A Vengeful Affair Page 9

  The idea incensed her. Did he do that to all the women who crossed his path—seduce them relentlessly and then downgrade them to second-class citizenship when he was done with them?

  She remembered Molly and had her answer.

  “Dominique is not a victim. We had an arrangement. I hadn’t seen her for months before tonight.”

  “You don’t understand women, do you?”

  “I understand women better than you think. It’s you who I don’t understand. Why are you defending Dominique when she would have been happy to claw you back there?”

  “Because maybe she cared for you. Even with all your warning labels.” As soon as the words made their way out of her mouth, she regretted saying them.

  She wasn’t talking about Dominique.

  She wasn’t even sure she was talking about Molly.

  Although it was dark, she could still see the frown on his face. “You are a very loyal woman, Vivian.” His cold voice chilled her. “Though you must be careful with such blind loyalty.”

  She swallowed. The silence deepened with every second that passed. His eyes locked on hers, and the small gap between them could have been as wide as the river.

  He wasn’t talking about Dominique, either.

  “I only do what I think is right.”

  Vivian turned to face the river. It was so calm, it almost looked like a landscape painting.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  She turned to face him. A warm glow outlined his black irises. The expression she found there was the same one he’d given her earlier, when they’d had breakfast and he’d told her about his painful childhood.

  “I didn’t kill her,” he said. “I would never do such a thing.”

  He held her gaze. Her blurred thoughts began to take on a dangerous clarity. After spending every waking moment with him, after learning things about him that even he was not proud of…

  “You didn’t kill her?” Vivian asked.

  He shook his head. And he never took his eyes off hers for a moment.

  Those eyes weren’t lying. He wasn’t lying.

  And damn it, she would be lying to herself if she pretended not to believe him.

  She lifted her hand to her forehead, unsure what to think. Did his innocence bring her relief or more headaches? It complicated things a great deal. For just as she was sure he hadn’t done it, she knew someone else had.

  The man in front of her, whose eyes still rested on hers, stood as if awaiting her response.

  She pressed her lips together hard, her emotions thoroughly rattled. How could she give him the trust he wanted—the trust he’d earned—when she was a long way from understanding?

  …

  A couple of hours later, Javier gulped down a thirty-year-old scotch, pulled his shirt off, and kicked his shoes to the side.

  The whiskey smoked its way down his throat, and he cursed himself.

  When he’d slept with Molly, he hadn’t expected to pay such a high price for it. He’d been tired and working too much, and he’d enjoyed the attention she’d poured over him at that stupid happy hour. It should have stopped there. He should have known better.

  But he hadn’t. He’d gone ahead and slept with an employee, something he’d vowed never to do—never to make his work vulnerable. Never to make himself vulnerable.

  Then, after he’d found out her real intentions, he hated her. He’d felt used. Somehow that strong negative emotion lost its power when he found out she’d killed herself. What good was it to curse a tortured soul? He knew all about tortured souls.

  And then there was Vivian—another woman who’d enticed him to make a mistake. But he couldn’t shut off the part of his brain that insisted there was something else about her. Something important.

  He would be signing the merger in less than ten hours, and it would put him right where he wanted to be. He should not be thinking of the woman who had denied him for the past couple of days.

  But he couldn’t stop.

  She hadn’t said one word after their exchange by the Seine. He’d expected her to protest fiercely, or at least to respond in some fashion. But her reaction had been a simple nod. Her expression had become remote, and she hadn’t exchanged one more word with him.

  He assumed she needed some time to come to terms with the fact that Molly had killed herself, and he looked forward to their conversation when she had reconciled herself almost more than he did to signing the merger.

  Damn her for occupying his mind more than the merger.

  Javier ran his fingers through his hair. He was about to undress and step into the shower when he heard her scream.

  “No… Come back!”

  Vivian.

  Charging out of his room, he almost collided with the bodyguard, who was positioned to knock on his door. He elbowed him out of the way. “You can take a break. I’ll deal with this. Leave us alone.”

  Her room was dark but for the light of the alarm clock on her bedside table. Javier closed the door behind him and approached her carefully. He turned the lamp on, brightening the area around her bed. Vivian was sitting up, slightly swaying and shaking her head.

  Her white satin nightgown should have made her look serene, but the sweat on her forehead and darkening her temples gave her a more haunted look. She was having a nightmare again.

  “Vivian, wake up,” he said gently, but she didn’t respond.

  Javier shook her shoulders and spoke more firmly, “It’s okay, Vivian. I am here.”

  That did it.

  Her eyes flew open, filled with the expression of someone who had escaped one nightmare only to enter another. She looked around, her chest heaving, and her gaze locked with his. “What happened?”

  “You had a nightmare.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

  He debated whether to ask what had scared her so much. A part of him wanted to know, and another part of him knew the best course of action would be to leave. The bubble of intimacy surrounding them was dangerous.

  He reached out and removed a loose strand of hair from her face. He couldn’t help but smile.

  “Don’t worry.” He lightly touched her shoulder. Almost of their own accord, his fingers rubbed circles on her bare skin. His blood thickened as desire overtook him.

