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Australia: Gorgeous Grooms. Trish MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.

Australia: Gorgeous Grooms - Trish Morey


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anger building inside him. ‘He hit you.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘More?’

      ‘Some,’ she admitted, and heard the breath hiss between his teeth.

      That any man could hurt her … dammit, harm her physically and emotionally enraged him. Yet if he showed any sign of it, she’d retreat even further behind the barrier she’d erected in self-protection.

      She needed time to trust him, and he could give her that … even if it killed him to do so.

      Meanwhile, it wouldn’t be difficult to discover the date of her first marriage, and uncover any hospital records … if any of her injuries had required hospital attention.

      It became a matter of importance he discover as much as he could about what had transpired during her brief marriage. Better that, than push her for details she was reluctant to share.

      For how else could he help resolve her issue with intimacy without all of the facts?

      ‘If it’s okay with you,’ Alesha managed quietly, ‘I’d prefer not to go into it any more tonight.’

      This morning, he amended.

      So where did they go from here?

      With extreme care on his part.

      The immediate agenda had to be a return to bed.

      Soon the sky would begin to lighten, the birdlife stir and twitter with sound, and car engines would herald workers begin their trek to commence an early shift.

      Dawn’s break would bring men and women out for their early morning run, and the day would begin.

      Sunday indicated recreation and relaxation for some. The beach, time spent cruising the inner harbour waters, following cultural pursuits, entertaining guests, sporting activities.

      Maybe she’d give Lacey a call and suggest they share part of the day together. Shop a little, linger over a latte at one of their favoured cafés.

      There was pleasure in the thought, and a sense of encroaching drowsiness … something she fought, unaware of Loukas’ thoughtful gaze as her eyelids slowly drifted down.

      For several long minutes he viewed her softened features, noted her even breathing, then he rose quietly to his feet and carefully lifted her into his arms.

      She didn’t stir, and he carried her easily into the house, reset security, then he took her upstairs to their room.

      He breathed in the clean smell of her hair combined with the soft drift of her perfume, and tamped down the stirring of desire.

      Feelings he hadn’t expected to experience, born from an emotion he consciously chose not to explore.

      The covers were thrown back on the bed Alesha had occupied, and she uttered a faint protest as he relinquished his hold.

      With easy economical movements he shed his jeans, tee shirt, snapped off the bed-lamp and slid into bed beside her.

      With extreme care he enfolded her slender body close in against him, felt her stir, and he soothed a hand over her hair … again and again, until a soft sigh emerged from her throat and she relaxed against him in sleep, her cheek resting into the curve of his shoulder.

      He could offer her safety, and hold her through the night. Be there for her, and help soothe her fears.

      Of the many social functions Alesha had attended in the past, tonight’s fundraiser took precedence, and was one in which she maintained a personal interest.

      Children who’d suffered abuse at the hands of those who professed to love them. Adults, whose trust they deserved, yet failed to receive. The varying shades of grey to the deepest black, covering circumstances too grim for the average person to comprehend.

      Tonight a few children’s plight would be highlighted in order to touch the guests’ hearts and persuade them to give generously.

      Alesha chose a black bandage-design gown that hugged her slender curves and showcased delicate-textured skin. She confined jewellery to a slender gold necklace with matching ear-studs and bracelet, and black killer heels completed the outfit.

      Minimum make-up, with emphasis on her eyes, she opted to leave her hair loose in a soft feminine style.

      The event drew a pleasing number of guests, and she stood at Loukas’ side sipping champagne, acutely aware of his close proximity.

      He portrayed the man he was … sophisticated, urbane, highly intelligent, successful. And he wore the verbal labels with ease, comfortable in his own skin with little, if anything, to prove.

      And he was hers.

      Well, not in the truest sense … yet. She bore his name, wore his ring, and she … liked him.

      Admit it, you find him stunningly attractive. Sexy … incredibly sexy, she amended. And there was a part of her that craved the intimacy she instinctively rejected.

      So why did she feel as if she were treading eggshells, aware she consciously watched everything she said, every action, in case it was misconstrued.

      At work, home, and on social occasions such as this when she played the part of recently married happy wife.

      A young woman who, by all accounts, should be ecstatic to be bedding one of the most eligible men on planet earth.

      ‘Penny for them?’

      She tilted her head and gifted him a teasing smile. ‘Not for sharing, at any price.’

      Loukas’ mouth curved a little, and the hand resting at the base of her spine brushed a light trail up her back to linger at the lower edge of her nape.

      Sensation spiralled through her body, and it took conscious effort to hold his dark gaze.

      Dear heaven, she was almost flirting with him … for real. Not the best idea, given the tenuous quality of their relationship.

      Yet it was fun, almost safe. Although was it? If you played with fire, you tended to get burnt.

      So chill, and don’t risk conflagration.

      Their table was well placed, the company stimulating, and the food delectable.

      The speeches held a poignancy that speared her heart, and her eyes clouded … for she could envisage so much more than the mere words conveyed. At one point her fingers tightened into a fist, and her lacquered nails dug into her palm. No one should be a victim of abuse … dear heaven, especially never a child.

      Almost as if he sensed her torment, Loukas placed his hand over hers until she released her grip. His silent presence and strength comforted her and she gave him a tentative smile and returned his hold on her hand, suddenly glad he was there with her this evening.

      The entertainment for the night comprised a designer fashion showing, with elegant models parading the catwalk, followed by an auction of the garments with a generous percentage gifted to the charity.

      It lightened the evening, with the auctioneer really getting into the swing of it, encouraging bidders to raise the stakes.

      One gown caught Alesha’s interest, a deep red silk with spaghetti straps attached to a beautiful ruched bodice and a soft floor-length tiered skirt.

      Loukas indicated his bid, and escalated it by increments until it reached an exorbitant amount and the one remaining bidder pulled out.

      Alesha leaned towards him and said in a subdued but scandalized voice, ‘Are you crazy?’

      ‘It’s a worthy cause.’ His voice held a teasing indolence as he brushed his lips to her temple. ‘And the gown is perfect for you.’

      Oh, my. For an instant the room and everyone in it faded into nothing as his eyes locked with her own, and something violently sweet coursed through her body.

      His mouth curved


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