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Long-Distance Marriage - Шэрон Кендрик - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
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Кендрик Шэрон
Long-Distance Marriage
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CAMERON studied Alessandra for a moment and something about the forbidding coldness in his eyes—an expression Alessandra had never seen there before—made her skin prickle with tiny goose-bumps. So that, instead of falling ecstatically into each other’s arms as they would normally have done, they stood surveying each other silently against the great expanse of the room. But there was no tenderness in his face and none of the softness which was usually there when he looked at her.
‘Hello, Alessandra,’ said Cameron eventually, but he didn’t move from where he was standing.
And pride kept her where she was. ‘Hello, Cameron,’ she said, and it came out far more coolly than she’d intended—but why shouldn’t it have done? There had been some odd, strained quality to his voice. ‘I—wasn’t expecting you back so soon.’
‘So I see.’ His mouth curved disdainfully as he took in the low-cut black dress which emphasised the creamy thrust of her breasts and skimmed down closely over her narrow waist and hips to finish midthigh, making the most of every inch of her long, slender legs. She could see a spark of hunger in his blue-grey eyes vying for dominance with a definite expression of contempt.
With a kind of derisive snort, he strode over to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of wine from the bottle which he had obviously opened earlier and which lay cooling in an ice bucket. Had he been planning some kind of celebration? she wondered fleetingly.
And just how long had he been home? A slight desperation crept into her veins as she saw that his grim face showed no sign of relaxing. He silently moved towards her and held out a glass of Chablis. It was her favourite wine, and he had chosen one of the finest vintages, but suddenly the thought of drinking it sickened her to the stomach.
He continued to regard her unsmilingly and an angry pulse began to beat at the base of her throat. Just what right did he think he had to stand there and offer her wine, while that condemning look tightened the features of his arrogant face? As if she were some kind of criminal!
‘I don’t want any wine,’ she said shortly.
‘No,’ he answered curtly, and his mouth curved with scorn this time as he put both the untouched glasses back down. ‘I shouldn’t imagine that you do—I can smell it on your breath as it is.’
She’d had a total of three glasses of champagne all evening, hardly enough to qualify her for the drunk of the year that he was making her sound like! But she had no intention of justifying her behaviour to him. She would not be treated as though she were on trial. She stared him full in the face, her dark eyes sparking angry fire, feeling more furious than she could ever remember feeling in her life.
And yet she was achingly aware of his slanting blue-grey eyes, with the dark brows which matched the thick, naturally ruffled hair. She hadn’t seen him for just one week and it took every bit of concentration she possessed not to stare at that magnificent muscular physique, imagining him naked... hating herself for wanting him, even though he was behaving in this inexplicably hostile way towards her.
‘You’re obviously jet-lagged—’ she began, prepared to be conciliatory, but he interrupted her with a seemingly casual query.
‘New dress?’
Now why were her cheeks growing pink? ‘Yes.’ She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘You know darned well it is.’
His experienced eyes had obviously assessed the quality and the superb cut of the gown which clung to the streamlined curves of her body, and that direct scrutiny made her skin tingle, the fires of lust and anger igniting in her veins.
‘You aren’t usually quite so generous with yourself,’ he remarked, in a seemingly offhand way which spoke volumes.
Enough was enough! Alessandra decided to tell him the truth. That way she would have nothing to feel guilty about. Because she could just imagine how she’d feel if she lied and told him she’d purchased the gown herself, only for Andrew to let slip that it was a bonus, bought by the company.
Oh, why the hell had she let him talk her into it? What had, at the time, seemed a perfectly reasonable action was fast developing into something else entirely. But she wasn’t going to feel guilty. For she had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.
‘No, you’re right,’ she answered coolly. ‘I’m not normally quite so generous with myself.’
‘But on this occasion you were?’ he persisted in that impartially analytical manner she’d only ever heard him use at work. ‘I’m intrigued to know why.’
‘I didn’t actually buy it—’ she began.
But he interrupted her with a clipped demand. Then just who did?’
‘The company.’
‘The company?’ he echoed softly, his deep voice full of sarcasm, the blue-grey eyes narrowing unfathomably. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really!’ she snapped.
