in the throes of a first crush. The night of Jo’s party she had dressed for him, watched him, noticed him watching her—and then, on the back of a couple of fortifying glasses of vintage champagne, she had asked him to dance…and melted into him. Loved the feel of his strong arms around her, the sense of rightness that would have led her to do anything with him that night. And right now she felt exactly the same way. Which just didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Does it have to?

‘One.’

She shook her head. ‘Tristan, don’t be ridiculous. There’s no point to this.’

‘I couldn’t agree more, but we have unfinished business between us and denying it hasn’t made it go away. Nor has trying to ignore it. In fact, I think that’s only made the problem worse.’

‘And you think acting on it will solve it?’

He raised that arrogant eyebrow. ‘Got a better idea?’

No, she didn’t, and right now her body yearned for his with a desperation that was all-consuming. Yearned to experience more of the pleasure he’d wrought on her body yesterday. Yearned for a completion that Lily was starting to suspect only this man could fulfil.

Jordana’s provocative suggestion that she cut loose and have some fun returned to mock her.

Could she?

Would having sex with Tristan fall under that banner? It wasn’t as if she was holding out for a marriage proposal or anything. The only reason she hadn’t had sex before was because of the lack of opportunity and…enticement. She’d never felt the way Tristan made her feel just by looking at him. Why keep denying it?

And then there was the notion she’d had to meet him this trip as an equal. To put the attraction she had always felt for him to bed…

‘Two.’

His soft voice cut through her ruminations and she realised her heart was pounding behind her ribcage.

She swallowed. He hadn’t moved, and yet the room seemed smaller; he seemed closer. Her senses were entirely focused on him.

His hair had flopped forward and she could see he was breathing as unevenly as she was. She found it almost shockingly exciting to think she could arouse a man like him to such a state. Because he was aroused. She could see the unchecked desire glittering in his darkened eyes and feel the dangerous intensity of his tautly held body.

Her stomach clenched and she felt an answering hunger in herself at the thought of finally being able to touch all that roughly hewn muscle. So what was she waiting for? Armageddon?

Lily slicked her tongue over her arid lips, a nascent sense of her own feminine power heating her insides and making her breasts feel firmer, fuller.

He must have sensed her silent capitulation because he moved then, pacing towards her with the latent grace of a man who knew exactly what he was about, and any notions Lily had had of taking charge of their lovemaking flew out of the window. She felt like that inexperienced seventeen-year-old again in comparison to him and his wealth of sexual experience.

He stopped just short of touching her and Lily gazed into his face with nervous anticipation.

‘Tristan…’ Her voice was a whisper of uncertainty and for a second her inner voice told her she was mad. She couldn’t possibly give this giant of a man what he needed.

Tristan reached out and curled his hand around the nape of her neck, angling her face to his. He stared at her for what felt like ages. ‘Tell me you want this.’

His warm fingers sent shock waves of energy up and down her spine and Lily was breathing so hard she was almost hyperventilating.

Want it? Need it sounded closer to the mark.

‘I do.’ She ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘I do want this. You.’

She heard an almost pained sound come from Tristan’s throat as he lifted her face to his and took her mouth in a searing kiss. No preliminaries required.

Both his hands spread wide either side of her face as he held her still beneath his plundering lips and tongue.

Lily felt a sob of pure need rise up in her throat and reached up to grip his broad shoulders, to hang on as she gave herself over to the sensation of his masterful kiss.

He tasted of whisky and heaven, and for a moment Lily’s senses nearly shut down with the overload of sensation rioting through her.

She pulled back, gasping for breath as she realised the dizziness was from a lack of oxygen, hyperventilating for real now as he angled her head back and skated his lips across her jaw and down the smooth column of her neck.

‘Oh, Lord…’ Lily whimpered, her face nuzzling his to bring his mouth back to her own.

He gave a husky chuckle and acquiesced, kissing her with such unrestrained passion she thought she might faint. His big body moved in, pressing her into the wall behind her.

His kiss claimed her. Branded her. The hard wall was flat against her back as his equally hard chest moulded to her front.

She moved her hands into his hair and lifted herself to try and assuage the ache that had grown to almost painful proportions between her thighs.

One of his hands disentangled from her hair and found the naked skin at small of her back as he stumbled back slightly at her eager movements.

‘Oh, Lily, you’re killing me,’ he groaned into her mouth, his hands not quite steady as he held her in place against him.

His touch seemed as if it was everywhere and nowhere, and Lily could feel all her old emotions for this man welling up inside her. She couldn’t have stopped what was happening now even if she’d wanted to.

