Baby Of His Revenge

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“I needed a place in Monaco.” His voice was husky. Sexy. “Until I am able to buy a special villa I want on Cap Ferrat.”

“You—you want me to come upstairs with you?” she breathed, hardly knowing what she was saying.

“I do,” he whispered, running his hand down the side of her neck. The edges of his lips curved upward. “And you will...”

Roughly, he pushed her back against the mirrored elevator wall. Her head fell back as she closed her eyes, lost in sensation as he kissed down her neck, her cheek, sucking her earlobe as his hands ran over her bare arms, her shoulders, cupping her breasts through the fabric.

The elevator door opened to the top floor, and for a minute she didn’t, couldn’t, move, just leaned back against the mirror, her knees feeling weak.

So he picked her up as if she weighed nothing. Her sparkly tulle skirts fluttered behind them as he carried her swiftly down the hall.

Held against his powerful chest, Laney looked up at him in a daze as he brought her into the luxurious penthouse suite of the Hôtel de Carillon.

The suite was dark, but she could see the ceilings were two stories high. The furniture was stark and modern, but she barely saw it amid the shadows before her gaze was transfixed by the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the sparkling lights of nighttime Monaco, and beyond that, the vast dark Mediterranean.

Kassius set her down slowly, letting her body drag against his, falling in a cascade of tulle. For a moment, he looked down at her, then with a low growl, he whirled her around so he was looking at her back. She blinked at the view. She saw a few lights of ships floating through the dark sea, like stars in the sky.

She shouldn’t be here. She should go. But she felt like time and reality had fled, as if she were someone else entirely. Someone reckless...

He slowly unzipped her dress, dropping it to the floor. The cool air licked at her skin as he turned her back around to face him. She was almost naked, wearing only a strapless white bra and plain white lace panties. He slowly looked her over. “You are so beautiful.”

And even in the shadows of the penthouse suite, she saw in the hard lines of his face, of his body, that he did desire her. Fiercely.

She should leave. Her brain and heart were begging her to leave—leave now. Because there was only one way this could end. Badly.

But for some reason, her body refused to budge as he pulled off her shoes, one by one.

Rising to his feet, Kassius slipped off his black tuxedo jacket. Taking her hand, he drew her into the bedroom.

Translucent gauze curtains covered the windows and sliding glass door to the balcony. He opened the balcony door, and she took a deep breath of the cool, hard wind, scented of salt sea and golden mimosa flowers in bloom.

Laney stood nearly naked in front of Kassius Black—this handsome, dangerous billionaire who was so much larger than she, in every possible way. She lifted her face to his.

His dark eyes were hungry as he came back toward her, and, nervously, she backed away from him, falling back softly onto his enormous king-size bed, against the large white pillows on the white comforter. Standing over her, he deliberately pulled off his black tie.

Wearing only his white shirt and black tuxedo trousers, he kicked off his shoes and reached toward her on the bed. Slowly, he ran his fingertips down her cheek, then her throat, then the hollow between her breasts. She could not move as his fingertips lightly stroked downward, past her silky strapless white bra to her rib cage and the bare skin of her belly. His hand traced downward, ever downward, to the top edge of her lacy white panties.

She suddenly stopped him with her hand.

“Don’t,” she choked out.

His forehead furrowed. “Why?”

“I’ll only disappoint you.”

“You’re a virgin. How do you know?”

“I know.”

Silvery moonlight streaked through the windows, frosting the gauzy curtains and the hard lines of his cheekbones and jaw as he leaned back, staring down at her incredulously. “You actually think you’re frigid, don’t you?”

“I know I am.”

“Why?”

“The boy who took me to prom...he told me.”

“And you believed him?”

“He would know. He kissed a lot of girls.” A lump rose in Laney’s throat. “Look, it’s almost midnight. You should go back to the party. Find someone who knows how to kiss—”

“I have the one I want.” His fingertips changed course, skimming over the curve of her hips to her bare thighs.

“Look—” she swallowed “—I don’t know why you chose me, whether you’re just slumming or—”

He abruptly dropped his hand.

“You spoke earlier about games, Laney. Let’s play a game now, you and I.”

“What game?”

His gaze locked with hers. “I will prove to you that you are not frigid. That you are a warm, desirable woman. A woman made for pleasure.”

“What if you can’t?”

He gave a low laugh. “I will. All I have to do is touch you—even look at you—to know I am right.”

“And if you’re wrong?” she said desperately, remembering the humiliating night of prom when she was eighteen.

“Then I will pay a forfeit.” He smiled. “Shall we say—one million dollars?”

She gaped at him. “Is that a joke?”

“No.”

“That’s the second time you’ve offered me a million!”

“Is it not enough?” he said lazily, looking at her beneath heavily lidded eyes. “Two million, then. Ten. I am so sure that I can make you gasp with desire, so sure I can make you explode with pleasure, that if I am wrong, Laney, I will pay you ten million dollars.”