Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin

CHAPTER TWELVE

PRISMS of scattered snowflakes swirled like diamonds in the sparkling sunlight as Roark stood next to her on the edge of the large white field.

He didn’t touch her. He hadn’t touched her in the Rolls-Royce, either, on the ride from her office. They hadn’t spoken a word since he’d told her he wanted her.

Even now, his hands were tucked into his black wool coat, as if to keep himself from pulling her into a kiss. But the brightness of the snow and blue sky caressed his tanned face, tracing his Roman nose, the strong cut of his jawline and his impossibly chiseled cheekbones.

Every time she looked at him, his dark gaze was on her, sizzling her blood, electrifying her to the core.

But he didn’t touch her. And every moment, she felt the space between them get smaller, drawing her inevitably closer. How long could she resist this? How?

She looked away, trying to remember her loyalty to her dead family and her need to protect her baby daughter.

Roark didn’t want to settle down and raise a family. He wanted a mistress who would toss aside everything to spend her life in endless pleasures around the world.

The image flashed through her of what it would be like to be Roark’s mistress. The luxury. The freedom from responsibility. A life of adventure without constraints. Sleeping in his bed every night …

Swallowing, she pushed the thought aside. She was a mother. And even if she hadn’t been, that sort of life wouldn’t have appealed to her for long. She wanted—needed—a home. She needed someplace in the world to call her own.

Yet she remembered his words: “I’ve had everything any man could want. Except one dream that keeps slipping through my fingers. And I’m not going to let it get away this time …”

“It’s beautiful.”

Startled, she looked up at his voice. From the northern edge on top of a snowy hill, Roark was looking out at the wide emptiness of the park. In the distance behind him she could see the sparkle of the Hudson River. “Not as beautiful to you as ten million square feet of office space, though, is it?”

His dark eyes cut through her.

“Not as beautiful to me as you are,” he said in a low voice. “I meant what I said. I want you to be with me, Lia. Until we’re sick of each other. Until I have my fill of you. No matter how long it takes.” He gave a light laugh. “Who knows. It might take forever.”

Her heart pounded. Just when she thought she couldn’t take the dark intensity of his gaze for another moment, he looked away.

“I’ve never liked this city. But your park …” He took a deep breath. “It almost feels like home.”

“You have a home?” she blurted without thinking.

Glancing at her, he gave a harsh laugh. “You’re right. I don’t. But the place I’m thinking of is northern Canada.” He looked back over the snowy park. “My father was an ice trucker. He drove supplies across frozen lakes and rivers in winter. My mother met him when she was heli-skiing over spring break. They had three dates and that was it for both of them.”

“She was Canadian?”

“American. The only child of a wealthy New York family.” His lips pressed together as if holding back some emotion. “When I was seven, I came to live here with my grandfather.”

She stared at him. “You grew up in New York?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Yes. I grew up fast. My grandfather was a cold man. He disinherited my mother at nineteen for eloping. He never forgave her for marrying a trucker. Nor did he think I was worthy of being his grandson.”

“But … but he was your grandfather!” Lia gasped. “Surely he loved you!”

Roark looked out at the wide vista of the snowy park. In the distance, a swirl of wind picked up a scattering of snowflakes and sent them whirling to the sky. “He said he’d spoiled my mother and wouldn’t make the same mistake raising me. He fired a new nanny every six months. He didn’t want me to get too attached to any of the servants, he said. He was afraid I’d get soft—or show my low-class origins.”

His emotionless words struck at her heart. Her throat hurt as she whispered, “Oh, Roark.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve had the last laugh. I’ve made a fortune ten times the size of the one he left to charity when he died. He disinherited me, of course. The day I turned eighteen, I left New York, and he was furious. Said he’d wasted his time raising me. He was thrilled to send me back to the gutter where I belonged.”

“He couldn’t have meant it!”

“You don’t think so?” Roark’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “He said I should have died with the rest of my family. He said I should have burned in the fire.”

“That’s how your parents died?” she whispered. “In a fire?”

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he turned his bleak eyes on her. “Not just my parents. My brother, as well. The curtains caught fire from the space heater in the middle of the night. My mother woke me up and carried me from the cabin. My father was supposed to wake up my older brother. When they didn’t come out, she went back for them.”

Lia sucked in her breath. Without thinking, she placed her hand over his, desperate to offer comfort. “Oh, Roark …”

Without moving his hand, he looked away. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

“But it does. I know how it feels.” She took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “I’m so sorry.”

He glanced down at her hand so tightly clasping his.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, Lia.” His dark eyes seemed haunted as he looked up. “I never meant to hurt your family when I took your father’s company. If I’d known …” He gave a harsh laugh and ripped his hand from hers. “Christ, maybe I’d still have taken it anyway. You’re right. I am a selfish bastard.”

Staring at him now, so troubled as he looked out over the snowy winter wonderland of the unfinished park, she felt her heart in her throat. It hurt too much to speak.

