Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book - Lynn Raye Harris Page 0,46

she arched into him, sobbing with pleasure. A second later, Alejandro lost whatever hold he’d had on himself, his hips pumping into her harder as he groaned her name half-brokenly.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. She ran her palms down his back, over his buttocks, and sighed heavily. It was a glorious, earth-shattering mistake to make love with this man. She knew it, but she tried to hold the regret and pain at bay as long as possible.

He’d won. He’d stolen her company, dragged her halfway around the world and stripped her bare, both literally and figuratively. She had nothing left, not even her dignity. Soon he would get up from the bed, look at her with disdain, and order her out of his sight.

When he lifted himself on his elbows, he was still breathing hard. The look in his eyes was not what she expected, and it ripped her heart in two. Confusion, anger, and passion collided in that one smoldering gaze.

“Querida,” he whispered. Then he kissed her softly, almost sweetly.

She feared her heart was lost forever.

19

Moonlight drifted through the windows and arced across the bed, waking him. Alejandro lifted his head, momentarily disoriented. Why hadn’t he closed the blinds before lying down?

It came back to him quickly, crashing into his mind in a series of images and sensations.

Dios. He turned his head slightly, gazed at the woman sleeping beside him. She’d curled into a ball at the edge of the bed, as far away from him as she could get. Perversely, it angered him. She’d tried to get away from him when they were awake and hadn’t succeeded. In sleep, she won the battle.

He slipped the covers off and padded to the window naked. His body was satiated in a way it had not been in months. In spite of his feelings for his self-absorbed ex-wife, he’d stayed faithful to their marriage vows until the day the divorce was final. In the months since, he’d slaked his thirst with many, many women. Anonymous, uncaring sex was a balm to his ravaged soul.

Or so he’d thought.

Until tonight when he’d lost himself in the gorgeous and willing body of the woman he hated most in this world. For those few hours, he’d forgotten he hated her.

But he did hate her. He pressed a knuckle to his temple.

It was all according to plan. Bed her, make her care, ruin her. He owed it to Anya. He would do this for Anya. Anya, who should have lived. Who should have been his and Rebecca’s child.

He clenched his fist, pressed it to the glass. He had done nothing wrong. He had not miscalculated. Never mind that she’d been untouched for so long, or that she’d seemed to see into his soul in the limo tonight. She was a shallow, calculating bitch. She slept with him now to try and gain an advantage. And how did he know he was really her first lover in a long time? She could be lying, faking. But if it were a ruse, wouldn’t she have told him earlier, tried to elicit his sympathy?

He took a deep breath, let it out. Sometimes his mind raced between so many possibilities that he couldn’t keep up.

“Alejandro?”

He turned and went to the bed. Moonlight limned her features, her messy hair, her kiss-swollen lips. Desire lifted its slumberous head inside him.

“I am here,” he replied.

She clutched the sheet to her. The scent of sex clung to her. To him.

A new thought prickled at the back of his mind. Something he should have thought of long before now. Sweet God in heaven, he’d forgotten to use protection. What was wrong with him?

“I should return to my room,” she said, unaware of the stark fear snaking down his spine.

“No.” The word came out coldly. She seemed to shrink in on herself. “Are you protected, Rebecca?”

Her head quirked to one side. “What? Oh, yes. Yes,” she said more firmly. “I’m on the pill. I thought you knew.”

“How would I know?” he asked, stupefied that she would think so.

Her chin lifted. “I thought your private investigators told you.”

“It was not that kind of investigation,” he defended. Still, relief threatened to liquefy his knees. Madre de Dios, gracias. This was the first time he’d ever forgotten to take precautions. It was not at all like him, but he chalked it up to the mental exhaustion of dealing with so much angst and drama tonight.

On the heels of relief came a surge of lust so strong