CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

I T WASN ’ T A KISS , just a brush of her lips against his, but as she pulled away, Sydney could feel her body shaking inside.

‘Do you—?’ he began. ‘Is this what you—?’

‘Yes,’ she said hoarsely.

If Tiger was fazed by the force of her words he gave no sign, he just closed the door and turned and reached for her in one movement, his mouth seeking hers, and she felt the heat radiating from him, and the hunger. The same hunger that was humming in her veins.

Only Tiger could quiet that chaos.

His hands were moving lightly over her body, caressing, pressing, stroking, his touch making her head spin, making her limbs tense with anticipation.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Tell me what you like.’

This, she thought, her heart pounding. She liked this. She liked the warmth of his breath and the way his thumbs were drawing circles on her belly. She liked him. Everything about him. But she didn’t know what she wanted except that she wanted to see him unravel in the same way she had unravelled by the beach. And she wanted to take her time.

She pushed back from him, swaying a little, dazed by that knowledge, by the certainty of her desire. ‘I want it to be slow.’

The shutters weren’t closed, and in the moonlight spilling through the window his golden eyes were molten heat. She saw him swallow, felt her belly clench, tightening hard with need as a muscle pulled at his jaw. And then his mouth was on hers and he kissed her as she had kissed him, softly, his lips barely grazing hers and then he pulled back to nip at her lower lip, taking his time, deepening the kiss a little more each time.

They kissed like that for some time. Just kissing, his hands flush against her hips, not moving, just steadying her and she felt her pulse slow, desire rippling through her in slow, curling waves.

She leaned into him and he lifted his hands so that she could take a step closer, close enough that she could feel the press of his erection against her stomach, hard where she was soft and yielding, and the feel of him made her shudder all the way through.

Yes.

His desire was the biggest turn-on and she arched her back, her hips meeting his, and, breaking the kiss, she tipped back her head, exposing her throat to his hot, teasing mouth.

A shivery pleasure danced across her skin and her hands moved to his chest as she moaned softly. He had a great body. Hard, muscular chest. Broad shoulders. And a stomach that made her fingers pluck his shirt from his waistband.

‘Let me help,’ he murmured and then he laughed softly as she began tugging at his buttons. ‘I thought you wanted to go slow.’

‘I want to see you,’ she said hoarsely.

His narrowed gaze was trained on her face. ‘Then undress me.’ His words sent shivers of need chasing across her skin.

Her pulse twitched, and she pulled his shirt down from his shoulders, then unbuttoned his trousers and hooked her fingers into the waistband and tugged them down his thighs, taking his underwear with them.

Oh, my—

He was naked now. And aroused. Very aroused.

Her skin was shivering as if she were cold, but flushed with the heat of her desire.

‘My turn,’ he said softly, and she tensed, her body hot and damp, and aching as he undid the buttons of her blouse and opened it to his gaze. Her lips parted as he slid his hand over the hot, bare skin of her stomach, and then tugged the blouse down over her shoulders.

Now he turned his attention to her skirt, deftly unfastening it.

She felt the air snap to attention as her skirt fluttered to the floor around her bare feet. She was naked now aside from her bra and panties and she felt his gaze like a caress, a whisper of heat and intent that made everything melt inside.

This was how she had wanted sex to be. Slow and seductive and thrillingly sensual.

He made her want so much. She could imagine his hands on her stomach and on her breasts and between her thighs.

There was a dark flush to his cheekbones and as she met his gaze, her belly tightened, then tightened again as he leaned in and fitted his mouth to hers, one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing the skin there, his tongue, teasing her, stirring her senses. Making a kiss into something more than a kiss. Making it into a promise, a contract without words, that he was going to unravel her.

Heat flared inside her and she tried to deepen the kiss but he pulled back, tipped back her head to stare into her eyes.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmured, and, reaching up, he touched her mouth gently and she tensed for a different reason. But then he moved his thumb away and brushed his lips against hers, calming her.

‘You’re exquisite.’ His hand slid down over her collarbone to cup her breast and her nipples tightened as he caressed first one then the other, lightly, before reaching round to expertly undo her bra. No one had ever touched her like this. No one had ever made her feel so hungry and uninhibited, so confident of her power to arouse, to take, to pleasure.

