There was everything he needed in the master bedroom. He’d been in there earlier, dropping off his overnight bag. The bed was huge, and the en suite bathroom spacious, with a corner spa bath and a shower built for two. Ideal settings for the sexy scenarios that had been tormenting Mike ever since he’d met Natalie Fairlane.

Mrs Stone now, he reminded himself. Mrs Mike Stone.

She was his, legally.

His.

A shudder ran through Mike at this thought, his hands tightening possessively over her bare shoulders. His mouth descended to push aside her hair and brush against the soft skin at the base of her throat, his nostrils flaring at the musky perfume she was wearing. When her head tipped back against his shoulder with a soft moan, he almost lost it, and, yes, almost dragged her down onto the rug with him.

But he steeled himself against temptation just in time, whirled her round and scooped her up into his arms.

Natalie gasped.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked breathlessly as he began to carry her in the direction of the bedrooms with considerable speed.

His smile was the smile of the devil. ‘Somewhere a little more comfortable.’

‘Oh…’

‘Unless, of course, you like your sex on the rough side. Do you?’ he demanded to know, grinding to a halt in the middle of the hallway. ‘Be honest with me. Best I know right from the start what you like and what you don’t like.’

She stared up at him, her mind flooding with lots of different scenarios, some rough, some tender, some slightly kinky. All of them exciting.

‘I think I’m going to like everything,’ she confessed, shocking herself, and him.

But Mike’s shock only lasted a second or two before he laughed, a deep, throaty, sexy laugh. ‘You’re my kind of girl, then,’ he said, and strode on down the corridor, steering her through the last doorway into what had to be the master bedroom.

When Natalie had first arrived at Richard and Holly’s penthouse earlier in the day, she hadn’t been interested in any grand tour. Her entire focus had been on getting herself ready and in steadying her nerves. So she hadn’t been in here before.

Her eyes darted round the room, which was spacious and summery-looking, with the same cream tiles on the floor that ran through the whole penthouse, and the same cream walls. The furniture once again was cane, but painted white, not left natural. The bed was huge, with a blue satin quilt the colour of the sky. The wall that faced the terrace was totally glass, no doubt with built-in doors that slid back. Gossamer-thin curtains rested at each end, fully drawn back, the abundance of light reminding Natalie that the sun had not yet set.

Nor would it for several hours, Natalie thought with a swallow.