Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8

by Cathy Williams

  Except he’d been worried news of a ready-made family might deter Emma and he’d been utterly focused on putting his ring on her finger.

  ‘But since then I’ve been completely upfront. From the moment I found you in Corfu I’ve been utterly honest with you.’ Christo felt a bubble of mirthless humour rise. ‘So honest, it shocked you.’ The look of horror on her face when he’d mentioned sharing a bed had been both a blow to his ego and a spur to his determination.

  Emma opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head. ‘I told you we were going to the auction then to an exclusive restaurant so we could be seen together.’ Christo drew a slow breath, still finding it hard to believe he’d so lost control that he’d been unprepared when the limo door had opened.

  He never lost control. Never.

  ‘I also apologised and explained how it happened. I forgot to tell the driver to bring us here because I was concentrating on you. Specifically, how I was going to strip you bare and make love to every centimetre of that delectable body.’

  Emma’s shocked hiss was loud in the quiet room, reminding him that she was a sexual innocent. That didn’t excuse her accusations. Except that it was convenient for her to distort the truth.

  Christo stalked closer. She couldn’t hide the shimmer of nervous excitement in her eyes. But he wasn’t in the mood to play to her tune any more.

  ‘Tonight was an honest mistake. I have no more interest than you in having compromising pictures of us spread across the news. I prefer to keep my love life private.’

  Not that he had a love life now. Because he’d given his word not to push her. This woman drove him mad!

  ‘Don’t imagine conspiracies where there are none. I don’t operate like that, as you’d know if you’d paid attention lately.’ Christo drew in a calming breath, but to little effect. He was past the point of no return.

  ‘What’s between us is real, Emma, and I’m not talking about a marriage certificate. I’m talking about desire, lust, attraction—whatever you want to call it. You can’t run from it, though that seems to be your style. Instead of facing me after the wedding, you ran off like a hurt child.’

  Her mouth dropped open at the jibe but he kept going, driven by the need to slash through all the pretence.

  Christo closed the space between them, feeling the inevitable shimmer of awareness as he stepped up against her. It intensified to a riotous clamour as he touched his fingertip to her chin and tilted it up.

  Bewildered eyes met his and he might have felt sorry for her if her games weren’t driving him to the edge. It took every scintilla of control not to haul her close and kiss her into mindless abandon. No doubt then she’d claim he’d forced her. That she hadn’t really wanted him.

  ‘It’s time you faced what’s between us instead of pretending it doesn’t exist or inventing excuses not to trust me.’ Christo’s voice ground low as his patience frayed. ‘I’ve been patient. I’ve given you my name and my word. I want to give you my body too. But I won’t be the butt of your lame excuses or manufactured obstacles because you’re too scared to take what we both know you want.’

  He stepped away, ignoring the confusion in her face.

  ‘When you grow up, when you’re ready to follow through, let me know.’ Christo turned on his heel and strode away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EMMA WRENCHED OFF the taps and grabbed an oversized towel. The shower had done nothing to relieve her distress. Warm water usually relaxed her. But tonight the fine spray had needled her skin like Christo’s words needled her conscience.

  She hadn’t run away like a child!

  Had she?

  But why should she have stayed? He’d behaved monstrously, making her believe he loved her.

  Except most of that had been wishful thinking. He’d been considerate and kind to her, so she’d wanted him to love her because she’d fallen for him.

  As for making excuses or throwing up obstacles...

  Emma briskly rubbed the towel over her body. But instead of expensive plush fabric, it felt like sandpaper. Like the graze of Christo’s accusations.

  Firming her mouth, she stepped out and dragged off her shower cap. Her hair fell around her shoulders but, instead of its familiar weight, she imagined his touch, so strong yet so tender, as he held her to him and kissed her.

  Breathing heavily, she slung the towel over a rail and turned to get her nightwear. Except she’d been so furious and distressed, she’d stomped into the bathroom without grabbing anything to wear.