She sucked in a breath as he pushed her panties down over her thighs and stepped back, and she had to stop herself from crying out as the seconds ticked by and his gaze grew harder and hotter. And then he touched her lightly between the thighs and she moaned softly, her body instantly hot and tight and aching and damp for him.

Her hands fluttered down his torso to find his hands and then she lifted them up to cup her breasts. He sucked in a breath and now he lifted his mouth from her throat and she saw that he was fighting for control.

Yes, she thought.

She pushed him backwards, and he let her, bracing himself with his elbows as she dropped onto her knees. Her head was spinning. She had never wanted to do this with Noah. But the desire to taste Tiger, to give him pleasure in the same way that he had given her pleasure, was irresistible and, dipping her head, she flicked her tongue over the blunted tip, her hand wrapping around the length of him, and she took him in her mouth.

His hips jerked and he groaned, her clumsiness and lack of expertise no obstacle to his pleasure. Quite the contrary, she thought, his lack of control evident from the uncoordinated twitches of his body.

‘Sydney.’ He breathed out her name, his hand moving through her hair to still her, and she eased back and he pulled her onto the bed. Leaning back against the pillow, he put his hands on her hips and lifted her onto his lap and slid into her smoothly.

She moaned softly and he leaned forward, his mouth closing over her nipple, and she arched against him, shuddering, her hands gripping the muscles of his arm.

He pulled back then, his golden gaze dark and narrowed. ‘Let me watch you,’ he whispered and the hoarseness in his voice kicked up sparks inside her and she rolled her hips against his.

His face was taut with concentration, the muscles in his chest and arms bunching as his dark gold gaze held her and he began to rock his hips, one hand fitting into the indent at the base of her back, the other stroking her clitoris with his thumb.

She pressed against him, panting, chasing the flickering heat that was just out of reach and then he thrust upwards, driving into her and now she was trying to grip him, to hold him, to hold back but she couldn’t.

Her body tensed, muscles tightening and tightening and tightening, in wave after wave, and he pulled her closer, burying his face against her throat as his body spasmed to a juddering climax.

A washed-out primrose light was seeping through the open shutters when Sydney blinked her eyes open. For a moment, she didn’t recognise the room, then she felt the warmth of Tiger’s body beside her and she remembered.

She remembered all of it.

Could see his body, so big and hard, moving inside her with shattering slowness. See herself, back arched like a bow, a creature of need and impulse, hardly human and yet all woman. The kind of woman she had always wanted to be. Powerful. Certain. Uninhibited and unafraid to be vulnerable.

It was different from the first time. Then their need for one another had been driven by frustration and a need to purge the jangling, seductive thing that had swirled around them.

Last night, this morning, was about desire and pleasure. Taking it and giving it. Because now she knew what desire looked like, what it felt like and tasted like. And she had wanted to feast on him, to lick every inch of his skin, to give him pleasure in the same way that he had pleasured her.

Now, though, it was time to leave. To give him space. And one less reason to regret what had happened?

Her limbs stiffened, her body protesting silently because she didn’t want to leave the gravitational pull of his heat and his strength, and his gentleness. Remembering how lightly he had used his strength, she pressed her thighs together around the softness there and for a moment she let the feeling of being close to someone and not having to wonder if the hand clasping her waist would be tightening painfully around her wrist at any moment wash over her. She could enjoy the dizzying, unthinkable freedom of being in this space, with this man.

It was an astonishing sensation. But then it had been an astonishing, transformative night.

Tiger was a generous, intuitive, expert lover and being with him was revelatory. But it was more than knowing where and how to touch. Whatever was happening, however lost he was in his own ecstasy, she had sensed that a part of him was always tuned into her heartbeat and her breath almost as if they were joined by a thread.

Last night was about more than sex. They had fought and then they had talked. Tiger had talked about his father and his disastrous failed friendship with Harris Carver and she could see why he lived as he did, never letting anyone get close, choosing instead to walk by his ‘wild lone’.

The people he had trusted had hurt him, betrayed his trust, made him feel vulnerable and powerless. No wonder he had decided that he wanted out. It was easier that way. And by easier he meant safer.

