Baby for the Billionaire Read online

  He jerked. “No more,” he growled and took her hand off him, twisting away to take a condom out of the bedside drawer and roll it on himself, entrancing her by his very masculine action. She’d read about all this in magazines, but the reality was overwhelmingly intimate.

  “Slide over,” he ordered, and he joined her on the bed, where he grasped her waist and rolled her on top of him.

  She felt a rush of heat at the full length of his body against her own for the first time, and the feel of his hands cupping her bottom.

  Their eyes met.

  She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Not when she could feel that curl starting in her toes again, making her want to tighten her legs and grind herself against him.

  Suddenly he rolled her over and slid on top of her like he was meant to be there. And then he nudged her legs apart and pushed inside her a little.

  She winced at the slight pain.

  He stilled, his eyes widening in shock. “You’re a virgin?”

  She wanted to deny it. Wanted to say that she was experienced so he would keep making her feel this way. Only she couldn’t lie.

  “Yes.”

  He swore but amazingly didn’t pull out. He took a deep breath and then began to move slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. Carefully he filled her, and when he was fully inside her he stopped.

  “Okay?” he asked hoarsely.

  She nodded, too emotional to be able to speak. Nick had made her a woman.

  His woman.

  He began to move, and the world faded away. No one else existed, and nothing mattered. It was just the two of them, and when she climaxed Nick followed, and they came together in their own private world.

  After Nick returned from the bathroom he sat on the bed and took her hands in his. “Why?”

  Sasha swallowed. “Why didn’t I tell you? You said it would make a difference and I … well … I wanted you to make love to me.”

  His mouth softened with tenderness. “You silly goose. The difference would have been in the way I made love to you, not in whether I made love to you at all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Your first time needs to be handled gently.” A moment later he grimaced.

  She saw the hint of regret in his eyes. “Nick, you were very gentle with me. Thank you.”

  He kissed her briefly. “Thank you for saying that.” Then he leaned back with a penetrating look in his eyes that made her uneasy. “I seem to remember you telling me that you’d slept with Randall Tremaine.”

  She’d been prepared for this.

  “Yes, I did say that. But I was eighteen, and I didn’t want you thinking our kiss meant anything to me so …” she lifted one shoulder in a shrug, “I made it up.”

  “You were saving face?”

  “Yes.”

  He considered her. “Why haven’t you ever slept with anyone?”

  “Perhaps I wanted to save myself for my husband.”

  A tic beat in his jaw. “And I’ve taken that away from you.”

  “No!” She swallowed, feeling bad for him. “Nick, look, we’ve both lost a lot of things from this marriage but we’ve gained some things, too. I’m glad you were my first, okay?”

  His gaze took on a piercing look that held hers for long moments. Then just as quickly it changed to a sensual warmth that made her heartbeat stutter.

  He got off the bed and scooped her from the sheets. “Nick! Where are you taking me?”

  “To the shower.”

  She didn’t ask why. It became obvious when he stood her in the cubicle and began to wash her with tenderness and care, and with a gentleness that almost brought tears to her eyes. This rich, arrogant playboy had a capacity for caring she hadn’t really expected.

  Then his hand and fingers replaced the soap, creating a lather that had nothing to do with bathing and everything to do with making love.

  Four

  For a moment Nick was confused when he woke up the next morning. He could hear car doors shutting and voices talking, and usually he didn’t hear those sorts of noises from his tenth-floor apartment in the city. Then he remembered.

  He was married now. And this wasn’t his apartment. He was at the Valente estate and the sounds he heard were the caterers clearing up the last of the wedding reception.

  Sasha!

  He lifted his head to find himself weighted to the bed by the naked female sleeping against his chest. He looked down at the top of her blonde hair, and heat surged through his veins.

  God, she’d been a virgin.

  Amazingly there was something totally satisfying about knowing he was the only man to ever touch her like he had. Knowing he was the first man to be inside her like he’d been. He’d never thought he’d be the sort of guy who indulged in that sort of thing. He wasn’t usually some sort of he-man who beat his chest in triumph.

  Yet this time he wanted to do exactly that.

  A virgin, for Pete’s sake!

  And of course that meant she’d lied to him all those years ago when she’d told him she’d gone out and slept with Randall Tremaine. It had been a few weeks after the gazebo incident and at the time he’d put it down to the fickle ways of a woman not knowing her own mind.

  It hadn’t stopped him wanting to knock the other man out when he’d seen them talking together briefly at a party. He remembered thinking Randall had been playing it so cool. No wonder. The poor guy had been an innocent pawn in it all.

  Totally innocent.

  Just like Sasha.

  Hell, was he blind or what? Everything had pointed to her being a virgin, only he hadn’t been looking. He’d just thought her a little inexperienced. He could see it all now. The shyness in her, her first climax, wanting the light turned off.

  The thought of being inside her again made him groan softly, and he knew he could wake her up and take her again. And it would be good for both of them.

