Читать книгу Unfinished Business: Bought: One Night, One Marriage / Always the Bridesmaid / Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress - Robyn Grady - Страница 13

CALLY slothed on the sofa in her favourite raggedy robe and kept pressing the button on the remote. Finally she stopped on a cooking channel, only to press it again when she saw they were doing awful things with offal. She was in such a state of shock she couldn’t focus on her computer, or a book, she’d be best off with a lame comedy, complete with cues telling her when to laugh. Ten minutes later she couldn’t have told anyone a thing about the show screening. She was kidding herself she was calming down when inside her head there were at least five hamsters competing on treadmills with bells and whistles attached.

The hammering on the door startled her. She heaved herself up, head spinning, made her way to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Damn.

‘Open up. I know you’re in there, Cally.’

Hell, her insides were going mush-tastic. Her silly heart let out a squeal. Her lower belly began to soften like liquid honey. But her head hit the panic button. She’d fob him off for now. Deal with him when she was on better form. She pasted a smile on and opened the door. ‘Blake, what a surprise.’

He too wore a smile but its edges were sharper than a porcupine spike. ‘You didn’t get my message?’

‘What message was that?’

He held up a couple of grocery bags. ‘That I’d be doing dinner tonight.’

‘Umm …’ Stunned, she tried to think. Message? What message? When message? How message? He was here to do dinner? Half thrilled, half terrified, totally hungry and utterly too late, she went to decline, polite platitudes finally finding their way to her brain.

He’d already pushed past and was disappearing down the hall. She had nothing else to do but shut the door and follow him. He’d gone straight to her kitchen and was unpacking the contents of the bags onto the island bench. Unsure of what to say she looked at the label on the bottle of wine, brows lifting when she saw the vintage. She glanced up and found him studying her sardonically.

‘Why so surprised? I’m not cheap, Calypso, as well you know.’

Her ears pricked. ‘Since when do you call me Calypso? How do you know my name is Calypso?’

He took the bottle and lazily started uncorking it. ‘Shall we let it breathe a while?’

She said nothing, just kept her stare up, eyebrows still sky high.

The cork came out with a small, satisfying pop. ‘I had you investigated.’

‘You what?’

‘Not by a private eye. I wanted to find out more about you. So I got my PA to dig round.’

‘Around what—me or my business?’

‘Your company initially, but, as you are your company, a bit came up about you too—nothing terribly exciting save the odd rumour. And as you haven’t been around to ask I got her to—’ He broke off. ‘Where’ve you been these last few weeks, Cally? Not at work?’

‘I haven’t been well.’

‘Oh?’ He skimmed over her robe. ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

She ignored the obvious question. ‘What rumour? About the company? Food isn’t your business. Money is.’

‘Your food makes money. You’ve got a solid performer there.’

‘Don’t try to flatter me. What’s your interest?’

He turned his attention to the bag again, lifted out various-sized containers.

‘Calypso.’ He mused. ‘Calypso—the concealer. Did you know your name meant that? Got anything you’re concealing, Cally?’

‘It’s the name my airhead mother gave me because she wanted something different. I think I’m lucky really. It could have been a lot worse.’

‘Hmm. Seems appropriate to me.’

What did he mean by that? She didn’t get the chance to ask because he was talking again and she was so surprised to see him all she could do was stare.

‘So, have a glass of wine with me. I’ve got some other delicacies.’

She watched with horror as he poured two glasses full of the deep red wine and then pulled the lid off a tub of marinated mussels. Shellfish. She shouldn’t have shellfish. Then he lifted out a creamy camembert so ripe the smell had her gagging.

Quickly she went to the sink and ran a glass of water. Knowing she had to take small sips. Just small or she’d lose it all.

He’d fallen silent, not drinking, not laying out the nibbles, not eating, just watching her with intense focus.

‘I’m not really feeling like wine tonight,’ she started babbling. ‘Not that hungry, actually. Would you mind if we postponed this? I’m afraid I didn’t get your message.’

‘I thought it would be a nice surprise.’ He placed the glasses across from each other on the centre island. ‘Don’t you like surprises?’ He ripped the lid off another container. ‘I don’t much like them either. And I don’t want to postpone this. In fact …’ he stopped moving altogether and simply stared at her—hard ‘… I think we need to have that chat we didn’t have a few weeks ago.’

