Название: The Scandal Behind the Wedding
Автор: Bella Frances
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern Tempted
isbn: 9781474007634
isbn:
Sure, there were people who did want commitment—his parents, and in all likelihood his brother Mark. That would be one wedding he wouldn’t attend. But not him. He hated the idea of being stuck in the same place, doing the same thing, with the same people. Even with a beauty. It was bound to end badly.
He’d made up his mind years ago that he was not his parents. He’d wanted out—needed out—and he couldn’t ever see himself going back. He’d moved on. Didn’t want to look back. Or do a U-turn. Going back on a decision—any decision—was a sign of weakness. As spectacularly demonstrated by Georgia’s serial fiancé.
‘Maybe he has shares in a diamond mine?’
‘Or maybe I believe in fairytales.’
‘Ah, now, don’t give yourself a hard time. We all fall for the wrong people sometimes.’
He reached across to squeeze the long, elegant fingers that were rubbing the sides of her wine glass. He liked touching her. The thrum of her energy tuned him right in to her.
‘I did—once. It caused a lot of damage at the time, but it was the rocket I needed to get myself out into the world. It’s sore when it happens, but I bet you’re already heaving a sigh of relief.’
She looked at him. Searching. He wrapped his fingers round her wrist, then smoothed little trails across her skin. She held his eyes. He looked at her lips where she’d just licked them—again. Let his gaze settle there, slow and steady. Absorbed the sensual image. Beautiful. He looked at her breasts. He was sure her nipples were beginning to tighten. And he began to harden. The sexual energy between them was dynamite and he hadn’t even kissed her. But he would.
She looked away, took a sip of wine.
‘You’re right. It’s much more important that I get home and get on with life.’
‘So what’s keeping you here?’
‘Money.’ She lanced him with a hard stare. ‘Purely money. That probably makes me sound terrible. But it’s not money for the sake of money. It’s—it’s Babs. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but she owes a ton of money.’ She sighed. ‘After years of self-sacrifice for me she met a guy. A sleazy, slimy guy. She married him and gave him a share in The Tavern. She also invested in his building firm. And when she should have been looking forward to financial security, winding down, that worthless piece of garbage conned her and robbed her and covered his tracks so well that when she tried to get back her share of the business they’d built up he had already liquidated it and started re-trading. With Babs the Younger.’
She paused and looked down at her lap. Ah, hell, if that wasn’t her chin wobbling … She was trying to hide it but there was no denying the hitch in her voice and the flush over her cheeks. He moved forward, lifted her glass and put it down on the table.
She swiped a hand under each eye. ‘I’m fine. Sorry—I’m fine.’ She looked away and then back at him, her eyes glassy and with a fixed bright smile. ‘I just miss her. I want to go home and I can’t. I’m stuck here until I’ve earned enough to clear her debts. All sixty thousand pounds of it.’
He could no more stop himself from gathering her into his arms than stop breathing. Selfless. On top of every physical attribute she had she was out here to earn money for someone else. Far too nice for the likes of him.
But he understood that aching loneliness. He’d felt it when he’d got here. More than that—he’d relished it. It had proved that he’d got away, taken the first step. He knew how real it was for others, though. He loved Dubai now. Loved its pace and its vibe and its outrageous ambition. Sure sometimes, occasionally, the yearn for grey rain and green moss had him hopping on a flight home, just to inhale the sweet smell of damp Irish earth and sit for long, uncomplicated hours in the company of quiet, uncomplicated people. But as soon as his family knew he was back and started bearing down on him he hopped right back on the plane.
But Georgia Anne Blue … She was a family girl. And she was now in the middle of a nasty piece of action that, all joking aside, could result in jail time. Of course she was emotional!
‘Georgia.’ He folded his arms round her but she held herself tense.
‘I’m honestly fine—it’s fine.’
‘Sure it is. But everyone needs a little comfort sometimes. I miss my sister too. We’re a long way from home. We all get lonely, Georgia.’
That seemed to undo her. She literally wilted in his arms—a flower without water. He stood her up. Her cheek landed on his chest. He scooped her closer, let his hand cradle her head and pressed his arm across her back. Steadied her and held her while she let soft sobs rack her body. She held her arms bent, tight against him, hands still in fists. Long moments of silent sadness.
‘I’m sorry—I don’t know where that came from.’
She pulled back a little and he felt his shirt wet with tears. That undid him. He hated to see a girl upset. In his iron-clad armour it was the one thing that could really pierce a hole. He blamed his sister Frankie for that—she always knew how to get to him.
‘I know where it came from. And it’s fine to let it go.’
She looked up at him, her dark green eyes glassy as a forest pool. Her lip wobbled again and she buried her head. This time she wrapped her arms around him.
‘Thank you. I’m sorry.’
‘Shh.’ The last thing she needed to do was thank him. There was nothing he would rather do than hold her and soothe her. And his body was all the evidence she needed that he was getting payback. Holding her close was playing with fire. And he was calculating the risks attached to that right now.
He hardened—fast and fierce. He leant down and breathed in her scent: flowers from her hair, sweet spice from her neck. He felt her body through the thin fabric of her dress as he held her. Slim, strong, soft. He dropped his arm to her waist and the sensation of the curve of her body hugged close sent him another sharp kick of lust.
She must have realised how aroused he’d got—she pulled back and looked up at him as if she was weighing up her odds, testing him for trust. He’d show her she could trust him …
It would have been nice to start slow, to brush his lips against hers and gently learn their shape. But steady and sweet had bailed out and he was riding the crest of a giant wave of lust. He snaked his hands through the thick red waves of her hair and scooped her mouth right under his. Fierce. He felt his body absorb the sensation of her curves. Not enough. His tongue took over—fired right between her open startled lips and plunged and tangled with hers.
She was shocked. Then she moaned. Then she settled even closer and her tongue met his with a hunger that fired his blood.
What a kiss.
Wild stabbing darts with their tongues—shallow at first and then duelling. Every thrust had him harder. Their mouths open wider, to taste more and more. He took and tasted her like a starving man. On and on they kissed. He heard her moan as if it was a surrender from her soul. Felt his face and her face wet from their mouths. Felt such a desperate need to feel her flesh that he dropped his hands to her full, plump cheeks and squeezed hard.
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