Suddenly it was hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. It was such a small ask. To feel safe. To be safe. Even for someone as rich and successful as Tiger, a life without safety meant a life not fully lived. A part of you was always curtailed by fear. Fear of failure. Fear of being hurt.

She hated that he had been hurt, was still hurting, and suddenly it was impossible not to reach out and touch his beautiful, sculpted face.

It seemed incredible to her now that back in New York she would have done anything to get out of being here with him. But it was going to end, and sooner rather than later. Much better to face that now while he slept. To draw a line now, rather than have it drawn for her as had happened so many times in the past. But also, because she was starting to care about him, and maybe she couldn’t stop how she was feeling, but she didn’t need to let it go any further.

Because last night had also been about reclaiming her power: the power to arouse; the power to act on her desire...and the power to leave.

Sliding out of Tiger’s arms, Sydney shifted to the edge of the bed, moving carefully so that her progress wouldn’t displace the mattress and disturb the sleeping man.

Get dressed , she told herself.

But that was harder to do than it sounded because her clothes were scattered haphazardly across the carpet like some confessional art installation.

‘What are you doing?’

She froze.

Tiger was sitting up in bed, looking at her with sleepy eyes. Her gaze moved automatically to his gym-hard abs and then she remembered that she was naked. Which maybe explained why his eyes were looking a lot less sleepy.

‘I thought you might want some space.’

‘Don’t you want to stay?’

She hesitated. He had told her the truth last night. But she was not brave like him, so this was as much of her truth as she was ever going to share. ‘Yes, but I didn’t know whether you would want that. I thought you might be regretting—’

‘I’m not.’ He shifted forward, his forehead creasing. ‘Are you?’

His face didn’t alter, but after last night she knew what it would have cost him to ask that, to admit a need of any kind, even just physical.

She shook her head. ‘Not at all.’

The air in the room shifted, softening as if an unseen tension had lifted. ‘So will you stay?’

He was watching her, waiting, she realised, for her to reply, to make her choice.

Her choice. The words fizzed on her tongue like sherbet. He was letting her choose, but he was also letting her know that he had no regrets. That he had wanted her and still wanted her, and knowing that made it easy for her to make her choice. To do what she wanted. To stay with him.

She nodded slowly and he moved then, kneeling up and holding out his hand.

‘Come back to bed,’ he said hoarsely. The sheet had fallen away from his body and, as if they were being pulled by some force of science or maybe nature, her eyes dropped to the erection standing starkly proud from his mouth-watering body. She felt her abdomen tense and an answering liquid heat between her thighs. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Why make it any more complicated than that?

Taking his hand, she let him pull her back to bed.

They spent most of the rest of the day in bed. Which was wonderful on so many levels, not least because it stopped Sydney panicking about the ball. The regatta had been fine, but it was more a ‘day out’ kind of atmosphere. There had been just so many people and so much noise that she had felt, not invisible, but lost in the crowd.

But the ball would be different. Instead of mingling with a drink in hand and smiling, there was a formal dinner, which meant having to make conversation. And then there was the dress. How was she supposed to carry off a ball gown?

‘What are you worrying about?’

She jolted back to Tiger, nestling closer to his warm, solid body just for a moment before she answered. Just because she could. And because he was so gorgeous, and for the moment, anyway, he was hers.

‘I was thinking about the ball, and the dinner.’ Now she tilted her head back, met his eyes, felt another jolt at the curiosity there because he was listening to what she was saying. ‘I’ve never been to anything like this. I mean, it’s in a palace, for goodness’ sake, and it’s hosted by somebody called the Duke of Bergamo and Brandolini.’

Even just saying that out loud made her feel slightly sick.

Her breath caught as he pulled her towards him so that her breasts and stomach pressed against the honed muscles of his chest and abdomen.

‘A ball is just a party. A palace is just a big house. And all those dukes and duchesses are just people like you and me.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘But I’m not like you. You’re like them. You own an island. And a private jet.’

‘So, take them away. See what’s left. That’s when you realise that deep down people are all the same. Just think of it as a tailgate party with masks and champagne. And I’ll be there with you the whole time, so you don’t need to be nervous.’

