Jason unlocked the door of his rented apartment near Causeway Bay after dinner, and flicked on the light with a tinge of trepidation. There hadn’t been time to swing by and check on the apartment before picking up Alana, but once inside he realized he needn’t have worried. His executive assistant had outdone himself, and he made a mental note to augment the man’s Christmas bonus.
The apartment was immaculate and smelled faintly of lemon oil. The furniture had clean lines and was almost Spartan in appearance. And there were no personal touches. No feminine touches to upset Alana with the thought there were other women in his life.
On a hunch he moved into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Sure enough, there was his brand of bottled water stacked neatly on the top shelf. And on the shelf below reclined two bottles of Bollinger 1996 Vieilles Vignes Françaises, an exquisite Blanc de Noir champagne, with two crystal wineglasses nestled beside them.
He didn’t drink alcohol often, but his executive assistant knew his tastes. He’d also apparently figured out why Jason wanted the apartment, and had efficiently and discreetly supplied what he might need.
Jason’s first reaction was that he shouldn’t wait for Christmas, that he should thank his exec with a bonus now. But then, out of the blue, distaste whipped through him for what this said...about him.
He’d wined and dined women in the past. Not hundreds, but enough. And he’d had his assistant make reservations at Hong Kong’s premier dining establishments, as well as arrange for flowers, Godiva chocolates and other gifts to be delivered to those women, both when he was wooing them and when he was bidding them a fond farewell.
He’d never consciously thought about it before—that was just the way things were done in his world. Which meant his exec had also made all the reservations for the little out-of-the-way restaurants he’d taken Alana to since they’d started dating. Not to mention the flowers he’d requested his exec send her after their first date. And their second. And their third.
So the bottles of Bollinger were a silent indictment of him...and his intentions in setting up this rented apartment in the first place.
But he wasn’t here to enact a grand seduction scene. And the last thing he wanted anyone to think—least of all Alana—was that he thought she would be influenced by his wealth. That he thought she’d be impressed with the expensive wine, the costly trinkets, the trappings of luxury other women had accepted from him without demur.
Except...that was exactly what he’d thought. He’d deceived her from the beginning, and he’d gone on doing it. Even renting this apartment so he wouldn’t have to take her to his condo and she wouldn’t figure out who he really was, because he’d been afraid she might be like all the other women who hadn’t been able to separate the man from the money.
Be honest, he told himself ruthlessly. It’s not just that. Not anymore. It was at the beginning, but not now. The truth is, you want a woman who will sacrifice everything for you, the way your mother did for your father. And if she knows who you are, how would you ever know?
He closed the refrigerator door with a decided thud, then turned to face Alana. So beautiful in her red cheongsam, which she’d already confessed at dinner she’d worn for him because “Red is the Chinese color of celebration, and I’m celebrating.” Followed by a soft, almost shy, “Dragons and phoenixes, too. Did you notice?” So sweet. So loving. So innocently trusting. And he was treating her the way a man might treat his mistress...not the woman he loved.
His voice was harsh in the stillness. “This is a bad idea.”
“What?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the front door. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“Jason, why? What did I do?” The bewilderment in her voice, her immediate assumption that it was her when it was him, all him, shamed him to the core. He turned to face her and—because he couldn’t help it—caressed her cheek, thrilling to the sensation of soft skin beneath his fingertips...and despising himself for it at the same time. “I’m a right bastard for bringing you here, and I’m putting an end to it. Now.”
* * *
All Alana could hear in that instant was Dirk saying, There’s a gaping hole in Jason’s psyche, and I don’t know if the woman exists who could fill that void. Who could love him enough to heal him.
And just like that she knew Jason’s abrupt decision was somehow, someway, related. Her lips tightened with determination. “I’m not leaving, lang jai. You promised me ‘and.’ I’m staying until you keep your promise.”
His eyes closed and pain slashed across his handsome face, a face already so impossibly dear to her. She didn’t know where the pain had come from, but she remembered her prayer earlier. Let me never hurt him in any way. When his eyes opened they were filled with torment, those inner demons she’d already sensed existed. And she knew it was up to her to dispel them.
Her heels gave her added height, allowing her to pull his head down to where she could reach his face. She pressed her lips to the corners of his mouth...first one side, then the other. “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she breathed. “Please don’t ask me again.” Then she kissed him.
He groaned and his arms wrapped around her. All at once she remembered yesterday, and the way he’d kissed her as if she were his salvation. That’s it, she exulted, deepening the kiss and pressing her body all along the length of his, that’s exactly what I am. She didn’t know why, but it didn’t matter. Someday he’d tell her. Someday...
When he finally raised his head she whispered with a husky catch in her voice, “Tell me there’s a bedroom in this apartment.”
He didn’t answer at first, then reluctantly admitted, “There’s a bedroom in this apartment.”
“Tell me you’re going to show me the bedroom.”
“Alana...” Such yearning in his voice. Such need.
“Tell me you brought condoms this time.”
He laughed softly, in the manner of a man who didn’t want to but couldn’t help it. He pressed his forehead against hers and whispered back, “I brought condoms this time.”