  Damn good.

  But this wasn’t a woman he could make love to, then kiss goodbye. This was his wife.

  That thought had him easing out of bed and heading for the shower. He’d already given up his freedom for this marriage. He wasn’t giving up his work, too.

  But tonight … yes, tonight … he was going to enjoy teaching Sasha more about making love with a man.

  Sasha opened her eyes to find the sun streaming in through the windows and an empty bed next to her.

  She was a woman in every sense of the word now.

  And her heart was still intact.

  She’d been terrified last night. Deep-down terrified that somehow Nick’s lovemaking would open up the floodgates on the love she’d had for him years ago. It had been a very real fear.

  But she’d had nothing to worry about, thank heavens. Nick’s expertise in bed had made it so very special for her, and while lingering memories of her teenage love may have played a part in her enjoyment, pure physical attraction had saved the day.

  It was such a relief!

  Yes, she could cope with a physical relationship, she mused, throwing back the sheets and taking a couple of steps, then felt herself blush at how pleasurably sore her body was in all the places he’d touched.

  And kissed.

  Her hot shower should have soothed her but she kept remembering Nick carrying her in here last night. The thought of it brought a lump to her throat. How gentle he’d been.

  And caring.

  By the time she was dressed she was ready to face the day. The main thing was that she didn’t love Nick nor had he guessed she’d been in love with him years ago.

  And that was something to celebrate, she decided, as she went down the staircase to the kitchen. Today was business as usual for her husband, and it would be for her, too. She had her own work to do.

  She had plans.

  Lots of them.

  Her fingers itched while she ate breakfast on the terrace, her mind racing with excitement, eager now to get back to the designs she’d started a few weeks ago.

  The house was an
interior designer’s dream. It had a grand salon with picture windows and French doors looking out over spectacular gardens and courtyards. There was also a formal dining room and family living areas with five bedrooms and bathrooms, a study upstairs and one downstairs, and a kitchen with modern conveniences in an old-fashioned style.

  Before too long she’d spread herself out in the downstairs study, her ideas and thoughts spilling onto the paper, her enthusiasm for the project continuing to bubble as she worked past lunch.

  “Have you been here all day?” Nick said from the doorway.

  Startled, she looked up and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was so handsome, and she’d been intimate with him last night. The thought made her feel warm all over.

  She quickly dragged her gaze away to her watch. “Is it six o’clock already?”

  He started to scowl as he stepped into the room and came toward her. “You’re working on plans for the redecorating?” A muscle ticked in his cheek. “So you’re still going ahead with it?” he asked, stopping in front of the desk.

  That warm feeling disappeared at his tone. She leveled him a look. They hadn’t discussed it further, but she’d assumed he would still let her redecorate. “I guess that’s up to you. You’re the boss.”

  His eyes narrowed. “This is your home, too, now, you know.”

  “I guess it is.”

  Not for a moment did she think she owned this house. How could she? It was Nick’s. It would always be Nick’s even if she stayed married to him for fifty years.

  Her breath stopped at the thought.

  He leaned over the paperwork and looked at her plans for the main dining room. A minute later he grudgingly admitted, “They’re good.”

  Despite herself, she felt a thrill at his praise.

  She shrugged. “They’re just ideas. There’s still a lot to be done.”

  He studied her. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a tiny pause. “Fine. Then you have carte blanche to do what you like.”

  “Really?” Excitement rushed through her, but she quickly reined it in and said more primly, “Thank you.”

  “But my old bedroom stays as is.”

  “Oh?” She didn’t say she’d planned to turn his room and the one next to it into a larger suite. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  “Okay.” She’d allow him that. After all, she had the rest of the house.

  “I’m going to shower and change before dinner,” he said, a possessive gleam in his eyes sweeping over her, making her panic.

  She swallowed. Was he asking her to join him?

  “Um … I want to finish something here first. I’ll freshen up in a minute.”

  A knowing look in his eyes, he turned toward the door. “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  They both knew she wasn’t about to follow him upstairs. As much as she suspected being in his arms was addictive, she had to keep her distance or risk becoming his sex slave.

  She smiled to herself. Would that be so bad?

  Reality returned. Perhaps she ought to remind herself that she hadn’t even warranted an “I’m home, honey” kiss. Whether he wanted her in his bed or not, it was clear he wasn’t going to treat her like a real wife outside the bedroom. Not when they were alone anyway.

  Shades of her parents’ marriage?

  No, she wouldn’t think that.

  The thought was too painful to contemplate. Sasha looked down at her designs and started working on them again. Work had always helped her concentrate on the moment, holding unhappy thoughts of the past or the possibility of a lonely future at bay. Work had been her salvation.

  Now, if only she could get the color just right for …

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” Nick said, startling her again.

  She looked up and saw he’d showered and changed and she wrinkled her nose at herself. “I totally forgot the time again, didn’t I?”

  “Obviously you’re not falling over yourself to be with me?” he drawled, not looking in the least put out about that.

