Читать книгу The Dare Collection: February 2018 - Anne Marsh - Страница 19

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SHEETS WERE cool at her back as Alex laid her gently on the bed. She searched his stare, trying to deny what she saw there. After his honest declaration in the pool, meeting his mother and witnessing the pain mirrored in eyes so much like her son’s, all his pieces slotted together. And his instincts about her own demons? Alex peered far too closely into her soul for comfort.

She’d tried to stay impassive, to distance herself. But in the end she’d been helpless against opening herself up to him. She understood guilt, knew first-hand how it burned away at you, slowly, like acid. And she didn’t want that for Alex—couldn’t bear to see it destroy what was left of his relationship with his mother. He gave so much of himself. To people, to his charity, to her.

When she’d probed him about Jenny, told him about Callum, she’d feared she’d push him even further away than her attempt to do so in the pool. But he stood over her now, slowly peeling her from her clothes and then shucking his own until there was little between them except the unspoken.

Her mouth filled with all she longed to say. But it was pointless. She was leaving and she wouldn’t give him false hope. Wouldn’t hurt him even when staying silent left her shredded.

He pulled her up on still shaky legs, her intense climax having robbed her of all but the basic functions of breathing and pumping blood around her body. He caressed her. His eyes and large hands touching on every part of her until she trembled anew with adrenaline. Tenderness seeped from his touch, from his stare. She closed her eyes, struggling to witness the raw emotion spilling out of him. Emotion for her. Emotion she longed to accept. Longed to reciprocate.

He pummelled her resolve, pulling her so close that she struggled to breathe. He wrapped his arms around her, tangling one hand in her hair and tilting her head back so he could lavish her throat and upper chest with soft, indulgent kisses.

She swayed, the only thing keeping her upright his strong arms banded around her. She’d never survive this—was already perilously close to the final leap of faith.

‘Turn around.’

His words whispered over her neck, skittering down her spine. Helpless, she obeyed, her movements slowed by the easy slide of her hair around his wrist and hand. Not tugging. Never bringing pain, but with enough tension that every hair on her head transmitted pleasure to her strung-out nerve endings. She covered his hand, pressing his palm to her head, feeling what he felt.

He kissed her shoulders, lips gliding, his free hand sliding over her hip as he nudged her feet closer to the bed. Libby’s head swam. She scrunched her eyes tightly closed. It was enough to hear the husky command in his voice and to feel the reverence of his touch.

His erection lodged between the cheeks of her ass, the warm, hard length of him shooting tingles up her spine to join with the ones from her stimulated scalp.

‘Fuck, you’re a beautiful woman.’ His words tickled her neck, and the brush of his lips at her earlobe buckled her knees.

One hand slid the length of her thigh, gripping behind her knee and encouraging her to climb onto the bed on all fours.

A thrill of excitement fluttered in her belly. She turned her head, her bold stare meeting his over her shoulder. But his eyes skittered away, tracing her back, her hips, and returning.

‘Your hair is beautiful.’ He twisted his wrist, the thick coil of hair sliding through his fingers only to be captured again. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.’

His wrist was rolling. Again and again. Her hair tumbling away, then being recaptured. All the while his other hand traced a path of fire from her breast to her hip and returned via her arched back.

Moisture pooled between her legs. Anticipation coiled deep inside. Would he push inside her like this? She felt a bead of moisture in the small of her back, where his hard length rested. This position—the view of her perched on all fours, her hair wrapped in his fist, ready for him, brought the breath gusting from him as sure as her own shallow pants.

She closed her eyes, envisaging him behind her, taking her hard, her hair in his hand, while he grunted out the pleasure he was too far gone to contain. She wanted him wild. Wanted him too impassioned to maintain his gentleman’s persona. Wanted him possessive and selfish in his need for her.

‘Do you have any idea what you do to me, Libby?’

The path of his hand paused at her shoulder, one finger tracing a featherlike trail down the bumps of her spine while he ground the length of his erection into her wet sex. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him filling her. Pushing her to the edge again while he shouted her name.

‘Alex…’

‘I’ve never wanted anything more.’

His voice was a gruff whisper. He pulled his hips back and she groaned, missing the contact.

‘And I can’t have you.’

His finger slid between the cheeks of her ass, passing slowly, gliding south.

‘Not all of you.’

He found her entrance, fingers probing, a tug on her hair.

‘Trouble is…’

His wet finger travelled north again, pleasure dancing under the firm pressure of the tip.

‘I want all of you.’

He plunged two fingers inside her, spreading them to open her sensitive walls.

‘More than fucking.’

He tugged her hair, tilting her head back.

‘More than a few stolen days.’

She twisted, opening her eyes to glance back at him.

His eyes burned with an intensity she’d yet to witness.

‘I want it all.’

