Love Islands…The Collection. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘I’ve learned that I shouldn’t accept lifts from strangers.’
She tried to twist her hand away from his but he tightened his grip, pulling her towards him so that her body was pressed against his.
‘But I’m not a stranger. I’m your husband.’
And, lowering his head, he kissed her again. She felt the same pull as before, the same ache, only stronger, more fervent, and she moaned softly.
‘Come away with me, Addie.’ His eyes were dark and fierce and compelling. ‘There’s things we need to talk about alone. Just the two of us. Please—say yes.’
She pressed her hand against her swimming head, staring at him helplessly, hazy with wanting him, with needing him, and then finally she nodded, for the sexual attraction between them was irrefutable, so why keep trying to suppress it?
‘Say it!’ His hands captured her face. ‘I want to hear you say it.’
She hesitated. If she half closed her eyes and her mind to the tiny, nagging voices in her head, she could almost absolve herself from any responsibility for her actions.
Her breath tangled in her throat. But if she spoke, if she went into this now, agreed to this deal, then she would do so knowing that Malachi didn’t love her.
She shifted in her seat. Maybe it would be easier that way. There would be no more broken hearts and shattered dreams. In fact dreams would come true for the children who learned to trust and hope and believe again through music. The charity she had founded, which had brought passion and pride back to her life, would grow and prosper. And maybe she needed to own this decision unlike last time when she’d been dazzled and docile and always one step behind.
Determinedly, she lifted her chin. ‘Yes. I’ll come away with you.’ Her employee Carmen was always begging her to take a break. She would be happy to cover for her.
She felt the car slow as he kissed her again, his hands stroking her hair. Then, breaking the kiss, he looked down at her, his face catching the light so that her breath caught in her throat at the absurdity of his perfect cheekbones.
‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’ Despite the teasing smile, his eyes were serious.
Her heart gave a lurch and she almost laughed out loud. Of course it was too late. It had been too late ever since that letter had turned up in her in tray.
Shaking her head, she lifted her chin. ‘No. You’re right—we do need to talk. Besides, I could do with a holiday.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘You might need another one after we get back. This one could be quite...strenuous.’
Before she could reply he leaned forward and tapped on the window. And she felt the car stop.
Stepping onto the pavement, Addie looked up at the sky. The rain had stopped and a small, pale sun was edging out from behind the clouds.
She turned to face him, feeling suddenly awkward. ‘So what happens now?’
Reaching out, he pulled her against him, sliding his arms around her waist, and the touch of his strong hands made her heart slam against her ribs.
‘You go inside and pack,’ he said mockingly. ‘We leave on Monday.’
‘Monday!’ She stared at him in shock, her ears buzzing.
He nodded. ‘My driver will pick you up at nine. Try not to keep him waiting too long.’
Addie was starting to feel somewhat overwhelmed, both by the speed of these arrangements and this unsettling reminder of Malachi’s wealth.
But, determined not to show her discomfort or lack of sophistication, she merely nodded. ‘Leave for where? New York? France? The moon?’
Even to her own ears her voice sounded high and petulant, and she blushed as he laughed softly.
‘The Caribbean. I own an island there—off Antigua.’ Glancing at her astonished expression, he grinned.
‘Y-you own an island?’ She had given up trying to play it cool. ‘What kind of island?’
‘The usual kind.’ He gave her a slow, teasing smile. ‘White sand. Palm trees. Paradise on earth.’
Her head was spinning; questions were flying in every direction. But he was already back in the car.
‘Wait!’ Stepping forward, she hammered on the window, her breath churning in her throat as it slid down.
He leaned forward, a teasing smile on his handsome face. ‘What’s the matter? Are you missing me already?’
She frowned. Away from his touch, with the cooling breeze on her skin, her head was clearing. ‘I need to know what to pack.’
He laughed, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s a honeymoon, sweetheart. You don’t need to pack anything at all!’
IN THE TINY bedroom of her apartment, Addie stood staring despairingly at the half-empty holdall on her bed. She had woken early and, after nearly an hour of lying in the darkness, had finally got out of bed with the intention of being calm and collected by the time Malachi’s car arrived to pick her up. Yet somehow she wasn’t anywhere near ready and, pushing down the swell of panic rising inside her, she sat down on her bed with a thump.
It was all happening so fast—too fast. Three days ago she hadn’t seen or spoken to Malachi for five years. Now she was going away with him for a month. Alone. Today. This morning.
The thought was like a jolt of electricity passing through her body, and mechanically she began to fold her clothes and pack them in the bag.
After Malachi had driven off she’d felt exhausted—almost as though she’d just completed some arduous Herculean challenge. Lifting her hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the bruising heat of his kisses.
Frankly, Hercules had it easy! She’d take defeating monsters any day over trying to resist the charms of her husband who, in his own devastating way, could cause the same mayhem and misery as any three-headed dog. Unlike the three-headed dog, however, he didn’t serve some angry god. He was entirely self-serving and always, however reasonable he appeared, got exactly what he wanted.
Although, to be fair, she had wanted it too. Her cheeks grew warm. More than wanted it. It had been frantic, unstoppable, an almost primeval surge of need to feel his hands on her body again, his mouth on her mouth...
And he’d been the one to pull away, and it was only later that she’d realised how close she’d come to letting him make love to her in the back of his car.
It had been a shock to discover just how much she still wanted him. But a bigger shock was the realisation that instead of shame or regret she’d felt almost elated by what had happened. Elated and aroused. She bit her lip. Since splitting up with Malachi her job had more or less taken over her life. Sometimes she went to the gym, or met friends after work. But mostly she just ate her dinner on the sofa before falling into bed alone. There certainly hadn’t been any romance.
Only now she was going to spend a month on a private Caribbean island. With Malachi. A man whose touch had tormented and tamed her.
She breathed out slowly.
She was almost certainly going to regret this trip. But those few snatched moments of release in the limousine had at least proved to her what she’d known but denied for so long. That she wasn’t completely over Malachi; that in some intangible, incomprehensible way she still felt married to him.
She winced. Put like that, it sounded mad. But she wasn’t living under any delusions. This ‘honeymoon’ wasn’t some last-ditch attempt to save their relationship. Quite the reverse, in fact. It was a coda: