Demanding His Secret Son

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Demanding His Secret Son Page 15

by Louise Fuller

He breathed out unsteadily, knowing now how difficult it would have been for her to admit how vulnerable she was—how difficult it must still be.

  ‘You’re an incredible person, Teddie, and your father was a fool not to see that. You deserved better than him.’

  He brushed his lips against her forehead, the gentleness of his touch making her melt inside.

  ‘You deserved better than me.’

  Reaching up, she rested the back of her hand against the rough stubble of his cheek and his arm tightened around her.

  ‘I never meant to hurt you,’ he said. ‘I just wanted it to be different with you.’

  ‘Different from what?’ she asked.

  He frowned. It was the first time he’d ever spoken those words out loud. The first time he’d really acknowledged his half-realised thoughts to himself.

  ‘From what I imagined, I suppose.’

  She glanced down into the pool and then back up to his face, her expression suddenly intent. ‘What did you imagine?’

  He hesitated, his pulse accelerating, but then he remembered her quiet courage in revealing her own painful memories and suddenly it was easier to speak. ‘My parents’ marriage.’

  Her green eyes were clear and gentle. ‘I thought you said it was civilised?’

  His mouth twisted. ‘The divorce was civilised—mainly because they had nothing to do with it. But the marriage was positively toxic. Even as a child I knew my mother was deeply unsatisfied with my father, their friends, her home...’

  He paused, and she felt the muscles in his arm tremble.

  ‘And me,’ he said.

  Teddie swallowed. She felt as though she was sitting on quicksand. Aristo sounded so certain, but that couldn’t be true. No mother would feel that way. But she knew that if she was upset George always worried that he’d done something wrong...

  ‘She might have been unhappy, but I’m sure that didn’t have anything to do with you. You’re her son.’

  He flexed his shoulders, as though trying to shift some weight, and then, turning, he gave her a small, tight smile. ‘She has two sons, but she prefers the other one. The one who doesn’t remind her of her mediocre first husband.’

  Her hand fluttered against his face and she started to protest again, but he grabbed her fingers, stilling them.

  ‘When I was five she moved out and took an apartment in the city. She left me behind. She said she needed space, but she’d already met Peter by then.’

  Catching sight of Teddie’s stunned expression, Aristo felt his throat tighten. But he had told her he was going to be honest, and that meant telling even the most painful truths.

  ‘It’s fine. I’m fine with it.’ He stared down at the water and frowned. ‘Well, maybe I’m not. I don’t know any more.’

  Teddie stared at him uncertainly. Her own mother had been hopeless, but she had never doubted her love—just her competence.

  ‘But she must be so proud of you—of everything you’ve achieved. You’ve worked so hard.’

  His profile was taut. He was still like a statue. ‘Yes, I work. Unlike my half-brother, Oliver, who has a title and an estate. Not that it’s his fault,’ he added. ‘It’s just that her feelings were more obvious after he was born.’

  His voice was matter-of-fact, but she could hear the hurt and her chest squeezed against the ache of misery lodged beneath her heart.

  ‘But you like him?’ she said quickly, trying to find something positive.

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t really know him. He’s seven years younger than me, and I was sent to boarding school when he was born. I guess I was jealous of him, of how much love my mother gave him. I’ve spent most of my life trying to earn that love.’

  Her fingers gripped his so hard that it hurt, and he smiled stiffly.

  ‘She left my father because she thought he wasn’t good enough, and I guess I thought all women were like her—always wanting more, wanting the best possible version of life.’

  ‘I never wanted that,’ she said quietly.

  The crickets were growing quieter now as the evening air cooled.

  ‘I know. I know that now,’ he corrected himself. ‘But back then I suppose I was always waiting for you to leave me. When I came back from that trip after we argued about you giving up work, and you’d gone to see Elliot, I overreacted. I convinced myself that you were lying. That you didn’t just want space.’

  He could still remember how it had felt—that feeling of the connection between them starting to fade, like a radio station or mobile phone signal going out of range so that there would be periods when they seemed to skip whole segments of time and conversation. He’d been terrified, but it hadn’t been only the sudden shifting insubstantiality of their relationship that had scared him, but the feeling that he was powerless to stop it.

  ‘I did just want space.’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘I wasn’t leaving you.’

  ‘I know.’ He pressed her hands between his. ‘I’m to blame here. I was so convinced that you’d do what my mother did, and so desperate not to become my father, only I ended up creating the perfect conditions to make both those things happen.’

  ‘Not on your own, you didn’t!’

  He almost smiled. ‘Now who’s being nice?’

  She struggled free of his grip, clasping his arms tightly, stricken not just by the quiet, controlled pain in his voice but by what they had both pushed away four years ago.

  ‘I was lonely and unhappy but I didn’t address those problems—I didn’t confront you. I ran away just like when I was a teenager.’

  ‘I’d have run away from me too.’ His face creased. ‘I know I wasn’t a good husband, and that I worked too hard, but it was difficult for me to give it up because work’s been so important to me for so long. I didn’t understand what it was doing to you—to us—but I’ve changed. I understand now, and you’re what’s important to me, Teddie—you and George.’

