The French billionaire's baby revenge!
The pirate tycoon: brooding, dangerous hotel tycoon André Gauthier has whisked Kira across the Caribbean seas to his stunning island hideaway. He doesn't just want to bed her with a ruthless passion...he wants revenge!
The kidnapped mistress: one hot touch has Kira desperate to slip back between André's sheets! But first she must tell him that she's pregnant with his child...
André is convinced Kira betrayed him with his enemy. He has to uncover the secrets she's hiding -- if he's to claim his baby!
Kira felt the pressure of water swelling behind her followed by the tingling sensation that she wasn’t alone. She faltered midway to glance back at the tiled edge.
She recognized the circle of ripples for what they were—someone had dived in. André?
The thought of him in the pool with her drugged her limbs and muddled her thoughts. It had to be him, for even the water was charged with an energy that hadn’t been there before.
Kira went hot and cold and hot, her heart drumming too fast, her need to get away stronger than before. She pulled herself through the water, determined to outdistance her opponent. She found a burst of renewed speed, concentrating on reaching the far wall before him.
She had to get out of the water. She had to be on firm ground when she encountered him again.
Doing laps had cleared her head, and she was glad she hadn't blurted out the truth earlier. He was too mired in anger to reason with, too set on seducing her out of some misguided sense of revenge to deal with the reality of their future.
There would be time later to explain everything. She'd make time. She'd somehow make him understand that she'd played no part in Peter Bellamy's schemes. That she was the injured party in this--just like him.
That, despite the feud between the Bellamys and André, they'd created something beautiful together. That they had a chance for a bright future.
But now wasn't the time to discuss it. The day had exhausted her and strained his patience.
Tomorrow. She'd deal with all this then.
Her arms sliced the water with precision, her shoulders burning from the exertion, her thighs growing tighter, her lungs starting to burn.
The intricate mosaic design on the tile edging the far end of the pool became clearer, the bright red, blue and yellow more intense. Almost there. Almost.
She felt the pressure of the water pushing at her from below. Panic nipped at her, for she knew he was a heartbeat away from colliding into her.
A great white shark chasing her, looking for the vulnerable place to attack. She chanced a look down, faltering as she saw him.
His long powerful body surged upward to meld with hers, his hands on her waist anchoring her to him. Before she could think to fight him, he broke the water and shot upward, taking her with him.
The night breeze whispered over her body, pebbling her skin. She slammed both palms on his wet chest to push him away, but the raw hunger in his eyes paralyzed her.
He smiled, arrogant and potently sexy. Then his mouth captured hers and she surrendered with a whimper.
They fell back into the water, the splash noisy and gauche. Her hands slipped around his neck, her fingers memorizing the play of muscle flexing beneath warm smooth skin.
She'd missed this connection to him so much.
The water lapped over them as they sank in the pool, and she clung to him. The kiss deepened, breathing life into her.
He was her anchor and damnation. As before, his kiss was unlike any she’d had before. Deep, wild, intoxicating, dragging her through hell to glimpse heaven.
Each glide of skin against skin sent shock waves of need vibrating through her, crumbling the walls of restraint she’d hastily erected. Just like that and capitulated to him.
There was no reason to continue fighting when he’d won this battle. She wanted him, and she hated herself for being so weak around him, hated this intense need that coursed in her for him.
With just a kiss, he’d reduced her world to her and him and their child in her womb, nestled between them. But he didn't know that, or realize her concern at holding her breath too long.
He pushed off the bottom of the pool and propelled them upward. Toward air.
And another confrontation with André.
He held majority shares on her hotel as tightly as he held her life in his hands. She should fear him. But she believed that he'd protect her, even though intuition warned she’d come out the loser in this personal war with him. Even knowing the danger ahead of her, she let him woo her heart without effort.
They broke the surface, each dragging in air--another form of torture, for her breasts rubbed his chest with each indrawn breath, teasing the nipples into aching peaks. And lower, where his sex pressed against her belly, separated only by her swimsuit.
A languid heat coiled in her, knowing he was naked. Knowing that it’d be so simple to reach down and stroke his exquisite length, to guide him where she ached for him.
“You’re an expert swimmer,” he said, forcing her mind from sex—a blessing that part of her cursed.
“It’s good exercise.” And no longer a passion.
Her dream to compete in water sports died long ago, derailed by an injury, then later crushed beneath Edouard’s plans for her.
She’d not relinquish another dream to please a man, no matter how much she ached for his touch, his possession. Yet even as the thought crossed her mind she admitted that was a lie. She ached to have a family. To be wanted. Loved.
He moved, lifting her to nuzzle her breasts through the thin spandex of her swimsuit. Fire shot through her. She dug her fingers into his strong wet shoulders, trembling and arching her back to press her bosom closer to his mouth.
“I want you,” he said, his teeth grazing one sensitized nipple before moving to the other. “You want me.”
She moaned, awash in need, refusing to fight what they both wanted. “That’s obvious.”
He scowled, as if angered by her admission. “But I won’t take you now.”
Had she heard him wrong? No, even as he spoke, he pulled away from her, putting her at arm’s length, slamming the door on the hot emotions she’d seen flickering in his eyes.
“Then why the foreplay?” she asked, disgusted that her face flushed and her body trembled with desire.
“I was ravenous for an appetizer .” He left her standing in the water and strode to the edge. "We will indulge in the sensual entrée later."
He hoisted himself from the pool, water sluicing down his naked aroused body. He was tanned all over, though a slightly lighter hue banded his groin, indicating he wore a brief swimsuit on occasion.
The sight of his magnificent body intensified the ache in her. “I won't have sex with you.”
“Oui, you will. But tonight I need rest and I need food.” His gaze slid over her with a hunger that made her breath catch. “When we make love, it will be leisurely and very thorough.”
She trembled at the promise, at a loss as to what to say that wouldn’t betray her wants, her needs.
“Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes,” he said. “We’ll dine casually tonight.”
He stepped into his cutoff jean shorts, but left them unbuttoned and clinging to him like she longed to do. Then he walked away, his long strides taking him further from her. Just like that, he could shut off his need for her while she still quivered with want.
Kira slapped both palms on the calm water as anger danced up her limbs. He didn’t look back once, didn’t pause. He stepped onto the piazza and into the house.
Frustrated beyond words, she launched into a breaststroke that took her the length of the pool and back. Yet even though her muscles screamed for rest as she climbed from the water, a part of her was still ravenous for André’s touch.
She had to gain control of her emotions and her libido. For if she wasn’t very careful, her weakness for him would be the downfall from which she’d never recover.
Copyright © 2011 Janette Kenny. All rights reserved.
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover Art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. ® and ™ are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprises Limited and/or its affilitated compaines, used under license.