The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress (10 page)

Nevertheless, she was hit with a painful pang of total inadequacy when she paused to examine the overall result of her efforts in the mirror. She didn’t match the rich socialites Ethan was accustomed to mixing with, didn’t have their sophisticated polish or their perfect styling. The woman in the mirror might have been good enough for Carl Jamieson but Ethan Cartwright was light years ahead of Carl in the eligibility stakes.

It had been stupid of her to even try to pretend this was a date. She should be wearing her usual jeans, not caring how she looked because it wouldn’t change anything. For whatever reason, Ethan wanted her in his bed. She should probably greet him stark naked, save the bother of taking off her clothes, but everything within her recoiled from taking that line of brutal reality. At least making the most of herself was like putting on a brave face and she needed a brave face to cover up the nervous mess she was fast becoming.

With nothing left to do and not knowing when Ethan would arrive home, she sat in his home theatre and watched quiz shows on television, trying to keep her
mind occupied by answering the questions put to the contestants.

She was ready for him.

As ready as she was ever going to be.

F
OR
Ethan, it had been a hectic end to the week with clients rearranging their investment portfolios after the share price for the Redback Mining Company had skyrocketed. He was mentally fatigued by the time he finished up on Friday evening—later than he’d wanted to be with Daisy waiting for him at home. He settled into the driver’s seat of his BMW and closed his eyes for a few moments, trying to re-energise himself for the night ahead—a night he’d been looking forward to, impatient for—ever since Daisy had walked away from him.

No more walking away, he thought with grim satisfaction. He didn’t understand why she’d been so damned perverse about denying the natural progression of a relationship between them, but it didn’t matter now. He’d won the time he wanted with her, and from her brief note, it seemed she was not about to baulk at fulfilling her end of the deal.

The power of money.

In this instance he hated it.

But he was going to take what it had bought him—take everything that Daisy Donahue could give him.

Starting tonight.

He sucked in a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, opened his eyes and began the drive home.

Over the past few weeks he’d kept up his usual social life, attending a few A-list parties, going to a couple of race meetings with Mickey, the regular games nights with the guys, holding Sunday afternoon tennis parties now that his court was ready for action. He’d actually been curious to see if any of the women he met raised a spark of interest in him—anything that might divert or supplant this obsession he had with Daisy Donahue. As absurd as it was, a businesslike little note from her gave him more of a buzz than anything else.

And despite his fatigue, he felt a buzz of anticipation growing as he drove out of the city centre, heading towards Hunters Hill. The peak-hour traffic had already thinned so the journey was not frustratingly long. It was just on six-thirty when he turned the BMW into his driveway and it gave him a sweet sense of pleasure to see Daisy’s car was parked at the front steps.

She was here…waiting for him.

He drove down the side of the house to the garage, which was now in a usable state. Was Daisy listening for him to arrive? How was she feeling about losing her freedom to him? Ethan couldn’t imagine her totally giving up the challenging attitude which had made winning her so compelling. The little brown sparrow had the heart of a lion.

Excitement zinged through him as he alighted from his car and strode towards the back entrance to the house. The wall of glass which gave a wide view of the harbour from the dining area and kitchen also gave a direct view inside. He halted in surprise when he caught
sight of Daisy standing by the opened oven door, checking the steaming contents of a casserole dish, giving them a stir with a wooden spoon.

She was cooking him a meal?

His gaze swept the island bench. She’d laid out predinner nibbles, as well. And her hair was down, falling around her shoulders in a shiny, touch-inviting curtain instead of scrunched up in a ponytail. Pleasure welled up in Ethan. He hadn’t expected to be welcomed like this.

It flitted through his mind that Serena had never once cooked for him, always expecting to be taken out to restaurants or getting professional caterers in if she threw a party. Daisy wasn’t in the princess mould. She hadn’t put any of the tradesmen off-side with her. No getting up their noses with uppity airs and graces. She’d carried out her job here in a very diplomatic fashion.

Quite possibly cooking him dinner was a diplomatic action, as well, nothing to do with welcoming him home. Don’t assume anything, Ethan cautioned himself, a wave of cynicism overriding the pleasure. She could be buttering him up to get something else from him—the good, old bartering trick. He wasn’t going to fall for it. This time everything would be on his terms, exactly how he wanted it.

