Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin
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“Oh, Roark,” she choked out.
He wrapped his hands beneath her backside, holding her close to him. Pushing her legs apart, he flicked his tongue inside her, making her twist and sway. He felt the hot sweat of her skin, heard the quick pant of her breath.
And he smiled. Sliding on a condom, he lifted his body above hers.
But he didn’t push inside her, not immediately. Instead he teased her. He felt her body arch to meet his as she instinctively tried to bring them closer, but he resisted. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead with the effort of not thrusting inside her. He moved slowly against her, tempting her until she gasped and pleaded wordlessly for release.
Finally, when she could take it no longer, he pressed inside her, inch by agonizing inch. But he didn’t close his eyes at his own wave of pleasure.
Instead he watched her.
Watched the way she sucked in her breath, biting her full bottom lip. Her mouth was smeared with red lipstick, bruised with hard kisses.
He watched the way her eyelids fluttered. Her beautiful face turned up blissfully as if she heard choirs of angels. He watched the fervent movement of her lips as she soundlessly gasped his name.
With each slow thrust, sliding his hips in rhythm to the center of her pleasure, he watched her. Until she started to tense and shake beneath him. Then he rode her. Deeper. Faster. He never closed his eyes. He never looked away from her. When she finally cried out her release, their eyes locked, and lightning went through Roark’s body, exploding him into a million chiming pieces.
His angel.
Being with her was like nothing he’d ever felt before.
Afterward, he held her. He wanted to be close to her. He stroked her as she dozed in his arms.
He’d never wanted a woman to sleep in his bed.
He himself had never been unable to sleep because he wanted to just stare at the woman he’d bedded.
Lia’s beauty and power and goodness held him. He watched the slanting warmth of the afternoon sun leave a glow on her closed eyes, on her lips curved in a gentle smile.
She was perfect, he thought. The perfect woman. The perfect mistress. The perfect wife.
Wife?
He’d never thought he would marry, but looking at her now, he had the sudden desire to possess her forever. To keep her solely for his own use and pleasure. To make sure no man could ever, ever touch her. Permanently.
For the first time in his life, he could understand why a man would want to take a wife.
He’d never wanted any woman like this. Roark had always been determined to stay free.
Now, for the first time, ever, he suddenly had found a woman who wouldn’t commit to him. And all he wanted to do was pin her down.
He tried to push the thought away. He couldn’t get married. He wasn’t the marrying sort. And even if he was, Lia wouldn’t marry him.
She wanted a home. She wanted a child. She wanted love.
What could he possibly offer her to compensate for everything he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give her?
“Lia,” he whispered, stroking the inside of her bare arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw her face light up with a smile on sight of him. And something inside his heart beat faster.
“Lia,” he repeated, then swallowed.
Marry me.
Give up your desire for home and a family and love. Be mine. Give yourself to me.
“Yes?” she said, stroking his rough cheek and looking up into his eyes tenderly.
But he couldn’t speak the words. Him, marry? Roark, take a wife? The idea was ridiculous! He’d spent his whole adult life avoiding commitment and emotional attachment. He wouldn’t give that up now for some momentary lust.
Asking Lia to travel with him was already more than he’d ever asked any woman. It would be enough. It had to be enough.
He would make it be enough.
And he lowered his head to kiss her.
Lia had barely caught her breath from their first lovemaking session when he woke her.
But as he kissed her now, moving his hands against her naked breasts, she felt her body tense with instant desire. He was already rock solid against her. She timidly reached down to explore the most masculine part of his anatomy in a way she never had before, and he jumped beneath her touch. With a growl, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all.
Sitting up in bed, he placed her on his lap facing him. Sliding on a condom, he lifted her up in his strong arms, then lowered her over him, impaling her slowly, inch by inch. He held her tightly in his lap, with her legs wrapped around his body. He rocked back and forth, causing her breasts to brush against the dark hair of his chest. She felt her sensitive core slide slickly against his lower belly as he moved deeply inside her. Almost immediately, she tensed and cried out.