She shivered and arched into his caresses, moving restlessly against him as wanton pleasure consumed her. His touch was electric, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him all around her, and inside that part of her that somehow felt soft and hollow and unbearably empty.

‘Tristan, please…’ Lily implored, her hands kneading the hard ridges of his upper back. He seemed to know what she needed because he brought his mouth back to hers, his tongue plunging inside as his leg pressed firmly between her thighs.

She felt a moment’s relief—but her dress hampered him from putting more pressure where she wanted it most and she squirmed in frustration.

Keeping her upright with his thigh, Tristan brought both hands up to cup her breasts, and then higher to drag the shoulders of her dress down her arms, baring her to the waist. Lily held her breath as he pulled back an inch and looked at her with such heated desire she could have wept.

For the first time ever she truly felt like a goddess, and when his eyes met hers they were dark with barely checked need.

‘Honey, I want to go slow, but…’ His eyes dropped back to her breasts and he placed his hands either side of her ribcage, lifted her body to meet his mouth. ‘You’re exquisite,’ he whispered, his hot breath skating across an aroused nipple just before his mouth opened and sucked her flesh into its moist cavern.

Her legs gave out and Tristan had to tighten the arm around her waist to hold her up. Damp heat flooded between her thighs and she could dimly hear someone panting Tristan’s name in a litany. She realised it was her.

She stopped, tried to centre herself, and then he grazed her with his teeth and she felt her insides convulse.

‘Don’t stop,’ he breathed urgently against her flesh. ‘Say my name. Tell me what you like.’

Lily didn’t know what she liked, except for everything he was doing to her, and she gave herself over to him as he shifted his attention to her other breast, digging her nails into her palms. Wanting, needing to touch him as he was touching her.

She tried to move her arms and gave a mew of frustration when she found they were trapped by the tight band of his arms and her dress.

‘Help me…’ she began, but he already was, pressing his thigh firmly against her and moving his arms so she could disentangle her hands.

Once free, she immediately set to work on the buttons of his dark shirt.

He was breathing just as hard as she was, and a fine sheen had broken out over the skin her jittery hands were having trouble exposing. Then he raised both hands to her breasts to tug at her nipples and Lily’s fingers fumbled to a stop.

‘That’s not helping,’ she groaned, involuntarily arching into his caress.

‘Then allow me.’ Tristan grabbed hold of his shirt and tore the rest of the buttons free, leaning in close before she was able to look her fill of his sculptured chest, his ridged abdomen. Then his chest hair scraped her sensitised nipples, and she forgot about looking as feeling took precedence.

‘Oh, God…’ Lily swayed and rocked against the rigid length of him pressed into her belly.

‘Easy, Honey,’ Tristan soothed, but Lily was beyond easy. She needed him to touch her between her legs. The ache there was now unbearable.

She groaned with relief when she felt his hands smooth over her thighs and ruch her dress up around her waist, her legs automatically widening to accommodate his seeking hand.

His movements seemed as unsteady as she felt, and it imbued her with a sense of power.

Unable to keep her mouth off him, she bent her head and licked along his neck, breathing in his earthy masculinity.

‘Tristan, please, I need you,’ Lily begged, her voice sounding hoarse. Another saner voice was telling her that later she’d be embarrassed by such uninhibited pleading. But her body couldn’t care less about later on.

It was caught up in the most delicious lassitude and straining for something that seemed just out of reach.

Then his fingers whispered over the very tops of her upper thigh and the feeling came closer. A lot closer.

Lily’s breath stalled and her body stilled, and when finally he slipped his fingers beneath the lacy edge of her barely there panties and stroked through the curls that guarded her femininity she nearly died, clinging to his broad shoulders. Her body was his to do with as he willed.

And he did. His fingers slipped easily over her flesh, unerringly finding the tight bud of her clitoris before pressing deeper. Stretching her with first one and then two fingers.

A groan that seemed to come from the very centre of his body tore from his mouth. ‘Honey, you’re so wet. So tight.’ He seemed lost for a second, and then established a rhythm within her that created a rush of heat to the centre of her body. But suddenly he stopped.

‘No, I want to be inside you when you come.’ He pulled his hand free and Lily’s nails dug into his shoulders in protest.

She heard the metallic sound of his belt buckle and the slide of his zipper and in seconds he was back.

Only her panties were in the way, and with a decisive movement they went the way of his shirt.

Lily followed an age-old instinct and rocked against him, her mouth on his neck, her hands in the thick lusciousness of his hair.

‘Honey, you keep that up and this will be over before I’m even inside you,’ he said hoarsely, stroking his tongue into her open mouth. He eased back, seeming to remember where they were. ‘Not here though.’

‘Yes, here.’ Lily demanded against his mouth, an urgent excitement driving her beyond the edge of reason.