He elevated his dark, beautifully shaped eyebrows. ‘How very extraordinary. I must say that I’ve never considered buying any of my staff dresses,’ he emphasised deliberately. ‘Particularly exorbitantly priced dresses which do rather more to reveal than to conceal. Dresses which are designed solely with the intention of turning a man on.’ He looked directly into her eyes, his handsome face cold with arrogant enquiry. ‘But presumably that’s what Andrew had in mind?’
‘Andrew had nothing to do with it!’ she retorted furiously.
‘No?’ He clearly didn’t believe a word she was saying. ‘He just paid the bill, did he?’
‘Oh, I’m not talking to you when you’re in this kind of mood!’ she retorted, and made to whirl away, but he stayed her with one hand on her bare arm which, in spite of her rage, had her senses dancing in frantic plea for more of his touch. She turned her face up to him, her eyes wide in silent appeal. ‘Cameron...?’ she said, on a whisper.
But there wasn’t a flicker of answering emotion on his face. ‘And did Andrew help you choose it—honey?’ He mimicked Andrew’s nickname for her softly, his voice roughed with an intimidating menace which was completely alien to her.
‘Wh-what are you talking about?’ she stumbled, meeting the blaze of fury in his eyes.
‘Try listening to the answering machine,’ he suggested silkily, and his hand dropped from her arm.
The cessation of his touch was strangely disconcerting and Alessandra walked on her high, spindly heels towards the answering machine like a robot, aware, and yet trying not to be aware, that those cool blue-grey eyes never left her.
She pressed the message button and Andrew’s disembodied voice echoed around the flat.
‘Alessandra—are you there? It’s ten o’clock, and I want to check you’re home safely, honey—so ring me as soon as you get in—if this message ever reaches you!’
Damn Andrew and his stupid nicknames! Alessandra swiftly turned round, suddenly frightened again. This wasn’t how she had wanted Cameron’s homecoming to be—not at all. ‘I can explain—’ she began, but he shook his head and walked towards her with a stealthy intent which set her heart pounding.
‘So did Andrew help you choose it?’ he asked again, standing just inches away from her. ‘Did he like the fact that it fits so closely? So that when your nipples are hard—like now—they press against the silk and you might as well be wearing nothing at all?’ he demanded brutally.
It seemed pointless telling him that he, and only be, had that effect on her—with Cameron around her nipples seemed to be almost permanently erect. She could tell by the look on his face that he wouldn’t listen.
‘So tell me,’ he continued, and Alessandra knew, from the cruel pleasure she saw carved on his features, that he knew precisely the effect he was having on her. ‘Are you wearing any panties underneath that thing? Are you supposed to?’ His eyes glittered. ‘What did Andrew say?’
Alessandra felt the pooling of desire deep at the fork of her body, her senses so inflamed that the pride she normally possessed had suddenly vanished. So that, instead of storming out of the room and away from his vile accusations, she found herself unable to move, her skin on fire, despising herself, and yet yearning for what she knew could be the only possible conclusion to this angry confrontation.
‘May I?’ he asked conversationally as his long fingers slithered the silk of the dress all the way up her thigh until her tiny black bikini pants were revealed. ‘Oh,’ he said neutrally. ‘You are wearing some.’ His finger skimmed along the centre of them and Alessandra gasped with shock and pleasure. ‘And so wet too.’ He removed his hand, and she could have wept with frustration.
‘But you aren’t going to be wearing them for very much longer, are you, my delectable love?’ he continued remorselessly, and he reached down again, this time with both hands, and decisively pulled the delicate fabric apart with one swift, sure movement, so that it made a tiny rasping sound as it tore, and the panties slid slowly down her legs to the floor.
Alessandra followed as he took her into his arms and pushed her to the ground and at last, at long last, began to kiss her. She wanted to be angry with him but she was so in love with the man, the passion he’d aroused in her so pent up inside, that she decided to forgive him this one monstrous display of jealousy, and she began to kiss him back. Hard.
‘Cameron,’ she moaned against his mouth. ‘Oh, Cameron—’
But he kissed her into silence, his fingers delving into her wetness until she could bear it no longer and she found herself unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers with a brutal haste which rivalled his treatment of her panties.
She heard him give a low moan as he pushed her hand away to finish freeing himself and then he moved above her and ground into her, as hard as she’d ever felt him, and she almost fainted with the sheer physical pleasure of it.
