Married For Convenience: Forgotten Husband / The Marriage Arrangement / The Husband Test. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
she managed in strangled tones, hating him as he calmly scooped her to her feet.
She wanted to hit him, or at the very least hurl abuse at his merciless head. Sparks of topaz accentuated the green of her eyes, and her chin tilted in open defiance. ‘I hate having you play nursemaid,’ she said with a degree of anguish as he carefully undressed her.
‘I refuse to stand by and have you inflict further damage on your shoulder out of a foolish need for modesty.’
The tone of his voice should have warned her, but she was too angry to take any notice. ‘And I dislike the thought of a husband who practises voyeurism.’
He stiffened, his large frame an awesome sight as he held himself severely in check. Anger emanated from every pore, and his eyes were so dark that they resembled polished onyx. ‘Perhaps you should give thanks to the good Dios,’ he intoned in a hard voice. ‘If it were not for your injuries, I would teach you a lesson you would not easily forget.’
As he had in the past? Dear God, was he an abusive man? she agonised in shocked silence. Her features paled at the thought, and she heard him utter a string of viciously soft incomprehensible words.
‘Go and have your shower, Elise,’ he commanded with dangerous silkiness.
She needed no second bidding, and her mouth set in mutinous lines as he followed her into the bathroom and switched on the water, tested its temperature, then stood aside as she stepped into the large stall.
Despite the rising cloud of steam she was aware of his presence a few feet distant on the other side of the glass screen, and she gritted her teeth against rising anger, feeling no remorse for taking longer than necessary before closing the taps.
He was waiting as she slid open the glass door, and her eyes waged a silent battle with his as he stepped forward and removed the waterproof covering from her bandaged hand, then collected a towel and began blotting the dampness from her body.
‘I’m quite capable of completing the task,’ Elise said tightly, and almost swayed beneath his long, intent gaze.
Did he have any idea of how vulnerable she felt? How damnable it was to have to stand naked before him and suffer his ministrations?
‘Of course,’ he drawled with hateful amusement as he discarded his briefs and stepped into the shower.
There was an enviable selection of toiletries to choose from atop the long marble vanity unit, and after making use of a few Elise collected a large towel and was about to secure it sarong-wise around her body when the water stopped.
Seconds later the door slid open and Alejandro emerged from the stall.
Elise hastily averted her eyes from the electrifying image of his superbly muscled frame, with its generous mat of curling chest-hair arrowing down in a fine line past his navel to join the hair couching his manhood.
There was something incredibly erotic about glistening water droplets caught in male body-hair, the fluid grace of strongly honed muscle-fibre moving beneath satiny, lightly bronzed skin.
The degree of restrained power in repose was an intensely disturbing entity, and her fingers shook as she caught up a brush and stroked it vigorously through the length of her hair, increasingly aware of his every action as he towelled himself dry.
As he reached for a black silk robe she stepped quickly into the bedroom, almost succeeding in donning her nightgown before firm fingers eased the straps over her injured hand, and she stood helplessly still as the silk hem whispered down past her hips.
Impotent resentment darkened her eyes, and Alejandro cast her a long, thoughtful look which she found increasingly difficult to hold as the seconds ticked slowly by.
He lifted a hand and slid firm fingers beneath the hair at her nape, then in seeming slow motion his mouth claimed hers with an element of possession she instinctively knew would harden should she attempt to pull free of him, and she swallowed convulsively as pleasure overtook warmth, touching each nerve-end as it coursed through her body.
She felt strangely afraid—not of him, but of herself, and the wild sweetness that swirled within, encouraging a response she was hesitant to give.
His tongue sought out every secret recess, every ridge, before lightly stroking her own tongue in an erotic dance that reached deep into her feminine core, unleashing emotions almost beyond her control.
She was slowly melting, awash in a sea of delicious sensation, totally unaware of voicing a faint murmur of regret as he slowly lifted his mouth from her own.
‘Into bed, querida,’ Alejandro bade firmly.
Within minutes of her head touching the pillow her eyes became heavy, and it was easier to give in to somnolence than fight it.
Alejandro stood for a long time in contemplative silence, his gaze dark and brooding as he surveyed her finely boned features, the sweep of blonde hair, the delicate texture of her skin, the long, thick eyelashes and the sweet curve of her generous mouth, softly swollen from his kiss.
A muscle tightened at the edge of his jaw, then he reached forward and switched off the lamp on the nearby pedestal before crossing to the other side of the bed to ease his long body carefully between the sheets.
Seconds later he snapped off his own lamp, and focused his attention on the shadowed ceiling.
THE heat of the summer sun was reduced to a comfortable level by the car’s air-conditioning, and Elise leaned back against the leather-cushioned seat as Alejandro slotted a disc into the stereo system.
‘This is a beautiful car,’ she commented with genuine appreciation as it swept noiselessly along the arterial road heading north.
‘A Bentley,’ he enlightened her, shooting her an amused glance.
‘It looks expensive.’ The words slipped out unbidden, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
‘A luxury that affords me pleasure,’ he responded in a soft drawl that sent a shivery sensation feathering down the length of her spine.
As I do? Is that all I am to you…a possession?
Permitting her thoughts to travel such a path was both fruitless and detrimental; it served no purpose.
‘You have been remarkably docile all morning,’ he relayed musingly. ‘I could almost believe you are treading eggshells.’
‘I woke early, and couldn’t get back to sleep,’ she proffered, for it was no less than the truth.
He slanted her a frowning glance. ‘You should have woken me.’
‘Why?’ She attempted a smile, and almost made it. ‘So we could both have lain awake?’ How could she tell him that she had experienced a gamut of emotions as she had watched him sleep? His strongly etched features had been barely visible in the darkness and then, as the dawn sky began to lighten the room, she had been held spellbound by the stark beauty of his countenance in repose. The harshness was gone, his jaw and mouth relaxed, and his lashes curled slightly, their length and shape dark and lustrous. Fascinated, she had wanted to reach out and place a finger against the edge of his mouth, to trace a slow pattern over the firm curve and watch him stir into wakefulness, to open his eyes and witness their warmth as he caught sight of her. Instead, she had feigned sleep the instant he looked like rousing, and only stilled the pretence when she had felt him rise from the bed.
Afterwards she had managed to dress herself, and on descending the stairs a startled Ana had immediately led her out on to the terrace to join Alejandro for breakfast.
‘The car I was driving…was it badly damaged?’
Alejandro slowed the Bentley to a halt at a set of traffic-lights, then turned to slant her a probing glance.
‘You