Du Rose Vendetta

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

An Adventurous SpiritHana forced herself into the tight bodice with great difficulty. It prevented her taking full breaths and her breasts spilled over the top like a bar wench from the middle ages. She’d had to fasten the hooks at the front and then spin the whole thing around, which left her breasts still pointing at her left armpit. The cheap thong from a recent trip to Auckland felt like dental floss stuck between her butt cheeks. Hana slumped onto the bed and regretted it, leaping upright at speed. A sheen of sweat dusted her brow and sent her to the bathroom mirror for a last-minute inspection of her make-up. “Two minutes to touchdown,” she murmured after a glance at the bedroom clock. She sighed with frustration. “And I’m knackered already.”

Logan’s truck roared onto the driveway and Hana tensed. She’d planned to meet him at the front door but low self-esteem made her want to hide in the wardrobe instead. She’d put the children to bed and made sure they were sound asleep, but still worried about being caught in the hallway wearing kinky underwear. After their earlier spat over JD’s paddock she needed to make up some ground with her husband, but parading around the house required the covering of a modesty saving dressing gown which ruined the image of lasciviousness. Logan Du Rose’s love languages were extensive and complicated.

Hana gathered her wits and snatched a last minute cram session with her eBook. The written instructions jumbled in her panicked mind and became mixed up. “Should’ve got the one with diagrams!” she groaned, knowing she couldn’t. The children played games on her phone and she’d deliberately picked a sedate looking cover with a couple holding hands and giving each other adoring smiles. Pictures within the text were tasteful close-up images in black and white. Lips. A foot. “I hope it’s a foot,” she breathed, turning the screen off and putting the phone on her bedside table.

The front door slammed and Logan’s footsteps padded along the hallway. Hana assumed a number of sexy vertical poses, abandoning them all at the last minute and clasping her hands behind her back. She looked more like a soldier on parade than a wanton seductress.

“Hey.” Logan pushed the door open and froze. His dark windswept hair gave him a superhero appearance and his handsome features settled into a look of curiosity. Hana gulped as his gaze stroked her body from head to toe and he c****d his head to one side. His lips pursed, but he said nothing, passing through the door and closing it with his heel. Hana tensed, seeing the familiar glint catch fire behind his eyes. She didn’t want him to ambush her moment and take control, though the temptation hovered in front of her like a security blanket. She forced steel into her spine and straightened her shoulders. Her left breast spilled over the top of her bodice as though making a break for it.

Logan took a step towards her and his eyes narrowed. His left hand reached for the buttons of his shirt, scrabbling at the top one. Hana breathed in the overwhelming power of Logan Du Rose and realised exercising control over her incredible husband would be like holding the tide back with her hands. She swallowed and took a fortifying, but shuddering breath.

“Let me.” She met him halfway across the bedroom. The lust in his granite irises sent darts of weakness into her thighs. She reached for his remaining buttons and batted his eager fingers away with her hip as they strayed towards the skimpy thong. “Behave,” she warned, injecting authority into her tone. The buttons resisted her shaking fingers and joined the conspiracy against her. “Bugger!” she hissed. She tugged in frustration and two of them popped off the shirt and skittered across the floorboards. Logan blinked and his pupils dilated enough to obscure his grey irises. Time stopped and Hana felt the advantage crawling away from her. Temper flared in her breast and she gripped both sides of the fabric and wrenched the shirt open. The remaining buttons shot in several directions and Logan’s lips parted. Still, he said nothing and Hana hauled tomorrow’s darning over his shoulders. None of that was in the book.

He helped her with his white tee shirt, lifting it over his head and revealing defined pectorals and abdominal muscles worthy of a photographic opportunity. Only the myriad scars from his childhood marred the image. Hana squeaked as Logan dipped his body and lifted her. Still battling for control, she resisted his move to put her over his shoulder and wrapped her legs around his waist. His belt buckle dug into her thigh and she pushed her fingers through his wavy hair and clamped her lips over his neck. The need to embrace five different sorts of kissing spun through her head as she sucked on the tender flesh. Logan groaned and slipped a finger between the string of her thong and her skin and the cheap material made a ripping sound. The elastic whacked her across the butt as it twanged and she bit Logan’s neck too hard.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes widening at the blossoming hickey under his jaw line. The haemophilia took hold and the mark seemed to grow before her eyes. Her hesitation tripped her up and in a split second, Logan seized the advantage, tipping them both backwards onto the bed.

Hana’s foot hit the bedside table and she heard her phone thud onto the rug. Logan seemed happy with one sort of kissing and in his strong arms, everything else went out of Hana’s head.