  She wanted to believe him, and it would be so much easier to do so now, for she could see how her panicky behaviour must have appeared to him.

  Last time the spectre of her parents’ marriage—and his parents’—had always been there in the background. They’d both been too quick to judge the other. When the cracks had appeared he had overreacted and she had run away.

  Her eyes were blurred with tears as she felt barriers she had built long before they’d even met starting to crumble.

  Maybe they could make it work. Maybe the past was reversible. And if they both chose to behave differently then maybe the outcome would be different too.

  Aristo reached out and drew her closer and she splayed her fingers across his chest, feeling his heartbeat slamming against the palm of her hand.

  ‘Please give me a second chance, Teddie. That’s all I’m asking. I just want to put the past behind us and start again.’

  His gaze was unwavering, and the intensity and certainty in his eyes made her heart race.

  ‘I want that too,’ she said hoarsely. ‘But there’s so much at stake if we get it wrong again.’

  She thought about her son, and the simple life they’d shared for three years.

  ‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘But that’s why we won’t get it wrong.’

  If he could just get her to say yes...

  She hesitated, her green eyes flickering over his face. He felt a first faint glimmer of hope, and had to hold himself back from pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she agreed.

  ‘This time it will be good between us,’ he said softly. ‘I promise.’

  Her head was spinning. It was what she wanted—what she’d always wanted. He was all she’d ever wanted, and she’d never stopped wanting him because she had never stopped loving him.

  From the moment she’d chosen him to walk up onto that stage, his intense dark eyes and even darker suit teasing her wi
th a promise of both passion and purpose, the world had been his world and her heart had belonged to him.

  Her pulse fluttered. Around her there was a stillness, as though the momentousness of her realisation had stopped the crickets, and even the motion of the sea.

  She searched his face. Could it be possible that Aristo felt the same way?

  Looking up into his rigid, beautiful face, she knew that right now she wasn’t ready to know the answer to that question, or even to ask it. She still hadn’t replied to his marriage proposal—and, really, why was she waiting? She knew what she wanted, for deep down it was what she’d never stopped wanting.

  ‘Yes, I’ll marry you,’ she said slowly, and then he was sliding his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, kissing her deeply.

  And there was only Aristo, his lips, his hands, and a completeness like no other.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHIFTING AGAINST THE MATTRESS, Teddie blinked, opening her eyes straight into Aristo’s steady gaze. It was the last morning of their holiday. Tomorrow they would be back in New York, and they would spend their first night as a family in what she thought of as the real world.

  It was three days since she had agreed to become his wife—again—but even now just thinking about it made her breath swell in her throat.

  She loved him so much—more, even, than she had before. Four years ago she had been captivated by his perfection. Now, though, it was his flaws that had enslaved her heart, the fact that he could feel insecure and trust her enough to admit it.

  ‘What time is it?’

  She stretched her arms slightly, her eyes fluttering down the line of fine dark hair on the smooth golden skin of his chest to where it disappeared beneath the crumpled white sheet. His hand slid over her stomach and she felt something shift and spiral down in her pelvis.

  ‘What time do you want it to be?’

  His finger was tracing the shape of her belly button, and suddenly she was struggling to speak.

  ‘Early,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then you’re in luck.’ He gave her waist a gentle tug, pulling her closer so that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

  Leaning forward, he kissed her softly, brushing his lips against her mouth, then down her throat and back to her mouth, and she pulled him closer, her fingers splaying over his shoulder as he stretched out over her.

  He pushed inside her, gently at first, easing himself in inch by inch, then with more urgency. He breathed in sharply, his face taut with concentration, and she knew that he was having to hold himself back. She shivered, enjoying the power she had over him.

  As though sensing her thoughts, he swore softly under his breath and then rolled over, taking her with him so that she was lying on top of him. Reaching up, he covered her breasts with his hands, playing with the nipples, feeling them harden, his dark eyes silently asking for and receiving her unspoken consent as he grasped her arms and pinned them against her body.

  And then his mouth closed around her nipple, nipping and sucking at it fiercely, moving to the other breast until he felt her arching against him. He heard her gasp and, lifting his mouth, gazed up at her flushed cheeks, his dark eyes narrowed and glittering.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘I want to watch you.’

  Teddie rocked against him. She could feel the impossibly hard press of his erection, could feel him growing thick, then thicker still, and she rocked faster, guiding his movement, wanting the merciless ache inside her to be satisfied.

  Groaning, he let go of her arms, pulling her closer for more depth, driving into her until she began lunging forward, her whole body shaking as he tensed against her, his muscles clenching in one last breathless shudder.

  Afterwards, they lay sprawled against one another, bodies damp and warm, fitting together with a symmetry that seemed to her as miraculous as any magic trick. The morning light was growing sharper, and soon they would have to get up, but for now it felt as though the beating of their hearts and the soft shadows at the edge of the room were holding back time.