As he slid his hand along her cheek and smiled at her, she leant into it, groaning. ‘You make it sound so easy.’ She sounded casual enough, but her heart thudded inside her chest. With each passing minute, she found herself wanting him more. And she knew it was dangerous to think like that. To think that this was about anything more than sex. But that was hard to remember when he smiled like that.

Tiger waited for Sydney to join him downstairs, his fingers clamped around a slim, rectangular leather box.

His reaction to stress had always been to come out fighting, and his almost omnipresent state of anger with his father, and with the women who became his stepmothers, had left no room for nerves.

Until now.

He glanced up to the top of the staircase, and then swore softly as he realised what he’d done because he must have already looked up in anticipation of seeing Sydney there at least thirty times. And he didn’t know why it mattered so much that she saw him looking up at her. He just knew that was what he wanted to do, and that waiting for her was making his stomach churn as if he were some gangly schoolboy on his first prom date.

Except he had been to plenty of proms and the girls had always been eager and ready. Was that why he was feeling so on edge? Because, inevitably, Sydney was making him wait and waiting was such an unfamiliar experience for him.

Maybe. But mostly he was nervous on her account.

He put the box down.

He had been telling her the truth when he said that the ball was just a party, but he knew that it would be intimidating and he wanted to give her this night. Wanted it to feel like a dream and for her to enjoy it and for her to shine, to recognise her own value.

His spine stiffened as he searched inside himself for the anger that had been a part of him for so long, but it was gone. Okay, he was angry with Harris for what he’d done. Mostly for what he’d done to Sydney, exploiting her like that. But it was a different kind of rage. It was clean, righteous, and, this was the biggest change, it was impermanent. Always before, his anger had been limitless and he’d never understood why. His whole life there had been no one to ask. His father, his stepmothers, his teachers, everyone had just seen the consequences, not the cause.

Only Sydney had bothered to ask. She had sat and listened and now he could see that his anger was just a form of weaponised fear. Fear of repeating his father’s mistakes, of being used then abandoned. Of being part of someone’s life and yet ultimately alone.

He didn’t feel alone now. Or angry.

Here with Sydney, he felt relaxed, comfortable in his skin. Extremely comfortable in her skin too. Happy, basically—

His arms prickled and he saw something at the periphery of his vision and he turned, tilting his head back, and all the thoughts slid sideways, colliding with one another inside his head.

Sydney hadn’t shown him which dress she was going to wear, but given her nerves he’d assumed it would be something subtle.

She had gone bold. His eyes skimmed the rippling burnt-orange silk. No, it was more than bold. It was fearless, she was as fearless as a goddess, and just as beautiful.

‘Don’t talk to me,’ she said, gripping the banister as she picked her way down the staircase. ‘I have to concentrate otherwise I’m going to trip.’

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, he held out his hand, and she snatched it.

Their eyes met and, tilting her chin up, she smiled, and he smiled too because she knew she looked good and he liked that. But his opinion mattered to her. And he liked that too. He liked that a lot.

‘You look good,’ she said then.

And he was still so stunned that he just said, ‘Thank you.’

Her face scrunched a little. ‘I’m the one that should be thanking you.’

‘For what?’

‘For getting someone in to do my make-up and hair.’ He glanced up to where her glorious red hair was coiled into some bouffant updo. ‘And for this.’ She smoothed a hand over the shimmering skirt. ‘I’ve never worn anything so beautiful.’

His gaze moved over her face. He hadn’t even noticed the make-up, but now, glancing down at her glossy lips, he wanted badly to kiss her.

‘You look stunning.’ His fingers tightened. ‘I wanted to say that before... I was going to but...anyway, you look incredible, honestly, you look—’

‘Oh, sei bellissima, Signora—’

It was Silvana, her hands fluttering to her cheeks, and he felt a rush of relief that she had arrived to stop him stammering like a schoolboy. And he hadn’t felt this out of control since he was a kid. Had never wanted to feel out of control. That was why he lived as he did. Never committing, never allowing himself to care. Only he did care about Sydney. And that should be scaring him.

Then again, what was there to worry about? In a couple of days, they would go their separate ways, and his life would be back on track.

