Читать книгу The Gold Collection - Ким Лоренс, Maggie Cox - Страница 41

‘I CAN’T believe you said that to your mother.’ Freya yelled at Zac as she stormed down the hall after him and followed him into his room. ‘I can see we’re going to have to come to some sort of arrangement so that you can see Aimee regularly—now that you’re suddenly determined to win the award for Father of the Year,’ she added sarcastically. ‘But I’m not moving into the penthouse just for your convenience. I do have a life of my own, you know,’ she said sharply, her temper rising when he ignored her. Breathing hard, she glared at him, her brain barely registering the fact that he was unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You don’t want me living here as some sort of permanent house guest any more than you want the responsibilities of a child.

‘Let me take Aimee home and I swear I’ll never contact you again. I don’t need you, Zac,’ she said thickly, knowing that the words were a lie. She needed him in the same way that she needed oxygen to breathe, but she wouldn’t allow her daughter to grow up feeling that she was an encumbrance in her father’s life. Aimee was already forming an emotional attachment to Zac and Freya couldn’t bear to see him hurt her with his indifference.

‘Perhaps you don’t, but what about Aimee’s needs?’ Zac asked quietly. He deciphered the jumble of emotions on her face and felt a curious pain in his gut. After the way he had misjudged her, he supposed she had every right to mistrust his motives, but he didn’t like it. ‘My mother was shocked to discover that she has a granddaughter,’ he said, attempting to explain Yvette Deverell’s reaction to Aimee, ‘understandably so when she believed I would never have a child.’

‘You didn’t want a child,’ Freya pointed out sharply.

‘Non, but there were reasons…’

‘You mean the idea of fatherhood didn’t mix with your life as a jet-setting playboy,’ she agreed scathingly. ‘Aimee isn’t an accessory that you can pick up or set down when it suits you. She deserves to be loved.’

‘And I will love her—I already do,’ he vowed, his voice suddenly fierce. ‘I can provide her with everything she needs. I regret missing the first eighteen months of her life more than you will ever know and I will not miss another day. I don’t want to fight you, Freya—you’re her mother and she needs you, but she needs me too and I’ll fight through the courts if necessary to keep her here.’

The floor swayed beneath Freya’s feet and all colour leached from her face. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’ve never been more serious in my life,’ Zac assured her grimly.

Freya shook her head, feeling as though it were going to explode. She had assumed that Zac would want as little contact as possible with his daughter and she could barely comprehend that he was prepared to fight a custody battle over her. And it was a battle he would surely win, she thought sickly. He could afford the best legal representation, who would argue that Aimee would want for nothing in his care.

What could she offer in comparison? she brooded miserably, thinking of the life they led in England and her daily struggle to hold down a job and look after Aimee properly. Aimee would undoubtedly have a better life here in Monaco, but Zac couldn’t seriously expect her to put her life on hold and move in with him, could he?

‘I can understand that you want to build a relationship with Aimee and it would be in her best interest if you decide to be a proper father to her. But what role are you expecting me to play in your life?’ Freya’s voice faltered as she finally registered that he had removed his shirt and was in the process of unzipping his trousers.

‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ he drawled, trailing his eyes over her flushed face. ‘You will resume your role as my mistress. We’ve already proved that, on a physical level, we’re made for each other,’ he continued, overriding her gasp of outraged denial. ‘The sexual attraction between us is as explosive now as it was two years ago. I know now that you didn’t have an affair with Brooks and I can see no reason why I shouldn’t take you back in my bed.’ His trousers slid to the floor and he stepped out of them before strolling across the room towards her. ‘Obviously providing Aimee with a secure and stable upbringing is our main concern and the fact that we can enjoy a fantastic sex life is a bonus, wouldn’t you say, chérie?’

Despite her fury at his arrogant assumption that she would gratefully accept his offer to grace his bed once more, Freya could not prevent her eyes from straying down to his boxers and her stomach tightened at the burgeoning proof of his arousal jutting unashamedly beneath the black silk. ‘You’ve got a nerve, Zac,’ she muttered, licking her suddenly dry lips. ‘Clearly, in your belief that you’re God’s gift, it hasn’t occurred to you that I don’t want to be your mistress. The idea is ridiculous. We’re totally incompatible. Zac! What are you doing?’ The last came out as a breathless gasp as he deftly shrugged out of his underwear.

