Fortune's Secret Heir Page 18

  She slid her fingers wonderingly over his lips. “I don’t want to say no.”

  His eyes darkened and he grabbed her hand, kissing her fingertips. “Where’s your room key?”

  She started to automatically answer, only to realize she didn’t know. “I changed my clothes at Harrods. You’d already given them your credit card. I didn’t think—”

  He pulled her back into the elevator that was still hovering on her floor and jabbed the button for the floor above hers.

  Her heart climbed up into her throat, then he was kissing her, and she didn’t think anymore about room keys. All she thought about was him.

  The elevator door opened again, and Ben took her hand, pulling her off and down the hallway to his room. He opened the door and hustled her inside, barely waiting for the door to shut behind them before he tossed their coats aside and spun her around again, this time facing away from him.

  “All night I’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder as he reached for the long, heavy silver zipper that ran from collar to hem.

  Ella shivered, feeling her dress loosen as he slowly pulled down the zipper. “H-have you?” It was an intoxicating thought.

  “Haven’t you?” The downward progress of the zipper slowed even more when it reached her waist. He drew his finger down her spine, stopping to expertly flick the clasp of her bra open before it continued lower, following the zipper down to the lace edge of her panties.

  She exhaled audibly. She honestly hadn’t thought about the zipper. She’d just liked the dress. Particularly because he’d liked the dress.

  Now, she’d never think of zippers in the same way again.

  Fortunately, he didn’t seem to need an answer that she couldn’t voice, anyway. Instead, he just pushed the dress forward from her shoulders along with her bra straps and it fell loosely down past her hips, sliding all the way to the floor with a soft rustle. Ben made a low sound, pushing her hair over her shoulder to kiss the nape of her neck. His warm hands clasped her hips, his fingertips slipping beneath the edge of her panties.

  Ella’s head fell forward like a broken flower on a stem. She could hardly breathe for the desire streaking through her.

  “Tell me you’re not a virgin,” he murmured against the side of her neck.

  “I’m not a virgin,” she promised thickly. Though her previous experience paled almost comically in comparison. “I’m on the pill—”

  He pushed her panties down her hips, dragging them slowly down her thighs. “Step out of them.”

  She stepped out of her shoes as well, then sucked in a sharp breath when he straightened again, drawing his hands slowly upward and inward over her naked skin. He was still fully clothed. “This doesn’t strike me as fair,” she said unevenly.

  In answer, he moved around in front of her, clasped her waist and lifted her straight off the ground.

  She gasped, instinctively winding her arms around him.

  He carried her across his suite that she was dimly realizing eclipsed the size of hers and didn’t set her down again until they were in the bedroom. Then he pulled her willing fingers to his tie.

  Breathing hard, she slowly pulled the knot free, watching him in the soft light coming from the lamps on either side of the wide bed that had already been turned down.

  When the tie hung loose around his neck, she went to work on the buttons of his shirt. She was divinely aware of the way his breath shortened when she made her way to his abdomen and she tugged the shirttails loose to finish the job. Then she slowly pushed the shirt off his shoulders and trailed her fingers over his chest, swirling in the unexpectedly silky hair that arrowed downward beneath his belt.

  He caught her hand against his belly. “Sure you know what you’re doing?”

  She let out a soundless laugh. “No,” she admitted, and undid his belt, anyway.

  He groaned then, pushing her hand away to finish the job himself, kicking off his shoes at the same time. “You’re killing me.” He shucked the rest of his clothes in a smooth motion that spoke of experience she’d never ever possess, then he caught her against him and bore her down onto the mattress. But still he didn’t take what she was so willing to give him.

  And she was pretty sure she was the one who was dying. A person wasn’t meant to experience such sensations and survive. She dragged her knee over his thigh, her fingers digging into the roping muscles of his shoulders, and she arched against him. “Please,” she begged shamelessly. “Please, Ben—”

  He covered her mouth with his again and sank into her.

  She nearly bowed off the bed from the exquisite pleasure. She tore her mouth from his, gasping for breath against the hard, smooth skin of his neck.

  Breathing harshly, he found her hands with his, pulled her arms above her head and twined his fingers through hers. “Are you okay?”

  Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes but she barely noticed. “Only if you never stop,” she whispered.

  He tightened his fingers against hers. “There’s a thought,” he said on a groan.

  And then he said no more.

  He just drove them both straight into a white-hot perfection from which Ella knew she’d emerge forever changed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She woke to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

  Flipping onto her back, Ella stared at the empty spot on the bed beside her. She ached in delicious places that longed for more.

  What would he do if she joined him in the shower?

  She clasped the velvety-smooth cotton sheet against her bare breasts and shifted restlessly. Making love with Ben was like nothing she’d ever imagined.