“Thirty seconds,” he said, sounding amused as he brushed away the strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Let’s see if we can make you last longer than that.”
For the next hour he tortured her with pleasure.
He rolled her on top of him on the bed, showing her how to find her own rhythm, to control the pace and the intensity of his thrust. He tipped her back onto the bed and lifted her leg over his shoulder to show her how deep he could be inside her. He tasted her with his tongue. Played her with his skilled fingers. Made her writhe … made her beg.
But every time she would start to tense and feel the deep shake coming from within, he would abruptly stop. And he would move away, changing the rhythm. Until she was nearly weeping with the frustration of agonized desire.
He teased her like this for a full hour. And the entire time, he was rock hard and huge for her. How could any man last like this? How?
And how long did he intend to torture her?
“Please,” she finally begged, tears streaming down her face. “Just take me!”
He looked down at her with dark eyes full of tenderness and gave her a wicked half grin. “I think you can handle another few hours.”
“No!” she said fiercely, and then with sudden strength, she pushed him back against the bed. She climbed over him and lowered herself upon him. She held his wrists back against the pillow as he gave a soft gasp.
“My turn,” she whispered in his ear. Using all the skills he’d taught her, she started to ride him. He tried to protest, but she ignored him, forcing him to thrust inside her again and again until he, too, started to tense and writhe.
Finally he breathed, “Lia, stop. Lia, I can’t keep on like this. Slow down … oh, my sweet girl …” But against his protests, she kept riding him, moving her hips faster and forcing him deeper inside with every thrust. Until finally he tossed his head back and with a mighty roar he exploded inside her, shaking and trembling beneath her. In the exact same instant, she cried out as the spiraling pleasure took her so high that it nearly made her pass out.
With a shuddering breath, she collapsed against him.
For a long time, she wasn’t even sure how long, he just held her. But gradually she came back to awareness. She felt him stroking her back. She opened her eyes and saw that he was awake, staring at her. As if he couldn’t get enough of her.
And she wanted him.
Not just in bed.
But in her life.
Forever.
She realized with a sudden shock: she was falling in love with Roark.
No! she thought in desperation. I can’t fall in love with him! She desperately tried to remember all the reasons she had to hate him.
But all she could think of was the stark vulnerability she’d seen in his face when he’d told her how his family had died in the fire. How his own grandfather had despised him and not even allowed him to love a nanny. How since he was seven years old he’d never had a real family or home …
But he doesn’t want those things! she told herself fiercely. He doesn’t want a wife. He doesn’t want a child!
It was so hard to keep silent about their baby. She wanted to tell him so badly that it was choking her.
But she couldn’t risk Ruby’s happiness on a father who didn’t want her. And she didn’t want to force Roark into a responsibility he didn’t want.
If she were truly starting to care for Roark, she told herself, she had to keep the secret. She had to give him the freedom he wanted.
And, a tiny voice whispered, if he knew how you’ve lied all these months, he would hate you.
She closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze that ripped through her defenses, that ripped through her soul.
She was falling in love with Roark.
And she had to let him go.
She glanced at her diamond-crusted Piaget watch. “Two o’clock,” she whispered. Ruby would be waking up from her nap. She took a deep breath. “It’s late. I have to go.”
“Late?” He moved beneath her. “Our flight across the Pacific doesn’t depart for two hours.”
“No.” She started to sit up. “I’m sorry. This afternoon is all we can ever have. I can’t travel with you. I can’t risk …”
Can’t risk my child’s heart on a father who doesn’t want her.
Can’t risk you hating me if you knew what I hid from you.
He stared at her. “Lia, don’t do this.”
She briefly closed her eyes, gathering her strength. “You said if I came to your bed of my own free will, you’d let me go.”
He grabbed her wrist. “Lia, wait.” He took a deep breath, then looked her straight in the eyes. “If you won’t be my mistress … then be my wife.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BE HIS wife?
Lia stared at him in the luxurious hotel suite, her heart pounding.
