The Millionaire (12 page)

I know I won’t have him for long. But I’ll have him for tonight.

Chris moved. He reached for her, found the button on her denim shorts and undid her zip, slowly, teasing, until they loosened. She kicked them off and her knickers followed with a quick tug. When he reached for her shirt, she took his hands and put them around her waist.

“Ellie,” he said, deep and gruff and he kissed her again, fiercely, hard and demanding. He urged her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she fell, her arms above her head, giddy from the wine and his mouth. And when she realised he’d kneeled down on the hard slate floor between her knees instead of joining her on the bed, her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head. She was on the edge, had been since he’d kissed her in the kitchen, and she wanted to clench her thighs together to hold on to it, to make it last, to douse the fire burning her up. But there was no going back now. Chris’s fingers clasped her thighs and his head dipped low. He kissed one knee then the other, the inside of one thigh, then the other until he got higher and higher, closer and closer, until his tongue stroked her clit and his fingers joined in and she moaned with deep and pure pleasure.

She couldn’t breathe. Her insides twisted and caught, pulsed and throbbed and she reached for his hair and teased her fingers in it, pushing him down into her orgasm. As it rolled and bucked her, she held her breath, exhaled deep. Her heart pounded wildly and she moaned his name. She felt half dead, half alive. And that half alive, that post-Chris Malone orgasm was the most alive she’d ever felt with a man.

He climbed on to the bed next to her. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, he was on his side, his head resting on his hand, his elbow deep in the saggy mattress. Even in the semi-dark, those sapphire eyes of his shone like jewels. And that smart-ass grin was on full display.

“Hey,” he said.

Ellie threw her arms above her head, stretched out and sighed. “You were right.”

“I’m right about a lot of things.”

“You were right about your power. Your hair has absolutely nothing to do with it. Your tongue, however, should have a monument somewhere.”

Chris laughed and she was still purring, still so on edge that she almost came again at the sound of it.

“I aim to please,” he whispered in her ear.

She felt his fingers in her curls, teasing and twisting, and then he smoothed them higher, over the curve of her belly, danced in her belly button, and teased towards her rib cage.

She quickly found the hem of her loose shirt and tugged it low but Chris tried again, smoothing his hand up towards her breasts as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Wait,” she said.

“Ellie,” he growled. “I want you so damn much…”

“And I want you, too.” Ellie pushed herself to sitting and squeezed her eyes shut.

“So what’s wrong?”

Ellie straightened, took a deep breath, and got off the bed. When she turned to Chris, the lamplight dim and creating shadows on his face, she steeled herself. She knew what she needed to do. Out here, in a place she’d always loved, away from all the glitz and glamour and superficiality of Sydney, she’d always been free to be herself. She’d been loved unconditionally for who she was. She’d never had to hide out here under the stars. Never had to hide the scars she’d lived with since she was eleven years old and she wasn’t going to start now.

Chris’s gaze trawled up and down her body and the bed squeaked as he climbed off and stood next to her.

“Did I scare you, Ellie?”

Her eyes widened and the heat in her cheeks flared.
Scare her?
Part of that was true. That orgasm had shaken her to the core. But rocked her was more appropriate.

“God, no. It was nothing you did… what you did was…”

“Good?” Chris ran a finger down her cheek. Every nerve ending in her body arced to life at his touch.

“Unbelievable, actually.”

“I remember you mentioning that a monument should be erected in honour of my tongue. Or something like that.” His lips grazed her forehead.

“I’d just had an orgasm,” she managed to say and the memory of it flooded over her, sending a shock of heat right to her core. “I probably said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”

“I think you meant every word, Ellie. I was there. I saw it in your eyes when you came. I felt it with my fingers and I tasted you.”

Ellie clenched her legs together to try to calm the raging sensation on the verge of exploding there again. Her breathing was ragged, the orgasmic sensation in her thighs had spread to her chest and she could barely breathe. His lips were an inch away from hers. And a battle raged within her about what to do. She wanted him. He wanted her. Would he still want her if she revealed her truth?

“That was just the start, Ellie.”

She held her breath.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t want me to do that to you again. With my mouth. With my fingers. With other parts of me you’ve yet to meet but who really, really want to meet you.”

Ellie clenched her eyes shut. How should she start? “There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve had sex with men before.”

“You trying to make me jealous?” he said with a grin in his voice. “Because it’s working.”

“I’m not some kind of shocked virgin who’s scared of sex.” She looked up at him for the really important part. “Because I’m not scared of sex.”

Chris took her cheeks in his hands, turned those eyes on her, soft and filled with such a desire for her that she found almost overwhelming, almost unreal.

“Good to know. How about we have some more right now?”

“I need to tell you something…” she whispered.

“I’m listening. Although I am a man, and all this talk about having sex? I’m finding it just a little distracting.”

“Something happened to me,” she said in a rush of words.

She felt Chris tense up. “Did a man hurt you?”

She shook her head, sighed. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then tell me.”

“I’ll do better than that.” Ellie gently lifted his hands from her face and stepped back.

