Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
His voice was like dark chocolate on her frayed senses. His hands still pressed against her bare skin.
‘I was just looking.’ Her voice came out huskier than she’d intended.
‘It’s funny, I keep telling myself the same thing.’ He moved one fingertip up her arm, tracing her collarbone lightly. ‘But then I keep doing this whenever I get the chance.’
Nicole swallowed hard at the sensation his hands on her bare skin evoked. Her shoulders felt tingly and loose, and the feeling was moving steadily downwards. If one touch could make her feel like this, she wondered what his lips might feel like. The thought surprised her, making her angry at herself, angry at him for starting this.
She turned around.
He took a step closer, his hand dropping back to his side. ‘I’d imagine you’re used to men acting like fools around you.’ His mouth turned down at the corners.
Nicole laughed nervously at the ridiculousness of that statement, pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear. ‘Last year in Paris was a first for me. With you.’
He had no idea just how telling that statement was. It had been a first. He had been the first. Not that she would ever fully admit that to him.
Rigo smiled. ‘You’re good at telling me what I want to hear.’
She tried not to let her wounds show as he took one single step, bringing the heat of his chest almost flush against hers. What was he doing? Her hands reached up to his shoulders, intending to push him away. He was like a wall of hot steel, moulded against her. She could feel the sheer power of him through his suit jacket, barely contained. She arched her head back, knowing she was inviting more but not managing to care. His head lowered, his lips touching the delicate skin beneath her ear. Nicole shivered, arching her neck to give him better access. He kissed a trail of fire down her neck and along her bare shoulder.
‘I’ve been fantasising about this since I saw you tonight,’ he whispered against her ear, nipping the skin lightly. ‘Probably long before.’
She wished he would stop talking so that she could give in to this completely. She suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to lay her down on a bed so that she could jump into this delicious fire completely and forget about everything else.
But she wouldn’t do that. Still, she knew she wouldn’t have an excuse to touch him again after tonight. If this was to be goodbye, then she was going to make it count.
She leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was soft...curious, even. His hands captured her hips, pulling her close against him. She could feel every hard plane of his body through the thin lace of her dress as he held her trapped in the circle of his arms.
She wasn’t sure when he began to take control of the kiss, but by the time she realised it he had already gained full steam. She followed his lead, their tongues moving against each other in a steady rhythm. They feasted on each other for so long she almost forgot to breathe, vaguely aware of him guiding her towards the wall behind them, pushing her back flat against it.
His hands cupped her bottom through the lace of her dress as he continued to take possession. She gave as good as she got, holding the front of his shirt in her grip and nipping his lower lip with her teeth. This was fast heading out of her control, but she didn’t have the will or the inclination to stop. It felt much too good to walk away just yet. She wanted to see if the reality of him matched up to the memories she had of their night together. It was like stepping back into a dream. She had kissed him first that night, too.
That thought stopped her.
Nicole broke away, pressing her hands against his chest. This was just as bad an idea now as it had been the first time. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. She moved away from him, stepping back to the balcony ledge as if the distance might somehow dampen the smouldering heat she could still see blazing in his eyes.
Rigo smiled at her, but it wasn’t a smile at all. There was no hint of playfulness in his gaze.
‘This isn’t a game, Nicole.’ He leaned back against the wall, watching her. ‘I won’t be used as a distraction for whatever is going on in that head of yours.’
‘I’ll take the blame for that one...’ she breathed, straightening the material of her dress and holding her arms around herself in the sudden cold breeze.
She remembered the reason they had come up here in the first place—the conversation with her mother. She felt adrift once again.
‘So you were saying you’re not going to marry me?’ he said coldly.
Nicole bit her lip at his abruptness. ‘I can’t. Not now that I know...’ She shook her head, a shiver running down her bare arms. The temperature was certainly a few degrees lower at this height, but that was only half the reason she felt so cold.
Rigo sighed, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth movement and offering it to her without a word. She accepted it gratefully, draping it around her shoulders and instantly regretting the decision. The material was still warm from his body heat, and it smelled so divine it made her head spin. It was a sin to smell this good... It did funny things to her insides.
‘Are you upset about your mother’s arrival?’ he asked. ‘Or is this still about the paparazzi’s questions?’
‘Just leave it,’ she pleaded, feeling cold dread pool in her stomach at the memory of what her mother had revealed. ‘It’s none of your concern.’
‘It is, actually. I can’t risk you snapping at photographers when we’re trying to build an image together. No matter what they say to provoke you.’
‘I wish I had snapped, Rigo.’ She shook her head. ‘All I did was try to stand up for myself for once. And in the end I walked away.’
‘In my experience, silence is sometimes the safest option.’
‘Maybe I’m tired of being quiet. Maybe I’m over having my options taken away from me.’
She thought of her mother’s manipulation, cold shame pooling in her veins. They were so different. He had been raised to value his privacy and had always chosen when to disclose his affairs. From the moment she’d been born her mother had used her to promote her own publicity. She had done her first photo shoot when she was four days old, her first solo interview at the age of three. She had been raised at the end of a camera lens.
‘Is that actually what you think this marriage is?’ His voice hardened. ‘Nobody backed you into a corner, Nicole.’
‘I cared too much about the implications. I thought I was making the right choice.’
‘You cared too much?’ He laughed—a cruel sound. ‘If I had known I was agreeing to marry a martyr perhaps I would have chosen another option.’
Nicole fought against the stinging emotion in her throat. His words were a cruel reminder that this entire relationship was nothing more than a sham. There was no way he could know how much she truly cared. Not just about her daughter, or about what the media said about them, but about what he thought of her, too.
It was ridiculous. After all the times he had hurt her in the short time they’d known one another he still had a strange hold over her emotions. From the moment they’d met she had felt it—that need for him to see her for who she really was. And for a few short hours she had honestly thought he had. But then, as always, reality had come crashing in and he had looked at her with the same scorn that everyone else heaped upon her.
She should just reveal her mother’s deception right now. It wouldn’t change his opinion of her anyway. No matter how hard she tried to step away from her past it was never going to be enough.
She stepped away from him, bracing her hands on the cold stone balustrade that overlooked the entire city. A tear fell to her cheek and she hastily brushed it away. She wouldn’t let him see how deeply his words cut.