Читать книгу The Wedding Ultimatum - HELEN BIANCHIN, Helen Bianchin - Страница 8

‘WHICH side of the bed do you prefer?’

One eyebrow arched. ‘Does it matter?’

Oh, hell. What could she say? I’m not very good at this?

She took the few essential steps to bring her to the edge of the mattress, then she sank down onto it, all too aware of Rafe’s actions as he loosened the towel.

She quickly averted her gaze. ‘Could you turn out the light?’ Was that her voice? It sounded as if she had a constriction in her throat.

‘No.’

She was willing to swear she detected a hint of amusement as she felt the faint depression as he sank down onto the bed.

‘Let’s get rid of this, hmm?’

Danielle felt his hands slide up her thighs as he caught hold of the T-shirt’s hem and lifted it over her head. A protest rose and died in her throat, and she crossed her arms across her breasts in an automatic reflex action.

He possessed no such reservations, Danielle observed with resentment, aware of his powerful frame, the sheer size of his arousal.

Dear heaven, how was she going to be able to accommodate him?

A hand closed over her wrist and shifted her arm away from her breasts, and she lowered her lashes in a protective veil. Only to have him tilt her chin.

‘Don’t hide.’

The chastisement brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks and her lashes flew wide. ‘Maybe you’re used to bedding a willing female on short acquaintance,’ she vented as he lightly traced the contours of her breast. ‘But I’m not comfortable getting intimate with someone I barely know!’

Sensation began deep inside and flared through her body, activating a host of nerve cells in open betrayal. Damn him! Did he know what he was doing to her?

Stupid question! Her jaw clenched, silencing the gasp threatening to escape as he teased one nipple, then rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger.

He lowered his head down to hers and brushed his lips against one temple.

‘Please.’ There was a catch in her voice as she lifted a hand and indicated a nearby lamp.

‘I want to see your reaction to my touch,’ Rafe murmured as his mouth trailed down towards her own.

Gentle pressure on her shoulders lowered them down onto the mattress, and she lifted her hands to his chest in an attempt to increase the distance between them. Only to have them freeze as he traced her lower lip with the edge of his tongue, then slipped in to tangle with her own in a slow open-mouthed kiss.

He had the skill to render a woman mindless, and he used it mercilessly in an evocative dance that brought her unbidden response.

She was so caught up with the pleasure of it, she was scarcely aware of the seeking trail of his fingers as they explored her waist, the soft indentation of her navel, then traced a slow path to the juncture between her thighs.

She tensed as he probed the moist cleft, and she was powerless to prevent a protest escaping her throat as he circled the sensitive clitoris, teasing it to such a highly sensitised degree she instinctively pushed against his shoulders.

A hollow groan rose and died in her throat as he eased a finger into the moist orifice, imitating the sexual act itself, and she instinctively arched against the increased pressure of his oral stimulation, alternately exulting in it and hating herself, him, for the attack on her emotions.

Danielle almost cried with relief as his mouth left hers and sought a sensitive hollow at the base of her throat.

Not content, he trailed a slow path to her breast, teasing the hardened nipple until she tangled her fingers in his hair and endeavoured to shift his head.

Sensation arrowed through her body as he began to suckle shamelessly before shifting his attention to the other sensitised peak, and she gave an anguished groan as his mouth travelled to her waist, then trailed down over her quivering stomach.

He wouldn’t… But he did, holding her flailing hands together with effortless ease as he bestowed the most intimate kiss of all.

She attempted to use her feet, her legs, to buck against him, but he simply adjusted them beneath his weight, locking her into immobility as he took his time gifting a sensual feast that shattered her equilibrium and sent her climbing to heights she hadn’t known existed.

Did she cry out? She had no idea of time or place as sensation ruled.

He felt her body quiver, heard the husky sounds emerge from her lips, and he levered himself up over her in one fluid movement, nudging her thighs apart as he eased himself into her.

She was tight, despite his preparation, and he took it slow, feeling her stretch, aware of her momentary panic as she attempted to ease the pressure.

His mouth closed over her own, absorbing her startled cry as he withdrew a little before increasing that initial thrust, repeating the action until she took all of him.

Dear heaven. Danielle swallowed painfully against the feeling of complete enclosure as her muscles contracted around him, causing waves of sensation she was unable to control.

Then he began to move, slowly at first, and she twisted her head from one side to the other as the sensation intensified.

She was conscious of him watching her, and, unbidden, her gaze locked with his as he slowly rocked back and forth, increasing the pace until she was able to accept each long thrust.

It happened again, that powerful, almost excruciating, exquisite spiralling sensation that took her so high she felt as if she was going to fall off the edge of the world.

His climax followed soon after, and she witnessed his attempt at control, watched as he lost it, then marvelled at the extent of his passion.

Nothing she’d experienced came close to the primitive emotion he’d managed to arouse. Raw, spell-binding pleasure meshing with complete fulfilment.

It said much for the man who only hours ago had placed his ring on her finger. Was the seduction deliberate? Or was this his usual modus operandi in the bedroom?