“You … want to marry me?” she whispered.
“I want to have you in my life.” His eyes were dark, intense. “At any cost.”
She took a deep breath. So nothing had changed. He still didn’t love her. He was merely willing to marry her just to get his own way.
But how long would that kind of marriage last?
And if he knew about Ruby …
He didn’t want a baby. And whatever he said now, he didn’t want a wife, either. A man like Roark would never settle down with anyone.
He admired Lia because he thought she was honest and good. If he ever found out how she’d lied all this time—lied to his face—lied to him as she surrendered her body to his …
He didn’t love her, and he never would.
And if he ever knew the truth, he would hate her.
Hot tears rose to her eyes as she grabbed up clothes from the floor. “I have to go.”
She dressed quickly, then turned to go.
“Lia.”
He rose before her, naked and strong and powerful. Her heart was in her throat as she remembered every inch and taste of his body. The way he’d felt against her.
“I know you want a home and family of your own,” he said quietly. “Those are things I can’t give you. But I’m offering you everything I have. More than I’ve ever offered anyone. I want you, Lia. Come with me. Be my wife.”
She swallowed back the pain of wanting him. Perhaps if she weren’t a mother, she might have been willing to sell herself short for the promise of the life he offered her.
But she was a mother. She had to put Ruby first.
Lia had already made a mistake by sleeping with a man who had no desire to be a father. She wouldn’t compound the mistake now by marrying him.
“I’ve made my decision,” she whispered. “Goodbye.”
“No!” He took her hand.
She turned away. “You gave me your word.”
Sucking in his breath, he dropped her hand.
“Yes,” he said dully. “I promised.”
“Goodbye.” She started running for the door so he wouldn’t see the tears streaming down her face.
But after she’d gotten into the hallway, slamming the door behind her, she leaned back against the door, wracked with silent sobs as she said goodbye to the only man she’d ever kissed. The only man she’d been tempted to love. The father of her child.
I’m doing the right thing, she told herself as she pressed the elevator button with a sob. The best thing for all of us.
So why did it feel so wrong?
She’d left him.
Roark couldn’t believe it. He’d been so certain that she would be his.
He’d just asked her to be his wife.
And she’d refused him.
Perhaps it was for the best, he told himself. He rubbed his head wearily. He’d been a fool to impulsively blurt out the offer. He would have tired of her in a week. In a day. Lia had done him a favor turning him down.
Hadn’t she?
The penthouse, with all its exquisite furnishings, echoed with silence. Marble, crystal, expensive hardwoods—all cheap and ugly now that she was gone.
His phone rang as he got out of the shower.
“The plane’s ready for takeoff, Mr. Navarre,” his assistant said respectfully. “Straight to Lihue with a brief fueling stop in San Francisco. I’ve had the driver pull around the front of the hotel. Shall I send someone up for your things?”
“Don’t bother,” Roark said dully. “I’m traveling light.”
Traveling light. Just as he liked it. He put on his black shirt. His platinum cufflinks. His black pants and black coat of Italian wool.
But as he stuffed a few items into his leather suitcase, he felt strangely numb in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since that frozen winter day so long ago when he’d lost so much in the fire.
It’s for the best, he told himself again. It was no good to get too attached. And Lia was the type of woman a man could get attached to. He didn’t want that. They would have driven each other crazy. And yet …
His hands clenched around the handle of his suitcase. He still couldn’t believe that he’d lost her.
Downstairs at the reception desk, he spoke briefly to his assistant who would be following him to Tokyo in a few days’ time. The main floor of the Cavanaugh Hotel was decorated with a thirty-foot-tall Christmas tree that was covered with red glass ornaments. All the joyful faces and colorful lights in the lobby irritated Roark, setting his jaw on edge.
As Murakami handled the hotel bill, Roark went outside. He blinked for a moment in the darkening winter afternoon, his breath turning to white clouds of smoke in the frozen air.
“Sir?”