‘Taking a shower—I didn’t have time earlier after my swim. Come and join me while we finish this fascinating conversation,’ he invited with a wolfish smile. His eyes gleamed from beneath heavy lids and the room suddenly throbbed with sexual tension that sent Freya scooting towards the door.

‘You must be joking,’ she choked, but her words were muffled against his shoulder as he swept her up into his arms as if she were a rag doll and strode purposefully into the en suite. ‘Zac, we’ll talk later…What is the point in this?’ she demanded when he activated the shower and stepped beneath the spray with her, still fully clothed and wriggling like an eel to escape him.

‘The point, my little vixen,’ he said as he trapped her flailing hands in one of his to prevent her raining blows on his chest, ‘is to prove that in certain areas, at least, we are completely compatible.’ His head descended and he claimed her mouth, silencing her furious words by kissing her into submission. He knew just how to please her, and he felt a jolt of satisfaction when the tight line of her lips suddenly parted and he was able to dip his tongue between them to explore the moist warmth of her mouth.

Freya gave a helpless groan of protest that was lost beneath the pressure of his lips. Her body was still agonisingly aroused from earlier, when he had laid her across his desk. It had taken all her will-power to stop him from taking her and her senses were greedily snatching this second chance for fulfilment. The powerful spray had already soaked through her clothes and, without lifting his mouth from hers, Zac stripped her of her blouse and skirt. Only then did he trail his lips down her throat to her breasts, where he paused and flicked his tongue back and forth across one tight nipple and then the other until she cried out and felt a sharp tug of desire deep in her pelvis. She clung to his shoulders when he knelt before her and drew her knickers down. Water ran down his face and made his skin glisten and the sight of his dark head moving inexorably down to the triangle of blonde curls between her thighs filled her with a frantic sense of urgency that destroyed any thoughts she’d had of denying him.

‘Lift your leg,’ he growled, his voice thick and slurred with sexual promise as he pushed her gently up against the tiled shower wall and hooked her ankle over his shoulder. Now she was spread before him and he tenderly parted her with his long, clever fingers before dipping his tongue between the velvet folds of her femininity.

Freya gave a muffled sob and dug her fingers into his hair as he explored her with a wicked intimacy that sent quivers of pleasure through her, building higher and higher until she was trembling with need. ‘Please, Zac…’ she implored him, but he ignored her and flicked his tongue over her clitoris in fierce, fast little movements that tipped her over the edge of ecstasy. She shuddered as her muscles clenched in wave after wave of exquisite sensation and in the throes of her climax he stood, lifted her into his arms and ordered her to wrap her thighs around him. Freya complied instantly, aware of nothing but the dictates of her body that still wanted more, and she closed her eyes on a shocked gasp when he penetrated her with one hard thrust.

Last night he had been so blown away by her eager response to him that he had almost lost control, but this time Zac was determined to prove that he was her master. He cupped her bottom and drove into her with slow, steady strokes that filled her and made her arch her back as her pleasure built again. It was deeper this time, even more intense, and she clung to him, totally enslaved by his domination as he finally gave in to her desperate pleas and increased his pace, taking her hard and fast until she threw back her head and convulsed around him in an orgasm that shattered all her preconceived notions of sexual ecstasy.

Freya sobbed his name and locked her ankles tightly around his back, but, instead of taking his own pleasure, he abruptly withdrew from her and set her back on her feet, his nostrils flaring as he fought for control.

‘Why…?’ She tailed to a halt and looked at him with a mixture of confusion and scalding embarrassment as she recalled her shameless response to him. Once again she’d proved that she was completely in his power and she knew he would ruthlessly use that knowledge to bend her to his will.

‘I don’t keep condoms in the shower,’ he told her bluntly, his eyes trailing over her scarlet cheeks. ‘Remiss of me—I must remember in future that you enjoy sex outside the bedroom as much as in it.’ His eyes glinted with amusement at her outraged glare and, before she could argue, he took the bar of soap and began to stroke it in circular movements over her breasts. ‘Now I know that the vasectomy reversed I can’t risk another accidental conception.’

‘Aimee may have been an accident, but I don’t regret having her,’ Freya said heatedly, a shudder running through her when he slid the bar of soap over her stomach and lower to her thighs and buttocks. ‘That’ll do, I’m clean enough,’ she said, bitterly resenting the way her body was quivering in anticipation of his touch once more. Clearly she was some sort of nymphomaniac, she thought grimly, because she couldn’t get enough of him.

