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‘It’s early.’ She sounded as if she hadn’t spoken in years.
‘You thought I’d stay there when you left me this?’ He lifted his hand, flipping the place card in his fingers.
‘I didn’t mean for you to miss the party.’
He gazed at her, his expression dark. ‘I’m not.’
‘How was the wedding?’ she asked, suddenly nervous about his answer.
‘Beautiful.’
She bit the inside of her lip—anything could be read into the way he’d said that. And suddenly she needed to know exactly what he was feeling. ‘Do you still love her?’
Liam put his hand flat against her belly and gave her a little push so she stepped backwards. He followed and then carefully closed the door behind him. Only then did he turn and face her. ‘There’s a part of me that will always love Aurelie.’
Victoria pressed her lips together, trying to stay strong and not let that stupid, unwonted hurt at his words show.
‘She was as different from you as I could get,’ he said. ‘It should have been the perfect set-up. She was busy with her career, happy to let me get on with mine. We met up whenever our schedules let us. It was fun—and carefree. I thought it was all I needed and all she wanted. But she became unhappier, wanted more. Then one day she called to say she’d met Marcus. I wasn’t heartbroken—in fact I was happy. We were more friends than we were lovers. And I’m happy to see her so happy. I’m not hurt.’
Victoria released the breath she’d been holding—the blockage in her throat eased. ‘For what it’s worth, I think she’s crazy to marry someone else.’
Her words dropped between them—leaving a sudden silence in their wake. She bit her lip, holding back from admitting more.
‘I couldn’t watch you marry him.’ His voice was so soft it was almost a slur.
Victoria’s breathing quickened as she tried to hold back the emotional storm building inside her. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. They should be in a tumble already. ‘Because you knew I was making a mistake.’ It wasn’t because her marrying Oliver had hurt Liam. Not really.
‘You both were. You weren’t the right woman for Oliver.’ Like a statue, he remained a few feet from her. But his soft words carried as clear as the sound of a glass shattering on a stone floor. ‘Why didn’t it work out?’
‘You know why,’ she said simply. ‘That I even looked at you?’
‘So why did you say yes?’
‘How could I say no to him? How could I humiliate him in front of everyone? And I wanted to please him, to please all of them…’ She swallowed. ‘They cast Stella out. She became nothing to them. I didn’t think I could cope with being nothing. Having no one.’
He stepped forward, his eyes not leaving her face. ‘Would that have happened?’
It had happened—almost. While she wasn’t as shunned by her parents as Stella was, it wasn’t far off. The relationship was icy; they disapproved of her current choices. Blamed her.
‘He was supposed to have been the safe bet,’ she answered in a sad whisper. But he was human. As much as she.
‘I’m sorry,’ Liam said.
‘Don’t be.’ She smiled. ‘I learned lots. And I like this me better than the old me.’ She had some backbone now. She had her plans.
‘He was an idiot.’ Liam’s expression clouded. ‘I’d never have done that to you. Never would.’
‘No.’ She actually managed a laugh. ‘You’d never have married me in the first place. You’ll never marry anyone.’
His lashes dropped. ‘You’re right.’ He lifted his head and intently looked at her again. ‘But I’d never cheat on you.’
She believed him. He had honour. All those years ago he had wanted, he had asked, but ultimately he had resisted. There was no real reason to resist now. She touched her tongue to her lips, her mouth dry. She wanted this conversation to be over. She wanted what she’d always wanted from him.
Touch.
He stepped closer still and she felt his magnetism pulling—urging her to move nearer too. But he still didn’t reach for her.
‘Why now?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want to make the same mistake.’ The mistake had been not saying yes to him.
‘Are you sure?’
‘You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.’
‘I thought you didn’t do one-night stands?’
‘I can’t fight it any more.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘It’s what I want.’ She wanted to be released from the passion that imprisoned her—that made her think of nothing and no one else.
He looked at her—his gaze lifting to her hair and then down her body. That old smile tugged one corner of his mouth.
‘What have you been doing?’ He lifted a finger and pressed it against her forehead and then pulled it away and held it in front of her eyes. A sparkle of gold glinted on his finger.
She wiped her forehead herself and looked at her fingers, grimacing wryly when she saw more of the sparkles on her hand. ‘I’ve been working on a poem for an anniversary. Using gold leaf.’
‘What anniversary?’
‘Fiftieth—the golden.’
‘Wow.’ He nodded.
‘Yeah.’ She smiled. ‘It’s a lovely poem too.’
‘You’re not tired from Aurelie’s work?’
Of course she was.
His smile quirked. ‘You’re a gold-flecked angel.’
‘I’m not that much of an angel.’
He traced the spots of gold on her face with his finger and then leant forward, pressing his lips to each marking. ‘You’re gilded.’
Victoria shivered and took a step back. She hadn’t expected such tenderness and didn’t know if she could handle it. She wanted fast, furious passion—carefree, right? ‘You’re just feeling soppy because you’ve been to a wedding.’ She reached for his belt buckle, her intention clear. ‘Enough talking.’
‘No.’ He grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, locking them behind her back. It forced her chest right into his so she wasn’t exactly disappointed. But why was he saying no?
His gold-flecked brown eyes drilled into hers. ‘I’ve wanted this for a long time and even though we have only one night, I’m not going to have it over in five seconds. I’m not going to just strip you and screw you and walk out the door two minutes later.’
She swallowed, sure he could feel her heart pounding against him.
‘I’m going to take my time and I’m going to savour every second I have. Don’t plan on sleeping any tonight.’
Oh.
He didn’t take his eyes off her and she couldn’t drag hers away, not when his eyes were deepening so quickly— and inviting. ‘Is that a problem?’
