Page 97 of The Billionaire's Demand

She shook her head, silently denying his statement. ‘This is unchartered territory for both of us. Let’s just...agree to talk things through, when it gets tough. No matter what, we want what’s best for the baby. That’s all that matters.’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly, his voice low and raspy, and suddenly, Libby wasn’t aware of their conversation or what had upset her, or even of the baby. Every fibre of her soul was focused on the man in front of her, standing so close that if she exhaled heavily, her breasts would brush his chest. She was aware of the feeling of his fingertips against her skin, his touch light, intended to be calming, but it was having the opposite effect on her frazzled nerves.

She blinked up at him and found herself in a time warp, the last few months evaporating in a deep well, sinking her back to the boat, that moment of connection, to how easy it had been when so overcome by the powerful emotions of survival to reach out and touch him, to feel and connect on a totally immersive level.

Raul’s eyes were hooded, hard to read, but they dropped to her lips and stayed there, so Libby’s pulse grew fast and erratic and she wondered if he could feel it somehow through her skin, if he could sense her response to him. Was he feeling it too?

She lifted her hand to his wrist, wrapped it around, fingers brushing his pulse point, but her own was too chaotic to make sense of his.

‘Libby,’ he murmured, frowning, his gaze moving to hers, probing her eyes as if he could read answers there, as if he could understand something important in the depths of her pupils.

‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she said, even as she swayed forward, her body brushing his, and she felt the hiss of air escaping his lips, felt his chest jolt as he sucked in, and then his other hand was at her back, holding her right where she was, pressed to him, no more than a hair’s breadth between their bodies. This was stupid and complicated, but it was also simple and right. What a strange and contradictory way to describe their situation, she thought as she lifted up onto the tips of her toes, her eyes holding his without fear.

His hand at her back moved higher, then lower, stroking her through the soft wool of her jumper, sending thousands of shockwaves through Libby, making her whole body reverberate with pleasure and awareness. Then he kissed her, slowly, gently, just the lightest brushing of his lips to hers at first, but that didn’t matter.

The smallest spark can still ignite a forest, and the lightest touch of Raul’s lips to Libby’s was enough to remind them both of the heat that had burned between them that afternoon.

Raul groaned low in his throat and then... There was nothing light about his kiss, it was white-hot with a frantic need that turned her bones to mush and made her body tingle all over. Thought was no longer possible; she was simply a physical being, existing purely for this, for Raul.

Her hands pushed at his shirt, lifting it from the waistband of his trousers, fumbling with the buttons, yet persisting until they were undone and she could push it from his body, and then her fingertips roamed his flesh with impunity, touching him as she’d been desperate to do, she acknowledged only to herself, since that afternoon, when her dreams had been filled with memories she thought she’d never have the chance to relive.

He groaned again as her touch ran over his chest and to his shoulders, then her hands wrapped around his neck so her breasts were pressed to his torso and even through the fabric she wore her nipples grew taut and sensitive, tingling almost painfully.

He said her name like a curse but didn’t break the kiss. Instead, he reached down and lifted Libby, wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her easily through the penthouse, down the corridor and turning right, not left, taking her to his room rather than hers.

Inside, it was similar to Libby’s, only bigger, with a more masculine décor—a huge bed sat in the centre, and at the sight of it, Libby’s pulse went totally haywire, but there was no time to question this. Not when Raul was kissing her as though his life depended on it, not when he placed her on the ground and began to remove her clothes, not when his hands were worshipping her body, running over her, touching her, teasing her, tempting her, making it impossible to imagine a world in which they didn’t come together.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he grunted, shaking his head with the appearance of disbelief as he removed the rest of his own clothes, rendering them both naked in the privacy of his bedroom. She wasn’t nervous. It was as if she’d been preparing for this her whole life, as if there was nothing more vital or important.

‘So are you,’ she said honestly, artlessly, reaching out a hand, wanting to touch him again. He stepped forward, his Adam’s apple jolting visibly as he swallowed. Libby touched the centre of his chest first and felt his breath draw inwards, then ran her fingers lower, down towards a dark arrow of hair that drew her to his manhood. Trembling a little, she let her fingers brush him, felt him jerk, and a rush of power made her smile.

‘This is madness,’ he said, eyes glittering when they met hers.

‘I know. We really shouldn’t.’

He nodded, standing still.

‘Not after this.’ She tilted her head, challenging him. ‘Not again.’

He laughed softly, relief obvious in his features. ‘You have yourself a deal,’ he said with a nod, and then he was lifting her, carrying her to the bed, laying her down and kissing Libby with all the passion and promise she remembered, with everything she’d been craving and needing, and suddenly it didn’t matter that their marriage was only a shadow of what she wanted. When he could make her feel like this, when there was pleasure as rich and as absorbing as Raul created, Libby cared for nothing else. This would be enough: it would have to be.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘CAN YOU MEET me in an hour?’

Libby’s gaze shifted to the clock on the oven. ‘Meet you where?’

He named a world-famous jeweller with a store on Fifth Avenue.

‘Oh.’ Libby’s pulse trembled, not just because of the mention of a jeweller, but because the sound of Raul’s voice alone had been enough to have that effect on her ever since they’d slept together the day before. They’d agreed it would be a one-off, so she wasn’t stupid enough to be thinking about a repeat performance. At least, not consciously. But if she’d thought having sex with Raul would cure her of her cravings, she’d been wrong. If anything, it only stoked them further.

‘Libby?’

She’d let her mind wander, and forced herself to focus now.

‘I guess. But why?’

‘You’ll see.’ He disconnected the call, leaving Libby frowning, holding the cell phone to her ear, staring out over a wintry Manhattan afternoon.

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