Slowly she’d turned. The smile she’d given him was one of sheer bliss. ‘Never.’
‘No, Mummy! You can’t leave me!’ He’d hurled himself at her, wrapping his arms tight around her legs. ‘Please don’t go!’ Tears had scalded his throat. Each breath had been choppy as his lungs laboured against the dreadful weight that constricted his chest.
‘Stop hanging off me, you little brat, and get this through your thick skull,’ she’d yelled angrily as she whacked him across the head and tried to prise his arms from their hold on her legs. ‘I don’t want you. I never wanted you and I wouldn’t have ever had you if your father hadn’t paid me to give him a son. I’m going somewhere I never have to put up with your snivelling again.’
His heart had splintered. He’d just about choked on his tears.
‘Look at you! You’ve got disgusting snot running from your nose. Get up, Logan and try not to be such a bloody little sissy. I can’t believe I gave birth to such a pathetic little shit.’
‘Please Mu…Mummy, I’ll be good. Please don’t leave me…I promise, I promise to be g…good. I’ll do whatever you say.’
She’d shoved him so hard he’d crashed into a Grecian statue that graced the opulent hallway. It had smashed and he’d cut his hand on it.
She hadn’t cared.
Tears scalding his eyes, he’d watched her pick up both her suitcases and walk out without a backward glance as his breath came in great shuddering sobs. She’d known it was the housekeeper’s day off, but she’d still walked out. His mother had left him completely alone, his heart aching, and it hadn’t even bothered her. He’d just found out she’d never loved him at all.
All mothers loved their children, didn’t they?
What was so unlovable about him?
When he’d finally paid his hand some attention, he’d registered that something small was under it. Turning his hand palm up he saw that he’d crushed the beautiful ladybird. Hot tears had streamed down his cheeks again. He’d killed that pretty creature but he hadn’t meant to do it. It’d been an accident. It must’ve happened as he’d fallen. He really was bad. No wonder his mother didn’t love him.
He hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. His limbs had felt too heavy and his heart too sore, but he’d started crying in earnest. Crying for his mother and shedding tears as well for the pretty little insect he’d meant to give to her. For what must have been hours, he’d prayed that his mother would come back and vowed that he could be the little boy she wanted him to be.
Darkness had fallen and he’d still sat huddled next to the base of the broken statue. Blood from his cut hand had stained the top of his shorts. It had flowed for a long time before it had stopped.
It was late by the time his father had come home from work and Logan had started to feel hungry, yet he was also too paralysed by his grief to move.
His father had taken one look at him and said, ‘Where’s your mother, boy?’
‘She…she le-left Daddy.’
The only other memory he had of that night was the look of blazing accusation and contempt from his father’s eyes as he yelled, ‘What did you do that made her go?’
‘Logan, what is it?’ Sophie’s voice penetrated the nightmare he was reliving.
He looked down into her gorgeous green eyes. Eyes that were full of concern for him. She must have witnessed the various emotions flitting across his face as he remembered his anguish from that day. A child’s guilt and shame.
‘You know all about the devastation of losing your parents, Sophie, but they were taken from you in an accident. I had to live with the knowledge that my mother chose to walk away from me and that she’d never wanted me in the first place. My father paid for a son. God knows why, because once he had me he never showed any interest in me.’
She leaned into him and there was comprehension in her expression. ‘Did you blame yourself for your mother leaving? Did you think it was your fault your parents’ marriage didn’t work out?’
The laugh he gave was full of bitterness. ‘Not only did I blame myself, but my father blamed me. As if it wasn’t devastating enough for me to have my mother walk out on me and tell me she never wanted to see me again, my father asked me what I’d done to make her leave. He thrashed me that night, took off his belt and took every bit of his frustration and anger out on me.’
‘Oh my God! That’s dreadful. He abused you.’
‘Yeah.’ He hadn’t even cared about Logan’s hand or the sight of blood on his clothing. ‘The next day his personal assistant drove me to boarding school and I hardly saw him again.’
‘No child should ever have to deal with that.’
No. Every child should be loved, and that was exactly the reason he was hell-bent on getting Charlotte away from her self-serving, pathetic excuse for a grandmother.
‘It must’ve been horrible for you to be sent to boarding school when you were so vulnerable.’
‘Sending me to boarding school was probably the best thing he ever did. That’s where I met Scott and we became best friends very quickly.’ Emotion rose again in his chest. It was taking quite some time to come to terms with Scott’s death.
‘Did your father keep abusing you over the years?’ Her voice was quiet, her expression pained.
‘No. He pretty much ignored me. I still don’t understand to this day why he would have nothing more to do with me when he’d apparently paid my mother to give him a child.’
A shudder shook her frame. ‘The pair of them should be strung up. I can’t believe what they put you through.’
‘I don’t think my father could bear to look at me because I was a constant reminder to him of his first failed marriage. Maybe he was hoping that a child would bring him and my mother closer together. I don’t know, and I’m beyond caring now. I never knew my father well, but neither of his children ever mattered to him. Perhaps having a son and a daughter ticked the boxes in life he’d drawn for himself. All I know is that he seemed to define who he was by having a trophy wife glued to his side.’ He shook his head. ‘The only time he seemed remotely happy was when he was in the first glow of a new relationship. I vowed I would provide my own happiness and would never count on anyone else to make me feel good about myself.’