‘Be honest, Zac, you never wanted children. You wouldn’t have had a vasectomy if you had. You can still have a relationship with Aimee if I take her back to England,’ she told him when he stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her and carried her into his bedroom, ‘but you don’t really want to be tied down with a child living permanently here in the penthouse.’ Her breath left her body on a gasp when he dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, but to her disappointment he did not join her and instead crossed to his wardrobe and selected a clean shirt and trousers.

‘Aimee is my daughter and she belongs here,’ he said as he slid into his clothes with his usual lithe grace. ‘You know from your own childhood experiences that it’s best for a child to grow up in a stable environment with two parents and, for that reason, I’m prepared to allow you back in my life.’

He slid his arms into his suit jacket and strolled over to the bed, his mouth curving into a mocking smile as he stared down at her lying sprawled on the silk bedspread. ‘I have to go to the office for a couple of hours but I’ll keep the image in my mind of your delectable naked body spread across my bed. This is where you belong, chérie, ready and willing to please me.’ He leaned over her and stemmed her furious rebuttal of his arrogant statement by kissing her senseless before he straightened and traced his thumb pad over her swollen lips. ‘You want me, Freya, and as my mistress you can have me, every single night. Now, be a good girl and stop arguing. Most women would be grateful for the opportunity to move in with a billionaire lover.’

Good girl! Incandescent with rage, Freya wondered if she could beat him to death with a pillow. ‘Unluckily for you, I’m not most women, and if you think I’d ever agree to be your grateful, obedient mistress you’re going to be disappointed,’ she hissed between her clenched teeth.

Zac was already at the door, but he paused and turned to give her a wicked grin. ‘Good—I’d much rather have a disobedient mistress,’ he drawled. ‘It promises to be a lot more fun.’

Two weeks later Freya sat gloomily on a sun lounger, aware that even the beauty of her surroundings failed to lighten her mood. The penthouse roof-garden was a suntrap where scarlet geraniums grew in profusion, their bold colour vying for attention with the azure pool and the sea sparkling on the horizon. She had spent the morning watching while Aimee played with her father in the pool, but now Jean had taken the little girl to the nursery for a nap and she and Zac were alone.

‘Are you hot? Come for a swim to cool off,’ Zac invited, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement when she quickly shook her head. ‘I promise I won’t duck you.’

‘Your promises count for nothing,’ Freya told him firmly, dragging her gaze from the sight of him floating on his back in the pool. His skin had darkened to bronze in the hot sun and she felt the familiar weakness in the pit of her stomach when he swam to the steps and hauled himself out. Droplets of water trickled down his chest and clung to the mass of wiry black hairs that arrowed down beneath the waistband of his swimming shorts. The muscles of his taut abdomen were clearly visible beneath his skin and when he walked over to her and picked up a towel Freya suddenly became fascinated with the view over the bay.

‘You practically drowned me the last time you persuaded me to swim with you,’ she accused, recalling how he had swum up behind her and tugged her under. Taken by surprise, she’d been forced to cling to him—out of her depth in more ways than one, she acknowledged ruefully as the memory of being clamped against his muscular chest while he carried her to the edge of the pool filled her mind.

‘Don’t you trust me?’ He grinned unrepentantly, but beneath his teasing tone she caught a hint of seriousness and she bit her lip as she silently debated the question.

Did she trust him? As far as their child was concerned, she did not doubt that he would always consider Aimee’s welfare paramount. Two weeks had passed since he had received the results of the DNA test and stated his intention to be a proper father to his daughter, and in that time he had proved himself to be a devoted parent. Freya knew that the bond between father and daughter was already so strong that she could never break it.

Aimee adored her papa and with each day that passed Freya felt more and more trapped. She loved her daughter and wanted what was best for her, and undoubtedly Aimee was thriving here in Monaco, showered in affection from Zac, her nanny, Jean Lewis, and the other members of the penthouse staff. Even the taciturn butler, Laurent, had been won over by the baby and could often be found padding up and down the hall on his hands and knees while Aimee gleefully balanced on his back.