She just needed to keep breathing, she thought desperately as she heard the steel behind his words. Whatever it was he wanted to talk about, he wasn’t going away. Defensive, guilty, she tried to rouse anger that he’d had someone pry into her life. ‘I can’t believe you had me investigated.’

His body tensed. ‘Nothing that isn’t readily available. Company records, newspaper articles, financial accounts. You come from interesting stock, Cally. It wasn’t hard to find out about you. But, honestly, it wasn’t that helpful. I already know things about you that not many others could possibly know. I don’t need an investigator to know you intimately.’ His voice lowered and his eyes were like lasers. ‘I already know how you want it, what you like me to do, how you sound when I do it.’

The reaction in her body was immediate and she ran her fingers across her forehead, obscuring her face so he wouldn’t see it. The heat fevered her mind and the temptation to slip her robe off her shoulders was almost irresistible. But it wasn’t Blake-The-Playful standing here now and nor was she in any position to resume some frivolous, meaningless sex-a-thon. Clamping down on the desire, she looked back to him, waiting to hear what it was he had to say.

He gestured to the delicacies now spread between them on the bench. ‘You sure you won’t have some of the cheese? It’s really very good.’

If it was even remotely a risk Cally wasn’t having it. But he moved to stand opposite her. ‘I know you like gourmet, Cally. Have some with me.’

‘No.’

‘An oyster, then?’ He skewered one and waved it in her direction.

‘No.’

Something settled in Blake’s face. He put the fork down, placed his hands on the bench and leaned across it towards her. She stood still and tried to ignore how damned attractive he was, fighting the magnetism dragging her towards him and the sweet craving for intimacy.

Looking her square in the eye, he spoke softly so she listened hard. ‘I’m nothing if not honest with you, Cally. Can you say the same to me?’

She was hypnotised by his eyes, burning inside, and her newly discovered but most treasured secret tumbled out.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she whispered and her heart thundered. He was the first person she’d told. She supposed it was right that it be him. She had been going to tell him anyway—some time.

‘Congratulations.’ He said it coolly but then picked up his glass of wine and emptied it in one gulp. ‘How far along are you?’

‘Only a little. I only just found out.’

‘Only a little? You’re either pregnant or you’re not, Cally.’

‘I am. I’m pregnant.’ Even as she said it—to a guy who was looking less than thrilled about the idea—she couldn’t stop the thrill running inside. Unutterable delight. She’d never expected to be able to say that, had refused to dream it could or would ever happen. But it had.

He refilled his glass. Took another sip—this time not quite draining the glass but, still, it was no way to drink a bottle of wine that expensive. ‘I thought you said you were never having children.’ He was looking frostier by the second. She’d known this would probably be his reaction but disappointment jolted her all the same.

‘I shouldn’t have. The chances of my conceiving a baby are—’

‘What, one in six?’

He definitely was not pleased. She knew then to kiss goodbye any fantasy of baby makes three and happy ever after. Blake didn’t need to worry; she wanted nothing from him. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. She’d thought these last three weeks had got her over that attraction. But one second of seeing him through that door and the all-encompassing desire was back.

But there was a lot more at stake now and she was better off ridding him from her life. She’d swallow the lust and focus on her future—hers and her baby’s.

He strolled, with an unmistakable air of menace, around the island separating them, coming to tower over her.

‘So what exactly were you bidding for at that auction, Cally? Sperm donor?’

She gaped. ‘No.’

‘You must take me for such a fool. But know what? You picked on the wrong himbo.’ His eyes lasered into her—green-grey chips that burned with their coldness.

He thought she’d done this deliberately?

‘You’re wrong.’ Hell, he was the most astute man she’d ever encountered, but he wasn’t getting the truth of this at all. ‘When I said I was never having children I meant because I can’t. I’m not fertile. At least, I didn’t think I was.’

The specialist had said her chances of conceiving naturally were basically nil. She’d have to have treatment first. And she’d never thought she’d bother with that—what was the point? She’d never let someone get that close, not after the humiliation and hurt from Luc. Love and babies and happy-ever-after wasn’t going to happen for Cally. She was alone—she had been since she was twelve and she’d thought she would be for ever. But now, incredibly and against all odds, she had a child—to love and to protect.

‘You expect me to believe that?’

