The Millionaire by Victoria Purman Page A

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