Billionaire Doctor (House of Kolovsky) - Carol Marinelli Page 0,28

now...

She could feel him stretch her as he hotly seared in and it made her thighs start to tremble.

The mahogany of his nipple grabbed her attention, a tiny taste, a little bite as his hips moved beneath her and he thrust slowly.

She’d never been so bold but, then, she’d never been with anyone so beautiful.

And he really was.

Her eyes down, she was so ready to play—could see him sliding into her...

She wanted to tease him.

Wanted to lean forward, to jiggle her nipples over his mouth, knew what to do.

‘Annie... ’ His mouth was grabbing at her breasts, his hips thrusting faster into her. ‘We need...’

Her hands, his hands were both fumbling for the drawer, a futile task when he was so deep inside her. She didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want him to pull out, but he was. His hands pulled her bottom up—his delicious length reluctantly slipping out and pressing against her damp curls. And then it was too late. The beats of her orgasm matched his as he spilled outside her. The heat of his semen, the sight of him as he pulsed beneath her and the groan of her name as he shot over her had Annie sob and ache to collapse onto him, yet she watched.

‘Annie—why now?’

Dark eyes begged a question that in the throes of orgasm Annie didn’t even think to answer—Iosef’s fingers massaging his silken gift into her pliant flesh. ‘Why do you have to do this to me now?’

Chapter 8

Sunlight was cruel.

In their haste they hadn’t even thought about the curtains and as the morning sun crept across the rumpled room, instead of brightening things, everything seemed to dim. The craziness of last night was not so straightforward in the cold light of day.

‘I have an appointment...’ Leaning over, he picked up his watch from the bedside table. And I am on call tonight.’

‘Sure.’ She tried a wobbly smile, her hand inching across the bed to touch him, then moving back before it reached its destination, knowing somehow that the distance was suddenly too great. Instead she lay there, staring at the ceiling as he headed for the shower, listening to him curse as he shaved and wondering what the hell had suddenly gone wrong.

‘I think you’re the one who needs stitches today.’ She attempted a joke as he came out of the shower, a white towel around his hips and a red blob of tissue on his cheek where he’d cut himself a couple of inches below his eye.

‘Bloody hotel razors!’

Then there was the horrible indignity of having to put back on her torn bridesmaid’s dress and shoes and bundle the rest of her things into a hotel laundry bag—but at least he waited till the car had been brought round before she had to suffer the shame of walking through a hotel reception area at eight a.m. on a Sunday morning dressed in last night’s clothes. She felt sick and tried to read his closed mind as she pulled on her seat belt and sat in silence as he pulled his car out onto the road.

There was a line.

And he’d crossed it.

Comparing what had taken place with Annie with a very brief review of all the women he’d been with, Iosef knew beyond doubt that he’d crossed it last night.

They hadn’t just had sex.

Sex was about need— Sex was about want.

Yes, they’d had sex last night—but they’d had a lot more besides.

As the traffic light turned green and he indicated to turn onto the freeway, Iosef attempted reason.

Guovano.

The expletive was there on his lips but he swallowed it down.

Why on earth had he gone to the wedding? And if he had had to go, he should have danced with her first, been polite, got it over with.

He glanced over at her.

Saw that pinched face trying to be brave.

Saw the unmistakable angry flush on her cheek as she pointedly stared out of the window.

And he was hard again.

Wanted to kiss away the doubts that were surely on her mind.

Wanted to make love to her, tell her she was crazy to even think such things.

More than that, he wanted to talk to her, to tell her all that was going on in his life.

Wanted the permission to talk without the pillow.

She’d never get it.

‘I told you I could not have a relationship.’

‘You did.’ She was fiddling with radio stations— changing from the talkback show he listened to to some blasted pop, but he could still see the glint of tears in her