  A faint buzzing penetrated and she realized Ben’s cell phone was vibrating. The shower was still running. The nightstands were empty of everything except the highly polished lamp, and she slid out of bed, crouching to find Ben’s trousers where they’d been half-kicked under the upholstered chair near glass French doors that offered a similar view of the park that her room possessed.

  She flushed a little, thinking of the way his pants had come to be so carelessly treated and fished his cell phone out of a pocket. It had stopped vibrating, but the word Bonita was visible and she chewed her cheek for a moment. Finally, she snatched up the shirt Ben had been wearing the night before and pulled it over bare body. Then, since he’d left the bathroom door open, anyway, she carried the phone with her into the oversized room.

  Across a sea of lavish marble, steam clouded the clear glass shower, but not so much so that the sight of him was entirely obscured and her stomach didn’t hollow out.

  She felt a sudden urge to turn tail and run. But her feet seemed incapable of movement.

  And then he turned beneath the shower spray and saw her. He slowly pushed open the glass door and steam rolled out, billowing over the cool marble floor. “Ella?”

  She couldn’t seem to make her tongue form words and mutely held up his phone. “Ringing,” she finally managed to say.

  He slicked his hair back from his face. “Put the phone down.”

  She set it on the marble-topped white vanity beside her.

  “Come here.”

  Her feet unrooted themselves and she moved past the massive round tub toward the shower. Without stopping to shed his shirt that she wore, she joined him in the glass shower, feeling the sprays coming at her from all directions, not just above.

  His eyes roved over her, taking in the shirt that was drenched in seconds and clinging to her body.

  Then he tilted her chin with his finger and slowly—so slowly he stole her heart all over again—pressed his lips gently against hers.

  Breath shuddered out of her. “Ben.”

  “Shhh.” He began peeling the fine, nearly transparent shirt away from her skin as
if he was unwrapping the most precious of gifts. “Just let me,” he whispered.

  And she did.

  * * *

  They spent the afternoon exploring London.

  Shockingly, Ben left his phone in his hotel suite. Not because he’d forgotten it, either. No, it had been a deliberate act.

  And they did it her way.

  No private drivers. No extravagance. They left all that behind at the hotel and went out on foot, armed with Ella’s borrowed guidebook and an umbrella, even though the rain had stopped before they set out.

  She wore the leather jacket he’d bought her the day before over her thermal shirt and jeans. He looked ridiculously sexy wearing his dark jeans with his long overcoat hanging from his shoulders and a pair of dark glasses perched on his nose.

  They walked to Buckingham Palace, where Ella stared in awe through the gates at the massive building. “I wish it were open for tours this time of year.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t even fifty degrees out, but Ben felt warm inside. He looped his arm around Ella’s shoulders and eyed the palace. “It’s open during the summer for a few months, I think.”

  Maybe he’d bring Ella back.

  The thought hit him like a punch to his solar plexus and Ella suddenly looked up at him, her eyes lighter than the pale blue sky overhead. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. I caught the guard ceremony once. It was quite a spectacle.”

  She leaned more closely against his side. “I’ll bet.”

  He looked around them. It was late January. There were still spectators like them, but the crowd was considerably smaller than what he’d seen on previous visits. “What’s next in your guidebook?” They’d already spent half the day either sleeping or making love. And that meant there wasn’t a lot of daylight left for them to explore in the manner Ella wanted.

  She grinned and lifted the worn paperback. “Back to Hyde Park.”

  “Across from the hotel.”

  She nodded and they retraced their steps, heading into the park, where some patches of ice lurked on the paths. They stopped while Ella stared at the Diana Memorial Fountain, a great low loop of cascading water that was undoubtedly a star attraction on a hot day, and again when she insisted on purchasing them coffees from one of the kiosks they passed. She was clearly reveling in her exploration.

  He’d seen it all before.

  But even if he hadn’t, he’d still just be reveling in her.

  Aware of their limited time, they made their way to Kensington Gardens, where she stood and stared up at the Peter Pan statue, sipping her coffee, and made such a pretty picture he wished he had his phone just so he could have captured the moment on the camera he hadn’t used since Stephanie took Henry away. They followed the many paths and viewed the statue of Queen Victoria against the backdrop of Kensington Palace. They didn’t have enough time to properly tour the palace, but she browsed the gift shop, purchasing a small ornament for her mother, and then they bought sandwiches in the café there.

  And then Ben had had enough walking and after leaving the palace and gardens behind, he hailed the first cab he spotted and even though he’d figured on having the cab take them around to more sights, Ella settled back against her seat and closed her eyes.

  She was asleep in only minutes.

  He took her gift-shop package before it dropped from her lax fingers and told the driver to take them to their hotel instead, but to take his time. When they arrived, he paid the exorbitant fare and brushed his lips alongside her ear. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.”

  Her lashes lifted slowly and her full lips curved. “I was having the loveliest dream,” she whispered. “We were in London.”

  He laughed softly and pulled her from the cab. “We are in London.”