If so, she decided shakily, it was little wonder women sought him out.

Seconds later she gasped in shocked surprise as he rolled onto his back, carrying her with him. His eyes were impossibly dark and slumberous with sated desire, and her own widened as his fingers tangled in her hair.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Removing the band from your hair.’

Free, its length spilled down onto her shoulders, and her eyes widened as he finger-combed the thick mass, then he cupped her face and brought it down to angle his mouth to her own in a kiss that tore at the very foundation of her emotions.

So, he could kiss, part of her brain registered dimly. On a score of one to ten, she’d have to accord him a twenty. And then some. Sensual skill…he had it in spades, aware just which buttons to press to achieve a desired effect.

This is a man you profess to hate, remember? For any number of reasons. Uppermost, the diabolical scheme he’d devised, waiving a considerable debt in exchange for several years of her life…and the gift of a child.

With a muted groan she wrenched her mouth away from his and used her hands to push against his chest.

‘I’d like to get some sleep.’ She’d had as much of him as she felt she could handle for one night.

Yet even as she voiced the words she felt him swell inside her, his arousal stretching and expanding until he filled her completely.

He couldn’t, surely? Not so soon?

‘So you shall,’ Rafe drawled as his hands moved from her waist to shape her breasts. ‘Later.’

He teased the tender peaks, brushing his knuckles back and forth, then he traced a feathery path over her midriff, her stomach, to where they were joined.

Her body jolted as sensation flared, and she clutched his chest as he gently rocked his hips in the first of several undulating movements, each more active than the last until she became lost in an electrifying ride that had her crying out as she reached the brink, then tumbled over the edge in a sensual free-fall.

She felt the breath tearing from her throat as she endeavoured to control it, and she had no idea that her skin was flushed with sexual heat, or that her eyes held a dreamy almost witching moistness in the aftermath of passion.

Rafe wanted to roll her over onto her back and take his own pleasure in a series of long hard thrusts that would surely shock. Except he tamped down the desire, equally sure it would leave her hurting.

Unless he was mistaken, she’d had few partners, and unimaginative ones at that.

Or she was a superb actress. Something he very much doubted.

With care he disengaged, then slid to his feet and lifted her from the bed. ‘Let’s go shower.’

Danielle looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then realisation sank in. ‘I’m not sharing a shower with you.’

‘Yes,’ he drawled softly. ‘You are.’

He didn’t give her the option to protest further, merely swept an arm beneath her knees and carried her into the adjoining en suite.

‘Put me down!’

Danielle smote a clenched fist against his shoulder as he reached into the capacious tiled cubicle and adjusted the water-temperature dial.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned sibilantly as he calmly stepped in beside her and closed the glass door.

He was too close, too intimidating, too much. After what they’d just shared she didn’t want him in her face, and she particularly didn’t want to have him administer to her in any way.

‘Isn’t anything sacred…even my privacy?’ she demanded seconds later as he picked up the soap and began lathering her skin.

‘Get used to it,’ Rafe drawled as she attempted to twist away from him.

Without success, and she sent him a venomous glare that had no effect whatsoever. ‘I hate you!’

Hard fingers closed over her wrist before the fist she aimed at his ribcage could connect. ‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘You won’t win.’

He had the height, the strength, to beat her at anything she chose to fling at him. Although she did possess an advantage or two…one she didn’t hesitate to use, only to have him block it in an instant.

A cry of outrage escaped her lips as he lifted her high against him and curved her legs around his waist.

Gone was any hint of amusement. In its place was hard implacability, and she felt a moment’s instinctive unease.

‘You want to play?’

The query held a silent warning she was too angry to heed, and without thought she lowered her mouth to his shoulder…and bit him hard.

Danielle heard his angry hiss at the same time she tasted blood, and she cried out as he hauled her high, her scream of pain very real as he rendered a love-bite to the tender underside of her breast.

When he lifted his head her stunned gaze locked with his for seemingly long seconds, then with deliberate intent he took her mouth with his own in a kiss that was almost savage in its intensity.

Hungry, brazen, he ravaged a primitive assault that lashed at her soul.

Any movement was limited as she was held locked close against him. In desperation she flailed fists against his shoulders, his ribcage, anywhere she could connect…without effect.

How long did it last? Danielle had no idea. It seemed like forever, but could only have been minutes before he released her mouth.

He filled her vision, to the extent there was nothing else, only him. Features harsh in their chiselled perfection, his eyes dark as sin. Compelling, ruthless.

Was this the same man who had indulged her in an evocative journey beyond her experience? A lover who’d fostered her reticence and gifted something so wildly sensuous her body still throbbed from his possession?

She was suddenly conscious of the fine needle-spray of water beating down against his back, her own irregular breathing.

The day, its significance, Rafe…it all seemed too much, and she fought against the moisture threatening to well in her eyes.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she silently begged…don’t cry. Tears, even one, would be a sign of weakness she refused to condone.

