Claimed by the Millionaire: The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition
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“It makes all the difference in the world, Tristan.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned up on tiptoe, brushing her lips against his neck. “This is so nice.”
Tristan knew he should pull away and let her go but instead he leaned down, put his hand under her chin and tipped her head up toward his. His lips found hers easily and she sighed into his mouth as their lips met.
The wedding that she’d been nervous about participating in had taken on a certain dreamlike state. The champagne was good. Very good. There really was a difference between that stuff she bought in the grocery store and fine French champagne.
The music was chic and sexy and, as Sheri leaned closer to Tristan, she realized that he was, too. His cologne was one of a kind and smelled delicious. She’d never get enough of it. Even at work the scent lingered in his office when he was away.
She knew it was partly the alcohol she’d drunk that gave the evening the magical quality that it was taking on as she danced with Tristan, but just this once she felt as if she was woman enough for him.
The right kind of woman for Tristan Sabina, international playboy, her boss and the sexiest man she’d ever danced with.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his French accent nearly as appealing as the strong line of his jaw.
“About you.”
“Really?”
“Um…yes. What are you thinking?”
“That maybe I should pull you closer,” he said, suiting action to words.
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She knew this was another part of the wonderful dreamland she’d been in for the last week. Being on Mykonos was like being in a fantasy world.
Tristan and his friends were wealthy in every sense of the word and, when she was with them, she was living a life that was far removed from ev erything she’d ever known.
“Okay?”
“Yes,” she said, her words a sigh. “Though I thought we’d decided that…um, we’d just have a professional relationship.”
“Did we? I think we can both be forgiven for making the most of this moment, on a night like tonight.”
She looked up at him, trying to judge if he was sincere, and she saw something in his eyes. Something she’d never seen in them before.
Lust.
Everything feminine in her clenched at that expression. Here was what she’d dreamed of. And how sad was it that she wanted to accept whatever he had to offer?
“For just this night?” she asked, to make sure she understood what he was offering.
“That’s all I have in me,” he said, but in his eyes she saw the hint of something more.
Some kind of emotion that intimated that he did feel more, but why did she care? Being in Tristan’s arms was enough for her. This moment dancing together was better than she’d ever imagined it could be. She kept breathing deeply, trying to imprint the scent of him in her soul. She ran her hands down his shoulders and back, feeling the strength of his body under her touch.
If she were braver she’d press her body closer to his so she’d have the imprint of him against her to recall when she was back in the office and they were simply employer and employee again.
His finger under her chin startled her into opening her eyes and when he tipped her head back and their eyes met, she realized that there was more happening here than just a dance. She saw something else in Tristan’s gaze. There was such sadness there, she thought. A kind of pain that she recognized all the way to her lonely soul.
Tristan Sabina, lonely?
The thought was ludicrous.
She shook her head. What the hell was she doing? This was her boss. She pulled back, put a respectable few inches between them, and he let her.
She got the message loud and clear. There wasn’t more to this than Tristan feeling lonely at the reception and wanting…what exactly?
She tipped her head to the side as he brushed his finger along the line of her jaw. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I never realized how beautiful your eyes are.”
She caught her breath. She wasn’t beautiful and she knew it. Her eyes were brown. Not the kind of luscious chocolaty color that poets wrote about, just plain brown. She shook her head.
“Yes, gorgeous. I could get lost in them.”
“Tristan—”
He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip and her thoughts dissolved. She felt a tingling from that contact that spread down her neck and shoulders. And she realized that the safe little way in which she’d been obsessed with Tristan had turned into a dangerous and exciting attraction.
She knew that he wasn’t himself tonight. That Monday morning, when they were back at work, they would return to the relationship they’d always had.
A sane person would turn around, walk off the dance floor and go back to her room.
But she’d been alone in her room for much of her life. In a box of her own making where she was safely insulated from pain. From the men who always left her.
She looked up at Tristan. He stared at her lips. His own parted as he stroked hers. And she wondered if knowing he was leaving, figuratively speaking, after one night would somehow lessen the pain of being left once again.
And she didn’t kid herself that it wasn’t going to be painful when he left. It was always painful, but being with Tristan…being in his arms and experiencing the things she’d dreamed of since the first time he’d walked into her office…well, that might be worth it.
Wouldn’t it?
She didn’t know and didn’t want to analyze it. For once she wanted to forget that she was a plain-Jane kind of woman. That she was the kind of girl who usually went back to her room alone. For tonight, she was the woman that Tristan Sabina was looking at with lust in his eyes.
He and Sheri danced together for the rest of the evening and once Christos and his bride left, Tristan thought of leaving, too. But he glanced over at Sheri and was unable to walk away.