She blinked. She’d never told anyone about her fertility issues. Not even her mother—she’d gone to the doctor in her late teens with bad period pain and Alicia had thought it had all been fixed with drugs. Not so. In her early twenties she’d had it investigated. Surgery was an option but by then Cally had been crushed by Luc and had remembered too much of her father’s pain. So she’d decided to put her job and her charity work and her business ahead of any dreams of a family. She knew how much the fantasy of ‘family’ could hurt. It was the raw wound she kept well protected most of the time. Cool anger began to bubble under the surface.

‘I thought I’d have to have surgery before I could get pregnant.’

He didn’t seem to be listening, too busy looking mad. If he’d just give her a second, she’d be able to reassure him he was free of all obligation.

Blake tried to marshal his thoughts. Focus. One thing at a time. ‘Tell me this. Is it mine?’ After Paola’s threats and deceit, he had to be certain.

There was a silence. He met her gaze. Hot, hard, angry. Her mouth opened. And then he saw her hesitate, could see the workings of her brain as she deliberated, contemplating the lie.

His eyes narrowed. You dare. The flare of his anger must have been apparent because he saw the second she discarded the idea—the second she looked closely back at him. She gave a jerky nod.

‘I had to be sure.’

Her colour was high and she took a deep breath. But he didn’t think the likelihood of her calming down any time soon was high.

‘You’re to see a specialist.’ God, he needed to get in control of this situation.

‘I already am under a specialist. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t be? I never thought I’d get pregnant.’

‘Right.’ He didn’t care how sarcastic and disbelieving he sounded. Of course she’d be under a specialist—she had a ton of money and she’d gone to some pretty interesting lengths to get pregnant. Why hadn’t she just had herself artificially inseminated? But, no, she’d wanted to pick the stud herself, from a line-up of the best in town. Blake hated to be used, and right now he felt utterly used.

‘You don’t need to worry, Blake. This isn’t your concern.’

‘The hell it isn’t.’

‘You know I’ll do anything and everything I can to ensure this baby has the best possible care.’

‘Anything and everything, huh?’ He clammed his jaw together and inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to stay on top of a barrage of emotions that was tearing through him. He was the one who’d do anything to ensure the safety of his child—he’d failed once. Now he had a second chance. ‘We’ll get married as soon as it can be arranged.’

‘What?’

‘Married.’

The look of shock on her face made him even madder. Did she really think she could get away with this?

‘I’m not marrying you.’

‘You should have thought about that before you used me to get pregnant.’

‘I did not use you.’

‘Sure you didn’t.’

‘I never thought I could get pregnant.’ She hurried to the table in the open-plan living area, looking panicky—as she should. ‘Look, I went to my lawyer this morning. Talked about options. He drew this up for me. If you sign it there’ll be no obligations on you. I have money, you know I’m not going to chase you for that. I do want to put your name on the birth certificate, but that’s it. You don’t have to have anything to do with us.’

Her voice faltered as she looked up from the document and saw the look on his face. If it reflected even half the thoughts he was having she was right to look nervous. He was feeling as close to murderous as he’d ever got in his life. He held out his hand for the papers.

It was a moment before she handed them over, sudden reluctance slowing her down as, wide-eyed, she stared at him.

He looked at the pages of type, flicked through a few while his brain processed and the rage part grew inside.

‘Did you honestly think I’d sign this?’ He tore it straight down the middle and threw it. The pages frustratingly fluttered soundlessly to the floor so he pounded his fists on the table. He swore viciously at her expression. She had thought he’d sign it.

‘What kind of an idiot do you take me for? How can you expect me to believe you didn’t plan this when you have some twenty page document from your lawyer conveniently stripping me of all my rights?’

Her mouth opened. Shut again.

‘We are getting married as soon as it can be arranged.’

‘I am not marrying you,’ she repeated, clearly alarmed but fighting him still—showing her inner strength. But he didn’t have room in him for admiration right now.

‘Yes, you are.’ He didn’t know how he was going to swing it, but no way in hell was he being shut out on this. Not again.

She looked stunned and visibly tried to pull herself together with deep breaths that, annoyingly, drew his attention to her full breasts. His already hard-wound body tightened a notch. Damn if he didn’t find her utterly desirable. Even now. Even when he knew how devious she really was.

‘We don’t need to do anything yet.’ She was trying to sound calm. Failing. ‘It’s so early on.’

‘We move on this right away.’

‘I don’t want people knowing about the baby.’ Vehemence flashed in her face.

‘Too late.’ He took malicious pleasure in informing her. ‘It’s obvious, Cally. How do you think I knew?’

She looked aghast. ‘You knew?’ Anger shrilled her voice. ‘You were tricking me with all the wine and the cheese and the damn mussels?’