He resumed his approach to the back door, watching Daisy through the glass, his heart jolting again when she turned around after closing the oven door again. She looked lovely. No trace of the teenage appearance tonight. She was all woman. Some smoky make-up accentuated the bright chocolate of her
beautiful eyes. Her lips were a stunning, glossy red. The upper swell of her breasts gleamed above the low neckline of her dress—a red-and-white dress—its saucy skirt swirling around her legs as she stepped quickly out from behind the island bench, her feet strapped into sexy high-heeled sandals.

She had shed the little brown sparrow image.

It had always been a deceptive image. He’d known it all along.

The lioness was out and prowling.

Desire kicked so fast into Ethan’s groin, his whole body was instantly invigorated—the earlier fatigue gone and forgotten. A few quick strides and he was sliding open the glass door, enjoying the slight shock on Daisy’s face as she stopped and stared at him.
Caught
, he thought, grinning with exhilarating triumph as he closed the door behind him and tossed his car keys on the dining table in passing, moving straight to the woman who could no longer escape him.

Daisy was stunned anew by Ethan’s physical impact on her. Her heart started galloping. An electric tingle raced around her veins. Her stomach contracted. Weird little quivers ran down her thighs. She forgot to breathe. The welcome home speech she’d rehearsed flew right out of her mind.

He didn’t give her any time to remember it. He picked her up, hoisted her over his shoulder, and was out of the kitchen and heading for the staircase before she found breath enough to speak. ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked, coming out of shock enough for her dangling hands to find some purchase on his trouser belt and try pushing herself up.

‘Taking you to my cave,’ he replied with relish, keeping her thighs pinned to his chest with one arm and patting her bobbing derrière with his free hand. ‘Did I ever tell you I loved this bottom? Sexiest bottom I’ve
ever seen on a woman. It’s been taunting me ever since we met. I think I’ll eat it.’

Eat it?

‘Dinner!’ Daisy squawked, realising the balance of her weight made it impossible to change his hold on her. She batted
his
bottom with more vigour than he’d used on hers. ‘I cooked dinner for you. It’s going to spoil.’

‘No. I switched off the oven. We can eat later. This hunger demands satisfaction first. Hit me some more. I like you being feisty. It’s very exciting.’

She did out of sheer exasperation. ‘I wanted you to appreciate my efforts.’

‘I do. Red suits you. It’s your true colour. Full of fire.’

‘I meant the food I prepared!’

‘Won’t be wasted. We’ll work up an appetite for it. Sex, food, wine…’

He was charging up the stairs, completely undeterred by anything she said. Part of Daisy was enraged by the indignity of being carried like a sack of grain, yet another part was excited by the rush of primitive physicality. Ethan was having his way with her and there was a kind of relief in having him act so fast. Though what was the act going to entail?

Eat her bottom?

She squirmed and thumped his some more. ‘Don’t think you can do anything with me, Ethan Cartwright. I won’t be your sex slave.’

‘You could try it,’ he blithely suggested. ‘You might like it.’

‘I won’t let you tie me up or do weird stuff like that.’

‘Frightened of losing control, Daisy?’

Fear welled up in her as she recalled wondering if he was a control freak. ‘You’d hate it, too,’ she cried.

‘Don’t worry. I’m not into bondage. I want to feel your hands on me. Your hands tell me what you’re feeling more eloquently than any words.’

She smacked his taut buttocks again. With relish. ‘Then that should tell you I’m feeling mad at you for treating me without any respect.’

‘I’m beginning to understand why men—I think it’s in Finland—like having their bodies birched before sex. It sensitises the skin. Gets the blood flowing hotly.’

‘Oh, you…you…’

He laughed. ‘Lost for words, my sweet?’

‘I’m not your sweet.’

‘Oh, yes, you are! Like a very tasty lollipop. I’m going to lick you all over and make it last as long as I can. I think I’ll start with your toes. They look good enough to eat. Sexy red toenails inviting me to taste them.’

Her toes curled in instinctive defence. Or was it excitement? She had terribly sensitive toes. If he started on them…

‘On the other hand, maybe I want your mouth to surrender to me first,’ he ran on. ‘Or should I work my way up to it? Take every other bit of ground before claiming the citadel.’

‘This isn’t a battle,’ she cried, beginning to feel frantic inside at the thought of losing all control to him and what it might mean to her. ‘You’ve already won me, remember?’

‘No. I’ve only won time with you. Not the same thing at all. In fact, you made me
buy
time with you. That’s not a good feeling for me. I want to blot it out.’

‘Being bought doesn’t make me feel good either’ shot straight out of her mouth.

‘Got to put all that aside. Make this the real deal.’

‘What deal?’

‘You and me together. As we should have been.’