She wanted to be in control of this. She had to do this on her own terms. She’d been hurt in the past by men who’d flinched when they’d seen her scars, and she’d never recovered from it. Their reactions had crippled her in ways the original burn hadn’t. She didn’t want that with Chris. Before things went any further, she had to get the measure of this man.

When she began unbuttoning her loose linen shirt, her fingers stiff and fumbling, Chris’s eyes widened and his chest expanded on a deep inhale. Ellie found her courage. She was lucky, she knew. Her scars could have been so much worse. She hadn’t had to endure skin grafts and had received the best medical treatment to lessen the severity of the scars, which were pink ridges and smooth pale patches on her décolletage, from her collarbone to the bottom of her rib cage, streaked across the top half of her breasts.

Ellie slipped off her shirt. It fluttered to the floor, tickling the backs of her thighs as it pooled at her feet. She reached around and unclipped her plain, skin-coloured bra and looped it off her shoulders. Then she lifted her gaze from the floor and straightened, trying not to flinch, trying not to anticipate the shock and, please god, no, please let there not be pity on his face.

“Ellie.”

She barely recognised his voice. It sounded torn to shreds.

“I was scalded by boiling water when I was eleven years old.”

Chris exhaled and she could see the muscles in his jaw clench. He hadn’t stepped away from her or recoiled but there it was, a new shadow in his eyes. He brought his hands to rest on her shoulders. “Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, because the skin is tight. I still have to be careful about the sun, even after all these years. That’s why I cover up a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Chris said.

“You have?”

“I’m obsessed with your body, Ellie. I’ve noticed. I wondered why you wouldn’t let me see you.”

“I’ve had men leave my bed because of this,” Ellie said and she felt the tears well in her eyes, but she lifted her chin, challenging him.

“Then they didn’t deserve to be there.”

Ellie’s breath caught and a fat tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her breast. When Chris leaned down, kissed it away, she began to cry.

“Ellie, don’t.” Chris pulled her into his arms, soothed her, kissed the top of her head and caressed her back, so deliciously gentle.

He was doing and saying all the right things, but she’d seen the look on his face. When he’d lowered his gaze to her scars, he’d flinched. Even though she’d lived with them for two-thirds of her life, she still wasn’t prepared for the look in people’s eyes: the questions, the pity, the demands from total strangers that she share her life story with them, as if they thought it their right to know, as if she should fling open her medical records and tell them every single detail of what had happened.

Chris had hesitated. She’d felt the tension in his hands at her shoulders, seen the clench in his jaw and the momentary blank look in his eyes.

“Chris—” she said.

“Ellie—” he said at the same time. “Trev warned me. Said you’ve been through a lot. Is this what he was talking about?”

She nodded, her eyes shining with tears. “Yes. After I was burned, I came out here, stayed for the rest of that summer with Grandpa and Nanna. They looked after me. They saved me.”

Chris enveloped her in his arms, but his hold was heartbreakingly loose.

Ellie’s heart ached at the pity she felt in his embrace. She slipped out of his arms. “I’m really tired. I need to get some sleep. We have to be at the airport early tomorrow.”

He cupped her cheeks with his big hands. “Ellie, listen to me. Your body is beautiful. It’s strong and it survived what happened to you. I’m not afraid of your scars.”

His words hit her like a sledgehammer. She’d always believed she wasn’t afraid of them, either. She’d believed herself to be strong, to be proud of who she was and what she’d become.

So why was she running?

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

And she couldn’t look back.

‡

T
he next morning,
Ellie threw her arms around her grandparents for one final hug. This visit hadn’t been long enough and she’d been so distracted by the photo shoot and Chris that she hadn’t spent as much time with them as she wanted to.

“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks at the airport. I’m so excited you’re coming to Sydney for the ball.”

“Look after yourself,” Trev said.

And in the quick moment he met her eyes before turning away, she saw a look in her grandfather’s eyes that she recognised. As much as he tried to remain stoic, she could see in his frown that he was worried about her.

“Be good, Ellie love,” Vilma added.

Chris manoeuvred around Ellie to kiss Vilma on the cheek and give her a hug. “Thanks for having me. This is an incredible part of the world. I’m glad I got to see it.”

He held out a hand to shake Trev’s. “And, Trev, thanks for playing at being a supermodel.”

The old man harrumphed good-naturedly. “It hope it raises plenty of money, that’s all I’ll say.”

“It definitely will, especially with you there. Thank you, Grandpa,” Ellie said and damn it, she started to cry.

It happened every time she left the farm and, since Grandpa’s health scare, it was becoming worse each time she left. Every time
The Plains
grew smaller in the distance, in the shimmer of heat and dust, she wondered if this would be the final time she would see either of her grandparents. They weren’t young any more, and she was so far away in Sydney.

There was an arm around her shoulders. It was Chris, drawing her in to the comfort of his embrace. She fought the urge to bury her face in his chest and let go. It felt so damn good but it was impossible. She hadn’t forgotten the look in his eyes when she’d revealed herself to him last night. Whatever he’d felt before that, it had become pity.

And that made it impossible.

*

She looked up
at Chris who gave her a smile as he squeezed her shoulder. She could read the questions in his eyes and his attempt at reassurance. But she wasn’t buying it.