He cleared his throat. ‘We should go.’

Sydney turned from where she was still being admired by Silvana and the maids.

‘But first I have something for you for tonight.’ He picked up the rectangular box he’d been clutching earlier. ‘I didn’t know what you were wearing so I went for diamonds because they go with everything.’

Her eyes were wide and stunned.

‘Oh, Tiger, it’s beautiful, thank you.’

‘Here, let me put it on you.’

She turned and he picked up the necklace and looped it around her throat, fastening it at the nape.

It looked exquisite. The facets caught the shimmering fabric so that it looked as though there were flames flickering at the centre. The same flame he could see in her eyes and an answering heat flared inside him. Heat and hunger.

‘Are you ready?’

The ball was the reason she was here. The reason he was here, but now he wished that he could just stay here with Sydney and talk and make love—

‘Let’s go,’ he said lightly.

Tiger had wanted the evening to feel like a dream for Sydney. He hadn’t expected it to feel like a dream for him too. Despite the glamour, he usually found these events boring and formulaic, but tonight, from the moment they had slipped on their masks and stepped off the gondolino and walked into the palazzo’s glittering entrance hall, everything had felt as if it were in soft focus and weightless.

Only Sydney’s hand in his felt real, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be with her. They sat opposite one another at the dinner, which meant he couldn’t touch her, but he could watch her, and so while the spoilt heiresses on either side of him droned on, he watched Sydney. Watched and marvelled, because she was holding her own. More than that, she was shining.

After dinner, he got to hold her as they danced and every time her dress brushed against him, he would think about her body and how, even though she was turning heads in that dress, she looked better without clothes, and then he would try not to think about her naked because it made him want to stroke the soft skin of her thighs or trace his hand over the curve of her hip.

‘Shall we go back?’ he said, leaning in to graze his mouth against her throat.

Her eyes were bright and steady. ‘Yes.’

As they walked off the dance floor, someone called his name, and he felt a hand on his shoulder and everything slammed into focus.

‘McIntyre! I thought it was you.’ Harry Atherton was grinning at him, swaying slightly, his eyes screwing up against the lights, his wife Juno clutching his arm. ‘These bloody masks, honestly, if there’s one thing I’d outlaw it would be masked balls.’ He straightened slightly, his gaze sliding over Sydney. ‘I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced.’

She smiled. ‘Sydney.’

‘Harry—it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sydney. So, what are you two lovebirds up to now?’

Tiger felt Sydney glance up at him. ‘I think we’re going back to the villa.’

‘Seriously, mate?’ Harry frowned. ‘We were all going to play some games upstairs. Come on, it will be fun.’

He tightened his hand into a fist. Maybe it was being recognised by Harry, but he felt suddenly disorientated and for a moment he was torn, but then again—

‘Yeah, why not?’

‘You know what we should do?’ Juno shouted over the music. ‘We should play hide and seek. Harry, you count and the rest of us will hide. Come on, Sydney.’

Juno dragged Sydney away and he stared after her, something jamming inside him as Harry started to count. It was just a game, and she was one of the few people on earth who had defied him, but that look on her face had been panic, fear almost.

He was moving before his brain caught up with his legs. Pushing past the other guests and up the stairs. Where was she?

‘Hey, McIntyre, you’re supposed to be hiding.’

He turned, eyes narrowing, and Harry stumbled back, holding his hands up. There was no reason to feel this panic, Tiger told himself, taking another flight of stairs, three steps at a time. But he couldn’t seem to stop it. Yanking open a door, he stepped into the room.

It was small and unfurnished and empty, and he was about to leave when he heard it. The sound of someone breathing, small, panicky breaths almost as if they were injured. And then he saw her. She was pressed against the wall, her eyes closed, body shaking, one hand in front of her face as if she was trying to hide something.

‘Sydney,’ he said softly. ‘Did someone hurt you?’

She was shaking her head, trying not to cry, he could see that now and it tore at him. He touched her wrist gently, wanting to comfort her, and her arm twitched and her eyes snapped open and then he saw her fear, and everything inside him turned to stone.

‘It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you,’ he murmured, scooping her up into his arms. ‘Just hold onto me. I’m going to take you home.’