Her head was too dizzy to find a reply to smack his arrogant claim down, although it pounded around her mind that what was right for him wasn’t right for her. They were already up the stairs and he was carrying her into the master suite and being
intimately
together was so imminent, her nervous system was going haywire and it was probably better not to think any more, to let whatever happened happen because it was unavoidable anyway.

He dumped her on the bed and followed her down, covering her body with his, lifting her hands up above her head and pinning them there as he loomed over her, a wide, wicked grin on his face. ‘Forget about seizing the day,’ he said. ‘I’m seizing the night. You’re finally mine, Daisy Donahue.’

Not
finally
.

Only for a while within the time he’d stipulated.

Until he’d had enough of her.

Unless it could somehow turn out differently.

The wish…the hope…thundered through her heart.

He lowered his head and slowly ran his tongue over her lips, making them tingle with sensitivity. ‘Mmm…yummy lipstick. What’s it called?’

A hysterical little laugh gurgled up from her throat. ‘Passion Red.’

He grinned in devilish delight. ‘Reminds me of a song in the musical
Les Misérables
. There’s a line in it that goes
—“Red…the colour of desire”
. Whoever wrote it got it right.’

He kissed her with full-blooded desire, inciting Daisy to respond just as hotly. She couldn’t help herself.
No matter what her head told her, her body was tuned to this man, madly eager to experience all of him again. She wanted a new deal with him, wanted the old one blotted out, wanted much more than she could ever tell him. Except with her hands.

Which he suddenly freed.

Though in a seemingly perverse action, he moved himself out of touch. His mouth broke from hers and he rolled away from her to sit on the side of the bed and lift her legs onto his lap. ‘Feet first,’ he muttered, working on unbuckling her sandals.

Daisy sucked in a quick breath. Her pulse was pounding through her temples. Her thighs were quivering. Her toes scrunched up in tense anticipation as he removed her sandals, stroking her ankles and the soles of her feet with tantalising gentleness. He started lifting one foot towards his mouth and Daisy tore it out of his hold and jackknifed forward, reaching out, seizing handfuls of his shirt.

‘Off,’ she cried in a wild frenzy—anything to avoid the toe-licking which would shoot her into uncontrollable spasms. ‘Take it off so I can touch you. You said you wanted that. You said…’

‘I wanted all of you,’ he reminded her. ‘And I do.’

It was almost a relief when he reached around her and unzipped her dress, smiling into her frantic eyes as he peeled it off her shoulders, drawing the sleeves down her arms. She hadn’t worn a bra. The tightly moulded bodice hadn’t required one. She felt her nipples stiffening into hard bullets as the silk fabric slid over them and fell to her waist.

‘You take my shirt off, Daisy,’ he commanded. ‘Go ahead. Unbutton it.’

He was filling his hands with her breasts, revelling in their softness. And their hardness, his thumbs fanning the taut peaks in a slow teasing motion. Her fingers scrabbled over his shirt buttons, working as fast as they could at releasing them. She didn’t linger over dragging the garment from his shoulders, wrenching it down, baring his chest, wanting them to be on equal terms, wanting it with a fierce intensity that poured from the depths of her soul.

He released her long enough to rip it off entirely and free her arms of her sleeves, as well. In a flurry of action, he scooped her into his embrace, crushing her bared breasts against the hot hard wall of his chest, pinning her there as he stood and pushed her dress and panties down over her hips and bottom.

She dug her hands between them and unzipped his trousers, hooked her thumbs on the waistband and made him as naked as she was. He lifted her chin and kissed her. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, needing to lose herself in all-devouring passion. She was barely conscious of him working off his trousers, kicking off his shoes, freeing her completely of her clothes. His mouth was everywhere, her neck, her breasts, her stomach, burning trails that incited her to kiss and touch him wherever she could.

There was no more talking, only huge wells of feeling. They were back on the bed and Ethan was driving into her and her body was exploding with the sensation of having him deep inside her. They rocked together—a wild, powerful rhythm, their bodies locked in the feverish urgency to reach the ultimate peak of pleasure. Her mind swirled with the primitive triumph of possessing him as completely as he was possessing
her. Her hands and legs urged him on…more, more, more…

Her inner muscles convulsed around him. He bent his head, his mouth invading hers, his tongue thrusting, reinforcing each plunge to the melting heart of her, taking an ownership that she was beyond matching, her entire body fusing as ecstatic waves washed through her, wiping out all the frenzied tension, sweeping her into a sweet nirvana made even sweeter as he climaxed and relaxed in her embrace.