He drew her back out onto the dance floor, moving their bodies together. Feeling the rightness of the way she fit in his arms and against his body.
If she pulled back, of course he’d let her walk away. He had never had to coax a woman into his bed. But with Sheri, he was tempted. He was tempted to ply her with champagne and kisses.
Kisses.
He’d tasted her lips once, and now that was all he wanted to do. Stroke his tongue over the seam between her lips until she sighed and opened her mouth. Let his tongue sweep into the softness of her mouth. She would taste sweet…of champagne and something else that was uniquely Sheri.
He could not resist. He lowered his head, and she rose to meet him. She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up on her tiptoes to keep their mouths together. He held her waist, lifting her against him. He felt the impact of her breasts against his chest and wanted to groan out loud. How could he ever have missed the fact that Sheri was a damned attractive woman?
He pulled back and looked down into those deep chocolate eyes of hers. They were wide and dreamy-looking. She brought one hand from his shoulder to her mouth and traced her lips with her forefinger.
“Sheri?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you like me to kiss you again?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, licking her lower lip and leaning her weight on him as she stretched up toward him.
He bent lower and as soon as his lips brushed hers she opened her mouth and her tongue met his. Just a soft, tentative touch, and then she made that little moaning sound and he felt the gentle edge of her teeth against his lower lip as she sucked him into her mouth.
He opened his eyes and saw that hers were closed and she was absorbed totally in the moment. He realized things were going too far for a public dance floor. Sheri’s burgeoning passion was for him, and him alone.
Damn, he’d never felt this possessive about a woman before.
He lifted his mouth from hers, tucked her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. Rubbed his hands down her back until he thought he could walk without each step being painful.
The crowd at the reception had thinned. The photographer from the Sabina Group was still there, but otherwise the event was paparazzi free. The guards that Christos had hired had provided an environment where his bride and his guests could relax and not have to worry about being pursued.
“Sheri?”
“Yes, Tristan?”
He couldn’t ask her to stay with him tonight, he thought. This was his assistant. The woman he counted on to be cheeky and funny and to keep his New York office running efficiently. Yet he wanted her, and he wasn’t in the habit of denying himself anything he wanted.
“Did you like that?”
“Kissing you?”
“Mmm, hmm.”
“Oh, yes. Very much. And dancing with you,” she said, her eyes sparkling as she shimmied against him in time to the slow jazz number playing. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Kissing you or dancing with you?” he asked, just to tease her.
“Both.”
“Yes.”
She arched both eyebrows at him. “Really? I know you’re used to more sophisticated women.”
“How do you know that?” he asked. He never discussed his private life at the office.
“I searched you on Google. I read the Post. And Lucille sends me the French tabloids with pictures of you.”
“Why?” he asked, realizing that Sheri was a lot more talkative when she drank. Normally, she’d try to play off her interest in him, but not tonight.
“You’re my obsession,” she said, her tone airy and breathless.
“Obsession?” he asked.
She flushed and pushed out of his arms. Her hands came up to cover her face. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I said that.”
Tristan cupped her elbow and led her from the dance floor. Sheri grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Taking a delicate sip, she drew to a stop.
“Will you please forget I said that?”
Not in a million years, he thought. She was totally unique in a world of women who fawned over him. There was a freshness to her. An innocence that he’d never experienced. Not even with Cecile, who’d been ten years his senior.
“Tristan? Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And?”
“No, Sheri, I will not forget you said that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like being your obsession. What have you obsessed about doing with me?”
She shook her head and he wondered if she’d back down now. Instead she took a sip of her champagne and smiled up at him. “I’m not sure you’re ready to know about that.”
“When do you think I will be?”
She shrugged. Her delicate shoulders moved underneath the pretty silk straps of the bridesmaid’s dress. “I’m not sure you’ll ever be ready.”
“Why not?”
“Because of what I said earlier.”
“And that was?”
“You’re not used to a woman like me.”
“Ma petite, that I may not be, but I’m definitely ready for a woman like you.”
Three
Sheri kept her hand in Tristan’s as they walked toward the front of the mansion, where the valet was stationed, to get his car. Suddenly she hesitated, realizing that this was going to change her life. She forced herself to look around and acknowledge that, if she kept walking, her life would change.
“Sheri?”
She bit her lower lip, wondering if she was going to pass up the chance of a lifetime. And the answer was…she had no idea. She was torn between what she wanted—the man she’d wanted for so long—and self-preservation.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to stay here?”
No, she thought. But now she couldn’t say that she was swept away by the moment. He was putting the onus on her, which was exactly where it should be. Clearly, he was leaving…and the thought of watching another man walk away was too much for her. The decision was made that easily.
She had no idea what the future would hold, but on this night she was going to be with Tristan. And it could only be this night, because she was flying back to the States in the morning.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“My villa.”
