Ten
1813 Words
Even Ricky.
Even the man she was going to marry in a month’s time.
And then, when she had been completely sidetracked, her thoughts
diverted down other paths completely,he was the one who came back at
her with the pointed reminder of her fiancé. A stinging mental slap in the
face that left her feeling terribly guilty and ashamed for needing the
prompt at all.
‘Of course he will! We’re getting married!’
Her declaration was too high, too sharp. She couldn’t help recalling how
pushed Ricky was for money, how his small holiday caravan business was
struggling, his overdraft limit already totally overreached. The last
appalling summer, with drenching rain storms that had led to floods, had
worsened his problems terribly. Bookings had been few and far between
and they had lost at least a month and a half’s takings when the site had
been just too waterlogged to be used.
‘So you don’t need me to offer you a job? ‘A…’ Liza shook her head dazedly, unable to believe what she was
hearing. ‘Why would you offer me a job?’
‘Why do you think?’
He hadn’t moved any closer and yet somehow she felt as if he had
invaded every inch of her personal space. His heat, his scent, his aura
seemed to surround her, coiling around her body, hemming her in. His
essence reached out to touch her skin, was inhaled with every uneven
breath drying her throat, parching her lips so that she had to slick a
shaking tongue over them to moisten them into comfort.
And it was when she saw those glittering black eyes drop to her mouth to
follow the small betraying movement that she knew she was in real
trouble.
‘I can’t be…’ she managed huskily, wanting to say that she couldn’t begin
to imagine, but the words failed her, fading from her tongue and her
mind as Edward lifted his head once again and looked deep into her eyes.
‘I don’t want you to go.’
It was the fact that she believed him that took her breath away. The
fact that she had a sudden, shocking, total faith that he meant what he
said. And the fact that she recognised it so easily, understanding in the
blink of an eye, warned her of the depth of the pit that now seemed to
yawn beneath her.
‘Edward His name was just a whisper. One that she struggled to infuse with any
sort of protest, no matter how much her mind screamed at her to do so.
‘No, Liza…’
Edward dismissed her attempt with the same ease and carelessness as
he might have rid himself of a buzzing fly, batting it away with a flick of
his hand.
‘Don’t try to pretend that you don’t know what I mean. We both know
that there is unfinished business between us. Things that we never took
to their full conclusion—a hunger that we never got out of our system.’
‘But…’
The word cracked painfully in the middle as she had to swallow hard again
to ease her aching throat. He wasn’t touching her and yet her nerves
were singing as if he was holding her close, as if his hands were caressing
every inch of her skin. He wasn’t kissing her and yet her mouth felt the
touch of his lips, the warmth of his breath. She could almost taste him on
her tongue.
They had shared just one kiss—long ago—and yet now, here, in this
moment, it was as if it might have been yesterday—an hour—a second
ago. Her throat was so tight she could scarcely breathe and her heart
was thudding painfully against her ribcage. It took another fight to
swallow hard before she felt she could force her vocal cords to work.
‘I thought you didn’t play with little girls,’ she croaked and saw a slow wicked light dawn in his eyes.
One long hand reached out and touched her cheek, just the tip of a
finger resting on the bone below her eye. The contact was so tiny, so
light and unmoving, and yet it sizzled all the way down from her face,
right to where her toes curled inside the soft velvet slippers she wore.
‘Two things,’ he said, very softly, very intently. ‘One, you’re not a little
girl any more—we both know that. And two, I am very definitely not
playing.’
‘Then…then I need to remind you that I am engaged to be married.’
‘And I need to tell you that I don’t give a damn. The question is—do you?’
No woman who looked at a man the way she looked at him was thinking
about her fiancé at the same time, Edward told himself. No woman who
followed him with her eyes the way that clear blue gaze tracked every
movement, every gesture, lit up at any smile, was thinking of her fiancé as
the only man in the world for her—the only man she wanted sexually. He
knew she was just too damn scared to admit it.
