If she stretched a little, she could see herself as well. She looked totally ridiculous. His huge green waterproof coat dwarfed her. Her unwashed hair sat flat against her head. She’d rarely felt so unattractive. What was she thinking of—spinning daydreams about a man as gorgeous as Christian when she looked such a pathetic frump?
This is Jan’s husband. You cannot have him.
“Tip your head back,” he instructed, cupping her jaw in his hand and tilting her until she rested against something warm and resilient. She turned her eyes upward and found her head pillowed against his belly with a view of his body in reverse...up to his impressive chest and shoulders and hungry handsome face.
“Close your eyes.” He raised the spray-nozzle to wet her hair. “Keep very still. I’ll try and avoid the dressing over your eye.”
The warm water trickled over her scalp and down over his big body. Fiona sighed as the fingers of his other hand smoothed through her hair, directing the water, shielding her face. He turned the nozzle off and reached for the shampoo.
“Tropical Creme”, he murmured, reading the label as though to fill the sudden silence.
“It’s something the salon recommended.” She kept her eyes resolutely closed.
Christian drizzled shampoo over her hair and started to massage it in, kneading sensuously but softly, careful to avoid her injuries. The fruity fragrance surrounded them both. He bent a little lower, enjoying the closer view of her face. One side was entirely undamaged. Her skin was smooth and so much paler than his hands. Her dark lashes lay golden-tipped against her high cheekbones. Her lips were full and soft.
You are my wife, yet not my wife...
He supported Fiona’s head in one big palm and massaged behind her ears, down to her nape, then up to her crown.
“That’s heaven,” she murmured, giving him the excuse he needed to keep touching her. He continued running his fingers over her scalp, working the lather into every strand of her hair. The slippery soapy sensations coursed through his big body, finding their mark all too easily. He gritted his teeth.
Down boy...
It shouldn’t be possible for this drowned-rat of a woman, totally concealed in his old waterproof coat, to have such an outrageous effect on him. And yet, whenever he’d been in her company through all the years of his perfectly happy marriage, she’d lit sparks that smoldered and refused to be extinguished.
Even the one swift kiss he’d given her as a ‘welcome home’ from hospital had got way out of hand.
This was so wrong. Nothing could ever come of it. No matter how much Fiona invaded his dreams—and his daydreams—she wasn’t attracted to him in return. Politely stand-offish, more like.
Why would I expect her to be? I’m her sister’s husband. Her sister’s choice of man, not her choice.
But if things were different...if the timing were otherwise...would there be a chance? He compressed his generous mouth and sighed.
He had to accept she lived a glamorous life on the other side of the world, which suited her to perfection. She wouldn’t relinquish it for a second-hand man with a ready-made family—especially one who couldn’t decently make any move toward her for months yet.
He reached out for the spray-nozzle again and tilted Fiona’s head to pillow it against his belly, hoping she wouldn’t feel what lurked so close below. The water cascaded over her hair and down his aroused body.
He rinsed until her hair shone clean and bright.
“Shampoo again or conditioner this time?”
Fiona felt his deep voice reverberating through the back of her head and opened her eyes to find him bent over her, dark pupils big enough to drown in, his face only inches away.
“Conditioner please.”
He turned for the bottle, and the firm tip of his erection nudged along the side of her neck. It was gone in a second or so as he swiveled back, but she knew without doubt what she’d felt.
So he wanted her too?
She flushed as hot waves of desire shot through her body yet again, inciting a riot in her whole nervous system, burning with deep unsettling heat that tingled in her nipples, fluttered in her clit, and ached between her thighs. She’d never felt so inappropriately lustful, so overwhelmed with wanting. She lay back against him, helpless, agonizing over what she could do to resist him.
She was sure he’d been long and hard. Hard for her? She nestled her head a little more comfortably against his belly but could make no further contact.
Christian groaned to himself and eased his hips away as he concentrated on squeezing the fragrant creamy liquid onto her hair. He set the bottle aside and once again cradled her head in his palm as he resumed the sliding gliding massage, thinking it was heaven to touch her and hell not to be able to take things further.