James didn’t smile. “Any skeletons in Valencia or a spouse in need of a decree absolute? Please divulge any complications.”
His formal language was endearing now that I understood what it meant. It was how he controlled the primitive male lurking under the surface, the one who wanted to take control when he was near me. I met his eyes, my heart beating faster at what I saw. No matter what I replied he wanted me regardless.
“No more lies,” I agreed. “But a few home truths. If you threw me out I was going to stalk you, sneak into your room or spy on you in that massive bordello bathtub.”
James relaxed. “Who says I wasn’t stalking you already? You never close your window at night even though you live on the first floor. Don’t you know how dangerous that is? And you’re oblivious to your surroundings after dark. I followed you one night to the salsa club and you never noticed.”
I gaped at him, amazed. “Plenty of women walk to the tube station at nine p.m.”
“I could’ve attacked you at any time, dragged you into an alley and done whatever I wanted.”
“Maybe you should have,” I teased.
James tightened his arms around me and scowled. “I never want to see you dance with another man the way you did with Tarzan. I’ve been taking lessons every weekend so you’ll dance with me.”
My eyes grew wide at the thought of James trying to learn salsa. Poor instructor. Then it hit me that while I’d been suffering, pining for him and unable to enjoy my favourite pastime, he’d been enjoying himself. I wanted to strangle him—until I realised he hadn’t been cosying up to other women as Francesca had implied but launching himself miles out of his comfort zone.
For me.
“I do believe Ms Benítez is speechless,” James mocked, dipping his fingers inside me. “That’s just the way I like it.”
I didn’t know whether he was talking about my open mouth or my pussy but my body didn’t care.
“You’re moving in tonight,” he said.
James’s high-handedness was just as irritating as usual, making me tense and clench around his finger. Not a very good way to stay angry by the way, in case you’re wondering. In fact, extremely counterproductive. Nevertheless, he could take his dictatorial tendencies and cork them in the wine cellar.
I was gasping with each stroke of his fingers. “If you expect me to—”
He made an exasperated noise. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would agree to live with me. Right now, because moving Ryan and myself to Marcia’s flat will be tight, not to mention the fact that in front of our son I won’t be able to do this...” He sucked my nipple into his mouth, making me squeeze his finger even harder. “Or this...” He turned me onto my stomach, raising my hips and adjusting me against his hard on.#p#分页标题#e#
Note to self: it’s hard to have a sensible conversation when you’re on all fours and a very insistent, sexy man is entering you so slowly you want to scream.
Was he going to screw me until I agreed?
“Whatever it takes.”
Need and desire. Maybe sex was all he wanted from me.
James flipped me over, his voice as firm as the thrust into my body. “Does this feel like just sex to you?” he said, lacing his hands with mine. “It’s never been only sex between us, not since the second I saw you, regardless of what I said in Spain. I was convinced that you had used me. I was angry and hurt. Afraid of my feelings for you.”
I heard his words again, saw his face as he’d offered me money. “You don’t believe what Caroline said?”
He spoke into my neck, whispering across my skin. “More importantly, I don’t care whether it’s true or not.”
I looked at him doubtfully. “But you said—”
“I was an idiot,” he said softly. “I hate that I hurt you. Please forgive me.”
“As long as you never call me ‘darling,’” I said, remembering his endearment for Caroline. “I hate that word.”
He grinned and confided a few of the names he had for me. I undulated against him, until I remembered what we were talking about. “I can’t move into Matham Manor. I don’t own any silver cutlery or crystal glasses.”
“My cutlery is platinum, actually,” he teased, upping his pace.
I stroked my hands down his muscular arms. “Francesca,” I gasped, trying to concentrate. “She hates me.”
“Irrelevant.”
“But she’s your mother and—”
I couldn’t think clearly, much less talk about Francesca with James inside me, far from satiated. I always knew he was virile but I guess with seven years of wet dreams to exorcise we weren’t going to get much sleep tonight.