Her lower body felt as if it was contracting around thin air and she needed him inside her. Filling her.

Tristan sucked in an uneven breath and lowered both hands to cup her bottom, lifting her into him. ‘Put your legs around my waist,’ he instructed gruffly, and Lily blindly obeyed as the velveteen tip of his body nudged against the very centre of hers.

The back of his neck was taut and sweaty and Lily’s head fell forward and she nipped at his salty skin. He must have liked it, because with a sound that was part pain, part pleasure, he tilted her body towards him and surged into her in one single, powerful thrust.

For a second the world stopped, and then Lily registered a harsh cry and realised she must have bitten down on Tristan’s neck—hard—as her body initially resisted his vigorous invasion.

He swore viciously and instantly stilled, reefing his head back and cupping her face in one hand to pull her eyes to his.

‘Honey, please tell me this isn’t your first time.’

Lily felt the momentary sting pass as her body stretched to accommodate his fullness, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

‘Don’t stop,’ she breathed as her body completely surrendered to his and tiny sparks of pleasure returned between her thighs.

She shifted to try and elevate the feeling, but Tristan’s fingers dug into her hips to keep her still. ‘Wait. Let your body adjust to me.’

‘It has,’ she insisted, and felt his slightly damp hair brush her face as he shook his head.

‘Please, Tristan, I need to—’

He rocked against her and Lily moaned the word move as if it had six syllables.

Tristan eased in and out of her body gently, and then with more urgency, and Lily’s brain shut down. All she could do was feel as a thrilling tightness swept through her and urged her on. Then Tristan moved one hand up between their bodies and lightly stroked his thumb over her nipple, and Lily’s world splintered apart as pleasure clamped her body to his.

Tristan swore again, and thrust into her with such force all Lily could do was wrap her arms around his neck and hang on as he claimed her body with his and reached his own nirvana.

After what felt like an hour Lily became conscious of how her uneven breathing was pressing her newly sensitised breasts into the soft hair on Tristan’s chest, and also of how hard the wall was behind her—despite the fact that Tristan had curled his arm around her back to take the brunt of the pressure.

She was also conscious that Tristan still had his mouth buried against her neck, his lips pressed lightly against her skin as he tried to regulate his own breathing.

Her arms were slung laxly over his shoulders and a feeling of utter contentment enveloped her. A sense of euphoria was curling through her insides like warm chocolate syrup.

It was madness. This inexplicable feeling of completeness that swelled in her chest. But maybe it was because she’d had a life-changing experience. And she had. Nothing had prepared her for what had just happened. No song. No movie. No book. And she knew she’d remember this moment for ever.

But even through her high she could discern that Tristan wasn’t feeling the same way. He was unnaturally still, his breathing too laboured, as if he was having trouble composing himself. She shifted then, and the hardness of the wall scraped her skin. The air was slightly chilly now, as the sweat started to dry on her body. She shivered, still supported by his strong arms. Muscles she’d never felt before contracted around his hardness, still buried deep inside her, and she flinched as he cursed.

He pulled out of her, gently lowering her to the parquetry floor, stepping back. A look of abject disgust lined his face.

The shock of it made Lily recoil, and she quickly dropped her eyes and dragged her crumpled dress into place.

She heard him readjust his own clothing, and a primeval survival instinct she had honed as a child took root inside as she blanked out the feeling of utter desolation that threatened to overwhelm her for the first time in years.

‘Don’t say anything,’ she ordered, knowing that the best form of defence was attack, and was mildly surprised when shock replaced the revulsion she had seen on his face.

Good. She might not be as practised as he was in these postsex matters, but pride demanded that she did not behave like the bumbling fool she now felt.

For him this was just run of the mill but for her it was—

‘Don’t say anything?’ he all but bellowed. ‘You should have told me you were a virgin.’

Never let ‘em know you care, Honeybee.

She looked at him levelly. ‘It slipped my mind.’ In truth she had hoped he wouldn’t notice. But that seemed like a stupid notion in hindsight, given his size. ‘And you wouldn’t have believed me anyway, would you?’

He glanced to the side and it was all the answer Lily needed. Of course he wouldn’t have—when had he ever believed her? Something tight clutched in her chest and she toed on the shoe that had fallen off when her legs had been wrapped around his lean hips.

‘I didn’t use a condom,’ he said, the bald statement bringing her eyes back to his.

She wasn’t on the pill. Why would she be?

‘I think it’s a safe time,’ she murmured automatically, trying to quell a sense of panic so she could think about when her last period had been.

He groaned and paced away from her, one hand raking the gleaming chestnut waves back from his head as if he might tear it out.