  Vivian stared at him, vulnerable for once. All her defenses were down.

  “I should go.” He removed his hand reluctantly.

  “No.” She reached out and grasped his knee. “Please stay.”

  Javier lowered his gaze to her soft hand on his knee and then raised it to meet her blue eyes. So willing. Without thought, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, looking down. Her nipples tightened against the lace of the nightgown, the thin straps begging to slide off her shoulders, almost disappearing among her hair.

  “I believe you, Javier,” she whispered. “I believe you.” She raised her voice. “I know in my heart it wasn’t you.”

  She believed him. For some reason, the knowledge brought a pleasure that wasn’t only sexual.

  “Is there another man in your life, Vivian? I need to know,” he said, with deliberate restraint, remembering the man she’d called from the restaurant. Could he be a friend, a former lover? Could he be…

  “No,” she said simply.

  Unlike what had happened with Molly, this didn’t feel like a mistake. And hell, if it turned out to be one, Vivian would be worth it.

  …

  She parted her lips for a kiss. Instead, he eased her down onto the mattress. Unwilling to take her eyes off him, Vivian sighed. She had thought long and hard about this decision. Actually, thinking had been her ally and her captor during the past few days.

  During the past six months.

  But now, for once she didn’t want to think. After getting to know him, after the intense moments they’d shared, she knew she’d been wrong about Javier. Someone else had been responsible for Molly’s death. And she would find out
whom. Tomorrow.

  Not tonight. Tonight, she would declare a truce.

  Their bodies molded so perfectly together, Vivian gave a little cry of pleasure. It was unreasonable, she knew, but she wanted Javier inside her as soon as possible. She needed him, and such physical need both disturbed and empowered her.

  No waiting.

  Javier nibbled her chin, his teeth grazing over her flesh. He kissed her neck, his body brushing unashamedly against hers. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and the tip of her nose. When his hot tongue licked her lips, she bucked against him with a moan and opened her mouth wide, desperate for his kiss.

  As Vivian opened her legs to accommodate him, her hand searched for his shaft. If he didn’t want to thrust into her yet, she would take matters in her own hands. Literally.

  “Not yet.” He seized her wrist with a grin, then licked her earlobe. His tongue swirled inside the hollow of her ear. She ran both hands through his hair, pulling his head closer.

  He carefully removed her nightgown, and she stretched her arms above her head to help. Her underwear slid down her body, leaving a trail of goose bumps. In the past, she’d felt completely exposed when naked with a man. With Javier, a wave of liberation flooded through her when he sucked in his breath.

  He stretched her arms apart and pinned her down with gentle firmness, then turned his attention to her breasts.

  “Tan bella.” Javier licked her hardened nipple, his teeth brushing the tip. She arched her body toward him. The stroke of his tongue drove her into an oversensitive state she couldn’t bear.

  “I don’t know if I get more turned on when you speak Spanish or French,” she said. His cool sophistication came through when he spoke French, but in his mother tongue he had a sexy, savage edge that came naturally to him.

  His mouth moved to her other breast, his tongue stroking it. Sucking it. Lightly biting.

  “Trop jolie.”

  She closed her eyes. “It’s a tie.”

  “Schoen,” he whispered. “German.”

  “You’re showing off.” Vivian moaned when he trailed kisses down her rib cage, her skin trembling wherever his tongue licked.

  “Enough talking.” His husky voice was full of anticipation.

  As he moved his body down the bed, she bit her lower lip. His fingers slid between her legs.

  She disobeyed his request for silence when he parted her legs. “Javier.” He raised his head, his pupils dilated. Seeing him so aroused, his eyes blazing only for her, enhanced her yearning for him.

  Vivian shuddered involuntarily when he parted her slick folds with his finger, then stretched her moist walls. As his fingers began to tease her, his tongue licked her thighs. Each time, it branded her skin, moving closer and closer to her most sensitive spot.

  She jerked her head back when he licked her inside. He continued stroking her, sucking her, tasting her, and Vivian moaned louder. She lost all sense of herself, all sense of time, and gave herself over to the pleasure, until waves of sensation ripped through her.

  When he rose again, slick sweat covering his broad shoulders, she sighed. He stood and left the room.

  Vivian raised her head, her heart hammering harder than it had just a few seconds ago. He couldn’t simply leave her without a word. Right?

  Then, before she could become a victim of her overanalytical mind, he returned with a smirk on his lips and a couple of foil squares in his hand. Relief filled her.

  “You came back,” she whispered. Her voice carried a layer of emotion she didn’t want to label. He frowned for a moment, maybe thinking about what she’d said.

  “I had no choice, mi querida.” His voice was hoarse, his expression tender.

  He didn’t need to elaborate—not this time. She pulled him closer and kissed him. To hell with the waiting. Her body responded to his with even more urgency than before. The oversensitized place between her legs throbbed with a desire so strong, she doubted either of them would have any power over it.

  He groaned when she nibbled on his sexy lips, and when his large hands separated her damp thighs, she threw her head back. His fingers made invisible circles around her thighs as he continued to kiss her mouth, her neck, her shoulders. Each time he came close to touching her more intimately, he would intensify the kiss. When his finger finally made it all the way inside her, she begged, “Now.”

