The Billionaire's Defiant Wife. Amanda Browning

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       CHAPTER TWO

      IN HER bedroom later that evening, Aimi pushed the windows wide to gather in what breeze there was, but the warmth already trapped inside her room made her feel hot and sticky all over again. Kicking off her shoes, she reached up and removed the pins that held her hair in place and the blonde locks tumbled in waves over her neck and cheeks. It felt good to let it loose, but tomorrow it would go back up again, reinforcing the look she had worked hard to maintain over the years.

      In the mirror she could see the natural waves of her hair softening her features, making her look vibrantly young and alluring—carefree almost. It sent out a message that jarred on her nerves. She wasn’t that person any more. Would never allow herself to be her again. It was part of her self-imposed penance.

      Turning away from her reflection, she walked into the bathroom to take a cooling shower. Feeling marginally better, she dried herself on a fluffy towel and slipped into a thigh-length silk nightie. Turning off the light, she stretched out on top of the bed. However, it proved impossible to sleep, and not just because of the heat. Alone in the humid darkness, time passed slowly and her thoughts inevitably travelled back to that moment when she had first seen Jonas. She could visualise the sheer power and magnetism of him. Just thinking about it set her nerves tingling.

      ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed in exasperation, shooting up into a sitting position. ‘Stop it, Aimi!’ Yet for once her brain refused to obey. It played over the look in his eyes when their gazes had locked, and once again heat swept over her with such stunning force that her stomach muscles clenched in reaction.

      That had her scrambling off the bed and padding to the window to draw in deep gulps of warm air. Yet it didn’t help. The memories were too powerful. Too stunning. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the brush of his gaze on her lips as her tongue sought to moisten them, and she groaned helplessly.

      ‘For heaven’s sake, Aimi, get a grip!’ she muttered to herself. ‘You’re not going to do this! So what if the man oozes sex appeal? You cannot allow yourself to be drawn into the flames. He’s a playboy. All he wants is a body in his bed, and that isn’t going to be you!’

      Aimi dragged a hand through her damp hair and sighed. Lord, it was hot! Even the water in the shower had been tepid. She longed to feel something cool against her skin and, with sudden insight, knew just where she could find it. Moments later, she had slipped on her silk robe over her nightie and was padding barefoot down the stairs, the robe flying out in her wake like the wings of an exotic bird. Her destination was the large modern kitchen, and she was relieved to find she had it to herself when she passed through the door, closing it behind her. There was no need to turn on the light, for the moonlight gave the room a silvery glow.

      It took a few minutes of quietly searching through drawers and cupboards before she found what she was looking for—a napkin, which she took to the counter beside the larder-style combined refrigerator and freezer. There was a delicious blast of coldness when she opened the freezer door, seeking out the bag of ice cubes. Taking a handful, she wrapped them in the napkin, closed the freezer and sat down at the table, sighing with pleasure as she drew the ice-filled napkin over her skin.

      They were moments of pure bliss and she almost purred as she wondered why she hadn’t thought of this before. Propping her feet on another chair, she hummed to herself as she lazily cooled herself down. Which was why she was miles away when the abrupt sound of someone tapping on the window made her almost jump out of her skin.

      Her head shot round and, to her complete surprise, she saw Jonas standing outside the kitchen door.

      ‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped faintly, suddenly aware of the picture she must make, sexily draped over two chairs and wearing next to nothing. Her instinct was to rush off, but he was gesticulating to the door, clearly wanting to come in. There was nothing else she could do but put a brave face on it and comply. With a grimace of dismay, she set her napkin of ice down and padded over to the door to let him in, holding her robe together with one hand.

      ‘Thanks,’ he said, the moment he was inside, locking the door again. ‘I thought I was going to have to sleep on the lawn,’ he added with wry humour, which faded when he turned and looked at her standing СКАЧАТЬ