She smiled an invitation at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”
* * *
Unlike yesterday, where she couldn’t remember how their clothes had disappeared, she knew she’d always remember tonight, and the reverent way Jason unbound her hair until it spilled over her shoulders, then kissed her after each article of clothing was removed.
The cheongsam went first. “Beautiful...but in my way.” Leaving her wearing a bra, half-slip, those bits underneath and red high heels that suddenly felt wobbly for some reason. He brushed a kiss against her stomach, then slipped his fingers beneath the elastic waistband, and the half-slip slithered down to pool on the floor. Jason’s eyes widened at the barely there thong revealed, but he didn’t say anything. Alana deliberately leaned against his chest as she stepped out of the silky circle and smiled to herself at his sharply indrawn breath.
He sat her down on the edge of the bed and knelt before her. “Someday I’ll make love to you while you’re wearing those heels...and nothing else,” he said, his voice rough with pent-up desire. “But not tonight.” And the shoes were whisked off and away.
One by one he slid the lacy garters off and rolled down her silk stockings with a care she wouldn’t have expected from a man. His warm hands on her thighs, her calves, her ankles, made her shiver with erotic anticipation. Then he kissed the inside of each knee, and her whole body quivered.
It was a little unnerving being nearly naked while Jason was fully clothed, and she experienced a moment of panic. But somehow he must have read her mind. “Don’t go shy on me now, lang loi.” His deep voice did things to her insides. “Do you know how much it turns me on you dressed for me tonight? Especially these?” Long fingers stroked over her red satin bra cups, which barely covered her nipples. Then those same fingers trailed down, down, until they passed over the matching red thong and lingered for agonizing seconds at the crux of her thighs, so she’d know—as if she didn’t!—exactly what he meant.
She barely suppressed a whimper, and she melted. Just melted. He had to know what he was doing to her, but she said it anyway. “Jason, please. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Patience, lang loi, patience.” His smile was wicked. “Haven’t you heard? Everything comes to those who wait.” He drew her hand to the front of his dress slacks, where she could feel him hot, hard and obviously ready for her. He let her stroke him, measure him through his clothes for long moments, then he stopped her and brought her hand up to his mouth for a lingering kiss. When his lips touched her palm she felt it everywhere.
He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pressed her down on the bed. Then he parted her thighs. His big hands stroked slowly up and down, up and down, coming ever closer each time to where she was desperate to feel him. “I told you yesterday you’re exquisite when you come,” he said in his deepest voice. “And that I want to watch you come again. Which is exactly what I’m going to do now...if you’ll let me.”
Permission? He was asking for permission to drive her insane with those things he’d done to her yesterday? He couldn’t possibly expect her to say anything but “Yes, please.” Which she did. In her company-manners, oh-so-polite voice.
He laughed as if she’d amused him, then stood and stripped out of his clothes in nothing flat. Naked and aroused, he was magnificent. Those lean muscles in his arms, chest and thighs she’d first felt as he’d held her during his dramatic rescue of her were as tempting tonight as they’d been yesterday on the yacht, and her hands itched to glide over the smooth, tantalizing skin that covered them.
Before he came back to the bed, he felt in the pocket of his trousers and pulled something out, which he dropped on the nightstand. Alana craned her head to see what—oh. There seemed to be an awful lot of them, though.
He saw the direction of her stare and reminded her, “All night long. I told you last night I wanted to make love to you all night long. Can’t risk running short.”
That forced a laugh out of her, despite the yearning ache that still had her body humming. “Yes, please.”
His smile faded, replaced by a curiously intent expression in his dark eyes. “Oh, I’m going to please you, lang loi. Trust me. I’m going to please you until you weep from pleasure. Then I’m going to start all over again. And again. Until you beg me to stop.”
She drew a shaky breath, unbearably excited by the prospect. “Yes, please.”
* * *
Jason had never made a promise he hadn’t kept. Never. But never had keeping a promise meant more to him than keeping the one he’d made to Alana. And when she said, “Yes, please,” he knew that even if the walls came tumbling down around them, he would still fulfill his promise. Somehow.
He was already painfully aroused from just looking. Touching. That was secondary, though. It would take every ounce of willpower he had, but he had faith in himself. He would indulge Alana’s senses with so much pleasure that when he finally took her innocence there would be no pain. None. Just more pleasure.
He lay beside her on the bed, making concentric circles on her abdomen with one hand until she shifted restlessly. Then he slid his hand down beneath the thong he’d refused to let her remove. Yet.
She was already wet, and he smiled with deep satisfaction. Alana was so incredibly responsive it seemed impossible she was still a virgin, but when his middle finger parted her and slipped inside, he found the way blocked before he’d gone very far, and he knew she’d been telling him the truth. Not that he hadn’t believed her. But still...
She made a tiny sound that wasn’t a moan but wasn’t pain, either, so he delved a little deeper, testing the strength of the barrier. Assured it wouldn’t take much, he withdrew and located the source of her pleasure, stroking it patiently until he was finally rewarded. She stiffened and gasped his name, but he never stopped until she arched up against his hand and cried out.