  Lifting her fingers, he flattened her hand against his. ‘“And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss”,’ he said softly.

  Tilting her head back, she looked up at him, her green eyes widening. ‘Are you quoting Shakespeare?’

  She felt her face grow hot and tight. Despite privately acknowledging her feelings for Aristo, something still restrained her from telling him that she loved him. Of course, she’d rationalised her behaviour, arguing to herself and to her conscience—in other words, Elliot—that the baseline of her love needed no public announcement or reciprocation.

  Only occasionally did she wonder if it had more to do with a fear of how he would react.

  Either way, it was getting harder to stay quiet—particularly if he added an ability to quote romantic lines to his armoury of charms.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t look so surprised. I don’t just sit hunched over my laptop drooling over my bank balance. I have seen the occasional play.’

  His fingers were lazily caressing her hip, and her breath caught as his lips brushed her collarbone. She leaned closer. He was so wonderfully sleek and warm, and the ceaseless rhythm of his fingertips was making it difficult for her to concentrate.

  ‘So you like Romeo and Juliet?’

  ‘Of course.’

  His eyes gleamed, and she could hear the smile in his voice even before his mouth tugged upwards.

  ‘Although I always thought there was scope for a sequel, where the paramedics arrive with an antidote.’

  She held his gaze. ‘You think they deserved a second chance at happiness?’

  ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ He stared down at her intently, and she felt her pulse accelerate.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ she said lightly. ‘You can’t quote Shakespeare and then look at me like that.’

  Glancing down at her naked body, he groaned, and she felt him harden against the soft curve of her buttocks, felt her skin tighten in instant uncontrollable response.

  ‘You’re in no position to talk about fairness.’

  Shifting forward, she slid her hand over his stomach. ‘Who said anything about talking?’

  * * *

  Later, body aching, muscles warm and relaxed, she lay curled on her side, listening to the splash of water as Aristo showered. Outside, nothing was moving, and the faded crescent of last night’s moon hung in the washed-out sky, a pale, fragmented twin for the blush-coloured sun that was starting its morning ascent.

  She felt incredibly calm—and happy. There was hope now, where before there had been only doubt and fear and two damaged people circling one another. She knew Aristo now—not just as a lover but as a man. She knew where he came from, the journey he’d made to reach her, and he knew her journey too.

  And from now on it would be their journey.

  Her stomach flipped over as he walked back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his sleek, honed torso. His body looked as though it had been spray-painted bronze, and she lay breathless with heat and longing as he stood in front of the open doors, sunlight falling on his bare shoulders.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said without turning.

  She blinked, her fingers clenching guiltily against the sheets. ‘Like what?’

  He walked towards her, and the single-minded focus in his dark eyes made a sharp, tugging current shoot through her.

  He didn’t answer, just dropped onto the bed beside her and leaned over, sliding his hands over her waist, pulling her body closer, kissing her, opening her mouth and, just like that, she was melting on the inside all over again.

  Groaning, he lifted his mouth and rested his forehead against hers. ‘You’re not making this very easy for me...’ he said softly. He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe we have to leave for New York this evening.’

&n
bsp; Curling her fingers underneath the edge of his towel, she pulled him gently onto the bed beside her. ‘Is that a problem?’

  He sighed. ‘I just want to stay here with you for ever.’

  She rubbed her face against his cheek, then shifted against the pillows to meet his gaze. ‘I want that too, but...’

  ‘But what?’ Reaching out, he ran his fingers through her hair, wrapping it around his hand, drawing her head back, letting his eyes roam hungrily over the length of her throat. ‘We could easily stay a couple more days—a week, even.’

  She stared at him, her head spinning. Did he even realise the full magnitude of his words? It wasn’t just that he was offering to stay on the island but that he was prepared to neglect his business to do so.

  Her heart was thumping. She’d been trying to ignore it, but their imminent return to reality had been ticking away in the back of her mind like a timed explosion, waiting to go off.

  For the last few days she had been sublimely happy. They’d hardly spent a moment apart, and Aristo had never been more attentive, but part of her hadn’t been able to help but wonder if that would change when the plane touched down in New York. If his promise of change would disappear along with the sand in their shoes.

  Now, though, she realised that—incredibly—he had meant what he’d said, for he had just given her the proof she’d been subconsciously seeking that she didn’t need to measure her happiness in days or weeks any more.

  ‘We could...’

  Sitting back, he studied her face assessingly. ‘You’re turning me down?’

  Green eyes flaring, she nudged him with her foot. ‘I don’t want to wear you out. I mean, you’re not as young as you used to be—’

  She broke off, yelping as he grabbed her foot and jerked her towards him, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

  ‘Is that right?’

  His fingers began sliding up her legs, over her ankles, moving lazily over her skin, and she breathed out unsteadily, feeling her body tighten in response.

  ‘Of course I want to stay...’

  She hesitated. Her job had always been such a contentious issue between them, but she couldn’t run away this time. More importantly, she didn’t want to.

 

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