And now he knew why he had caught himself up when he had been
tempted to kiss her earlier. Why he had known that the urge to react in
anger—when they were both angry—would have been a mistake. What he
wanted was for her to know just who was kissing her. He needed her to
know thathe was the man holding her, the man kissing her, the man
shewanted to kiss her…
And she did want it. No matter how much she protested, how much she scorned, it was there in her eyes, in her face, in every inch of her body
language towards him, just as he was certain that it was in his towards
her.
‘Of course I give a damn!’ Liza’s response was a splutter of furious
indignation. ‘I amengaged …’
Lifting her left hand, she waved it wildly in his face, fingers splayed so
that the ring on her third finger showed openly. A cheap ring with only a
tiny diamond in it, Edward noted. A paltry, insignificant stone, and not at
all the sort of ring that he would give the woman he loved and wanted to
marry.
If he ever met a woman he could imagine spending the rest of his life
with. Right now, there were too many women, too many beautiful, sexy,
beddable women in the world for him to want to tie himself down. Women
like the one in front of him. Women he could enjoy while the passion
burned and then walk away, heart and fancy free.
‘Engaged to be married…’Liza repeated with pointed emphasis. ‘And
that means something to me, even if it doesn’t to you!’
Looking down into her face, Edward saw the indignation burning bright in
her eyes and the determinedly defiant lift to her chin that told of the
story she was trying to convey. But he also noted the faint quiver to her
soft, full lips, the way that her not-quite-certain gaze would occasionally
flicker and slide away from his, having to be forced back again to keep
giving the impression she wanted.
‘But does it?’ he questioned softly. ‘Does it really mean so very much to
you?
Of course…’ she began furiously but the words shrivelled and died as he
caught the hand she had been waving wildly between them.
‘Of course,’he echoed, putting the scepticism he felt into the words. ‘We
know that you are engaged to this Ricky here…’
Lifting her hand to his mouth, he pressed a kiss on the finger that wore
the ring, watching her response intently as he did so, so that he saw the
way she shivered so very faintly, and her eyes flickered once again.
‘And perhaps you are engaged here…’
This time his mouth was on her forehead, drifting over the smooth skin,
touching briefly, caressing, tasting her. The flavour of her flesh made his
tongue tingle and the heat of need sear through him, hot and fast. He
felt the kick of lust hard in his lower body as he saw the way her eyes
drifted shut just for a moment so that she had to force them open again.
The effort of will she was making made her slender body tremble and he
could feel the way she was swaying faintly on her feet, drifting
imperceptibly closer, then back again as she fought for control.
‘But are you engaged here…?’
This time his free hand moved to touch her chest, just above her heart,
and he felt the shudder of response she couldn’t hold back even though
his fingers were only resting on the fine green silk of her shirt, not really
making contact with her at all. ‘Truly engaged?’
He fully expected her to fight still harder, to slap his hand away, slap his
face. It would be worth it, he told himself. He was almost disappointed
when he simply heard the breath hiss in sharply between her clenched
teeth and she clamped her mouth tight shut against whatever she had
been about to say.
‘Nothing to say, love?’
His mouth twitched against the smile that almost surfaced as she turned
a fulminating glare on him, her cheeks washed with rose-pink at the
struggle she was having with herself. Furiously she tugged against his
grip on her wrist, trying to free herself, but her actions were impotent
against his careless strength.
‘Let’s test this…’ he murmured, lowering his head, careful and slow, black
eyes locking with blue as she glowered at him in mute rebellion.
She could slap his hand away, Liza told herself. She wasso tempted to
slap his hand away. Her fingers itched with the need for the satisfaction
of it—and maybe with a quick whack across his arrogant, triumphant face
for good measure.
But she knew that was just what Edward expected and so she was
determined that it was what she wouldnot do.
He expected her to panic—expected her to fight. And if she did, then
she would reveal how much he was getting to her. The nerve-twisting,
mouth-drying effect he was having on her. And right now she would rather die than admit to any of that.
So she was going to let him kiss her—because that was obviously his plan.
She would stand quite still—quite still she warned the muscles that were
threatening to give her away by trembling—and she would let him do just
what he wanted. And she would stay totally still, totally unresponsive all
the way through it.
- Writer
