Love Islands…The Collection. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.
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When he finally entered her she was a screaming mess of pleasure-soaked nerve endings. The sensation of him moving inside her, beautifully filling her, driving her deeper into herself, making her aware of her own body, made the slow-burn fuse he had lit simply explode.
Coming back to earth was a gentle, warm feeling of contentment. She turned with a lazy smile to him. ‘You really didn’t miss anywhere. In fact you went places I didn’t know I had.’ Before pressing her face to his chest and falling asleep—no nightmares this time.
‘What does a man have to do to wake up beside you in bed?’ He made it sound like a joke, but it was deadly serious. When he’d woken at the crazily early hour to find nothing but the lingering perfume of her body in the space beside him, his sense of loss had been profound.
Lily picked up the freshly brewed pot of coffee, her expression staying composed as the sight of him standing there looking rumpled and utterly gorgeous with his feet bare, his jeans unbelted and his shirt open dismantled her nervous system cell by cell.
‘I need to get back to the hospital.’ She looked at the spoon in her hand and didn’t have a clue how many spoonfuls of sugar she’d already put in so she thought, What the hell? And added another.
The horrible taste was something for her to focus on as he stepped further into the room wrapped in his aura of rampant sexuality.
‘Last night,’ she began, relieved that her words had halted his progress. If she aimed to keep the table between them, and of course didn’t think about him throwing her on top of it and making love to her, it would be fine. Totally fine.
She had this worked out. There was no way she was going to lay herself open to the accusation of romanticising what had happened; she planned to get in there first.
He arched a brow and opened the fridge. ‘I’m listening.’
‘It was what I needed, so thank you.’ She saw a look that was close to shock chase across his face—or was that relief? she wondered miserably. ‘But I won’t be requesting sympathy sex every night.’ Request sounded a lot better than beg.
Ben, who had raised the carton of milk to his lips, had a choking fit. He turned, wiping a drip of milk off his chin.
‘So is that what you think last night was?’
‘Relax. I’m not going to start talking about deep and meaningful experiences.’ Having him spell it out would have been too humiliating and embarrass them both. This way, even if he didn’t believe her, she retained her dignity or what she had left of it—she had begged him! Disbelief mingled with toe-curling self-loathing. What had happened to her pride?
Still, at least she had managed to stop short of telling him she loved him, she reminded herself, focusing on the positive and how she could downplay it now.
‘It was sex, pretty excellent sex—’ She couldn’t stop her eyes flying to his face as she added with a husky question mark, ‘I think?’ Lara wouldn’t be asking, she’d be telling him; she’d be... She wasn’t Lara.
He thought of the peace and sense of belonging he had found in her arms, in her body, and brought his lashes down in a concealing sweep. ‘I think too.’
He put the carton back in the fridge and looked at her, his blue eyes still partially veiled by his crazy, gorgeous lashes as he lounged against the open stainless-steel door. ‘Awkward, isn’t it?’
Lily struggled to inject some sincerity into her smile, but as a person who had once reduced a drama-school teacher to tears with her interpretation of a tree she suspected she was doing a really pathetic job.
‘Not at all, I’m fine. It’s forgotten.’
Resisting the temptation to make her eat her lying words—or at least him—he closed the fridge with a bang that made her jump and turned back. ‘If I did believe you, I’d be insulted,’ he teased.
She missed the teasing note and her eyes widened in dismay. ‘No, I didn’t mean—you were marvellous!’
‘Don’t stop. It was just getting interesting.’
‘That is, last night was...intense and with all the things going on I...that is...this is—’
‘Awkward, like I said.’ He passed a hand across his jaw, grimacing at the thick stubble. ‘I suppose you rang the hospital already?’
She nodded. ‘Everything’s fine, but—’
‘You want to get back. No problem, just give me five minutes to shower and you can think about my cure for the awkwardness.’
‘What cure?’
He swung back. ‘Oh, didn’t I say? We should get married. Think about it?’ he said, as if he’d just asked her to decide if she wanted meringue or sticky toffee for her pudding.
LILY STOOD THERE for a full minute not thinking. Her brain barely breathing before she reacted, the time lapse meant he was in the bedroom they had shared the previous night before she reached him. Enough time for him to strip down to his boxers.
‘For goodness’ sake put some clothes on,’ she said, struggling to keep her eyes above waist level. The boxers left very little to the imagination and hers had already gone into overdrive.
‘I don’t shower dressed.’
‘And I don’t appreciate your sense of humour,’ she countered resentfully. ‘What the hell was that down there?’
His grin flashed and he dropped his gaze down his own body. ‘I’m insulted you have to ask. I kind of thought it was pretty obvious.’
Her face burned as she dragged her eyes to face level. It was. ‘I meant downstairs...in the kitchen.’
‘A proposal of marriage?’
‘It would serve you right if I said yes,’ she hissed back, spitefully thinking, Lara got a man who stopped a plane to propose to her and I...I get a joke? She bit down on her quivering lip and thought, I don’t want dramatic gestures. I want one little word—love.
‘I hope you do, Lily.’
She stared, her eyes widening as she searched his face for any sign of deceit. ‘You’re not serious!’ But she could see he was and she felt scared, excited and appalled all at the same time. ‘Why?’
There was only one answer that, to her mind, was a reason for contemplating marriage—it wasn’t the one he gave.
‘I don’t want my daughter to be brought up by another man.’ Keep the woman you love close and the woman you want to convince you love her closer... He thought in all modesty that it worked better than the original he had shamelessly borrowed from.
This comment reduced her excitement levels and brought her crashing down to earth with a bang. ‘You’ve nothing to prove to me, Ben.’ She thought she was concealing her terrible disappointment pretty well. ‘You’re a good father.’
His brows knitted as he struggled to follow her line of argument and understand the odd flatness in her voice. ‘I’m not trying to prove anything.’
She pasted on a smile. ‘We’ve gone way beyond that. The last few weeks you’ve been a rock.’
He gritted his teeth over his frustration at her response. ‘I don’t want to be a rock. I want to be your husband.’
‘No,’ she contradicted. ‘You want to be Emmy’s dad, you want to do the right thing and please your grandfather.’