  “Right.” She pressed her hands against his chest and looked up at him through her lashes. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything.”

  He didn’t want to kiss her right there on the sidewalk outside the hotel. “Let’s go up to my suite. You can finish your...nap.”

  The drowsiness in her eyes cleared slightly. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Robinson?”

  He smoothed her long hair away from her creamy cheek. “Whatever gets you upstairs, Ms. Thomas.”

  She closed her eyes, smiling more widely. Then she fit her hand into his and led the way into the hotel. Once they were upstairs in his suite, she peeled off her leather jacket and gave him a look over her shoulder. “So far, that very lovely room of mine one floor down has gone almost entirely to waste.”

  “Got a complaint with the bed here?”

  She pressed her lips together, her cheeks rosy.

  “Didn’t think so.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and pulled her through the living area of the suite and into the larger of the two bedrooms it possessed.

  She kicked off her tennis shoes and climbed onto the high, freshly made bed. “Naps are the best luxury in the world,” she said, pulling one of the pillows close to her cheek and closing her eyes.

  He waited a beat but she didn’t move. “You’re not really going to nap.”

  She lifted an eyelid, peering at him. Then she laughed. “Your expression,” she said. “Classic.” She suddenly rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  He raked his hands through his hair and absently noticed the message indicator on the phone next to the bed.

  He could hear water running in the room next door and he picked up the phone to retrieve the message. It had been Keaton Whitfield, simply leaving his name and number.

  Ben deleted the message and dialed the number, prowling around the room with the receiver at his ear.

  A woman answered the line, serving to remind Ben that it was a workday, and after another series of clicks, Whitfield picked up.

  “I wanted to apologize,” the other man said. “For taking off so curtly last evening.”

  “I would’ve wanted to do the same thing.” Ben sat on the edge of the bed, propping his elbows on his thighs, and cut to the chase. “Have you changed your mind about what you offered?”

  “No.” The other man was silent for a moment. “I wondered if you and your girlfriend were available for dinner this evening.”

  “Ella’s not my girlfriend,” Ben said abruptly. “She works for me.”

  “I mistook the situation. No matter. I’d still like to make up for last night.”

  A sound drew Ben’s attention when Ella suddenly crossed the room, moving fast.

  “Ella—”

  She didn’t wait.

  And it dawned on him what he’d said. And that she’d overheard.

  “It’s my turn to be abrupt,” he said into the phone. “I’ll need to get back to you.” He dropped the receiver on the cradle and went after Ella, only catching up to her because she got stuck in the hallway waiting for the elevator.

  “Ella—”

  She held out her hand, palm up. “Don’t say anything.”

  “People don’t shut me up.”

  Her jaw worked. She jabbed the call button for the elevator again, her fingers white-knuckle around the leather jacket she was clutching. “Sorry. I’m just an employee who doesn’t know better.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  She snorted and even though the elevator opened up beside her, she didn’t get inside. She faced him, folding her arms defensively across her chest. “I’m not going to say I regret sleeping with you,” she said tightly, seemingly oblivious to the gasp her words elicited from the elderly couple inside the elevator, “because it’d be a monumental lie. But it’s not something that can continue. You don’t do girlfriends. And I don’t do—” her voice choked “—whatever this is.”


  Remorse sat heavy in his gut. “Ella.”

  She quickly slipped into the elevator just as the doors were closing again. He pressed the button, but the car was already going down.

  He slammed his hand against the closed metal door and strode back into his suite, shoving the door closed behind him.

  He looked down the length of the suite to the master bedroom at the end and saw Ella’s tennis shoes lying on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  He swore, mostly at himself.

  Ella was twenty-three. Compared to the life he’d led, she was a babe in the woods. He was the one who was supposed to know better. To have some control.

  To not be his father’s son.

  But what had he just done over the past twenty-four hours but prove how much like Gerald he still was?

  * * *

  They left London the next day. Ella had never retrieved her tennis shoes from him, and even though he’d intended to give them to her, when they left the hotel, she was already wearing the leather boots he’d bought for her at Harrods.

  She had her nose buried in her textbook, clearly unwilling to talk, so he left the shoes untouched inside his garment bag.

  When they were situated in their first-class seats once again, she lifted the partition that turned her seat into a private suite and she left it up nearly the entire time, only lowering it when she used the restroom or ordered a salad and tea several hours into the flight.

  He wished he’d had an appetite for food.

  He wished he’d had an appetite for anything other than Ella Thomas. Because if he had, she wouldn’t be hurting now.

  They landed in Austin and passed through customs without incident. A limo was waiting for them and Ben instructed the driver to let off Ella first. When the vehicle pulled up in front of her house, it was close to twelve hours since they’d left the ground in London.

  It felt close to twelve days.

  She didn’t look at him as she gathered up her messenger bag while the driver carried her rolling suitcase to the front door of the house.

  “Ella,” he pleaded. “I never wanted to upset you.”