The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
couldn’t he see she needed time to assimilate what had happened between them? That she was at war with herself, and in a constant state of flux at having succumbed to the dictates of her flesh?
In the light of day, all she could focus on was her own weakness. This man had betrayed her with another woman. Worse, that woman had borne his child.
At the time she’d dealt with it. But now, the very structure she’d carefully built was falling down around her ears.
She wanted to hate him, and told herself she did. But she hated herself more.
Katrina reached her room and closed the door behind her. There was no lock, and unless she dragged heavy furniture to bar the door, there was nothing she could do to keep him out.
She cast the double bed a pensive glance. She was darned if she’d just slip between the sheets and lie waiting for Nicos to join her.
There was little doubt that he would.
She could, however, make a silent statement. There were three other bedrooms upstairs. She’d occupy one of those in the hope it would add emphasis to her intention not to sleep with him.
Katrina chose a bedroom, selected linen and made up the bed, then slid wearily between the covers.
She should have been asleep within seconds of her head touching the pillow. Instead she lay staring into the darkness for what seemed an age, her limbs and mind as tense as a tightly stretched wire.
She told herself she didn’t, couldn’t, want him. Yet her body was a mass of contradictions as memory persisted in providing a vivid replay of what they’d shared the previous night.
It would be so easy to adopt a rational mindset where she simply enjoyed the intimacy of sex. Why not? a silent voice demanded. Just enjoy the intense pleasure of physical contact throughout the year she was forced to stay with Nicos, then walk away. Heart whole, with no regrets.
Impossible. She’d gifted him her heart, her soul, almost from the first moment they’d met. For months she’d thought she’d reclaimed them, but last night had proved beyond doubt they were his. Always would be.
She hated herself for it. Hated him.
A shaft of light pierced the darkness as the bedroom door opened, and her tense body became rigid as Nicos stood silhouetted in the aperture.
Katrina’s lashes fanned down. Maybe if she lay perfectly still he’d assume she was asleep.
She should have known better. Within seconds she felt the bed covers move, followed by the faint depression of the mattress as he slid in beside her.
How long before he reached for her? Five seconds, ten?
Minutes later she was still counting, and it took concentration to keep her breathing steady.
‘What do you plan?’ Nicos drawled. ‘A game of musical beds?’
Had he known she was awake? Or was he simply taking a calculated guess?
‘Don’t sulk.’
‘I’ve never sulked in my life,’ Katrina vented as she turned her head towards him, then wished she hadn’t, for he lay facing her, an elbow propped on the pillow.
With a fluid movement he reached out and snapped on the bedside lamp.
The light illuminated his features, and his dark gleaming gaze held a tinge of humour…and something else she didn’t care to define.
‘I’m trying to sleep.’
‘Without success.’
‘You don’t know that.’
He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, then let it trail down to the edge of her mouth.
‘Don’t do that.’
Her eyes were dark, the hollows smudged through lack of sleep, and she was pale. He felt her lips quiver beneath his touch, and saw the pulse jump at the base of her throat.
‘Tired?’
Heat began to flare in the region of her stomach, curling in an upward spiral, and she swallowed compulsively. ‘Yes.’
He leaned towards her and placed his mouth against the soft curve at the edge of her own. ‘Want me to do all the work?’
His hand trailed a path to her navel, paused, then travelled low to begin an intimate exploration.
‘You don’t play fair.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Is that a yes or a no?’
He possessed a skilled knowledge that brought forth a strangled gasp as she arched against him.
Nicos swept his tongue in an erotic dance with her own, nibbled at her lower lip, and absorbed the groan that rose from her throat.
He took it slowly, seducing her with a gentle touch, so that she simply held on and allowed him to lead a path to total conflagration. Hers.
Afterwards he held her close, his lips against her hair as he brushed light fingers back and forth along her spine.
SPRING was the traditional timing of the springtime gala dinner, hosted by one the city’s prominent fund-raising associations and headed by a media-conscious doyenne who utilised all her people skills to provide a glittering social occasion.
With so many worthy charities abounding, it was possible for the socialites to lunch and dine out with repetitive frequency, and many did. Others were more selective, choosing to grace only certain events with their presence.
Tonight’s soirée numbered high on the scale of derigueur attendances, Katrina acknowledged as she entered the grand ballroom of an inner city hotel at Nicos’s side.
It also entailed some tactful juggling between Siobhan, Andrea and Chloe, who would each be seated at different tables with their individual coterie of friends. Somewhere in that equation would be Paula and Enrique, who retained an intense dislike for each other, but who would for the sake of social etiquette concede to present a united front…whilst doing their best to avoid each other like the plague.
Add general interest by fellow guests as to the state of Katrina and Nicos Kasoulis’s reconciliation, and the evening resembled something akin to a trial by fire.
Years of practice as Kevin’s daughter ensured she chose a stunning gown in pale mist-grey with a bias-cut overlay in pale blue polyester chiffon. It moulded her slender curves like a second skin, flaring out from the knee to swirl at her ankles. Tiny beaded straps were a token gesture holding the bodice in place, and her jewellery was confined to a delicate diamond necklace, ear studs, and matching bracelet. Stiletto-heeled pumps completed the outfit. She’d swept the length of her hair into an elegant twist.
Time spent perfecting her make-up ensured her armour was in place.
Smile, Katrina bade silently. Facial muscle strain was a small price to pay for surviving the evening.
‘Preparing to do battle?’ Nicos murmured as he led her towards their designated table.
‘Can you doubt it?’ Katrina conceded. ‘There’s Siobhan,’ she indicated, and felt the brush of his hand at the back of her waist.
‘Andrea and Chloe are seated on opposite sides of the room.’
She offered him a winsome smile. ‘Then let’s go do the greeting thing in order of priority.’
It was a while before they took seats at their own table, and she had the feeling as the evening progressed that they were merely players on a social stage, each performing a scripted part.
Did that encompass Nicos’s solicitous attention? The touch of his