“You have a villa on Mykonos?”
“Yes. I own property all over the world,” he said.
“Why? There’s no real reason for you to be here for the magazine.”
“One of my best friends lives here. Plus, in the summer, it’s a nice place to holiday.”
She nodded. “I don’t own any property.” She was very lucky that her brownstone in Brooklyn was a fixed-price rental. She’d taken over the lease upon her aunt’s death.
He arched one eyebrow at her. “Is that important?”
She shrugged and realized that, to him, it wouldn’t be. And unless she wanted to ruin the wonderful attraction that was flowing between the two of them, she needed to stop being so mired in who she was.
“It’s not. So where is this villa?”
“Not far. Ready to go?”
She nodded.
She started forward but he stopped her with a hand on her arm, drawing her back against his chest. He leaned down and whispered something in French that she couldn’t understand and kissed her neck.
Tingles of arousal spread down her body, tightening her nipples and making her breasts feel fuller. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, one hand at her waist, one hand right under her breasts.
She tipped her head to the side to give him better access to her throat. He whispered her name and kept her close to him before biting her softly and lifting his head.
He took her hand in his and led the way out of the building. They waited for the car. Tristan kept his gaze on the night sky. But Sheri couldn’t help looking at him and marveling that, for tonight, he was hers.
Tristan Sabina is going to be mine. The future didn’t matter at this moment, because she wanted him with the kind of keen longing she’d never experienced before with a man.
He turned to her and lifted one eyebrow as if he were asking her what she was thinking. She flushed and shook her head.
He smiled then lowered his head and kissed her, his lips feathering over hers and his hands skimming down the sides of her body. His fingers brushed against the curves of her breasts and came to rest at her waist, pressing her up into his body.
She liked the way he felt against her. His height made her feel delicate and very womanly. His hands were large enough to span her waist and she felt them wrap around her. Everything else dropped away.
There was just her and Tristan. His lips on hers, his hands on her body and the very essence of him seeping into her cold and lonely soul.
She suckled his lower lip, drawing it into her mouth. His hands tightened on her and his erection brushed against her lower belly. She swallowed hard and pulled back, looking up at him.
She had a little sexual experience, but nothing that had made her feel like Tristan was.
“What is it?” he asked, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek. His thumb stroked her skin and she looked up into his warm gray eyes and felt something shift inside her.
“Why me?”
“Why not you?”
She shook her head and realized that, if she asked questions, she should be prepared to hear an answer that might not be what she was searching for.
But she’d never been a coward, and this night with Tristan…well, she wanted to make the most of it. Be someone she’d never been before.
“Seriously, why are you making a move now?”
“That sounds so crass, ma petite. I have no ulterior motive. I have a beautiful woman in my arms and I don’t want to let her go.”
“I’m not beautiful,” she said, because she knew it was true. There were truly beautiful people in the world and she wasn’t one of them. She was more apt to be described based on her sterling personality. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, it was just that there was nothing that really made her stand out.
“Tonight you sparkle,” he said.
She felt her cheeks heat up with a blush. He lowered his head once again, kissing her, and in his arms she realized she did feel beautiful. She felt worthy to be on his arm as they got in his black Lamborghini and drove through the narrow streets of Mykonos.
He kept her hand on his thigh and his hand on top of hers, moving only to shift gears, and occasionally to lift her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it.
She leaned her head back against the leather seat and turned to watch him. Tristan Sabina…she couldn’t believe she was alone with him at last.
Tristan parked the Lamborghini behind his villa and got out. Sheri had her door opened before he got there. He offered his hand to help her out of the car. He saw the surprise in her eyes as she took it.
He realized that no one had ever been good to her in the way that men should be toward women. He wanted to change that, at least for tonight.
When she was standing next to him, he tucked a loose curl behind her ear. He couldn’t get enough of touching her. He led the way into his house, tossing his keys on the kitchen countertop and hitting the light switch. She stood awkwardly just inside the doorway. Was this the moment when she’d change her mind?
He wouldn’t pressure her into staying, he thought. Then she nibbled on her lower lip and his entire body went on point. God, he wanted her. Why now?
He’d had a few inconvenient fantasies since they’d arrived here on Mykonos. Away from the office, Sheri had dropped her barriers and started to relax. He’d always liked her cheeky attitude, but seeing her in shorts on Christos’s yacht during the week and tonight in this dress that actually fit her…well, it got to him.
He tried to remind himself that she was his assistant and that this was the kind of situation that Rene always warned him against. Fraternization was firmly frowned upon at the Sabina Group, especially by the CEO, Tristan’s older brother, Rene.
And frankly, now that she was here in the villa, she seemed nervous. Not at all like the sexy woman he’d held in his arms on the dance floor.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No thank you,” she said. “I… Show me your place.”
