Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience(50)

She looked away, concentrating on what she was eating, but her hands were trembling. She heard herself make some stupid remark about how tasty the food was. The truth was that she was barely aware of what she was eating.

Regret, like a thief, crept into her heart, plundering her moralistic views about sex and love being entwined.

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he quickly took up the mantle of polite chit-chat that she threw to him and began telling her about some of the weird things he had eaten in the course of his travels.

But the way he looked at her…Georgie wondered whether it might be the wine turning her brain to cotton wool, whether she was imagining the brush of his fingers against hers as he helped her with the dressed crab, which she had to apparently dissect with some peculiar instruments. He adroitly fished some of the meat from a claw and offered it to her on a small fork and the gesture seemed almost seductive.

‘I feel a little giddy,’ Georgie said abruptly, pushing her plate to one side and taking a few deep breaths. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and opened them to find him staring at her in concern.

‘Describe.’

‘Light-headed? Woozy? Grateful that I’m sitting down because I might fall over if I stand up? That sort of giddy?’ To prove her point, she stood up only to sink back into her chair. ‘You gave me too much wine!’ she accused balefully.#p#分页标题#e##p#分页标题#e#

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Pierre said, but in a soft, mildly reproving voice, as if gently chastising a wilful child. ‘I didn’t hold a gun to your head and force you to drink. You wanted to drink because…’He paused and waited for her to ask him to expand on his statement.

‘Because you didn’t want to come here tonight…’

‘I suppose…’ Georgie thought, confusedly, that she might not have wanted to come, but she had certainly enjoyed the evening. Enjoyed it in the way someone enjoyed a roller-coaster ride—with fear, trepidation and excitement. All unexpected.

‘I’ll get the bill. We’ll leave.’

She leaned into him as they left the restaurant and, once outside, the cold air restored some of her diminished equilibrium. At least the giddy feeling was beginning to recede.

‘Thanks for the evening.’ She turned to him as soon as he had pulled up outside her house, which looked coldly, darkly uninviting. She should have left the light in the downstairs sitting room on.

‘Not so fast.’ Pierre opened his car door and stepped out, not giving her the chance to argue. ‘I’m not leaving you in this state,’ he murmured and as she fumbled out of the passenger side he lifted her off her feet and walked towards the front door. One impractical shoe, dangling from her foot, fell and was ignored.

‘Put me down,’ Georgie protested weakly.

‘Sure. As soon as we’re inside. Give me your key.’

Georgie yawned and extracted the key from her bag. Not just the one key, but an array of them all pegged together on a key chain that seemed to contain everything but the kitchen sink. Pierre was pretty sure that it jangled loudly enough to rouse every resident on the street. Totally impractical, needless to say. But incredibly sweet.

He kicked open the door and then nudged it shut behind him, fumbling to find the light switch but not ready to put her down.

‘Coffee,’ he told her, when he finally rested her gently on the sofa in the sitting room. ‘Black and sweet. And water. At least a bottle.’

‘Yuk.’

‘Don’t fall asleep on me,’ he warned, leaving the room. ‘If you don’t rehydrate, you’ll wake up with the most God Almighty hangover.’

He returned minutes later and carefully sat her up so that he could make her take tiny sips of water.

‘I don’t need you to do that, Pierre.’ Georgie hiccupped. ‘I’m not that far gone.’

‘I want to,’ he murmured softly, which sent a thrilling little tingle racing down her spine. He positioned her so that he was sitting behind her and she was lying against him, with her back to his chest and her soft, silky hair threading across his face.

If she couldn’t feel his erection, then she really must be in the land of sweet dreams because he could feel it pushing against his trouser zip, big and hard and pulsing. He shifted his body weight and she sighed against him, a soft, purring sound that made him clench his jaw in frustration.

‘Feeling better?’ he wrenched out and she nodded and sighed again, then, agonisingly for him, she wriggled against him and then she stilled.

‘I should go,’ he murmured. ‘You can feel the effect you’re having on me.’