Some corner of her mind wanted to keep something back, to show him that she still had some element of control, but she was aroused to such a fever pitch that she came almost immediately, and she heard him give a soft laugh of triumph, as he felt her flesh convulse around him, before uttering his own helpless sigh of release.
They lay on the carpet, both labouring for breath, and shame chilled her as surely as if she’d had a bucket of icy water thrown all over her. Because, now that her traitorous body had been satisfied, her dignity and pride had returned—and how! ‘Get off me—you brute!’ She tried to push him off her.
But he was having none of it. He rose lithely to his feet and quickly zipped up his trousers, then bent and scooped her up into his arms and stared down at her.
She didn’t want to look him full in the face, but Cameron could be so mesmerising sometimes that it was impossible to resist him. It was difficult for Alessandra to read his expression, though certainly some of the harshness of earlier had disappeared. Nevertheless, it was still impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Even when he had first told her that he loved her she had found his expression unreadable. Even then. He was the kind of man who always held something back and it both frustrated and fascinated her. He was like an absorbing puzzle that was impossible to solve. It had been one of the things which had attracted her to him in the first place and, conversely, what had always made her the tiniest bit wary of him.
He was heading towards the bedroom and she began to drum angrily on his chest. ‘Put me down!’ she demanded, and punched her fists against the fine silk of his shirt.
‘No.’
‘I’ll shout for the police!’
‘It’s a little late in the day for that, wouldn’t you say?’ he observed, somewhat bitterly.
‘No, it damn well isn’t!’ she retorted hotly.
‘Shout away, then,’ he said calmly, but there was an odd note to his voice. ‘And cry what? Assault?’
She heard the slight shudder of self-disgust which distorted his voice and, being scrupulously fair, she shook her head so that her hair moved against him in a dark, silken cloud. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Cameron,’ she said quietly. ‘Because it would be a lie. That was no assault.’
‘Enticement, then.’ He lowered her onto the bed and leaned over her, his eyes suddenly tender. ‘I’m sorry, darling.’
She forced herself not to melt immediately under the impact of that soft stare, rolled away from him to the edge of the bed, and kicked her high heels off across the bedroom carpet, not caring where they landed. She sat up and began to unclip her black stockings from the silky suspender belt and peel them down over her long legs. ‘It’s all very well saying sorry afterwards!’ she told him crossly. ‘You behaved outrageously!’ She forced herself to give him a baleful glare.
‘I agree,’ he said gravely.
He was trying to look contrite, and there was something so little-boyish about his expression that Alessandra had the greatest difficulty not standing up and flinging her arms around his neck. But something made her continue with her indignation. ‘Is that all you can say?’ she demanded.
He began to unbutton his silk shirt. ‘What do you want me to say?’ He shrugged lightly. ‘I’ve already said I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, and that makes it all right, does it? One word and I’m supposed to forget all about it?’
‘That rather depends on you,’ he told her calmly, his eyes looking more grey than blue in the soft light from the lamp. ‘You can make a big issue out of it if you wish. We could carry on the argument for weeks—if that’s what you really want.’ He finished unbuttoning the shirt to reveal his lightly tanned, muscle-packed chest, and, for the first time since they’d met, Alessandra failed to swoon at the sight of him, she was so mad.
‘Me?’ she spluttered, with indignation. ‘Make a big issue out of it?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Now the trousers had come off, revealing the silken boxer shorts he always wore, which clung to his hard buttocks and always made her realise just how powerfully muscled those long, hair-roughened legs of his were.
She tried, unsuccessfully, to unzip the back of her dress.
‘Here,’ he said smoothly. ‘Let me.’
He always helped her undress and it would have been foolish not to let him, but he slid the zip down with such practised ease that for the first time in her life she almost exploded with rage. ‘I suppose you could unzip a woman’s dress and undo her bra at the same time—even if you were blindfolded!’ she accused hotly.
He stood there and gave her that lazy, mocking smile of his. ‘Is that an invitation?’ he queried softly. ‘Do you want me to try?’
Most men, thought Alessandra resentfully, would have looked ridiculous wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts if they still had their socks on. So how come her sexy husband still managed to look good enough to eat?
‘No, I don’t want you to try!’ she raged on. ‘You’ve had more practice at it than almost any man in the world, I should imagine!’