He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and tossed it on the bar stool at the kitchen counter. He led her out of the kitchen into a formal reception room and up the stairs to the living room. He’d put on some music and dance with her again. That would relax her like nothing else would.
And he’d have her back in his arms.
“Look at the view,” she said as they stepped into his living room. One wall was all windows, showcasing the view of the city of Mykonos and the Aegean Sea.
“It’s even more spectacular from the balcony. Would you like to see that?”
She nodded.
He put his hand on the small of her back and lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her slowly. She shifted in his arms, turning to wrap her arms around his shoulders.
Blood rushed through his veins, pooling in his groin. He lifted his head. Her lips were wet and a little swollen from his kisses. “Come, let me show you the view.”
He led her outside and the cool evening air surrounded them. She rubbed her hands over her arms. He brushed her hands aside, caressing her and pulling her back against his body.
He kissed her neck and shoulders as she stood still under his touches. Then she turned around and rose up on her tiptoes, taking his mouth with hers. Her tongue teased his and he realized that, though she was a little nervous, she was with him right now.
Wanting him the way he wanted her.
He felt her fingers at his neck, loosening his bow tie and then tossing it away. “Can I unbutton your shirt?”
“Yes.”
She did with slow touches. “You have a great body, Tristan.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw it in People magazine’s spread on you last summer. A photo of you at the beach.”
He growled deep in his throat when she leaned forward to brush kisses against his neck. Her lips were sweetly shy as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Then she nibbled her way lower, and he felt the edge of her teeth graze his skin.
He watched her, his eyes narrowing and his pants feeling damned uncomfortable. Her tongue darted out and brushed his nipple. He arched against her and put his hand on the back of her head, urging her to stay where she was.
She put her hands on his shoulders and eased her way down his chest. She traced the muscles that ribbed his abdomen and then slowly made her way lower. He could feel his heartbeat in his erection and he knew he was going to lose it if he didn’t take control.
But another part of him wanted to let her have her way with him. When she reached the edge of his pants, she stopped and glanced up his body to his face.
Her hand brushed over his straining length. “I guess you like that.”
He muttered the French equivalent to the American “Hell, yeah,” and pulled her to him. He lifted her slightly so that her breasts brushed his chest. “Now it is my turn,” he said.
Blood roared in his ears. He was so hard, so full that he needed to be inside of her body right now.
Impatient with the fabric of her dress, he drew it up over her head and tossed it out of his way. No bra. He caressed her creamy thighs. God, she was soft. She moaned as he neared her center and then sighed when he brushed his fingertips across the V of her panties.
The cotton was warm and wet. He slipped one finger under the material and hesitated for a second, looking down into her eyes.
They were heavy-lidded. She bit down on her lower lip and he felt the minute movements of her hips as she tried to move his touch where she needed it.
He was beyond teasing her or prolonging anything. He pressed her panties aside, slipping two fingers into her humid body. She squirmed against him.
He pulled her head to his so he could taste her mouth. Her lips parted and he told himself to take it slow, that Sheri wasn’t used to him. But one touch and he was out of control.
He held her at his mercy. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she pressed upward. He pulled away from her mouth, glancing down to see her nipples pushing against his chest. She closed her eyes and held her breath as he ran his finger over one nipple. It was velvety compared to the satin smoothness of her breast. He brushed his finger back and forth until she shifted on his lap.
He caressed her back, scraping a nail down the length of her spine to the indentation above her buttocks.
He wanted to give her so much pleasure, because he suspected she hadn’t experienced true passion before.
Women were vulnerable when it came to sex. Not just in a physical way, but in an emotional one, as well, and Tristan made it a point to make sure that his lovers knew how sexy and beautiful he found them.
She moaned, a sweet sound that he captured in her mouth. She tilted her head to the side immediately to allow him better access. She held his shoulders and moved on him, rubbing her center over his erection.
Gently he scraped his fingernail over her nipple again and she shivered in his arms. He pushed her back a little bit so he could see her. Her breasts were bare, nipples distended and begging for his mouth. He lowered his head and suckled.
He held her still with a hand on the small of her back. He buried his other hand in her hair and arched her over his arm. Both of her breasts were thrust up at him. He had been with many women, but he knew that he wanted Sheri more than he’d wanted any other woman in a long time. What the hell? This was sex, not about wanting her.
He wouldn’t let this be about anything other than the physical. One night together.
“Tristan?”
“Hmm?”
“Okay?”
Damn. He didn’t want her out of the moment. “I’m fine. Just enjoying you, ma petite.”
Her eyes were closed, her hips moving subtly against him, and when he blew on her nipple he saw gooseflesh spread down her body.