  He lay down beside her, covered his length, and positioned his body on top of hers.

  She opened her legs for him, and he thrust deep, fully awakening her every sense. She wrapped her legs around his hips, panting when they started the sweet dance, his cock moving in and out of her, each time going harder, going deeper.

  His mouth finally lowered to hers, his fingers threading in her hair and the deep pressure of his hand massaging her scalp. With visceral need, Vivian clenched her legs around him, tightening her muscles, and embraced him as close as she could. Tides of pleasure rode her body. When her release came, she screamed his name, and he watched her, rapt. As she quivered beneath him, he jerked his head back, and with a final, deep thrust, murmured in Spanish as his body shook above hers.

  Chapter Seven

  It may have been a few minutes, or maybe several hours. Time seemed to stand still, and the only sound Vivian could hear after their breathing returned to normal was the soothing rhythm of Javier’s heartbeat against her ear. They lay together, entangled.

  “Javier,” she murmured, playing with his chest hair.

  “Vivian Foster.” He ruffled her hair with his fingers. “I finally have you where I’ve wanted you all along.”

  At another time, she would have reacted to his arrogance, but she heard the lightness of his tone, and she was too blissful to protest. Vivian propped herself up on an elbow and raised her head to look at him. “Finally? It wasn’t such a long wait.”

  What a handsome man… His eyes glowed with an emotion she couldn’t describe. It quickened her pulse. Shouldn’t this be awkward, as it had been with her past boyfriends?

  For some reason, it wasn’t. All she could do was drink in his male beauty, the awareness he raised in her, and smile at him. If all she had was this one night, she would make the best of it.

  “That’s where you are wrong, querida. It was a long, tormenting wait.” His voice was silky. He outlined her jaw with his finger. “But worth every nanosecond.”

  He was talking about what they had just shared in bed, about the sex. A faint light glowed in the depths of his mercurial eyes, the hidden promise making her blood pound thick and hot. “Did the bodyguard see you when you ran to your bedroom to get the condoms?”

  She imagined the look on the man’s face when a sweat-slicked Javier rushed from one room into the other.

  He chuckled. “You aren’t good at pillow talk, are you?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Add it to my list of flaws.”

  His fingers rubbed her cheek softly, and she closed her eyes like a pampered cat, soaking in the tenderness. “The list isn’t very long,” he said huskily.

  Vivian opened her eyes to him. Surely he meant the comment sexually. So why did her heart pump with renewed excitement? Though the idea was crazy, could there be something more?

  No. She could feel him growing hard against the softness of her thigh. This was only sexual. I can’t fool myself.

  She flipped over him, straddling him before he could react. “You would be surprised.”

  She leaned down to kiss him. A cold tremor coursed through her. It was because he’d pinched her breast—it had nothing to do with the warning light flickering inside her.

  Nothing.

  …

  Vivian rolled over, and when no warm body stopped her from nearly falling out of bed, she opened her eyes. His manly scent lingered on the rumpled sheets, but Javier wasn’t in them. The only relief to the room’s darkness was a thread of light trespassing under the door.

  She turned on the lamp, got out of bed, and went to the closet, where she slipped on the la
cy white robe that matched the nightgown she no longer wore.

  Had he returned to his own bedroom? Had he left her there without so much as a note? Perhaps the bodyguard had turned a light on, though it would be out of character. They were so unobtrusive.

  With her heart unsteady, she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the brighter hallway light. She heard the buzzing sound of a television nearby. There was no sign of any bodyguard.

  A hearty laugh drifted from the living area—a sound she couldn’t associate with the stuffy bodyguard. She moved closer and stepped around the sofa to see Javier in front of the television with a bucket of popcorn on his lap. God, did room service work this late?

  She glanced at the black-and-white screen. “The Three Stooges?”

  He turned to look at her and smiled carelessly, his eyes gleaming. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  She folded her arms. “Because I was next to you?”

  “Yes, because you were next to me, and I didn’t have any more condoms.”

  His honesty caught her off-guard, but she could hardly resist the compliment. She sat beside him, and he threw an arm around her and drew her close. “I guess I can keep it a secret that the big bad CEO likes the Three Stooges,” she said.

  “You will be generously rewarded.” He threw a piece of popcorn at her. It fell down her neckline. She scooped it up and ate it.

  Javier smiled and offered her some more. As she bit into the buttery treat, her attention alternated between watching the black-and-white short film and looking at Javier. How could she not steal sideways glances at his relaxed, completely-at-ease profile? She’d never seen him like this before.

  One of the Stooges hit another with a mallet—she never could keep them straight—and they laughed. The genuine sound of his pleasure caused a tingle of excitement to make waves inside her. It was all so…domestic. Different from the glamorous dinners, the expensive clothes, the stroll along the Seine. This made her feel as if she and Javier were just like anybody else. Or that they could be, if everything were different.

  She forced herself to focus on the present. Right now, it felt great being like everyone else.