‘Darling—’
‘Don’t you “darling” me!’
His face was suddenly serious. ‘The only practice I’ve had in the last three years—and that has been considerable—has been undressing you, my love.’
Alessandra frowned suspiciously. ‘But you’ve only known me eight months—’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘And married for six of them.’
‘B-but...’ she stuttered, the implication of what he’d just told her hitting her with all the force of a sledgehammer. It was something that she had never dared ask him in the brief courtship before their wedding. She had assumed that up until the time he’d met her he had been sleeping with one of the many women who used to leave long and frankly embarrassing messages on his answering machine.
Why, one of them—a famous cover girl—had actually turned up at his office and begged him not to go through with the marriage, within full earshot of his secretary, who had rather indiscreetly told Alessandra about it afterwards. And you didn’t get that kind of devotion from that kind of stunner if you weren’t physically involved with them, surely?
‘But that means that you were... that you didn’t...’ She fumbled around, searching for a delicate way to say it, but failed. ‘For two whole years?’ she yelled eventually.
‘I think what you’re trying to say—’ he began teasingly.
‘Don’t you dare patronise me!’
He shook his dark head. ‘I wouldn’t dream of patronising you. I was putting into words what you seemed reluctant to—merely confirming that I was celibate for two years before I met you.’
She threw him a look as she slithered out of her black silk dress. She hurled the wretched outfit against the wall and quickly wrapped her towelling robe around her. ‘I don’t believe you!’
He shrugged, a humourless kind of smile curving his mouth as he turned to drop his shorts and socks into the washing basket, so that he stood before her proudly and unashamedly naked. ‘That, of course, is your privilege, Alessandra.’
He said it with the finality of someone who was closing a subject they hadn’t particularly wanted opened in the first place, but Alessandra wasn’t giving up that easily.
‘You must admit it is a little implausible,’ she said.
‘Oh? You think that while you spent the first twenty-four years of your life as a virgin, and so were obviously celibate, it’s impossible for a man to be, too?’
Alessandra picked up her hairbrush and dragged it through her thick, shoulder-length hair which was so darkly brown that in some lights, like now, it looked almost black. ‘Some men, perhaps,’ she said deliberately.
‘But not me?’ he guessed correctly.
She nodded, reluctant to drop the subject, still angry at the ease with which he had seduced her after virtually accusing her of infidelity with Andrew! But also because, she realised, Cameron was speaking much more openly than was usual for him. And, because he was a man who was cautious about showing his true feelings, she wanted him to continue. ‘No, not you,’ she agreed with some defiance.
‘Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?’ he suggested silkily.
Alessandra hugged her robe to her chest, her breasts suddenly tingling beneath the thick cloth—and only because the brute had slid his eyes over them in a proprietorial and caressing stare! ‘Just that you are a man with certain—appetites,’ she began delicately, furious when he threw back his dark head and began to laugh.
‘Certain “appetites”?’ he repeated. ‘Goodness me, Alessandra, what a gloriously archaic turn of phrase! Perhaps you should have termed it “carnal desires”—that’s even more expressive, isn’t it?’
‘Well, if you want me to put it crudely—’
‘Oh, I do. I most certainly do.’
‘You like sex, don’t you, Cameron?’ she told him bluntly. ‘Lots and lots and lots of it!’
‘I don’t just like it,’ he said softly. ‘I love it And so do you, sweetheart. You may have been a late starter, Alessandra, but you sure took to it in a big way. I’ve never met a woman who gets as easily turned on as you do.’
‘And I’ve never met a man who would rip his wife’s clothes off and throw her to the floor and make her...make her...’
‘Tremble ecstatically in his arms?’ he put in with sardonic humour, but then he saw her mouth begin to tremble and he was by her side in an instant, enfolding her in the strong, warm circle of his arms as she began to shake with emotion.
‘Sweetheart, sweetheart,’ he pleaded. ‘Don’t get upset. Please. I shouldn’t have done it. You’re right I’m a brute. A selfish, arrogant and unthinking brute. But I love you.’
‘No, you’re not!’ she raged. ‘And I love you too! I just don’t understand why you...why you...’
He sat down on the bed and gently drew her down beside him. ‘I don’t understand myself,’ he told her softly. ‘You bring out something in me that no woman has ever done before and sometimes I’m not sure that I like it very much.’
