To Love Honour and Disobey(21)

       
           



       

His heart beat uncomfortably hard as he realised just how much he'd  wanted to hold her again. And now that he was, he was in no hurry to let  go.

He watched her; with the shoes she was wearing she was only a little  shorter than him and he could see almost levelly into her eyes. Or he  would be able to if she actually looked at him. And suddenly it struck  him-that was the thing, wasn't it? For all the fantastic sex they'd had,  she never looked him in the eyes-at least not for long. She took  pleasure from him, burned under his touch, but refused to connect with  that simplest of intimacies.

No more.

'Ana.' He felt an utter compulsion to reach through to her. 'Don't go remote.'

'What?'

'Look at me.'

He knew his mother was watching. And his father. Both were staring over  the shoulders of their partners. But he didn't care what they thought.  He just wanted to be with her. It was all he seemed to want.

She'd enjoyed the wedding. He'd watched her face during the vows, seen  her smile. Could see the way she was glowing now. Yeah. She loved the  whole deal. She'd want the big performance one day. And how would she  look in a traditional wedding dress? With a veil wisping over her hair  and face and the bloom of radiance that he had to admit did descend over  a bride?

He pulled her closer. She followed him easily now. Her body soft against  his. Then her leg tangled, brushing too close, and his pulse went even  more erratic. She was going to be the death of him. He hauled her even  closer and gave up on the trying-to-step bit. Stand and sway was all it  could be. Her lids had drooped again, but it was different this time.  Masculine pleasure filled him for he knew the reason-desire-drugged, she  couldn't keep them open.

He let her have a moment and glanced down at her arm. It looked as if  someone had drizzled melted chocolate over the caramel skin of her upper  arm. He ached to taste it. To run the tip of his tongue over the  swirling design. OK, he was glad it wasn't permanent, but it was fun for  now. Just like the rest of her-right?

Fun for now. But their fun was over-closure. They were supposed to have left the lust in Africa.

'Ana.'

'Yes?'

'You're not looking at me.'

'I'm looking at your chin.'

'Look into my eyes.'

'You want to hypnotise me or something?'

Part of him wished he could. He had no idea what she wanted from him.  Did she want to kiss him the same way he was dying to kiss her? With the  same kind of desperation? She wasn't saying. But now he longed to know  exactly what she was thinking. Why she was thinking it and what was she  feeling for him?

Or maybe he didn't want to know. In case it wasn't the same.

He was losing track of his thoughts. So gave up and just sealed himself  to her, lost in the blue of her eyes and the soft invitation of her  mouth.

Closure? Who was he kidding?

Ana's head was spinning and she was needy. The kiss was incredible. Soft  and gentle and not enough. She wanted more-she wanted it all. But now  the waltz was over. She wanted the cheesy music back. She wanted his  arms back.

But he stepped away, breaking the contact. Putting on the brakes.

And then his mother was there, all over-bright eagle eyes, and his  father too. She managed to be polite but inside she was bursting. It  hadn't gone-hell, would it ever go? This desire she felt for him?

And he knew. Played on it-making the best of a bad situation? He did  that by invading every inch of her personal space. His hands didn't  leave her body-either he held her hand, or rested a palm on the small of  her back, or slung his arm along her shoulders, his leg pressed to hers  as they chatted to his father's friends. And he looked at her-the way  he looked at her. As if she were the most beautiful woman on the planet.

He made her feel like an enchantress. And she longed to be able to cast a  spell-so she could get herself some kind of fairy tale.

Stupid. She already knew the power to make her life something special was in her own hands-down to her decisions.

So she gave up on the bubbly and switched to mineral water in an attempt  to regain sanity. But it didn't help her increasing temperature-the  need spiralling through her system. She was hotter than she'd ever been  in Africa-and now glad of her skimpy dress. She couldn't be this close  to him and not have him.

'Are you ready to leave?' His eyes searched hers.

She looked away from the heat in them. 'Whenever you are.'

He had the goodbyes done and them out of there in under ten minutes.