‘Yeah. I admit it. It was a test.’ He stepped closer and put it plain. ‘Do you want this baby, Cally? What kind of mother will you be? Can you put someone else’s needs before your own or is your life only about you and what you want and when you want it?’

Her hand lifted, palm open, fast as a snake, and she very, very nearly hit him.

But his hand caught her wrist. Held it hard. Satisfaction ran through him. He’d finally succeeded in stopping her from carrying out one of her ill-conceived urges. He hadn’t had much luck up till now—she’d got everything she wanted from him. Well, now she was going to get a little bonus she hadn’t planned for.

‘What happened to your manners, Cally?’ he drawled, masking the molten mess of emotion inside.

‘Leave,’ she muttered.

‘No. You’re stuck with me now.’ His jaw clamped. ‘And I mean well and truly shackled.’ He felt her body tense to break point. Right now he wanted to break her. Docile and compliant—that would do.

‘You don’t trust me, do you?’ She changed tack.

‘Not a jot. And wasn’t I right not to? I’ve never met anyone so calculating in my life.’

‘You won’t believe that I didn’t plan this?’

‘Nope.’

Cally let the tension go out of her body, slackening her arm. He let it go immediately. Maybe she could pacify him. ‘I’m sorry, Blake.’

‘Sure.’ Granite incarnate.

‘Look, I’m grateful to you for wanting to be here for me. I am. But I don’t want or need anything from you.’

‘I’m not here for you, Cally. I’m here for my baby.’

She swallowed feeling stupidly hurt by the bald statement. ‘You were the one who said it was all a bit of fun. We weren’t talking marriage or babies, remember?’

‘We are now.’

She stared at him. Saw the hardness in his eyes. The same hardness that had been there when he’d said it that first night. A definite no-go area. There was definitely history behind him, some reason why he’d never intended to marry. Probably a past hurt. Although she couldn’t imagine him letting anyone get close enough to hurt him. He was all about surface fun and frivolity—naughty weekends that led to nothing.

But there wasn’t nothing now. He was all steel and determination and she had to fight.

‘You don’t want me, Blake. You don’t even want this baby. This is about you wanting control of this situation. You’re never out of control, are you?’

‘Stop and use your brain for just a moment, Cally,’ he answered softly. ‘I think you’ll find you already know the answer to that question.’

Their eyes met and she saw the dark desire, heard the echo of his hoarse cry as he climaxed inside her, the feel of the flood of his life force in her. She closed her eyes as a ripple of remembered ecstasy flowed from her belly out, making her want to … making her want him to …

Stop.

She didn’t want him taking over like this—didn’t want him taking advantage of her sexual attraction to him.

‘This is my baby,’ she whispered.

‘It’s my baby too. That’s my flesh and blood you’re carrying.’ He wasn’t going to give an inch.

‘OK.’ She’d still try compromise. ‘We can work out visitation rights. You can see the baby any time you like.’ She could do that. Surely he’d lose interest after a while?

‘No child of mine is growing up thinking he wasn’t wanted by his father. I am this child’s father and I will be there for her or him every step of the way. So get used to me being around, Cally, because I am going to be right beside you every minute of this pregnancy and beyond.’

Cally bit hard on the flesh of her inner cheek as she registered the passion, the deep conviction behind his words. Not good. Was that what had happened to him? He hadn’t been wanted by his father? Her heart ached and absurdly the urge to embrace him flashed through her. She knew what it was like not to be wanted.

‘You can be an involved dad—’

‘I am living under the same roof as this baby!’ he overrode her furiously. ‘Either you live under it with me or I have custody and I will fight to the death for that—don’t think for a second I won’t.’ Every muscle in his body was hard, every word shot out. ‘And trust me on this, Cally. When I fight, I win.’

She stared at the stranger in her room. She’d never glimpsed this side of him in that sex-drenched weekend. Then he’d been all about lust and laughter and unbelievable thrills.

She deepened her analysis—suddenly remembering the way he’d won the bet. This was a man happy to take risks to ensure he got what he wanted.

Calculated. Merciless. Driven.

No wonder his company was so successful. No wonder he had the reputation for being such a shark in the business arena. Single-minded, he was able to do whatever it took to ensure he got the result he required.

He was right. She had picked the wrong guy.

Desperately she searched for another way to appeal to him. ‘We don’t have to marry to get what we both want.’

