The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN
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Название: The Helen Bianchin Collection
Автор: HELEN BIANCHIN
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
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Dear Lord. Just thinking about it sent renewed heat racing through her veins and had her moving restlessly against him.
His lips brushed her temple, almost as if he were attuned to the depths of her innermost needs, and his arms tightened as she found his mouth with her own.
This time it was she who nurtured his desire and sent it spiralling towards hungry passion in a mesmeric coupling that left them both slick with sensual sweat and fighting to regain a steady breath.
‘Witch,’ Miguel teased huskily as he buried his lips against her breast.
‘Hmm,’ Hannah murmured with bemused contentment, only to give a tiny gasp as he began teasing the tender peak, alternately with his tongue and the edge of his teeth, taking her to the brink between pleasure and pain.
Then with one fluid movement he slid from the bed, scooped her into his arms, carried her into the en suite and stepped into the large shower stall.
Seconds later warm water cascaded from four strategically positioned shower-heads, and Hannah slid to her feet as Miguel reached for the soap.
Evocatively sensual, they lingered for a while, then Miguel closed the water dial, snagged two towels, and once dry, they returned to bed to sleep.
Except after the first few hours Hannah was plagued by dreams that had her tossing restlessly until dawn, followed by a deep fitful sleep as light began filtering through the curtains.
She was unaware of the soothing touch of the man who lay beside her, or that he curled her body close in to his more than once through the night.
Nor was she aware that he woke early, and propped himself comfortably on his side to watch her sleep.
She had delicate features, and the softest, silkiest skin of any woman he’d had the pleasure to touch, he mused gently. The tousled length of her hair lent an abandoned look, and her lashes were long, curling upwards at the ends. The mouth was lush, the lips softly curved in sleep. Capable hands, slender, displaying the band of diamonds and splendid pear-shaped solitaire that claimed her as his own.
She bore an air of fragility that was deceptive, for she possessed an inner strength, an innate honesty that decried artifice or deceit.
He would have liked to rouse her into wakefulness, to feather light kisses over every inch of her skin until she reached for him, then make long, slow love.
The generosity of her response never failed to move him, physically, mentally, emotionally.
Miguel felt his senses stir, and knew if he remained in bed she wouldn’t sleep much longer. With a husky groan he rolled over and slid to his feet, then he walked naked into the en suite and stood beneath the shower.
HANNAH woke late, took one look at the digital clock and raced to the shower, then she dressed and applied basic make-up in record time before running lightly downstairs.
Miguel was in the process of draining the last of his coffee when she entered the kitchen, and heat flared through her veins at the mere sight of him.
It was as if she could still feel his touch, the masculine heat of his possession, the passion…
Dear heaven, she cursed shakily. This was post-coital awareness at its most provocative!
He looked at her and glimpsed the faint tremor that shook her lush mouth. Did she have any conception of her beauty? Something that went far beyond the visual, to the depths of her soul. At this precise moment she was remarkably transparent, and it moved him almost beyond measure.
He watched as she collected a glass and poured herself some fresh orange juice, then she plucked a slice of toast from the rack and spread it with marmalade.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Hannah queried in the quest for normality. She took a bite of the toast and followed it down with black sweet coffee.
He looked every inch the corporate executive, his tailoring impeccable, a dark silk tie resting against a pristine white shirt.
‘I reset the alarm,’ Miguel relayed imperturbably, and checked his watch. ‘Timed to go off around now.’ He cast her a quizzical glance. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘No time.’
Dammit, he looked good. She wanted to slide her fingers through his hair, lower her head down to his, and kiss him until they both had to pause for breath.
Dangerous thoughts, she perceived as she took a long swallow of coffee. If she gave in to them, she’d be even later for work, and that would never do!
Instead, she finished the toast, downed the last of her coffee, then she extracted a banana and an apple from a silver fruit bowl, caught up her car keys and followed him through to the garage.
Miguel unlocked the door, and regarded her steadily over the top of the Jaguar. ‘A restless night, no breakfast to speak of, and food on the run isn’t an ideal way to start the day.’
She effected a light shrug. ‘So I’ll grab coffee and something to eat later.’
He wanted to wring her slender neck. ‘See that you do.’ He pulled open the door and slid in behind the wheel.
‘Yes-sir.’
He shot her a dark speaking glance, freed the electronic garage mechanism, then he fired the engine and eased the car towards the gates.
Hannah’s soft curse feathered the air accompanied by an exasperated sigh. Work beckoned, and there was no time to dally if she was to open the boutique on time.
Seconds later she exited the driveway and headed towards Toorak Road, her mood reflective as she bore with morning peak traffic.
It would have been nice to have woken in Miguel’s arms, stirred by his touch, enticed into sex by his passion in an early-morning ritual. She missed the shimmering sensual heat, the electrifying hunger followed by a languid after-play, for it was then they talked awhile before sharing a leisurely shower.
Camille’s features sprang all too readily to mind, intrusive and vaguely taunting.
The power of pre-emptive thought? Hannah pondered as she dispelled the Frenchwoman from her mind and focused on the day ahead.
The courier service was scheduled to deliver some new stock this morning, and she mentally selected a stunning ensemble as window display, its accessories, and the rearrangement and placement of existing stock.
By the time she unlocked the boutique Camille temporarily ceased to exist.
Twice during the next hour her hand hovered over the phone. She badly needed to hear Miguel’s voice, if only to say ‘hi’. Discussing what lay ahead in their respective СКАЧАТЬ