Aimee was enjoying the happy family life that Freya had dreamed of as a child, but it was Zac’s mother who had surprised her the most. Yvette Deverell seemed utterly entranced with her little granddaughter and was the most loving, devoted grandmother imaginable. She visited most days and Freya was still amazed by the sight of the elegant Frenchwoman sitting cross-legged on the carpet playing tea parties with Aimee and her teddies. Aimee had formed a very special relationship with Mamie, which Freya would never try to destroy. Her daughter belonged here—but what about her? Where did she belong? she wondered bleakly.

Zac had told her that he wanted her to move in with him for Aimee’s sake, but since then he’d made no further reference to her becoming his mistress, or how he envisaged their future together—possibly because he had now decided that they didn’t have one, she brooded dismally. He had made no attempt to make love to her during the past two weeks even though he knew full well that she would not resist him. Perhaps he had found her eagerness unattractive, she thought on a wave of embarrassment, or maybe, now that he’d had her, he was already tired of her. Whatever his reasons, he had spent the past weeks being charmingly attentive each evening when he returned home from work, but conspicuously absent from her bed each night, and she felt confused and, if she was honest, incredibly frustrated.

She tried not to look at him rubbing the towel over his damp body, but she was painfully aware of the fact that his wet shorts were clinging to his thighs, leaving little to her imagination. Hopefully he would announce that he had some work to do in his study. It was Saturday, and she remembered that when she had lived with him he had spent most of his weekends either working or indulging his passion for a variety of sports, but to her dismay he did not immediately disappear into the penthouse and instead lowered himself into the chair next to hers. She instantly stiffened and her heart began to thud heavily in her chest. He was too close and her senses flared when he idly placed his arm along the back of her chair.

‘What are these?’ he queried, glancing at the photo albums on the table.

‘You said you’d like to see some pictures of Aimee when she was first born,’ she replied, grateful for the excuse to edge away from him. ‘My neighbour has a key to my flat and I asked her to send these over. They’re mainly snaps taken with a disposable camera and the quality isn’t brilliant,’ she said apologetically as he silently leafed through the album where she had faithfully recorded every milestone of Aimee’s development. ‘Aimee’s a little poseur, don’t you think?’ She laughed, studying the image of her daughter on her first birthday.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Zac murmured huskily, his accent suddenly very pronounced as he stared at the picture of a smiling Aimee proudly showing off her first tooth. He had missed so much, he acknowledged as he picked up another picture of Aimee as a newborn baby. Someone else had obviously taken the photo of Freya in the delivery room, smiling bravely despite the exhaustion in her eyes as she clutched her tiny bundle.

Freya looked young and scared as she faced the stark reality of coping with motherhood alone, but he recognised the determined set of her chin and felt a flare of admiration for her. Freya’s fragile looks were deceptive; she had a backbone of steel and he found himself in awe of her strength. She had stated that she didn’t need him and he had no doubts that, if it had not been for the accident, she would have brought Aimee up to be a happy, well-adjusted child without any help from him.

Now he knew Aimee was his child and he was willing to try and atone for misjudging Freya by suggesting that they become lovers once more. He knew without conceit that most women would jump at this chance—but, typically of Freya, she had reacted as though he were asking her to do something unpleasant, he thought irritably. He was offering her a life of luxury that most women would give their eye-teeth for—what more did she want, for heaven’s sake?

He wanted things settled between them; he was impatient to bed her—hell, he was practically climbing the walls with sexual frustration—but, taken aback by her violent opposition to his suggestion, he had decided to play it cool and, instead of sweeping her off to bed, he had kept his distance while he waited for her to acknowledge that, on a physical level at least, they were made for each other.

He wanted a warm and willing woman in his bed, not a resentful little shrew, but unfortunately his efforts to charm her had so far been unsuccessful. For a man used to getting his own way instantly, it was hugely frustrating, and he felt curiously tense and unsettled and he was fast running out of patience. Perhaps the time had come for a change of tactics? he brooded. Perhaps he should forget his good intentions and make love to her until she was utterly compliant to the idea of resuming their relationship on his terms?

A loose photo slipped from the back of the album and he reached down to retrieve it at the same moment as Freya. Their hands briefly touched before she snatched her fingers away and she gave an incoherent murmur when he turned the photo over and stared at his own image.

She must have taken it soon after she had moved in with him, he guessed, glancing speculatively at her pink cheeks. Had she kept it because he had meant something to her even though he had done his best to destroy her with his mistrust?