He latched his stare to hers. The raw hunger she saw in his features, slack with lust, need burning in the depths of his eyes, stole her breath. She had no time to answer or to acknowledge his words. No time to untangle the knotted threads of her own feelings.

Alex released her hair, flipped her onto her back and climbed above her.

His kisses started with her mouth, all too soon departing for her throat and her shoulders. Her restless hands clawed at him, her nails likely leaving marks, but she was helpless, and for the first time in years she was accepting the state instead of trying to outrun it. Completely at his mercy and—for now—his.

His mouth lavished her breasts, nipping and sucking until her legs twisted around his in an attempt to bring them closer together.

When he traced her belly with his lips, his hands pushing her thighs apart, she thought she’d die, so great was the need coiled inside her. She cradled his face while he suckled her sex, his grunts of pleasure vibrating through her clit.

His mouth left her abruptly and he kneeled between her thighs, his stare tracing her from top to toe.

‘I want all of you. I want you to be mine.’

He reached for the condom he’d tossed on the bed earlier and ripped into it, his eyes holding her captive, bold, daring her as he sheathed himself.

And then he was pushing inside her, and her hands were clasped in his, their fingers interlocked as if they’d never let go, his stare eating her alive and his body rigid above her like a man on the edge.

His head dipped to her breast once more, his hot mouth drawing out her cries and whimpers as his hips ground into hers. Within two or three thrusts she came, clinging to him with everything she had as the slow-rolling spasms rocked her time and time again.

‘Yes…’ he murmured around her flesh, nibbling at her tortured nipple with firm lips and licks of fire from the gentle scrape of his teeth. ‘Give me more, Olivia. Give me everything.’

He kept up the suction, carrying her past the molten liquid phase until the sharp bite of arousal gripped her once more. Sweat gathered at Alex’s hairline. He shifted, stretching her hands above her head and raising himself up on his knees to deepen the penetration. His smooth gliding thrusts picked up tempo, jerking to pound her sex with the wildness she’d craved.

His teeth gripped his bottom lip as he fought for his own pleasure. She wanted to push him over, as he’d pushed her. She longed to give him what she knew he wanted. Some promise. Some commitment. Some acknowledgment that what they had between them was as unique for her as he’d hinted it was for him.

She wriggled her hands free of his, reaching between them to cup his face. He twisted his head, his lips kissing the centre of one palm before he sought her eyes once more.

Muscles bulged in his jaw. His face contorted as his hips grew more frantic. ‘Come with me, Libby.’

She gripped his face tighter, her stare seeking deep inside his. “Alex… I…’

He roared, his face twisted with rapture as he came, grasping her shoulders and giving her a third orgasm as surely as he’d given her a part of himself.

Libby pressed her toes into the soft sand. The tiny grains reflected the glint of a perfect Mediterranean morning. This early, they practically had the strip of golden beach to themselves, the only sounds the occasional cry of a gull and the constant drone of jet ski engines.

She lifted one hand to shield her eyes, catching a glimpse of Alex streaking ahead of Jack as they traversed the bay, plumes of water in their wakes. Her stomach lurched, and the familiar jolt of adrenaline was one of the reasons she’d opted for sunbathing over skimming the surface of the Med on little more than a bicycle with a propeller.

She flopped back onto her lounger, closing her eyes and forcing herself to think of something other than death or permanent injury. Only one thought emerged—Alex. Opening up to him last night had left her palms damp and her mouth dry. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it for one second. They’d fallen asleep covered in each other, as close as two people could be. Breathing the same air, skin touching from head to toe, sharing soft, sleepy kisses until unconsciousness claimed them.

It changed nothing. This time tomorrow she’d be on a flight back to New York. But something inside her had renewed. A hard kernel had cracked open and the tiny green shoot inside, delicate but brave, was pushing into the sunlight. She’d developed feelings for him. In the space of a few short days. A cliché. A whirlwind. Completely blindsiding her.

Now what? Pining over the changes to her working relationship with Sonya, reeling from her conflicted emotions, living a whole continent away? The obstacles seemed greater than ever. And Alex hadn’t verbalised his feelings beyond stating that he wanted to see her again. Perhaps he’d meant once a year, when he travelled to New York on business.

And the reasons for her reluctance still simmered inside her. When he’d winked and suggested she ride pillion with him on the jet ski she’d shrunk away, feigning a desire to work on her tan rather than confess the truth.

She’d been there. Once was enough. If she’d been riding the motorbike that day, been in control, would the outcome have differed? Would she be married to Callum now? About to celebrate their three-year anniversary? Pregnant with his baby?

The daydreams left her skin prickled with goosebumps. She rubbed her arms, trying and failing to rub the unsettling thoughts from her mind. If she’d had all of that she wouldn’t be here now, with Alex. She wouldn’t know that his eyes sparked when he teased her, that he danced when he was happy and didn’t care if anyone saw him, or that on the mornings they awoke together he’d pad to the kitchen dressed only in boxers to make her a ‘proper cup of English tea’.

The angry roar of an engine grabbed Libby from her reverie. She sat up in time to see Alex, his jet ski aimed at an oncoming wave, travelling at full throttle.

What the hell?

Libby’s stomach lurched into her throat. Her hand covered her mouth as his jet ski hit the wave head-on. The wall of water tossed the small craft into the air, flipping it upside down, and the hollow growl of the airborne engine ricocheted inside Libby’s skull until her eardrums threatened to perforate.

Her mind blanked. Her body tensed on the very edge of the lounger while time slowed and Alex seemed suspended in mid-air for what felt like a year. And then, with a slap as it hit the surface, the jet ski righted itself, the somersault complete, and Alex raced over to Jack, hand raised with a fist-pump of victory.

Icy shivers covered Libby’s body. Every hair rose to attention. Every muscle twitched. As her stomach settled back inside her abdomen where it belonged, allowing air inside her lungs, the epiphany struck.

She loved him.

She’d fallen in love with an adrenaline junkie. A man not content just to enjoy the thrill, but who wanted to push the boundaries to the limit. A limit that made her hands tremble and her vision darken.

Libby reeled. She had to move. To do something with the restless energy boiling inside her.

She reached for her sarong, slipping it on and gathering up her phone and a set of keys for one of the estate’s vehicles.

Before she’d taken two steps she snapped her head round as another guttural roar cut through the warm air. Libby froze. Her feet stuck to the hot sand. Her eyes were glued to the unfolding drama.

This somersault was higher, its angle, even to Libby’s untrained eye, more acute, and the wave to which Alex trusted his life bigger. As he disappeared from view over the crest Libby took off running.

Her legs acted independently of her mind, her ears trained for the landing slap. It came, but the wave continued to roll ashore, obscuring her view. Had he made it? Was he unconscious? Bleeding? His lungs full of seawater?

The wave broke and the orange hull of the capsized jet ski flashed. Her eyes scanned the water, her knees almost buckling when Alex surfaced, his arm raised with a wave to let them know he was okay. Within seconds Jack had cruised over to his cousin, the jet ski was righted and Alex had climbed back into the driver’s seat.

But Libby was done.

She’d seen enough to last her two lifetimes. The ice in her blood boiled. If he came in now she wouldn’t be responsible for the things she said. Changing direction, she hurried up the beach, the heat on her back and under her feet adding to the fury and impotence raging inside her.

She needed time to think. She needed distance.

Everything between them had happened so quickly, and now her feelings for Alex were spiralling out of control. She’d vowed after Callum’s funeral never to get this close again. But here she was, in love with a daredevil billionaire with a penchant for fast toys and dangerous sports. No. She couldn’t do it again. Refused to put herself through it.

She’d loved Callum. She loved Alex. It terrified her to admit it, but if she didn’t she’d make the mistake of being led by her feelings, of succumbing to their insidious allure.

She arrived at one of the vehicles, her hand trembling on the automatic lock. Alex and Jack would have the truck and trailer, so they could get back to the château in time for the wedding. But she had to get away.

If she had to watch Alex do that again… No.

She gunned the engine. She didn’t know the way back, but the car was top of the range and fitted with GPS. And right now, with all the turmoil pounding through her, getting lost for a few hours wasn’t such a bad idea.

She didn’t want Alex to worry about her when he discovered her missing, so she plugged her phone into the hands-free and set off. He’d call when he came ashore and she’d text him when she’d calmed down.

She drove, the twisting coastal road that hugged the cliffs a perfect distraction from her riotous thoughts. Halfway back to the château a call came in. But it was Vinnie’s voice that startled her.

‘Libby? Sonya’s been admitted to hospital. I thought you should know.’

Stunned, Libby indicated and pulled off the road, killing the engine. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘All’s well, but her blood pressure is high. They’ll be inducing labour in the morning.’

She pressed her forefinger to her throbbing temple, her mind flying between thinking of all the necessary arrangements and concern for her friend and her unborn child.

‘Change my flight, Vinnie.’

‘Sonya said to tell you she’s fine. It’s just a precaution because she’s at term.’

Libby used a tone he’d understand. ‘Get me on the next flight home.’

A pause. Then, ‘Sure.’

She hung up and pulled back onto the road, breaking a few French traffic laws.

Yes, she probably had time to wait for Alex to return, to explain why she’d left him at the beach and why she was leaving France earlier than she’d planned. But, whether she’d asked or not, Sonya needed her. And would voicing her views on Alex’s reckless behaviour change anything? Did she even want to change him? The problem was hers.

She swallowed, her throat hot and her eyes stinging. Cowardice won. She chose to run.