‘What I want, Cally, is for my child to grow up as part of a family.’

That stopped her. Family? From the man who never talked marriage and babies? Suddenly he was talking family?

Anger resurged in her. She knew all about family. About betrayal and loss and how much it hurt when the security you were supposed to get never eventuated. Her parents had married for this exact reason—because her mother had got pregnant. And that marriage had failed—her mother walking out on them less than two years later and leaving her father in one hell of an ugly mess.

She paced towards him. ‘How can you honestly marry me? How can you promise to love me? How can you make that vow if you’re always so honest? If you always “deliver on your promises”?’ Scathingly she quoted him and then braced for the answer.

It was a while coming. When he did speak, it was quietly, deliberately and woundingly truthful. ‘You’re carrying my flesh and blood. You are the mother of my child. I will always honour you. I will always respect you.’

Components of love perhaps—but certainly not the whole recipe. He would never love her in that true sense. He didn’t quite say it, but he didn’t have to. She understood he had no other depth of feeling for her and, while it struck at her own dangerously soft heart, at least now she knew her child would have the benefit of two adoring parents. Emotion threatened to topple her, tears burning the backs of her eyes. ‘This baby means that much to you?’

‘Yes.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Is that such a surprise, Cally? Or is it only women who are allowed a strong parental urge?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. She knew damn well some women didn’t have any kind of a parental urge at all—her mother for one. But her father? Her father had loved her and cared for her and right this minute she missed him more than ever. She couldn’t deny her baby the possibility of a relationship as close as that with its own father. That realisation struck deep into her, and that moment she knew her fate was sealed. ‘Of course not.’

But while her father had been capable of great love, he’d been capable of deep hurt too. He’d been broken-hearted by her mother—by her blithe betrayal and her rejection of both him and their child. Cally was more her father’s daughter than her mother’s—she already knew how much she could hurt; Luc had proven that. Since then she’d tried to keep her heart hidden and protected. Unfortunately a little part had crept out under Blake’s playful caresses those few weeks ago. She knew she couldn’t handle the kind of humiliation and hurt that would come if she ended up falling for him while he felt nothing for her other than a kind of gratitude. She had to keep some kind of distance. Surely she had to say no to him.

But how could she? He’d win; he’d always win. He’d warned her just now and she knew to believe him. And the difference between her and Blake and the situation of her parents was that both she and Blake wanted this baby. Whereas her mother hadn’t, her mother had wanted money and a name, not a baby to have to care for.

Blake was making it clear he wanted to care for their child. He was determined to be there for it every step of the way—as her father had been there for her. How could she deny her child that?

Cally hid the internal quiver. She was trapped. So much of her didn’t want a false marriage, but she couldn’t rob her baby of its right to two loving parents.

She’d got a little more than she’d paid for on their wager, but the result was priceless. She’d sell everything to keep her child—her body, her heart, her soul.

Blake studied his bride-to-be and couldn’t decide what he wanted more—to shake her or to kiss her. Fired-up fury ran through his veins and he tried to ice it up. He’d been taken for a ride and he didn’t like it. But he was back in the driver’s seat and there he’d stay—in charge of the situation. He wouldn’t let her take the wheel again. They’d marry—a.s.a.p. and then he’d have her there right under his nose.

The sudden thought of Cally warming his bed night after night stirred his blood more. Then came the image of her lush, curvy body growing to bear the burden of his child—her head bent over a baby as she nursed it. The protective instinct rose all powerful. Masculine aggression flowed through his veins.

He would fight like the devil to keep his child, and its mother, safe from harm. He would fight her if she tried to block him, and he was quite happy to fight dirty.

He looked at the anger and uncertainty in her eyes—the passion that made the brown melt and mix with golden flecks. He saw the new bloom of colour in cheeks that had been so pale when he’d first arrived. He stared at her sulky mouth as it parted with her fast, short breaths and felt the pull in his groin. There was one way he could get her to say yes. One way he could get her to scream it.

But desire fogged his brain as well and he needed to keep focused. He’d be better to keep her out of his bed until she was there willingly—utterly willingly and for as long as he wanted. If he stayed in control now, he’d be able to retain the advantage. And he needed to do that until he had her firmly tethered to him.

When Paola had got pregnant he’d been powerless to do anything about it. He was not powerless now. And he’d keep it that way.