  As she turned the beautiful green dress, discarded over a chair, caught her eye. Then the exquisite jewellery on the marble bathroom counter, sparkling under the light so much she could almost imagine it winked mockingly. As if reminding her that tonight’s outfit wasn’t her style. She was no glamorous sophisticate. She and Christo didn’t fit.

  Or was she doing it again? Making excuses and manufacturing obstacles?

  Emma’s mouth crumpled and her heart dived towards the honey-toned marble floor as suspicion solidified into something like certainty.

  Christo had done the wrong thing, no doubt about that.

  But shouldn’t she at least have faced him and called him on that straight away? Shouldn’t she have had more gumption than to run and hide like a child?

  Misery curdled her belly. Her disappointment had been so acute, her heartbreak so painful, she’d needed to escape. But there was no escaping the complicated truth between them now.

  Christo was right. Remarkably, she wanted him every bit as much as he seemed to want her, physically at any rate.

  Desire fizzed in her blood whenever she saw him, or thought about him. But instead of doing something about it she’d looked for distractions to avoid facing it. Taking umbrage when she’d thought he’d brought a lover to the villa, though if she’d thought about it for even a second she’d have known Christo had more class than that. Accusing him of engineering that scene for the press tonight when that was laughable. Especially as she had perfect recall of his erection, steely hard against her hip.

  Christo hadn’t pretended to desire her. And she knew how vigorously he protected his privacy. One of his first actions after having found her in Corfu was to arrange perimeter security to stop intruders and prying press.

  He’d wanted her. Plus he’d made her feel wonderful tonight in so many ways. His interest in what she had to say. The pride in his voice as he’d introduced her, and the way he’d kept steering conversations away from people she didn’t know and into general areas so she could contribute. The warmth in his eyes as they’d shared amusement at some of tonight’s auction items.

  His possessiveness when men had got too close.

  Emma shivered despite the warmth of the steamy bathroom and realised she was still naked.

  Her gaze caught her reflection in the mirror that took up one wall. She was still the same old Emma. Not stupendous in any way. An average body and an ordinary face. Nice legs, she’d been told, but she’d always wished they were longer. As she’d wished for wheat-blonde hair and an elegant nose instead of one too close to being snub.

  The only real difference she saw, apart from hair a shade lighter from the Greek sun, was the way her eyes glowed. Had they been so bright before?

  It didn’t matter. What mattered was why they glowed.

  Christo. He had a talent for getting under her skin and making her feel more for him than she should. Once it had been love. She hurried to assure herself she was cured of that. What she felt was simple animal attraction.

  Inevitably her mind turned to the salacious, outrageous demand he’d made that first day on Corfu. That she spend at least one night in his bed to claim her inheritance.

  No matter how she’d told herself he couldn’t force her, she’d never been able to forget it completely. She wanted to be with him and that need to discover how it would be grew daily. As if the seed, once planted in her mind, had grown till it obliterated all else. Now was her chance to satisfying her craving and h
er curiosity. Then afterwards, if she wanted to, she could walk away.

  She shook her head. This wasn’t about her inheritance or Christo’s outlandish proposition. It was about satisfying her needs.

  What would she do? Run and hide, as he expected? Play safe and try to avoid him?

  Or throw herself into the fire and hope she survived?

  Emma knew a moment’s terrible self-doubt as inclination fought a determination to stand up for herself, not with words this time, but action.

  Then she grabbed a plush robe from a hook and shrugged it on, cinching it around her waist.

  The rap of her knuckles on the door of the master suite sounded over-loud. Emma waited, heart pounding, head tilted forward to listen. Nothing. Was Christo asleep?

  Surely not. They’d only parted twenty minutes ago.

  Firming her lips, she turned the doorknob and entered. Predictably the master suite was vast and luxurious. What surprised her was how comfortable it felt. She had an impression of parchment walls and splashes of rich teal that reminded her of the deep sea off Corfu on a sunny day. There was a book-lined wall and a leather lounge.