She shook her head, unable to make a sound.
He released her wrists, lifting his hand to cup her jaw. ‘Why have you changed your mind?’
‘I think I was wrong and you were right,’ she whispered. ‘This is…passion.’ She chose her word carefully. ‘And I think it needs to be dealt with.’
‘You think you can deal with me?’
That old arrogance brought back her smile. ‘I think for one night. Yes. I can deal with you.’ She had to.
His eyes flicked to her hair. The way he looked at her made her so hot. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to go slow and savour; she thought she might incinerate first. She needed to cool off. And suddenly she was conscious of the ratty shorts and tee she had on—and the even rattier cotton robe she’d shrugged on as the evening cooled. ‘I was going to shower.’
‘Later,’ he said, his voice husky.
His fingers traced over her skin—her jaw, down her neck—causing her to shiver even though she was hotter than she’d been in her life. She drew in a deep breath and shifted her feet—so restless.
‘Slow,’ he reminded her with a smile.
‘I don’t want slow.’
He kissed her neck, his teeth giving her a scrape before his tongue and lips soothed the sensitive spot. ‘Yes, you do.’
Frankly she wasn’t going to be able to do slow if he kept touching her like this. She was embarrassingly turned on already, suddenly desperate for him to be inside her. She wanted that intimacy—and that orgasm—right this second. She inhaled deeply and stepped back. ‘Let me undress you.’
His eyes widened. ‘I want to. I have to. Otherwise…’ She trailed off. ‘Okay,’ he answered. ‘If that’s what you want.’
She wanted so many things, but doing this first might help her settle into it.
She started with his jacket, working one sleeve and then the other. He bent his head as she passed in front of him, briefly brushing a kiss on her jaw. She glanced up at him and smiled but said nothing. Slowly she undid the buttons on his shirt and opened it to reveal his chest. Sleek, hewn muscles, smooth strength. The kind of definition that was only built from daily training. And sweat.
Yeah, the guy was fit. So fine.
She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath and she released it now in a harsh sigh. He was silent now too but his chest rose and fell a little faster than it had before. His belt was leather and soft and her fingers struggled to work the fastenings. But he didn’t offer to help and she was glad. She wanted to do it all, discover it all.
She dropped to her haunches as she pulled his trousers down. He wore clinging black boxers beneath, fortunately made from that stretchy stuff as they were straining now. She slid her hands into the waistband. She pulled out the elastic, sweeping the boxers wide past his erection and down his muscled thighs. He stepped out of them. On her knees she glanced back up at him—practically agog at the magnificence of him.
‘Now you’re the one overdressed,’ he said roughly. She didn’t care. She just wanted to put her mouth on him.
But he drew in a hissing breath and stepped forward, bending to haul her to her feet.
‘My turn.’ He didn’t smile. He looked tense.
He pulled the belt of her robe right through until he’d tugged it completely free. She glanced at the length hanging in his hand. ‘What do you plan to do with that?’
‘I know how to tie knots.’
‘Yeah.’ She knew that; he’d had her in knots for a long time now.
But he tossed the belt to the side. ‘This time, I want to feel your hands on me.’
But another time he wanted to tie her up?
‘Ditto.’ She glanced at the belt. ‘But just so you know, I know how to tie some knots too.’
‘I’m sure you do.’ He stepped closer and took the hem of her tee in his hands. His fingers were trembling. She didn’t think he could fake that.
In a second her shirt was over her head and had landed somewhere on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra—often didn’t at home. So now her painfully tight nipples were bared and screaming out for his touch.
He’d frozen—staring at her. She put her hands to the fastening of her shorts—that got him moving.
‘No.’ He put one hand over hers and pushed them out of the way.
He undid the button and slipped her shorts down. Then, so slowly, he slipped her thin knickers down too.
She stepped out of them both. For a fleeting moment she was surprised she wasn’t more self-conscious. But how could she be when he was on his knees looking up at her like that? He reached out, putting strong hands on her legs—one just above each knee. She stilled, her legs parted.
‘You’re even more beautiful than—’ He stopped, suddenly pressing close, his tongue swiping over her. She cried out and bent forward to put her hands on his shoulders for balance. Instinctively she pressed her hips close to him again.
It wouldn’t take much for her to orgasm. Another touch? It was crazy how close she was just from being stripped by him. But suddenly she didn’t want that—to come in a nanosecond. He was right to want to take this slow—to savour it. To indulge fully and finally complete what had been started so long ago. But she wouldn’t feel as if it was complete until—unless—he was right there with her, every step of the way.
She wanted him to feel this as strongly as she was.
‘I want to come when you’re inside me,’ she said in a quavery voice. ‘When you come too.’
His hands tightened on her legs as he lifted his chin, kissing her right there again. But then he stood, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close.
‘I’m not entering you until you’ve come.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘You heard.’
She snapped her spine and tilted her chin to look into his eyes. ‘Well, I’m not coming until you’re in me and on your way yourself.’
A smile stretched across his face. ‘Gonna be a fun night, isn’t it?’
She rose onto tiptoe and kissed him—openmouthed, wet, demanding. He shifted, widening his stance so he could keep them upright as she thrust against him, pushing her weight onto him. She could feel his erection slammed against her belly. She felt the way he kissed her back—as hot, as hungry, his hands sliding over her body, touching every part of her.
She smiled. So much for slow.
He lifted his head; his own smile was wicked. He kissed her again and his hands went to her breasts. She gasped at the touch. He didn’t dive straight for her nipples, instead he cupped the full weight of her breasts, gently pushing, fingers circling. She felt the tug deep inside as he kissed her again. The guy had the most incredible sense of rhythm—sweet, carnal torment.