Yet she was powerless to still the escape of two lone rivulets that rolled in a warm trail to her chin, and she glimpsed a muscle bunching at the edge of his jaw.

Pride kept her from escaping, and she stood still, fighting the tide of emotion that threatened to fragment any remaining shred of composure.

In seeming slow motion he lifted a hand and smoothed a thumb-pad over one cheek, then the other.

Her mouth felt swollen and slightly numb, and she didn’t move as he traced its contours before dropping his hand down to his side.

‘Get out of here, mi mujer,’ he directed huskily.

His voice was the catalyst that set her limbs in motion, and she didn’t waste a second stepping out from the shower. Her need to be free of his disturbing presence prompted her to snag a towel and fasten it around her damp form before escaping into the bedroom.

There, towelled dry, the T-shirt in place, she spared the large bed a cursory glance with its tangled sheets, dislodged pillows, and made the decision to sleep elsewhere.

‘Don’t even think about it.’

Danielle turned at the sound of that silky drawl, and watched him move into the room.

‘I don’t want to sleep with you.’ Bald, brave words, spoken with quiet determination.

‘Correction…you don’t want to have sex with me.’ He waited a beat. ‘In this instance, sleep is the operative word. And we share the same bed.’

‘No.’

‘I wasn’t aware I gave you an option.’

Anger flared anew. ‘Go to hell!’

His gaze speared hers. ‘Believe you don’t want me to take you there.’

‘Oh?’ She was like a runaway train on a track leading to disaster. ‘And what—’ she flung an arm in the direction of the en suite ‘—was that happening in there? A guy thing? Or a lesson in subjugation?’

‘You have a foolish mouth,’ Rafe warned with chilling softness.

‘If you wanted a meek, subservient wife you should have married someone else.’

‘Instead, I chose you.’ He paused, spearing her angry gaze with hateful ease. ‘The purpose is specific…or have you forgotten so soon?’

Danielle tore her gaze away from his. ‘If you touch me again tonight I’ll—’

‘Fight me to the death? Scratch my eyes out?’ He leant over the bed, straightened the pillows and hauled up the bedcovers. ‘Be warned, I’m a light sleeper.’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘A warning, should you decide to go sleep somewhere else in the middle of the night.’

‘You can’t—’

‘Watch me.’

‘You’re nothing but a tyrannical bully!’

He unfastened the towel knotted at his waist and tossed it aside. ‘I’ll wear only so many insults.’ He slid in beneath the covers. ‘Get into bed, Danielle.’

‘What if I don’t?’

Dark eyes pierced hers. ‘I’ll put you there.’

A lock of hair fell forward onto her cheek, and she tucked it back behind her ear in an involuntary gesture.

Capitulation was born out of wisdom…for now. Although she didn’t feel particularly wise as she reluctantly slid into bed. In a final gesture of defiance she turned her back towards him and hugged the edge of the mattress.

Something that gave her little satisfaction, for he merely snapped off the light, plunging the room into darkness, and she lay there tense, listening to his breathing slow into a steady rhythm.

How could he slip so easily to sleep? Too much practice in the face of danger? Or a finely tuned mechanism that permitted him to wake at the slightest sound, the faintest move?

What had he witnessed in his youth to have created such a hard exterior? Had fate dealt him such a difficult hand that he had no heart?

Could the right woman change his perspective? Could she?

Dear lord, what was she thinking? Her sole purpose in his life was to produce a child, then, following the requisite time span, move on.

Besides, what woman would willingly welcome a man of Rafe Valdez’s calibre into her life?

Many, she admitted with obvious reluctance. The size of his cheque-book guaranteed obsequious adoration from the trophy wife prepared to be both gracious hostess and a seductive mistress. In all probability, willing to gift him a child.

So why her, when he could have chosen any one of several young women?

Because she refused to conform, and frequently opted for confrontation? Even to her detriment?

Or was it simply circumstance, as he’d claimed? Let’s not forget the d’Alboa lineage, she added silently.

Did it really matter?

With a faint sigh she attempted to ease her tense body. Curled into a tight ball on the edge of a mattress was not her normal sleeping position.

She was already beginning to feel the tightness in several muscles. And she hurt, inside and out. Her breast ached from his retaliatory bite, and she ran her tongue over the tissues inside her mouth where he’d heartlessly ground them against her teeth.

It would be so easy to indulge in a crying jag. Wasn’t there some analogy that credited weeping as a release to soothe the soul?

One solitary tear spilled and ran warmly down her cheek, and she brushed it away in angry rejection.

It was a while before she slipped into an uneasy sleep, from which she stirred to Rafe’s touch as early dawn fingered the day’s first light through the shuttered windows.

His sexual appetite ran to night and morning? Maybe if she simply lay there…

Fool, she accorded minutes later as warmth flooded her veins. He played her like a finely tuned instrument, seeking an unbidden response that had her clinging to him like a craven wanton.

Afterwards she slept, and when she woke it was morning, the space in the bed beside her empty.