The Abby Green Modern Collection. ABBY GREEN

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      Finally. After waiting for as long as she thought she could, Maggie cautiously opened the bathroom door. Caleb lay on the bed against the pillows with his eyes closed. She emerged slowly. Maybe he was asleep? His eyes snapped open. No such luck. He came up on one arm, a frown appearing when he noticed that she hadn’t changed out of the dress. Then a gleam of appreciation lit them.

      ‘Good. I was just fantasising about taking it off you. Come here.’

      He thought she’d left it on, on purpose…

      Little did he know the terror in her chest—how could he not see it? She moved forward one foot and stopped.

      He frowned again. She looked too serious. ‘Maggie…’he said warningly.

      ‘Caleb. Wait.’ She put up a hand and prayed for courage. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you until I’ve signed the contract.’

      He sprang from the bed and Maggie fled back into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it just as she heard Caleb’s fist make a connection. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The door knob jiggled. She jumped back.

      ‘Maggie…Open up or, so help me God, I will break this door down.’

      Desperation made her voice weak. ‘You said I’d sign a contract guaranteeing that the house would go back into my mother’s name. I want to do that before anything…happens between us.’

      ‘It’s already happened, sweetheart.’

      She burned on the other side of the door. But at least he wasn’t threatening to break it down any more, although he did sound as though he wanted to throttle her.

      ‘Maggie, come out…’

      ‘No way.’

      She could hear a muffled oath.

      ‘Not unless you promise not to touch me.’

      There was a very long silence. So long that Maggie was afraid he’d left without telling her and now she’d be stuck in the bathroom all night. Then she heard a very low, ‘Fine.’

      She turned the lock and opened the door. She was relieved when she saw Caleb on the other side of the room in his trousers, arms folded across his chest. His face like thunder. She quivered inwardly but strove for confidence on the outside.

      ‘Do you want to tell me what this is all about?’ he asked tightly.

      ‘I want to sign that contract. Once I know for sure you’re going to keep your word, then you can…have…make me yours.’ Those words alone sent a spiral of heat through her body.

      He came a little closer. She backed away slightly. ‘If I remember correctly, I made no such assurance; the agreement was that you would move in, become my mistress and then…I would sign the house back to your mother.’

      Damn him, he was right. Her shoulders sagged. For a moment Caleb felt something move through him…almost concern. She looked unbelievably vulnerable.

      The only thing stopping him from doing what he wanted, going over and shaking her, then kissing her thoroughly was the knowledge that he wanted to do it so badly it scared him. And he would control himself around her, although the gazebo and the passion she had incited still held him in its grip.

      Remembering something, he looked and, sure enough, he could see a faint red mark on her neck. It firmed his resolve not to let her see how close he was to losing it. He, Caleb Cameron, one of the wealthiest tycoons in the world, his expertise worth millions, had given a grown woman a love bite. So he stood back. Maybe he needed some time, a little space to make sure he was in control the next time.

      Maggie lifted her head and looked at him, those huge green eyes pinning him to the spot.

      ‘Look. You have me. I’m not going to deny you what you want…’

      ‘You want me too, Maggie…’

      More than anything.

      Her eyes flared for a second, telling him of her agreement even though she didn’t say it. ‘My dignity and self-respect are pretty much in the gutter right now. All I’m asking is that when we get back you let me sign the contract and then…then…’

      There would be no more excuses to avoid the inevitable…

      ‘Okay.’

      Maggie thought she hadn’t heard him correctly it was so quick. ‘Okay?’

      ‘Yes. Fine.’ He walked past her, his face expressionless, and started to dress again.

      ‘What…where are you going?’

      ‘Well, Maggie, as you’re not willing to share my bed yet…I’m going to go out. You’d better hope to be asleep by the time I return.’

      And with that he was gone. Maggie had got what she wanted, so why didn’t she feel happy? Why did she want to run out of the door after him and say, Stop! I’m sorry, please come back, take me to bed? She cursed herself, she was only prolonging the pain, the anticipation, the misery. What had she done? Her brain was scrambled beyond all comprehension with him around. But the minute he was gone it was clear again. She had pushed him too far. And now he was gone, back to the function. It was the only place. Or maybe he’d go to a small smoky bar, seek out a kindred soul.

      She sat down on a chair. He could have his pick of any number of the beauties who had been vying for his attention the past two evenings. Any number of the beauties in this place. He had gone, to take his pick. He was letting her know that she wouldn’t hold him back. But even with that knowledge, her weak body burned for his, ached for a deeper fulfilment than she’d experienced earlier. She changed, washed and climbed into bed, letting sleep obliterate her tortured imaginings.

      

      The next morning Maggie woke and felt safe and secure. A cocoon of warmth surrounded her. She moved experimentally to try and keep it, deepen it, and then froze as she realised where she was. She was comprehensively tucked into the warm embrace of Caleb’s arms. Their bodies touched from head to toe. His chest against her back, his long legs spooning hers effortlessly, one almost thrown over her thigh. And he was completely naked. She realized that with burning alarm.

      Arms held her an easy captive, one hand spread over her breasts, which she could feel coming to life, becoming engorged with rushing blood, her nipples becoming hard, pushing against the warm skin of his hand. If he was to move, just even slightly, curl that hand…She swallowed. Torture. She tried to move but his arms were like steel bands and, when she made a bigger movement, they tightened.

      A sleep-rough voice growled in her ear, ‘Going somewhere?’

      She froze. Again.

      ‘Too late for that. I know you’re awake.’

      And so was her body. Spectacularly. Betraying her with its eager response to his proximity.

      The hand at her breast left and made lazy progress down to her belly, feeling the soft swell under the satin of her negligée, then back up. Maggie’s breath came quicker as his hand hovered over the full mounds, the lace of her top chafing unbearably, СКАЧАТЬ