  But what drew her eye was the filmy curtain riffling in the breeze at the open door, and beyond it the tall shadow on the terrace.

  ‘Christo?’ With numb fingers she shut the door behind her. That was all the time it took for him to step inside.

  He still wore dress trousers but his tie was gone and his feet bare. Rolled sleeves revealed strong forearms that looked so good, her insides gave a needy leap. His formal white shirt gaped to reveal a slice of dark olive skin dusted with black hair that made her mouth dry.

  Emma had seen him almost naked in his swim shorts, but somehow that V of tantalising flesh seemed just as decadently tempting. She gulped and lifted her gaze, noting the way his hair stood up, as if he’d clutched it. And the glitter of dark, assessing eyes.

  ‘What is it, Emma?’

  ‘I came to apologise.’ She sucked in a quick breath. ‘I was wrong to accuse you the way I did. I’m sorry.’

  He pushed his hands into his trouser pockets, drawing her attention to his powerful thighs.

  ‘Apology accepted. Thank you.’

  Still he stood, simply watching.

  She couldn’t work out if that was anger emanating from him or something else. A voice in her head told her it was time to leave before she made a fool of herself or did something irreversibly dangerous.

  Instead she stood her ground. Adrenalin shot through her blood in a classic ‘fight or flight’ response to this big, bold, provoking man who watched her as if he had all the time in the world.

  ‘I didn’t think before I spoke,’ she offered.

  He inclined his head, as if that was obvious.

  Emma shifted her weight from one foot to another. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, was he?

  Finally he spoke. ‘It’s late. Was there anything else?’ His tone wasn’t encouraging. He made no move towards her and Emma knew a craven urge to whip round and escape to the guest room.

  But she was stronger than that.

  Or perhaps just needier.

  ‘Yes.’ The word emerged too loud. ‘I came because I want you to make lo—’ She stopped. That wasn’t what either of them wanted to hear. ‘I want to have sex with you.’

  Emma didn’t know what she’d expected but it was more than she got. Christo didn’t seem to move a muscle. Did he even blink?

  What was he waiting for?

  Then it struck her. She’d already said yes to him once tonight, only to turn on him after that mistake at the restaurant.

  Maybe words weren’t enough.

  Or—the devastating thought sliced through her—maybe he’d changed his mind.

  ‘If you still want me?’ Ignoring the slight unevenness in her voice, she lifted her chin.

  ‘I do.’ The two words in that slow, deep voice sounded like a vow. Her nape prickled as she recalled their wedding vows. Then she shoved the recollection aside. This was different. She felt that here, now, there was only honesty between them.

  Gathering her nerve, Emma paced forward, not stopping till they stood toe to toe.

  The heady scent of virile male tantalised her nostrils and the breeze through the open door stirred her hair. What she read in those smoky eyes made heat flare across her skin. The dazzle of hunger was so potent, so raw, it dried her mouth and made her tremble.

  * * *

  Christo read Emma’s nerves in her wide eyes and the racing pulse at her neck. She swallowed and he wanted to lick his way down her throat. He’d hungered for her for so long. He’d made allowances for her inexperience and hurt. He’d denied himself because he’d understood she needed time. Tonight his patience had reached its limit.

  Which was why he wouldn’t make a move till he knew she was absolutely committed. That she wouldn’t change her mind again.

  Swathed in an oversized bathrobe, Emma looked vulnerable, yet sexy and determined. It was a contradiction he didn’t understand but he was fast losing the capacity for thought as she stared up with that provocative pout and her body clearly naked beneath the towelling.

  He was torn between protectiveness and rampant lust.

  ‘Show me.’ His voice was a harsh whisper through lips that barely moved. His whole body ached from being held in check. From fighting the need to take.

  He blinked when she stepped closer. He felt her warmth against him, her breath a puff of heat against his chest as she reached for his shirt and began to undo it.

  Christo sucked in a desperate breath as her knuckles brushed his skin in a delicate, moving pattern designed to unstring his tendons and loosen his resolve. She leaned in and the honey scent of her hair infiltrated his brain, sending it into overload.