He sighed as she stared at him with confused eyes. ‘All damned week long I’ve been aching for you. I didn’t want to be away from you. I’d planned my homecoming to the last detail, how it would be.’
‘But you came home early,’ she protested. ‘And didn’t tell me.’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘But I rang the airline, and they confirmed that you were still booked on the later flight.’
‘I didn’t use the ticket.’
‘But then, how—?’
‘I bought myself a plane,’ he said, and then gave a little shrug as though he realised how unbelievable his statement must sound. Like a little boy saying that he’d bought a toy car.
Alessandra stared at him in disbelief. ‘You’ve done what?’
‘It’s a small Lear jet,’ he added, though he might have been speaking in Chinese for all that Alessandra understood. ‘So it’s just as capable of crossing the Atlantic as it is of taking me up to Manchester.’
Her dark eyes were still like saucers. ‘Cameron—why?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because people don’t just go around buying planes.’
‘Some do. I do. We do,’ he corrected. ‘We can afford it.’
‘But—’
He shook his dark head firmly. ‘No buts. It matters to me that I don’t see very much of you. My factory is in Manchester. Your job is in London. You won’t change—’
‘Don’t make it sound as though it’s something as insignificant as me forgetting to put the milk bottles out!’ she objected with a slight frown. ‘Why should I change? My job happens to be very important to me!’
‘Yes, Alessandra, I know. You’ve made that abundantly clear to me.’
‘But of course you, as the man, expect me, as the woman, to just up sticks and move to Manchester, just like that?’
‘It’s not exactly the back of beyond, you know. And we do have advertising agencies up north.’
She shook her head. ‘But none where I’d be given the same kind of variety and responsibility that I have at Holloway’s. Andrew has hinted that the joint managing directorship might be mine next year. I’ve worked hard for my promotion, Cameron.’ She turned wide dark eyes up at him in appeal. ‘Please don’t ask me to throw it all away,’ she finished quietly, not sure of what she would say if he insisted.
‘I’m not.’
‘Because this is the woman you fell in love with,’ she told him, stabbing her finger emphatically against her breastbone, the dark fire from her eyes challenging him to dare to deny it. ‘Me! The career woman. Not someone who would cave in just because of love—’
‘Just?’ He fixed her with a questioning look.
‘I want that promotion,’ she said stubbornly, but her stubbornness was born out of fear. Fear that if she changed too much, that if she allowed Cameron to simply slot her into his life as easily as a peg into a hole, he would no longer love her.
‘And you shall have your promotion if Andrew chooses to give it to you—because I shan’t try to stop you. My only stipulation is that he stops calling you “honey”!’ And he gave her the careless smile which had first so captivated her. ‘Darling, don’t let’s fight. That’s the main reason why I bought the plane. It’s supposed to make our lives easier. This way I won’t have the bother and the wait and the inconvenience of scheduled flights—can come and go as the fancy takes me.’
‘And always expect me to be waiting for you like the good little wife?’ she queried, knowing that she was spoiling his news but some insecure demon inside her spurring her on.
‘That isn’t what I said,’ he replied evenly.
‘But that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?’ she responded. ‘If it isn’t, then what else prompted that ugly little scene when I walked in tonight? Just because I was late coming in, before you were even expected?’
‘Like I said, I’d planned my homecoming to the last detail.’
“The wine?’
‘The wine,’ he agreed. ‘Low lights. There was to be some soft music. Corny—’
‘But effective,’ she interrupted drily. ‘With the scene all set for...’
‘Seduction,’ he supplied, an unholy glint in his eyes. ‘Mmm.’
‘But there was no seduction, was there, Cameron?’ she asked him quietly. Because, now that her senses had calmed down, it appalled her to remember how she’d reacted to him. ‘Just some rather basic sex...’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Please don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it,’ he put in with brutal softness, ‘when I watched you shuddering and felt you climax beneath me...’
Alessandra met his questioning blue gaze full-on. ‘Oh, yes—I enjoyed it. And, yes, I climaxed. I always do—if that’s the only criterion by which you gauge satisfaction.’ She made to turn away but he put one hand on her shoulder, very gently, and sighed.
‘It isn’t. And, believe me, I certainly hadn’t intended to act like that.’