“But you have to know one thing,” he said in a low voice. “Making love to you in Italy had nothing to do with any business deal. I just wanted you. Wanted you beyond reason. I’ve always known I didn’t want children, yet I was so far gone that I forgot to use a condom.” He shook his head fiercely. “Do you know that for months after I left you, I waited for you to contact me with the news we’d conceived a child?”

Suddenly the truth was pounding in her throat. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.

She took a deep breath. “Would that have been so terrible,” she whispered, “if I’d gotten pregnant with your child?”

Raking back his hair, he gave a harsh laugh. “It would have been a disaster! I’d be no good as a father. The responsibility. The pressure. Lucky for us you weren’t pregnant, wasn’t it?”

She choked down the ridiculous hope that had been building in her heart.

“Yes,” she said dully. “Very lucky.”

He looked out over the sparkle of the snow, the endless white fields bare of trees. “I know this thing between us can’t last. You’re right. We’re nothing alike. You want a home and I must have my freedom.”

She watched his handsome face, her heart breaking.

Then he turned to face her. “Do you know you’re the first woman who ever turned me down? I admired you the moment I saw you. Your beauty, your grace. Your pride. You challenged me. Unlike most women, you never needed me to save you. And I admired that most of all.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not nearly so strong as I look. Since Giovanni died, I’ve been alone.”

“Alone? How can you think that?” He shook his head in amazement. “Don’t you see how the whole world loves you?” He moved toward her, gently tucking a dark tendril behind her ear that the wind had blown in her face. He didn’t touch her skin, and yet the closeness of his caress sent every nerve in her body spinning. “You spend your life taking care of other people. You are the most intriguing woman I’ve ever known. Sexy as hell. But your courageous spirit—that was what caught me. Your strength. Your goodness. Your honesty.”

Honesty? Oh, my God. The enormity of her secret was pounding in her brain, making her whole body hurt.

“You insulted me to my face so gleefully,” he continued, “I knew you’d always tell me the truth, even if it hurt me.” He rubbed his cheek wryly. “Especially if it hurt me.”

She felt her own cheeks go hot. “I was wrong to slap you that day.”

“No, I deserved it.” He looked down at her. She could feel the heat from his body, and yet still he didn’t touch her! He said softly, “If I hadn’t taken your father’s business, your life would have been so different.”

Silence fell between them. She heard the sad caw of birds high overhead, flying south so late, so late. She heard the crunch of the fresh snow beneath his shoes as he turned away.

He blamed himself. And after all this time of blaming him, somehow, knowing he blamed himself … broke her heart.

“It wasn’t your fault really,” she heard herself say in a small voice. “My father’s heart was weak. My sister’s treatment was experimental. My mother was fragile. Maybe it had nothing to do with you. Maybe … I never should have blamed you.”

Roark’s eyes closed as he took a long, deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they shone—with unshed tears?

Roark?

“Thank you.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. The sensation of his touch, after waiting so long for it, caused a deep shudder to go through Lia. Her knees went weak.

Suddenly the air between them changed. Electrified. He ran his thumb along her sensitive lower lip.

“Come to my hotel,” he whispered. “Don’t make me wait. I can’t wait anymore. I need you now.”

Yes, she thought desperately, then thought of Ruby and turned away.

“I can’t.”

“Come to my bed once of your own free will,” he asked quietly. “After that, if you decide you don’t want me, I won’t pursue you again. But give me one chance to persuade you. One chance to show you what I can offer. What our life together could be.”

She looked at him, dazed by the gentle seduction of his touch. She felt dizzy, overwhelmed. And she knew she couldn’t bear for him to leave. Not yet. She couldn’t bear the thought of him letting her go, setting her adrift again and alone in the cold winter. Not without one last chance to be warm …

“If I come to your bed, you’ll let me go?”

“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “If that is what you truly desire. But I will do everything I can to convince you to stay. To come away with me. To be my love.”

“Your … love?” she said softly.

“My mistress.” He held her in his arms, looking down at her. “I’m not offering love, Lia. I’m not offering marriage. I know this fire between us cannot last. Let’s just relish every moment that we have.”

Closing her eyes, she silently pressed her face against his coat. She could feel the cold, blustery wind against her face, but the rest of her body felt hot. And warm. His arms were wrapped around her as he held her tightly. Her breasts felt hard and aching, her body rising toward him with every quick, panting breath.

He wanted long-term pleasure. No commitment. No emotional entanglement.

That wasn’t what she wanted from a man. Not as a husband and not as her baby’s father.

And yet …

One afternoon in his bed. Then Roark would return to Asia, and Ruby would be safe forever. He need never know he had a daughter. He need never feel a burden of responsibility he didn’t want, or interfere in their lives. He could continue his endless travels and never look back.

He would never have the opportunity to fail Ruby as a father. And Lia wouldn’t be forced to watch Roark replace her in his life with an endless parade of new mistresses when he tired of her.

They were wrong for each other. She saw that clearly. She wanted a family and a home. She wanted a steady man who would love her forever and love their children.

She wanted a life like Emily had. But since she couldn’t have that …

One afternoon in Roark’s bed.