  Abdominal muscles spasmed at she reached his trousers and paused.

  Glowing eyes met his. Questioning eyes.

  ‘Are you sure?’ It cost him to speak. ‘If we start this there’ll be no turning back.’

  She dropped her hands and stepped away. Disappointment smote him, so severe, he tasted it like poison on his tongue.

  Christo was silently cursing his restraint when Emma tugged the belt of her robe. With a defiant tilt of her head, and a sensuous little shimmy that undid him, she let the material drop.

  Naked, she was perfection.

  Christo’s heart beat so fast, it tripped and stole his breath.

  Pale skin, pink nipples, and a V of darker hair nestling between her slender thighs, accentuating the impossibly sweet curve from waist to hips.

  He’d wanted her when she was a convenient bride, acquired for purely practical reasons.

  He’d been hot for her as she’d confronted him wearing only attitude and a blue bikini.

  These last three weeks he’d ached for her at an even deeper level, haunted by her laugh, her sweetness with Anthea and Dora and, tonight, with him. Even when she defied him and drove him crazy, it only raised the scale of his wanting.

  ‘Christo?’

  He dragged his gaze up and saw her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Hesitation in her eyes.

  * * *

  Emma was about to turn away when his eyes met hers and blue fire welded her soles to the floor. Heat drenched her and suddenly doubt fled.

  Big hands took hers and hooked them into the front of his trousers above the zip.

  ‘Don’t stop now,’ he drawled as he dragged that snowy shirt up from his trousers and shrugged it off, leaving her in possession of a view that dried her mouth.

  For ages she stared at the shift and play of bare, taut flesh over muscle. Then her brain kicked into gear and onto the task of undoing his trousers. It was tricky, possibly because her hands shook.

  Finally, with a sigh that swelled her chest, she got them undone, but not before her knuckles brushed the tantalising length of his erection. She shivered, trying to imagine herself accommodating all that hardness. But the shiver wasn’t all anxiety. Mostly it was excitement
.

  His trousers fell to the floor and still Christo stood, unmoving. Swallowing, Emma crooked her fingers into the top of his boxers and slid them down. The place between her legs throbbed with heat as she watched the reveal of yet more golden skin. Then his shaft sprang free and she jumped, staring.

  As if reading her moment of panic, Christo lifted his hand to her cheek in a butterfly caress that eased her riot of nerves. But the riot started again as his finger trawled down, over her chin and collarbone to her breast, where delicately he circled her nipple. Emma shifted, trying to assuage the edgy sensation inside when his other hand captured hers and brought it against him.

  ‘There’s nothing here to be afraid of.’ His voice wound around her as his eyes held hers.

  Instinctively her fingers curled round his length, slowly exploring the fascinating velvet over steel combination. At the movement, Christo’s eyes flickered, the corners of his mouth pulling down as if with tension. Gripping a little tighter, she slid her hand again and watched that tell-tale drag of his lips.

  The realisation that she did that to him boosted Emma’s confidence.

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  But her smile ended in a gasp as his other hand flirted across her thighs, then slipped between her legs, right up against folds that felt swollen and wet. Gently he slid his fingers down, arrowing to the exact spot where sensation centred. He pressed, and she jolted as a current of electricity snapped through her.

  Emma swayed forward, needing more, almost sighing with relief when his hand at her breast opened to mould her more firmly. In answer her fingers tightened around Christo till he murmured, ‘Easy,’ and she loosened her hold. Needing more, she planted her left hand on his chest, solid with muscle and tickly with that smattering of dark hair.

  His heart beat steadily beneath her touch, the rhythm reassuring as she found herself in completely new territory.

  The big hand between her legs moved again, sending sparks showering through her, then dipping even further till one finger slid home and Emma gasped at the shocking unfamiliarity of it. But shock turned to eagerness as he withdrew, then slid home again, evoking wonderful sensations. She found her pelvis rocking with the movement.