They drove back through the dark, wet streets. It was late but she wasn't tired. Every sense wide awake.                       
       
           



       

'Did you have a good time?' He finally broke the silence.

'Yes,' she admitted honestly. 'Did you?'

'Yeah. Parts of it were pretty good.'

He pulled into a parking bay a couple of spaces from Phil's building.  She felt a bite of disappointment. There'd been no invitation back to  his place. It really was over, wasn't it? He might have flirted, might  have stolen a kiss, but when it came to it, he was playing safe.

He turned off the engine and looked at her. 'Thank you for coming with me today,' he said gruffly.

Well, neither of them had come. But she wanted to. Badly. Once more the  recklessness flowed through her veins-the damn-it-all-to-hell burst of  'I want' that had swept over her in Africa.

And so she moved, undoing her seat belt and leaning towards him. She did  what she'd wanted to do all evening. Hooking her hand round his neck,  she brought his mouth back to hers.

What caused this madness? Was it the champagne or the frock or the whole  shock of the evening when they'd been exposed as almost newly-weds?

None of the above. It was pure Seb. From having him so close and not  touching him the way she'd ached to for seven or so hours. The pressure  had mounted inside her, now it was on its unstoppable release. And with  the rush of sexual adrenalin she remembered there were benefits to  simply taking what you wanted. To just going for it. Excitement-raw and  intoxicating.

He had long legs and so the driver's seat was positioned back as far as  it could go-meaning there was plenty of room between his chest and the  steering wheel. She used all of it. Straddling him, her dress slipping  up as she spread over him, she unfastened his trousers.

'Ana.' But he didn't resist. Indeed his hands helped, his mouth settling  on her most sensitive areas. He knew. He knew so well how to please  her.

It was quiet and dark on the London street. But inside the car their  breathing was harsh and fast and their movements frantic until the  blissful moment when she pushed down so he was deep inside her. She  clenched her muscles hard to hold him. Loved the raw groan that shook  him.

'I thought we weren't in Africa.' He nipped the side of her neck and she shuddered with delight.

'This is hotter than Africa.'

'Sure is.'

His hands slid over the silk of her dress, seeking skin, seeking to  slow. But she rode him fast, catching his mouth to muffle the sounds as  they both came too quickly.

Only moments later, panting, she understood the futility as the surge of  bliss waned and the hunger returned threefold. This wasn't enough. It  wouldn't ever be enough. Chasing fulfilment in this physical way was a  mistake.

Damn.

She'd opened his door and was off his lap before Seb could blink, let alone breathe.

He leaned out and grabbed hold of her hand. 'You're not inviting me in?'

'I don't want to disturb Phil and Jack.'

Given that those two were a couple of hundred miles away, he knew that  would be impossible. She'd just lied-using them as an excuse to stop him  from spending the night with her. Ironic when she'd been the one who'd  just ravished him. But now she was running. Again. He let her go. 'OK.'

He watched her fly to the door as if the devil were at her heels. Looked  down and saw he still had his seat belt on. He half laughed, figured  she'd just put a whole new spin on the concept of safe sex. Yeah, real  safe sex. The sort of sex where she didn't look him in the eye and  didn't deal with him after-neither physically or emotionally. The sort  of sex he'd had most of his life. And while it was frisky and fun,  wickedly exciting, all of a sudden it wasn't enough.

Something savage burned deep inside his belly. No. He didn't want sex  like that any more. Well, he did, but he wanted even more-he wanted to  hold her close in a big bed for hours. He wanted her to look at him,  laugh with him, damn it.

He inhaled a deep, totally rationalising breath of extremely frosty air.  It was just the hit he needed. Hell, what was she doing to him?

'Hey, Ana,' he called as she stepped through the door. 'Who's the pirate now?'

Chapter Ten

SEB knocked harder on the door of Phil's apartment, finally heard Ana's  thumping footsteps and grumbles as she opened it up. He raised his brows  at her appearance. Somehow her tan had got sallower overnight; dark  circles ringed her eyes.

'Your hangover's that bad?' He walked straight in.