Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book - Lynn Raye Harris Page 0,47

he felt it from his scalp to his toes. A second later, he peeled the sheet from her grasp and laid her back on the mattress, his hands skimming up the insides of her thighs, pushing them apart.

“I’ve been dying to taste you again. I will wait no longer.”

He loved her soft cries and moans, the slick sweet taste of her, the way she arched off the bed and screamed his name when she came. He didn’t let her stop at one climax. He spread her wide and laved her with his tongue until she was panting and moaning again, until a fine sheen of moisture glistened on her skin, until his name was a hoarse cry on her lips.

And then he was inside her, losing himself as he thrust hard, again and again, unable this time to be gentle. He had no control, no finesse with this woman. He came in a hot hard rush, groaning and gasping like he’d run a marathon, then rolled to the side and gathered her against him.

They lay on top of the sheets. Her body twitched every now and then, aftereffects from the powerful orgasms he’d given her. It made him feel possessive, proprietary. His fingers trailed up and down her arm almost absently.

“Who had you watched, Rebecca?”

She jerked in his arms. She must have been nearly asleep, but now she grew rigid, her body vibrating with a different kind of tension. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to know.”

She pushed away from him, rose up on one elbow beside him. Her nipple brushed his arm and he felt the jolt all the way to his groin.

“I don’t want to talk about it. You don’t really care. All you’ll do is be smug.” She traced a finger around one of his nipples, followed it with her tongue. A ploy to distract him.

But her words pricked him. He told himself he didn’t care—but he wanted to know anyway. It fed his need for control.

“Was it a lover?” He spat the word.

She lifted her head. “No.”

“A rival?”

She laughed bitterly. “If you count yourself, then yes.”

Who else would possibly want to investigate her? Who could hurt her so badly by spying on her?

It took a moment, but then he knew. “Family?”

She stiffened, and he had his answer.

He twined his fingers in her hair, drew her down to him. Kissed her deeply. “You can tell me, querida. I want to know.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping before she fell back on the bed and put an arm over her face. “Fine. What does it matter anymore?”

But she didn’t say anything for so long he thought she must have fallen asleep. He bent to kiss the soft skin of her breast. She let out a little sigh and he rolled her nipple between his lips, sucked it into a sharp peak.

“I can’t think when you do that,” she breathed.

He propped himself beside her, fingers stroking little circles on her skin. “Was it your father?”

Truly, he couldn’t see anyone but Jackson Layton hiring a private investigator to follow his daughter around. And he didn’t entirely disagree. He could imagine doing the same thing if Anya had lived. Anything to keep her safe.

“Yes.” One word, nothing more.

“You will not tell me more?”

She shook her head, her eyes tightly closed, and he felt the sting of disappointment. She’d told him nothing at all. Once, she would have told him anything he asked.

That time was gone forever. It was just as well. He did not need to feel pity for her. It clouded his judgement, and he couldn’t afford to let that happen. He would soon dispose of her business and send her back to New York.

But until then she was his—and he wasn’t going to waste time talking about feelings. He had better ideas for what to do with Rebecca Layton. Ideas that didn’t involve anything other than her naked and begging for his touch.

He slid his fingers between her legs and into her wet pussy. She gasped and his dick grew hard. When her eyes opened, they dropped to his groin and then lifted to his with a greedy light. “Again?” she whispered.

“Again,” he told her. “And again.”

She opened to him and he slid home, groaning with the rightness of it. It would be a long time before either of them slept again.

20

The next morning, Alejandro’s business necessitated a return to Dubai. There was a break in the standoff over permits, but he needed to be there personally in order to ensure the