One time to try to satiate her craving for him and then she’d forget. She’d send him on his way and start a new life with her baby. She would forget him.

She would.

Her heart pounded as she turned her face upward, looking into his eyes. The sun was behind his head, giving his black hair a halo like a dark Renaissance angel. He dazzled her. His masculine power and beauty blinded her.

And she heard herself whisper, “I need to be home by two o’clock.”

He took a deep breath and held her fiercely, kissing her forehead, her hair.

“You won’t regret it,” he vowed. “I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

A few hours. Just a few hours, Lia told herself. As he lowered his head to claim her lips with a passionate kiss, she knew she’d burn each caress onto her memory. She would make these next few hours last forever.

Then … she would let him go.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AS THEY went up the elevator of the Cavanaugh Hotel to the $20,000-a-night presidential suite, Roark realized he was shaking.

Oh, my God, when had he ever wanted a woman like this?

When had he ever wanted anything like this?

He stopped in front of the hotel room door, looking down at her. Her hazel eyes were clear and serene, like pools of cool water in a Canadian forest, reflecting the green and brown of the wilderness and vivid blue of the sky.

Unable to look away, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. He closed the door behind them with a kick.

He carried her across the marble floor of the foyer, beneath the enormous crystal chandelier, and across the six-room suite into the master bedroom. He set her gently to her feet. Through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, he could see the stark beauty of Central Park. Black trees twisted patterns against the white expanse of snow.

He took off his black coat. He peeled off her white wool coat and gloves and scarf, dropping them to the floor. He started to take off his black shirt, but found himself distracted when she started to do the same right in front of him.

Her hazel eyes never left his as she slowly unbuttoned her black jacket, revealing a lacy black bra beneath. She unzipped the back of her skirt and let it fall. He saw black lace panties and black stockings held up by a garter belt.

Stockings? A garter belt …?

Who was this woman? She was modern, young, a countess. And yet she was an old-fashioned fantasy, a 1940s bombshell. The more time he spent with Lia, the more he wanted her.

It was why he’d realized he wanted her for longer than just a night. He wanted her in his life until he’d had his fill.

For the first time, ever, he wanted to keep a woman with him on his travels.

Roark swallowed, and his hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt as he watched her. Lia was truly a woman who’d be feverishly desired by every man, no matter the age or time.

Kicking off her black high heels, she put one small foot on the bed and unclasped the first garter. Without looking at him, she rolled the black stocking slowly down her leg.

His breath came in hoarse little gasps.

Dropping the first stocking to the carpet, she repeated the process with the other leg. He licked his lips, unable to look away.

She finally turned to face him. She took a deep breath, and for the first time, he saw the blush on her cheeks, the tremble of her hands. She was nervous.

Somehow that was the sexiest thing of all.

Lia clasped her hands together, tucking them behind her back. Then she looked up at him with a sensual smile, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Roark’s heart pounded. How was it possible that he was the only man who’d ever touched her—this most desirable woman on earth? A woman so powerful and yet so vulnerable. So strong and proud and mysterious, yet utterly honest.

How was it possible that a woman like this existed anywhere beyond the realm of male fantasy?

She took a deep breath, suddenly shy. “What … what do I do now?”

It was all the invitation he needed.

Roark ripped off the last buttons of his shirt, pulled off all his clothes. With a growl, he lifted her up in his arms. “I’ll take it from here.”

He placed her tenderly on the soft bed. He moved down to kiss her lips, stroking her bare arms. He kissed down her throat, stroking every inch of her body with his sensitive fingers. She touched him back, timidly at first, then with greater confidence. He relished feeling her hands on his skin.

He relished it far too much.

But after eighteen months of frustrated desire, he wanted to take his time, to enjoy her. To take her slowly. Until he was utterly satiated with this complicated, sexy-as-hell, mysterious woman….

How long would that take?

She had to come with him to Hawaii and Tokyo. He would convince her. He had no choice. One day would not be enough. He’d kill any man who tried to take her from him now.

At this moment Roark never wanted to let her go.

He stroked and kissed her shoulders, her belly. Cupping her breasts together with his hands, he pressed his face between them. She moaned softly beneath him.

He pulled off the black lace bra.

He unhooked the garter belt.

Slowly he rolled her black panties down her thighs and dropped them to the floor. She closed her eyes. He could feel her tremble beneath his hands.

She was in his power. The thought intoxicated him.

He had taken her virginity so brutally and breathlessly in Italy. Now he had a second chance to be the lover she deserved. For the next few hours she was his prisoner in this hotel suite, and he was determined to make her feel better than she’d ever felt in her life.

He would show her what making love could really feel like.

Roark kissed her hard, and she matched him with passion of her own. When he drew away, he stared down at her. Licking his fingertips, he swirled them against her breasts, making smaller and smaller circles until he centered on the peak of her taut nipples making her gasp. He lowered his mouth to taste her, suckling each side. He kissed down her flat belly, stroking the inside of her thighs with his powerful hands, making her tremble beneath him.