  No doubt he’d have plenty of women who would fall over themselves to be with him, she mused. Well, she wasn’t one of his women.

  She held her head high. “No, I’m not.”

  He considered her. “You’re not like other women, are you?”

  Was that a compliment? She wasn’t sure.

  “I guess not.”

  His face closed up. “You’ve got ten minutes,” he said gruffly before striding away.

  For a moment she just stood there. What was all that about? Her virginity? Was he feeling guilty about it? There was no need.

  After that she hurried to shower and re-apply a light coating of make-up, leaving her straight blonde hair to fall loose past her shoulders. Taking her cue from Nick’s dark trousers and polo shirt, she didn’t dress up too much for dinner, instead slipping on a summery dress made from soft material that fell just above her knees.

  Fifteen minutes later she joined him in the dining room. The hint of pleasure in his eyes made her heart race as she walked to where he held the chair out for her.

  They sat down at the table. Iris served dinner before mentioning that Cesare had called to remind him about the English launch of “Valente’s Woman.” Then the older woman left them to eat.

  Sasha was curious. “When is the U.K. launch?”

  “In a couple of weeks.”

  “It’ll do well over there.”

  He nodded. “It’ll do well everywhere.”

  She had to smile at that.

  “What are you smiling at?” he asked.

  “Your arrogance.”

  His mouth quirked at the corners. “It’s the Valente way.”

  “I know.”

  Some lazy moments passed while they ate in silence. Sasha was still amazed she was now actually married to Nick Valente. Who would have thought it?

  Not her.

  Aware she needed to move away from such thoughts, she made herself reflect on how much effort went into launching a new perfume. “You should go with Alex. He may need you with him.”

  “Alex can handle it. He and Olivia will make sure it goes off with a bang.”

  All at once she didn’t want him staying home for her sake. “Just because we’re newly married doesn’t mean you have to stay home with me.”

  His lips twisted. “Are you trying to get rid of me so soon?”

  “Of course not. I’m just thinking you have other commitments and being married shouldn’t change that.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, then, “If I thought Alex needed me, I’d go. But he doesn’t and frankly, I’d prefer to stay home.”

  She noted he didn’t say “stay with her.”

  Strangely she was rather glad he wasn’t going away and leaving her alone. She seemed to have had too much aloneness these past few years.

  Had he?

  She didn’t think so.

  They began to talk about the wedding—was it only yesterday?—and before too long Iris was serving dessert, and then not long after, they finished their dinner.

  She wondered what was next.…

  Coffee?

  Tea?

  Bed?

  “Would you like to watch television?”

  She ignored the look in his eyes. He’d known what she was thinking. “That would be nice.” She got to her feet, and Nick stood, too.

  “You go ahead and I’ll be with you shortly. I’ve got a couple of calls to make first.”

  She felt a smattering of disappointment, but she quickly pushed it aside. Time alone would let her pulse slow back to its normal beat.

  An hour later she was still waiting for Nick to join her. Her favorite sitcom hadn’t held her attention, and now a rather boring program was about to start. She could go get her designs and continue working, but she needed a break from them. What’s more, she didn’t want to interrupt Nick in
the study. He could be on an important call.

  She yawned.

  She felt so tired.

  Perhaps she’d just close her eyes for a moment or two.

  The next thing she knew a pair of strong masculine arms were lifting her up and carrying her. She tried to clear her mind but she felt warm and protected and she just wanted to snuggle closer.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  It was so hard to open her eyes. “Put me down,” she murmured. “I can walk.”

  “No.”

  She let out a small sigh. It was too much trouble to argue, especially with her cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat beneath it.

  He was climbing the stairs now and he smelled so good, his clothes fresh but mixed with his own male scent, his breath retaining a hint of coffee. She’d never been carried by a man before. There was something to be said for all those movies that made it look so romantic being swept off her feet like this.

  And then she realized something and she started to giggle. She couldn’t help herself.

  At the top he paused to look down at her. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re a little out of breath.”

  A gleam of amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Are you saying I’m too old to carry you up the stairs?”

  “Would I dare?”

  “Yes.”

  All at once she noticed his firm mouth curve up at the corners.

  His eyes held a certain glitter. “I’m not too old … or out of breath … to make love to you, my sweet,” he murmured, then carried her into their bedroom, kicked the door shut and stood her up against it.

  His blue eyes smoldered for her in the lamplight as he bent his head and kissed her. And he kept right on kissing her until it became a game between them that neither would give up. In the end she had to break away to catch her breath.

  He gazed at her triumphantly and before too long he’d stripped the clothes from her body and kissed her again in much more intimate places.

  And if he was out of breath by the end of it, he didn’t show it. The only thing he showed was a passionate hunger for her that took her by surprise.

  Sasha was in the pool when Nick returned early from work the following evening. She’d meant to be showered and changed by now but summer was almost over and she’d wanted to take advantage of the warm weather.