‘I didn’t know that was in there. I’d forgotten I’d even taken it,’ Freya said as she gathered up the rest of the photos and slotted them back into the album. ‘I’ll get rid of it. It doesn’t mean anything to me.’ She held out her hand for the picture, praying he wouldn’t realise that the edges were furled from where she had held it so often. It would be unbearably humiliating if he should ever guess that she had mooned over his image like a lovesick teenager.

She swallowed when he leaned forwards and placed the photo in her hand, his gaze settling on her hot face. ‘We had some good times, didn’t we, chérie?’ he said coolly.

‘You mean the sex was good,’ she muttered, striving to sound indifferent and aware that her voice was annoyingly breathless. She didn’t want to remember the time she’d lived with him; it was too painful, especially now that she was back at the penthouse and Zac was suddenly being so charming. It had been easier when he’d denounced her as a cheating whore—at least then she had been able to kid herself that she hated him.

‘It was more than good. There were any number of women I could have had sex with,’ he said coolly, the nuance in his tone telling her that those women would have been far more experienced between the sheets than a shy virgin from a sleepy English backwater.

‘Well, I don’t suppose your bed was empty for very long after you threw me out of it,’ Freya said bitterly. ‘Annalise Dubois for one was determined to snare you.’

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed with a shrug. ‘I admit I have never lived the life of a monk, either before you were my mistress or after we split up. But I had the best, most unforgettable sex with you, chérie.’ He suddenly leaned forwards and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, effectively caging her in. His brilliant blue eyes glinted with a message she didn’t dare decipher and for the life of her she could not help focusing on his mouth. He was so gorgeous, she thought despairingly. Would she ever be free from this ache that seemed to be a permanent feature in her chest? She could not ignore the unmistakable prickle of sexual energy between them and shrank back in her seat, fighting her body’s traitorous response to him and licking her lips nervously when he leaned even closer.

‘Even when I despised you, I realised that the sexual chemistry between us burns as strong as before. I know you feel it too. I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking,’ he said bluntly, his gaze trapping hers as if he knew exactly what was going on inside her head.

‘You obviously have a vivid imagination,’ she snapped, blushing furiously. ‘Let me up. I want to go and check on Aimee. She’s probably woken from her nap by now.’ She tried to push him away but his warm breath fanned her skin and she gave a low moan, half protest and half pleasure, when he brushed his lips lightly over hers. It felt like heaven after the past two weeks when he had made no attempt to entice her into his bed. He had treated her with polite deference, as if she were an honoured guest at the penthouse, but, rather than feeling reassured that he was obviously no longer interested in her, she had ached for him to take her in his arms.

Now Freya’s lips parted of their own accord. She couldn’t help it—he only had to look at her and she was lost, she conceded helplessly. She hated herself for her weakness, but the stroke of his tongue was sweetly beguiling, and when he delved between her lips to explore the moist inner warmth of her mouth she responded with all the pent up need that had kept her awake until dawn every night since she had arrived in Monaco.

Zac’s hands remained gripping her chair, his knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself from reaching out to caress her smooth skin—no longer pale, but warmed to the colour of pale gold from the sun. She was so lovely, and he was so very hungry for her, he acknowledged grimly as he felt his body react with shaming eagerness to the feel of her deliciously soft lips parting beneath his. The time for patience was over and he wanted to reacquaint himself with every inch of her delectable body.

He knew she wanted him. He saw it in the way desire darkened her eyes to the colour of a stormy sea and felt it in her unguarded response to him when he kissed her. She belonged with him, in his bed. He had hurt her, and for that he was sorry, but he was a pragmatic man. The tension and mistrust between them was in the past and he could see no reason why they should not enjoy the explosive passion that had always existed between them. But now was not the time, he conceded with a groan.

The scent of her skin was ambrosia and he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he sought to bring his hormones under control. ‘My mother has invited us over—although I believe she used the lure of lunch as an excuse to see her granddaughter,’ he added dryly. ‘You’d better go and put some clothes on and dress Aimee in one of the new outfits Yvette bought her.’

He moved abruptly away from her, leaving Freya with the distinct impression that she had been dismissed. But then she had served her purpose, she conceded dismally. It was obvious that Zac had wanted her to agree to take Aimee to his mother’s, and kissing her into submission had seemed the simplest method of getting his own way. It was entirely her own fault that she was such a weak, pathetic fool where he was concerned, she told herself sternly as she marched into the penthouse, unaware that he had dived into the pool and was slicing through the water as if his life depended on it.