Cally had used him but at least she wanted the child. And now she’d got him in the bargain. A little more than she’d banked on, but he knew they could swing it to their advantage. They actually had a lot in common. Not least a sexual drive that matched nicely. Once they were through these negotiations they could have a lot of fun together. He decided to throw the thought into the fire. Test her reaction.

‘We deal together pretty well, Cally. You please me. I’m pretty sure I can please you. We can definitely work this out.’

Her breathing hitched again. ‘You think I’m going to sleep with you again?’

‘I know I want to sleep with you. I’m pretty sure you do too.’ He’d kiss her now just to prove it. Hell, he wanted to kiss her hard.

‘Why would I want to have sex with you when you’re forcing me into marriage?’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Cally. This isn’t a forced marriage or anything like it. What we have is a deal. A partnership.’

‘One that doesn’t include sex.’

He shrugged, inwardly smiling at the heightened colour in her cheeks. ‘You can say when it will be but, let me assure you, it will be.’

She opened her mouth and he knew she was about to make the ultimate protestation. He stopped her by laying his finger across her way-too-kissable lips.

‘Necrophilia’s not my thing. I believe your body will be very much alive and willing.’

Her teeth snapped on empty air.

He was right about this being a deal. That was how to handle it—as a business proposition—albeit unconventional. He could concede her a partnership—eighty-twenty with him holding the majority stake. They both had good business sense. They could make this work. And be satisfied. Very satisfied.

He looked across at her and could see her mentally hunting for a weapon—something, anything to make him withdraw. She was out of luck because nothing she could say would sway him.

Her eyes turned bitter as defeat approached. ‘I can’t be with someone who’ll be unfaithful.’

Black anger blinded him for a moment. God, she could be a bitch. How little she knew him. Well, he grimaced, she had a lifetime to get to know him and how he meant it when he said he was honest. He very nearly swore at her some more, but his jaw clamped when he spotted the vulnerability in her eyes. She could say what she liked, but her eyes always told him the real story. Right now this was one angry woman who was just that little bit scared—that little bit hurt. That little bit got to him. He wanted her to be in his keeping, but he didn’t want her hurt or afraid.

He took a deep breath. ‘I have never been with more than one woman at a time. And I never will. When I promise to be faithful to you, rest assured, I will be.’

Something flashed in her eyes and he fancied it was disbelief. Fine. He’d prove it. He had plenty of time to. Anger came surging back as he thought of something so distasteful every muscle in his body clenched. ‘And I totally expect the same from you.’ He thought he knew why the idea was so abhorrent. ‘I will not have my child exposed to infidelity or have you parade a string of unsuitable boyfriends before it.’

Unsuitable boyfriends?

Suddenly Cally was the one who was angry. ‘I don’t cheat.’ She forced the words at him.

‘Good. Keep it that way.’

She opened her mouth. Shut it again. And concentrated hard on keeping her grip, only just restraining the urge to hit him—an urge she’d only ever had once in her life before, about five minutes ago.

She watched as he too tried to keep his cool. The silence was thick as frustration and sheer rage were mirrored in each other’s eyes. And the worst of it was that the primary source of Cally’s anger was that she still wanted him. His closeness, his presence had her yearning for him. It was that ‘conquering ferocious man’ thing again. The place between her thighs was all softness and wet. She wanted to take his hardness deep inside and squeeze the tension from both of them. He was so appallingly attractive—even now. She wanted to rid herself of her extreme physical need by rubbing against him in an extremely physical way. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples so hard it was almost painful. She pressed the tops of her thighs together trying to get rid of some of the energy by clamping the muscles, stopping the urge to rock her hips forward.

And he knew. The green in his eyes glowed as relentlessly he stared at her. The tension zinged along the invisible cord pulling them together.

‘Very alive. Very willing,’ he murmured.

She had to suppress it, this almost insane urge to sleep with him. The drive to make him lose control and surrender to her—because she knew it wouldn’t really be him surrendering, it would be her. And how she wanted it—the weight of him as he shuddered in her arms, filling her completely, driving against her, into her—hot, sweaty, hard sex over and over.

No way, no way, no way. He thought she’d tricked him and now he was railroading her into marrying him. She could not, would not sleep with him. Mind over matter.

‘I think it’s time you left.’ Shaking and low, her voice was almost inaudible.

‘And it’s time you thought through your options. There’s only one, you know. I’ll be back, Cally.’ He swung back and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her. Either that or commit some act of violence. He did neither. Instead he spoke, rough and commanding. ‘Take care.’