Billionaire Doctor (House of Kolovsky) - Carol Marinelli Page 0,26

time,’ he said slowly, ‘I want you to ask me in.’

Chapter 6

An old-fashioned lift hurtled them to the top floor as Annie’s blood pressure did the same. The doors finally opened and they stepped into a hallway with gorgeous mosaic tiles that echoed as she walked along and came to the room he’d booked for her.

‘Do you need a hand?’

Her hands were shaking so much that she probably did need help getting out the key. Any fantasy she had of suavely opening the door and inviting him in vanished in a puff of smoke when he witnessed her rather clumsy efforts at retrieval. But he was in absolutely no rush to go anywhere, making her task near impossible as he shamelessly pulled down the zipper of her dress, his fingers taking down the straps. Shocked, aroused, her eyes searched the deserted corridor for a night porter, her breath heaving in hard, quick gasps as she soon stood naked from the waist up except for a flimsy bra.

‘Someone might come,’ Annie gasped.

‘Then you’d better hurry up and get inside.’

Her lacy bra was the target of his attentions now. His head lowered and his mouth closed in on one nipple through the flimsy material, then pulled back just enough to voice his question. ‘Well—are you going to ask me in?’

Annie took a breath, trying, and failing, to gather her chaotic thoughts.

His fingers were delving inside her bra now, one spray-tanned breast standing erect and quivering with freedom. At last, he retrieved the key and, holding it up, she caught the glint of triumph in his eyes as she stood before him drenched in desire and trepidation. Since she’d first laid eyes on him, Annie had wanted him. He was out of her league, she would never have knowingly pursued him, but she must have been flirting, sending out tiny subliminal messages that clearly he’d registered. Like teasing a panther in the zoo, waving and poking out her tongue with the assurance of a locked door—but now he was out of the cage, now this sleek beautiful, untamed animal was pressing her to the wall and ready to play...

Trembling fingers took the key from him and somehow pushed it into the lock and turned it, registering that she was terrified of the beast she’d unleashed but excited nonetheless.

‘I’m not...’ She attempted to be straight with him, her wide eyes taking in the vast bed, her body a quivering bundle of nerves and desire, positive, positive she wasn’t up to the challenge but frantic to attempt it. ‘Iosef, I’m not...’

‘Not what?’

He was kissing her again, pushing her already unzipped dress up over her bottom till she stood only in Jackie’s outrageous choice of underwear and a great wad of mocha silk around her waist. His hands ran over her suspenders and dug into her bottom and she closed her eyes in horror at the thought of the firm, toned bottoms he was surely more used to encountering. The nubile, sophisticated, experienced lovers he was surely used to, the women who would know how to excite him. Woefully sure she didn’t fit the bill, that for him disappointment could only ensue, panic fizzed inside her. ‘I’m not very good at making love!’ There, she’d said it. Her admission had been delivered in a shrill voice, her apology for teasing him, for playing with fire all there in that rapid, short sentence. Only he didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, he was kissing her with more force. His hands had left her bottom and were by his sides, only their lips in contact, but with so much force that if she didn’t want to topple over then she had no choice but to move backwards. Any further attempt to speak was silenced by his mouth, then the back of the bed was pressing into her thighs. She had nowhere to go except the bed, but he didn’t let her fall, instead cupping her bottom again as he pressed her heat to his, his fierce erection a taste of what was to come as he brushed away her excuses.

‘I do the making!’

And, boy, did he!

Sixteen and a half years ago her sister had done her homework for her.

And sixteen years ago she’d had to sit through speech day—had had to accept an award for work she hadn’t done, had wanted to stand up in front of a terrifying crowd and admit she really didn’t deserve it, hadn’t done a single thing to merit it, actually.

The random memory