Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience(27)

‘Hilarious. I never knew you had such a sense of humour.’ It would be a mad rush finishing the kitchen and scrambling to be safely asleep before he waltzed into the bedroom, but it could be done. With any luck, she would be fast off by the time he headed up and oblivious to his presence.

She sprang into immediate action the minute he was out of the kitchen, flying through the remainder of the dishes at speed and with a good forty minutes to spare before he finished doing whatever he was doing downstairs. She had no idea how anyone could contemplate sitting in front of a computer at such a ridiculous hour but she wasn’t about to complain.

As she drew the thick, light obliterating velvet curtains, the snow was still falling steadily outside, a thick layer of eerie, pristine white over the fields that stretched behind the house.

The bedroom, in which she herself had slept a couple of times in the past when Didi had had friends to stay and had wanted her help, was not large. The bed dominated the room. There was a small old-fashioned mahogany wardrobe with a mirrored front, a chest of drawers on which a bowl of pot pourri released a fragrant scent, and a little dressing table by the window, which overlooked the open fields. No handy sofa bed. No sofa, in fact.

And more galling was the fact that she actually did end up in one of his tee shirts and it did, in some obscure way, smell of him, a peculiar tangy, fresh and utterly masculine scent that filled her nostrils.

She closed her eyes and in the darkness felt her skin tingle at that fleeting, remembered touch of his mouth on hers.

It wouldn’t do!

Making sure that she was on the furthest side of the large bed, she resolutely thought about school and the nativity play that they were rehearsing and in the end, when that failed to work, she fell back on the age old sheep until her brain stopped whirring and sleep kicked in.





CHAPTER FIVE




PIERRE wasn’t sure whether he would find Georgie awake and huddled at the side of the bed experiencing an attack of the vapours, or else pretending to be asleep, but actually when he finally hit the bedroom it was to the even breathing of someone fast asleep.

The curtains blocked out what little outside light there was and it took him a few seconds just staring in before his eyes acclimatised to the darkness.

Then something constricted inside him because, not only was she soundly asleep, she had also worked her way out of the duvet and he could make out one slender thigh resting provocatively on top.

Very quietly he closed the bedroom door, not wanting to wake his mother, aside from anything else. He had already showered using the bathroom on the landing because the cottage was glaringly devoid of anything as up-to-date as a guest room with en suite. As a courtesy to his bed companion, he had worn boxer shorts to bed, in the absence of any pyjamas, and a tee shirt.

Which, judging from what he could see, replicated her own nightwear save for the boxer shorts.

He grinned in the darkness. So she had resorted to using one of his tee shirts. He grinned even more as he recalled her outraged expression when he had provoked her by insinuating that she might want to have the smell of him on her. She was remarkably easy to wind up and had the sort of expressive face that showed every passing emotion. Not cool, not calm, not collected, but not the sort whose company could ever put a man to sleep.

Pierre slipped under the covers and then arranged them carefully back over her sprawled body and stiffened when she tossed beside him. She had obviously started off at the very edge of the bed, probably with her body half spilling over the mattress, he suspected, but in the course of her sleep had worked her way to somewhere near the middle, and he wasn’t about to shift her back into her original position of self-defence.#p#分页标题#e##p#分页标题#e#

There was no reason why their bodies couldn’t come into contact without them exploding with a sudden onslaught of lust.

Indeed, the thought was almost laughable!

Pierre was no ingénue when it came to the opposite sex. Boarding school might have been dreary but it had given him a great deal of polish from an early age, and the addition of girls in the sixth form had honed his ability to charm to a fine degree. The self-confidence of maturity and his astounding good looks had meant that women had always flocked towards him. He had never had to work at getting a woman into bed. He had certainly never joined a woman in bed to find her sound asleep!

But this, he told himself, was no woman, at least not in the sense in which it was meant.

He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her. His eyes were now quite accustomed to the lack of light and he could make out her delicate features, her mouth slightly parted, her slim arm carelessly resting on the duvet, her hand balled into a light fist.