That’s one, he thought, smiling to himself, though it didn’t count against his promise to make her weep with pleasure. But it was a start.
* * *
The High Tiger disliked clandestine night meetings. But with this man they were always at night. He also disliked going to locations not of his choosing. But with this man that was the norm, because he was highly suspicious that his actions might be observed, and therefore ultracautious. Such was his value to the High Tiger that he willingly put up with most of the man’s idiosyncrasies.
The High Tiger had taken a bus and two subways, and had been forced to walk five blocks to reach this destination. And that was the one thing he resented. He had a luxury limousine and a chauffeur to drive him everywhere he needed to go, so he wouldn’t have to be subjected to the crowds and other inconveniences most Hong Kong residents took for granted. But the man insisted no one other than the High Tiger could know of their meetings, which meant the chauffeur as well as the bodyguards had to be left at home. And since the High Tiger had never learned to drive, that also meant utilizing public transportation for these meetings.
He collapsed into a chair next to the man with whom he was meeting, who was casually reading a newspaper and pretending he hadn’t been watching the High Tiger’s approach. He had, which the High Tiger knew all too well.
After a moment the man folded the newspaper in thirds and placed it on the table. That was the signal. Unfolded or folded in half would mean the man suspected something, and the two men would not speak.
“So what do you have for me?”
The man glanced once more to the left and right, then leaned forward and spoke in an undertone. “The High Dragon of RMM,” he said, referring to the head of RMM by the euphemism the man always used. “And the woman with whom he is enamored. This is the first chink in his armor in all the years I have known him. Now he is vulnerable.” The man smiled, and even the High Tiger was chilled by the absolute malevolence in that smile. “Now we have him.”
* * *
Alana had heard there was sometimes pain, but not for her. Not with this man. She’d steeled herself against the possibility until she realized he wouldn’t let there be pain for her with his loving.
Jason had fulfilled his pledge...by fulfilling her. Numerous times. She’d lost track somewhere along the way, but that didn’t seem to matter in the slightest. No, the only thing Jason seemed to care about was the tears she’d shed when the pleasure was too great—as he’d promised she would. And because she sensed it mattered to him, she hadn’t held the tears back as she would otherwise have tried to do. She wasn’t ashamed, and she wanted him to know. She wanted to give him that small triumph.
She was floating in pleasure-dazed euphoria after the last time, when Jason reached over to the nightstand and grabbed one of the little packets there. She watched as he rolled the condom on over his impressive erection, then moved between her thighs.
“Open for me, lang loi,” his husky voice whispered in her ear, and she eagerly complied. This was what she’d been waiting for after all. Everything else had been a prelude to this.
Then he slid inside. Not quickly, painfully, but slowly, inexorably. There was one instant when her body refused his entrance, but his fingers caressed the little nub until her body softened in surrender. Only then did he flex his hips and fill her to the hilt. She caught her breath in wonder at the sensation of having this man so tight, so deep, within her; it was as if for one brief moment they were one. And she knew from the inarticulate sounds issuing from his throat she was giving him the same pleasure he was giving her.
She raised her knees and arched her hips, taking him impossibly deeper...and he loved it. Then she tightened her pelvic muscles, wrenching a groan from him. He growled, “Do that again and I won’t last, lang loi.” So of course she did it again, and he lost all control, driving into her hard and fast.
The orgasm took her by surprise. She hadn’t thought she was capable of another—but then it hit and she throbbed around him and sobbed his name. Hers preceded his by mere seconds. A brief flurry of thrusts and then he came, too, her name on his lips.
* * *
Alana was floating again. She hadn’t lost consciousness because she was all too aware when Jason drew away, and she wanted to protest. But she knew he needed to deal with the condom, so she contented herself by squeezing him one last time with her inner muscles as he withdrew.
She was shocked out of her lethargy when Jason muttered a pithy Anglo-Saxon curse, and her eyes flew open. “What? What’s wrong?”
His mouth was a thin line and guilt wove its way over his features when he confessed, “The condom broke.” As if it was a disaster.
A dart of unthinking panic was quickly replaced with the once-shocking thought that it wouldn’t be the worst thing she could imagine. She’d always known she wanted children. Not just because she wanted a chance to be a better parent than her own had been, but because she couldn’t envision a life without them someday. And she couldn’t imagine anyone other than Jason as her children’s father. She loved him. He loved her—at least, she was pretty sure he did. So why was he so upset?
She sat up, drawing the sheet over her bare breasts and touching his arm in comfort. “Does it matter that much to you? I mean, okay, it’s not something we planned. The odds are against it, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world, you know, if it did happen.”
His face hardened. “Yes, it matters. It matters more than you can imagine.”
A tiny chill feathered down her spine and she blinked. “Why?”
He didn’t answer, just rose from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom with the defective condom. She heard the shower running briefly, then he emerged a minute later, a towel wrapped around his hips. And the closed expression on his face warned her something was going on here, something she didn’t understand.
“Why, Jason? Why does it matter so much?”
Then he dropped a bombshell. “Because I don’t want children. Ever.”