‘Then why did you?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘Because...’ He shook his head as he put his free hand on her other shoulder and moved her closer to him. ‘Because you do something to me, Alessandra. Don’t you know that? You make me respond in a certain way; or, rather, I can never predict or control how I’m going to respond to you. You perplex me. You excite me. You make me crazy. When I heard Andrew’s message on the answering machine—’
She decided that the time had come to get rid of all this nonsense once and for all. ‘But he’s always called me “honey”—since I first met him.’
‘And I don’t like it. Strictly as a chauvinistic, jealous and possessive husband.’
‘Is that what you are?’ she teased softly, and he smiled.
‘Sometimes, yes. With you, yes.’ She saw a brief but distinct tightening of his mouth. ‘I just don’t like Andrew’s familiarity. Okay?’
‘I don’t happen to like it very much myself,’ admitted Alessandra. ‘I guess I just put up with it.’
‘Then don’t put up with it! Tell him you don’t like it!’ His face darkened. ‘Try asserting yourself with him as you seem to do so successfully with me!’
She felt weary. They seemed to be going round and round in circles. She nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll tell him.’ She put a tentative hand up to smooth a lock of dark hair off his forehead. ‘But you must know by now that Andrew means nothing to me, Cameron.’
‘No?’ He let his hands fall from her shoulders and drew his dark brows together as his eyes briefly flew to the discarded black garment which lay in a silky heap on the carpet. ‘He just buys you sexy dresses and speaks to you like a girlfriend instead of a colleague ?’
‘You’re surely not jealous of Andrew?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Not you?’
‘Why not? When you walked in here tonight—with your hair all wild and your cheeks all rosy—’
‘It’s a cold night,’ she pointed out.
‘Wearing that sexy bit of nonsense which he’d bought for you—’
‘I was the one who chose it, remember?’
‘To wear for him? On an evening out with him? How would you define that, then, Alessandra? Subliminal attraction?’
‘Oh, don’t be so absurd!’ In the past she had sometimes despaired of Cameron’s coolness, his unflappability, but now that he actually was displaying the kind of passionate temper she’d always secretly longed for she found she didn’t like it one bit!
‘I’m telling you how I felt,’ he said, ‘You wanted to know.’
‘Go on,’ she said in a small voice, thinking that maybe it had been a good thing that they’d never delved too deeply into their feelings before. She felt as though they’d opened up Pandora’s box and were regretting it by the second!
‘Yes, it was irrational,’ he continued. ‘But I told you—something about you makes me act without reason, without thought. I started to imagine Andrew making love to you—’
‘That’s absolutely ridiculous!’ she scoffed.
‘Is it? Are you telling me that he wouldn’t like to?’
‘I wouldn’t like to, Cameron—that’s the difference!’
‘And I found myself,’ he went on, as though she hadn’t spoken, ‘wanting to tear the clothes from your body—’
‘Which you did—’
‘And to take you right there and then.’
‘Which you also did!’
‘And for which I’ve apologised—for the sentiment, at least, if not for the act itself. And isn’t it about time that you stopped being hypocritical and admitted that it was exciting and that it turned you on? Or are you denying that, Alessandra?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not denying it. It’s just that... that...’ Her voice tailed off.
‘That what?’ he prompted softly.
‘It just wasn’t very—loving, that’s all,’ she sighed, looking up into the intense eyes which were now a soft, smoky grey.
‘Sometimes sex isn’t loving,’ he told her gently. ‘And sometimes it isn’t meant to be. If you like, I can show you just how loving it can be.’ And he began to massage the small of her back rhythmically.
She wanted to wriggle with pleasure, to relax into it, to make the slow walk down whichever sensual path he planned to take her. But two capitulations in one evening would be too big a dent in her pride.
‘I have work in the morning,’ she said stubbornly.
“So do I.’
‘And I need a shower,’ she reminded him pointedly.
‘So do I,’ he murmured with a smile as he drew her to her feet. He slowly untied her robe, slipped his hands inside and cupped her naked, peaking breasts.
‘Cameron...’ she objected on a shuddering gasp as he bent his dark head to take one aching tip into his mouth.
‘What?’ he murmured softly, his breath warm against her skin. ‘What is it, my darling?’
She couldn’t remember. ‘Oh, Cameron...
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