The Virgin's Debt To Pay. Louise FullerЧитать онлайн книгу.
virginal state. And it was beyond humiliating that the first man she should feel lust for was the last man who would ever look at her like that.
She’d often wondered why she’d never felt particularly roused by other boys’ kisses at university, and her lack of response had earned her a reputation of being standoffish. She’d closed inwards after that, choosing to avoid exposing herself and risk being mocked.
Nessa made the bed as clinically as she could, ignoring the faint dent near the centre that indicated where he slept. When she was done she made one more sweep of the rooms to make sure she hadn’t missed anything and collected all the cleaning materials. She stepped inside the bedroom one last time to run her eye over the now-pristine bed and was about to step back out and shut the door when something caught her eye outside.
She went over to the window, putting the basket down for a moment. The view took her breath away; the sun was setting over the gallops, bathing everything in a lush golden light. There were no horses being exercised now, but Nessa could remember how it felt to harness a thoroughbred’s power as it surged powerfully beneath her. There was a wide window seat and Nessa sat down, curling her legs underneath her, enjoying the view for an illicit moment.
Nessa suspected that she knew exactly why she had avoided physical intimacy until now. Their mother’s death had profoundly affected everyone in her family: Iseult had grown up overnight to become their mother and much more, and the boys had gone off the rails in their own ways but had always turned to each other. Even though Nessa was a twin to Eoin, they’d never had that bond people spoke of.
Their father had gone to pieces.
But Nessa had been too young to do much but internalise all of her own pain and grief, too acutely aware of everyone else’s struggles to let it out. She’d always been terrified of what might come out of her if she did. It had been easier to retreat emotionally, and concentrate on her dreams of being a great jockey.
But sometimes the pain in her chest—her unexpressed grief—took her breath away. And sometimes, when she looked at her sister Iseult with her husband and she saw their incredibly intimate bond, she felt envious of that relationship, even as it made her heart palpitate with fear. She couldn’t imagine ever allowing herself to love someone that much, for fear of losing them. For fear of the devastation the loss would cause.
Up until now she’d avoided sex because getting close to someone had seemed like too high a price. And yet, when she thought of Luc Barbier, the last thing on her mind was the emotional price.
* * *
Luc was tired and frustrated. He’d spent the last three days working intensively with one of his brightest hopes, a horse called Sur La Mer. He was due to race in a few weeks in France but none of his jockeys seemed capable of getting the horse to perform to his maximum ability. Luc would ride the horse himself if he weren’t six feet four and two hundred pounds.
Luc was also frustrated in a far more difficult area—sexually. It was not a state he was used to. He didn’t do sexual frustration. He desired a woman, he had her and he moved on.
But only one woman had dominated his thoughts in France. Nessa O’Sullivan. He’d gone to a glitzy charity auction in Paris that was abounding with beautiful women. Not one had piqued his interest. Instead he’d found himself wondering what Nessa would look like out of those jeans that seemed to be shrink-wrapped to her taut thighs. Or the series of worn T-shirts that did little to conceal her lithe body and firm breasts. Or what her hair would look like teased into luxurious waves, rippling down a bare back.
Dieu. He cursed himself as he strode down the corridor to his bedroom, relishing the prospect of a cold shower and bed.
But when Luc opened the door to his bedroom all of his instincts snapped onto high alert. An old habit from when his environment had spelled danger from sunrise to sunset.
He saw the basket of cleaning supplies first, on a table near the door. And then he saw her and his breath stopped in his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
She was curled up on the wide window seat, fast asleep. Her knees were leaning to one side, and her head was leaning against the window as if she’d been looking at the view of the gallops.
He moved closer and his hungry gaze tracked down over her body—he was disappointed that she wasn’t wearing the jeans and T-shirt combination that had enflamed his imagination. She was wearing the plain black trousers and black shirt that all his household staff wore. Flat, functional sneakers.
The shirt had untucked from her trousers, and he could see the tiniest bare patch of her waist and her paler than pale skin. Blood roared to his head and groin in a simultaneous rush.
He was incensed at her effect on him, and at his growing obsession with her.
As if finally becoming aware of his intense scrutiny, she shifted slightly and Luc looked at her face to see long dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks for a moment before her eyes opened sleepily. He watched as she slowly registered where she was, and who was in front of her.
Her cheeks flushed and those huge eyes widened until all he could see was dark, golden green. He wanted to slip right into those pools and lose himself...
A tumult raged inside him as she looked up and blinked innocently, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He might have almost believed for a second that she hadn’t planned this little set-up.
‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ He looked her over slowly and thoroughly, fresh heat flooding his veins when he saw the thrust of her breasts against the shirt. It made his voice harsh. ‘You would have been much more comfortable and made it easier for both of us if you’d stripped naked and waited in my bed.’
NESSA LOOKED UP at Luc Barbier, who was towering over her with a dark scowl on his face and stubble on his jaw. For a blessed foggy moment, just before the adrenalin kicked in, his words hung harmlessly in the air between them.
His hair was tousled, as if he’d been running a hand through it, and he was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, revealing a glimpse of dark skin. Awareness sizzled to life, infusing her with an urgency she felt only around him.
And then his words registered. It was like an electric shock or a slap across the face. Nessa was wide awake, and she scrambled off the window seat to stand on wobbly legs.
Her hair was coming loose from where it had been piled messily on her head to keep it out of the way. She was thoroughly rumpled, she smelled of cleaning products and he really thought...? Bile rose in her throat.
‘How dare you insinuate such a thing?’ Her voice was scratchy from sleep and she was burningly aware—even as she said that—of how bad this looked. She cursed herself for allowing her weariness to get the better of her.
Luc’s head reared back, arms folded across his chest. ‘I walk into my bedroom and find a woman, pretending to be asleep, waiting for me...like I said, they’re usually in my bed and wearing a lot less but the message is essentially the same. They’re here for one thing.’
Nessa was speechless at his sheer arrogance. Eventually she managed to get out, through waves of indignation and far more disturbing physical reactions, ‘Well, I hate to burst your ego bubble but that was the last thing on my mind. I was cleaning your room, then I sat down for a minute and I fell asleep. I apologise for that. But I did not come here to...to...’
He raised a brow. ‘To seduce me?’
Before she could respond to that, he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I might as well tell you now that kinky role-play doesn’t really do it for me. I’m a traditionalist that way. When I make love it’s intense, thorough and without the need for embellishment.’
A flash of heat went up Nessa’s spine to imagine just how intense his lovemaking would be. Little beads of sweat