Without a word, Roark handed the bag to his driver and got in the back seat. As the Rolls-Royce pulled away from the hotel circle, turning south on Fifth Avenue, his chauffeur said, “Did you have a nice visit in New York, sir?”
“My last visit,” Roark muttered, looking out the window.
“I hope you’ll be spending Christmas someplace warm, sir.”
He remembered the heat of Lia’s body, the warmth in her eyes.
The world is full of women, he told himself angrily. He would replace her easily.
And she would replace him. She would find a man who could give her more than Roark ever could. Maybe just some regular guy with a nine-to-five job who would come home every night to their snug little house. A man who would be faithful to her. A man who would be father to her children.
Roark’s body hurt with need for her.
But he’d given her his promise. He’d never thought he would have to keep it. But she’d made her choice to turn him down. He had to respect her decision.
And yet …
He suddenly realized he’d forgotten to give her the twenty-million-dollar check.
The thought whipped through his body, making him sit straight up in the leather seat. “Turn right up here,” he barked out.
“Sir?”
“Thirty-fourth and Eleventh,” he ground out. “As fast as you can.”
When his driver pulled up in front of the old building that held Lia’s office, Roark jumped out of the car. He was too impatient to wait for the slow, rickety elevator, so he raced up the stairs, taking three at a time. He reached the third floor and pushed open the door. His heart was pounding, but not from exertion.
Sarah the receptionist looked up at him in surprised pleasure.
“Mr. Navarre. Did you forget something?” She smiled. “Did you, um, did you want me to take you on the park tour after all?”
Lia wasn’t here. She wasn’t even here. His jaw clenched with suppressed disappointment as he took his checkbook out of his coat’s inner pocket.
“The countess already showed me the park. But she left before I could give her the donation.”
Bending over the table, he wrote a check for twenty million dollars to the Olivia Hawthorne Park Trust and handed it to her.
Sarah goggled at it in her hands. “I’ll get you a receipt.”
“It’s not necessary,” he said. He’d promised Lia he’d never contact her again, then he’d found a loophole to get around his own word of honor. And she wasn’t even here.
Nice, he mocked himself.
“The countess would insist,” Sarah said breathlessly. She quickly wrote out a receipt for a twenty million dollars. “How do you want this announced?”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ll send out a press release announcing your charitable donation, of course. Do you want this ascribed to you personally, or to your company?”
“Don’t mention it. Don’t mention it to anyone,” he said grimly.
“Ah. Anonymous. Gotcha.” She winked. “You’re quite the do-gooder, Mr. Navarre. Families will enjoy this park for generations to come.”
He growled at her, then turned to go. As he reached the door, he heard her sigh, “Lia will be so sorry she wasn’t here to see this. But she always likes to be home when her baby wakes up from her nap.”
Roark froze, his hand already on the doorknob.
“Baby?”
“She’s the cutest little thing.”
Roark went straight back to the desk. Her eyes went wide as she saw the fierce expression on his face.
“How old is she?” he demanded.
“That’s the most romantic part,” she replied with a sigh. “Ruby was born nine months after the count died. A miracle to comfort Lia in her grief. And Ruby is the sweetest little thing. She’s crawling like crazy … Where are you going?”
But Roark didn’t answer. He pushed open the door, rushing down the stairs in a fury.
A baby.
Lia’d had a baby.
And she’d never told him. She’d deliberately kept it a secret.
He remembered how nervous she’d been when he ambushed her outside her town house that morning. At the time, he’d thought she was just afraid he might try to invite himself into her bedroom. But she’d been nervous he might find out the truth.
Perhaps the baby had been born nine months after the count died, but the man couldn’t be her father. It was impossible. Lia had been a virgin when Roark had first touched her!
She had told him herself at the wedding reception, there had been no one else since. He remembered the way the waiter at the café this morning had said, “We’ve missed Mademoiselle Ruby today.”
“Who’s Ruby?” Roark had asked.
A friend, she’d answered. Just a good friend.
God, he’d been stupid! Thinking he could trust a beautiful, clever, willful woman like Lia Villani!
He’d overestimated her good heart.
He’d underestimated the depths of her deceit.
She’d lied to him. She’d hadn’t even given him the choice to be part of their child’s life. Instead she’d been so ashamed of her baby’s true parentage that she’d lied about it. Rather than admit that Roark was the one who’d fathered her baby, she’d told everyone her elderly husband had risen from his sickbed to father a child days before his death!
Fury made Roark’s hands shake. She’d tricked him. Lied to him for a year and a half. All the time he was traveling the world, dreaming of her against his will at night, she’d been having his baby. Choosing to keep it a secret. Lying about the baby’s father.
Lying to his face.
Lying to him in bed.
Roark clenched his hands.
And to think he’d actually intended to let Lia go.
He’d meant to keep his promise and leave her alone, no matter what it cost him. He’d actually intended to try and be noble. To give up his own selfish desires for the sake of respecting her wishes.
Noble. He nearly laughed at that now. He climbed into the back seat of his Rolls-Royce.
As the driver made his way to her town house, Roark stared out at the passing traffic. His lips curled back as he barked a cold laugh. He’d admired her. He’d thought she was special. He’d thought she was honest and good.
Now?
He would keep her in his bed. She would stay there, his prisoner, for as long as he desired her.
The world was a selfish place. A man had to take what he could, when he could. And screw the rest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“WELL, I’m off then,” Mrs. O’Keefe said, picking up her purse and giving her employer a doleful stare. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to stay …”
“I’m sure,” Lia said, wiping her eyes. She tried to smile at her baby, who was sitting next to her on the Turkish carpet in the front room playing with blocks. “I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “I just … I’m a little sad.”
“My dear, it’s been a year and a half since he died. He wouldn’t want you to take on so.”
Of course, Mrs. O’Keefe thought Lia was weeping over Giovanni. How could she explain that she was heartsick over Ruby’s real father, a man who was very much alive but who had no interest in having a daughter, loving a wife or settling down in a home?
“That’s not why I’m crying,” Lia said, wiping her eyes. “It’s … someone else.”
“Someone else?” The Irishwoman’s eyes met hers. “Who?”
Lia shook her head. She was crying over a man who would never, ever forgive her if he ever found out how she had lied.
But he would never find out. Roark was on his way to the Far East, never to return. She should be glad, right? She should be thrilled.
But she wasn’t.
When she’d first found out she was pregnant, she’d hated Roark with such passion she’d thought the only way she could completely love her baby would be to forget the man who’d fathered her.
Now, every day for the rest of her life, Lia would look into her daughter’s eyes and be reminded of an emotion entirely different from hatred. She’d be reminded of the way Roark had tenderly asked her to stay with him. And the way Lia had refused him.
The way she’d lied.
Stop it, she told herself, wiping her eyes fiercely. Stop it.
Ruby gurgled happily, handing her mother a wooden block with the letter L. Lia smiled through her tears as she looked down at her daughter.
“L is for love,” she whispered, giving the block back to her.
She hugged her baby. Ruby would always have the best of everything. The best schools. The best homes in both New York and Italy. The best clothes. A mother who loved her.
There was just one thing that Lia couldn’t give her.
“Don’t feel bad to be the one who’s left behind,” Mrs. O’Keefe said softly. “Don’t feel guilty. Your count will not blame you from heaven if you find someone else to love. You’re young. You need a man of your own. Just as your wee girl needs a father who’s alive on this earth to love her.”
Lia stared at her. Then looked at her baby.
Ruby already had a father who was alive …
Oh, my God, she thought suddenly. What have I done?
She’d told herself that she’d kept Roark and Ruby apart for their own good.
But what if that had been a self-serving lie?
Roark was capable of change. He’d proven that today. He’d said he never wanted to get married … but he’d proposed to her.
Roark had also said he didn’t want to be a father. But he might have changed his mind about that, as well. He might have taken one look at Ruby and wanted to be her dad.