Modern Romance August 2018 Books 1-4 Collection. Tara PammiЧитать онлайн книгу.
two week honeymoon to get through.’ Tamsyn resisted the temptation to chew on her fingernails which had been varnished silver to match her toes. ‘Wasn’t that a rather unnecessary addition to this sham marriage?’
‘I told you. We don’t want to make it look like a stunt.’ He leaned back in his chair to study her. ‘And we can make this as easy or as difficult as we like.’
Tamsyn wondered if he was out of his mind. Didn’t he realise that there was a constant battle raging inside her? That while her head was telling her not to have sex with her new husband—her body was urging her in the opposite direction. Did Xan know that every time she looked at him she wanted to touch him, even though to do so would be madness. Or that at night she was haunted by the memories of his hard body thrusting into hers and giving her pleasure, over and over again? Running her trembling fingertip round the edge of her crystal glass, she struggled to find a neutral topic. ‘Manalena seems very sweet,’ she said at last.
‘She is.’ He took a mouthful of wine, his expression mocking her.
‘Why did she used to look after you? Did your mother go out to work?’
‘No. But motherhood appealed to her about as much as being poor, and she didn’t care who knew it. Including me, just for the record. She went to great pains to assure me that some women simply weren’t maternal, and she was one of them.’
His words were terse and he spoke them as if they didn’t matter but they told her a lot, mainly that his mother had been emotionally distant. Tamsyn nodded, wondering just how far she could push him—without stopping to ask herself why she wanted to. ‘Do you think that’s what made you so...’
‘So what, Tamsyn?’ he questioned sardonically as her words tailed off.
‘So... I don’t know.’ She straightened her napkin so that it lay at a ninety-degree angle next to her place-setting, just as she would have done if she’d been at work. ‘So anti-love and marriage...’
He shrugged. ‘That’s what the psychologists would say, I guess.’
‘And was it bad?’ she questioned suddenly, her heart going out to him despite telling herself that he didn’t need her sympathy. ‘Your childhood, I mean?’
‘Bad enough. But I happened to like the independence which came about as a result of having a mother who was never there for me. The thought of having to answer to someone every hour of every day filled me with horror and still does.’ His eyes were like dark blue ice. ‘In future all my bios will say, he was briefly married. And you, agape mou, will have liberated me from the expectation which society heaps on every wealthy man, that he is not complete until he finds himself a suitable wife. You will have done me a big favour, Tamsyn.’ His lips curved into a reflective smile. ‘And that in itself is worth the money I’m paying you to wear my ring.’
His mocking words effectively terminated the conversation, but it left Tamsyn thinking that maybe they were more similar than she’d imagined, despite the great difference in their lifestyles.
‘So what now?’ she questioned, aware that they couldn’t sit amid the debris of their wedding breakfast all day.
His eyes gleamed. ‘Now that you’ve made lunch last as long as you possibly could?’
‘I was hungry.’
‘Of course you were, agape mou,’ he agreed, silkily. ‘Hungry enough to pick at your food with marked indifference and then to push it around your plate? But your face is pale and your eyes strained, so I suggest you retire to the bedroom and take an afternoon nap. It’s been a long day.’
His words made sense because Tamsyn was tired. But the memory of that petal-strewn bed kept flickering into her mind and she knew she couldn’t keep skirting round the issue. In London she’d told him there was to be no sex and he needed to realise she meant it. But she couldn’t discuss the subject here—not with Manalena poking her beaming head around the door and asking if they’d like coffee.
Her husband declined the offer, his drawled response bringing an instant smile to Manalena’s face as she remained in the doorway, watching them. And when Xan walked around the table and held out his hand towards Tamsyn, she found herself taking it. She told herself she was doing this for the housekeeper’s benefit and maybe she was. But she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying the sensation of Xan’s strong fingers encircling hers, as he led her upstairs towards the master bedroom. Of course she was. Because in those few moments she felt safe. As if nothing could ever harm her so long as she was with this powerful and charismatic man.
And that was nothing but an illusion. She was nothing but a bought bride, to be disposed of as soon as possible.
She was shivering as he closed the bedroom door behind them, acutely aware of the intimacy of the enclosed space. She ran her fingertips over the wilting bouquet she’d placed on a nearby table and then, when there was no room left for prevarication, looked into his face. ‘Where am I sleeping?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Judging by the amount of petals which seem to have been offloaded onto the bed, I’d say right here.’
She shook her head, hating the sudden hot prickle of her breasts. ‘I told you I didn’t want any intimacy, Xan, so therefore it makes more sense for me to have my own bedroom.’
‘And if I were to grant you your wish, that would bring into question the validity of our marriage,’ he answered coolly. ‘Which kind of defeats the whole purpose of you being here.’
‘So we’ve got to share a bed?’
‘It’s a very large bed.’
‘I can see that for myself. But it doesn’t matter how big it is,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want...’
‘What don’t you want, Tamsyn?’
She stiffened as she heard the soft mockery in his voice. Was he going to make her spell it out? And if he was, so what? She was no longer the shrinking little virgin who had given herself to him one starry desert night, even if right now she felt like it. This man knew her like no other. He had kissed her lips and suckled her breasts. He had shown her how he liked to be touched and stroked and had then thrust deep inside her hungry body. He had seen her vulnerable in the midst of her orgasm. Had heard her stumble out his name in a choking cry as she tumbled over the edge. Surely that gave her the right to say what was on her mind. ‘Sex,’ she managed, her cheeks growing hot.
‘It isn’t obligatory to have sex with me.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not planning to demand my conjugal rights, if that’s what you’re worried about. Like I said, it’s a big bed.’
‘And you think it’s possible for us to lie side by side and, and...’ Her voice tailed off, unable to articulate the confusion of her feelings which were compounded by the sheer depth of her inexperience. Did he guess that? Was that why the look he slanted her seemed almost compassionate?
‘I think it’s possible,’ he said slowly. ‘It won’t be easy and it certainly won’t be enjoyable, but in the end the decision is yours, Tamsyn. Yet all you have to do is say the word and we could have one hell of a honeymoon.’
Her cheeks grew even hotter. ‘I don’t know how you can be...so...callous.’
‘And I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. You think every time a couple have sex, there has to be some great big emotion underlying it?’ His cobalt gaze seared into her. ‘Didn’t it ever occur to you that sexual gratification is just one of life’s fundamental pleasures, Tamsyn?’
Tamsyn was aware of a sudden emptiness. A disappointment. As if he’d just burst some invisible bubble. As if the stories women told themselves about happy-ever-after really were a myth. ‘And that’s all there is to it?’ she asked, in a small flat voice.
He shrugged. ‘It exists for the procreation of children, but that’s not going to be an issue for us, is it?’