Sophie was silent for a few seconds seeming to mull over his words. Then she asked, ‘Is he still alive?’
‘No. He died a few years ago.’ He shrugged. ‘I came home for the funeral, but that was only for Melissa’s sake.’
Sophie’s gentle touch on his cheek was a balm to his soul. ‘Was Melissa from another marriage?’
‘Yeah. Her mother turned out to be every bit as money-grabbing as mine had been. My father could really pick them.’
‘It’s no wonder you’re so committed to giving Charlotte a secure childhood. It sounds like your own was hell.’
‘Boarding school wasn’t so bad once I’d made friends with Scott. Holidays were pretty tense, and once Melissa was born I tried to be there for her, because the moment her mother walked out, our father didn’t want anything more to do with Melissa either.’
‘And you’re determined not to be like your father.’
‘Right.’
‘Oh, Logan. I don’t think you’re anything like your father and you never will be.’
Not if he could help it.
She raised herself on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth insistently over his. On a groan of need, he pulled her against him. He recognised that Sophie poured everything she had into her kisses. Every movement of her lips against his, every sweep of her tongue conveyed her empathy, her need to heal him and obliterate all his bad memories away. It worked. All his traumatic thoughts were sucked up and forgotten as a fierce tornado of desire whipped through him. All he knew was need for this woman who reached out and seemed to touch and connect with his very soul.
‘The nanny…you’ve hired…for Charlotte…isn’t home, is she?’ Sophie asked between kisses.
‘We’re all alone, sweetheart.’
She groaned her satisfaction at his response and her fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt. In record time, they were both naked in his new kitchen, a pile of clothes at their feet.
‘Just one more thing.’ The fancy hairpiece holding her hair up simply had to go. Finding it, he exerted a little pressure on the clip and it opened up to let all her gorgeous wavy red hair spill down her back.
She arched an eyebrow and smiled. ‘You wanted me to let my hair down?’
‘All the way, honey.’
Logan’s hands were compelled to drift over the softness of Sophie’s body while his mouth melded with hers, tongues tangling, lips seeking to give and receive pleasure. His fingers smoothed across her back and down her spine under the thick curtain of her loose hair. He loved her hand-span waist and the flare of her hips. Her silky skin was a stark contrast to his limbs. She was beautifully feminine and curvy, and his arousal ached as her nakedness pressed against it.
Oh, man. His shaft jerked and strained as she increased that pressure and began to rotate her hips, grinding herself against him in the most tantalising torture known to man.
The shift of her warm breasts against his chest as she raised her arms around his neck diverted his attention and ramped up his desire. His lips left hers to trail a pathway of hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck, stopping only once he got to the little area above her collarbone that he’d discovered was hypersensitive and a highly erogenous zone for her.
Arching her back so her head fell backward, Sophie whispered his name like an invocation.
While his thumbs slid under the swell of her breasts and his hands moved to cup her, he dropped his mouth and revelled in the sweetness of one erect nipple. Her breasts were perfect and he filled his mouth with the peak of one and then the other.
‘I can’t wait, Logan. I want you now.’
‘No. Not yet,’ he husked against her breast. He hadn’t had nearly enough of her.
He raised his head so he could look into her eyes as he reached and stroked the soft down between her legs. Moving rhythmically, playing with her, parting her delicate folds, his arousal jerked again as he breathed in her intoxicating essence. Her eyes darkened, her pupils dilated and each muscle in her body tautened in response to his stroking.
‘Logan!’ Her voice was urgent and her nails bit into the skin of his shoulders. ‘Do you have protection handy?’
She barely gave him time to get the rubber and sheath himself when she used the granite bench top to lift herself up and wrap her legs tightly around him.
‘I’m desperate to have you inside me!’ she rasped, angling herself for his entry.
‘I want to be there.’
Her hand was on him, guiding him to the centre of her need. She was slick and ready and her legs tightened around his body, urging him to thrust forward into paradise, to stretch and fill her and fuse their bodies together so they could resonate as one.
The blood roared through his veins as he gripped her thighs and urged her into a counterpoint rhythm against him. Her internal muscles clenched him and she grabbed his shoulders for support.
‘Better slow down, baby, or this is going to be over real fast.’ He was boiling over in his new kitchen.
‘No. Not slower,’ she panted. ‘Faster. I want all of you, hot and out of control.’
His body craved completion, yearned for that intense primal rush that went beyond rational thought.
Sophie whimpered, her head was thrown back and she used her hands against the bench to push her pelvis harder against his. Watching her climax, seeing her caught up so strongly in wonder that she forgot to breathe for several seconds was the most profoundly humbling experience for him. Extreme ecstasy was mirrored in all of her features.
‘Oh!’ she gasped as she shuddered.
Then his world exploded and he felt the heated flow of his ecstasy spilling out of his body as he was set alight with sensation. Nothing had ever been this good.
‘Wonderful.’ The word was a sigh of completion as her limbs went heavy and she pushed against the bench so she sat on it but her body moved forward, and she could drape her arms around his neck once more and snuggle against his chest. ‘Just awesome.’
It sure had been. Hugging her tightly to him, he inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair. His frame shuddered as another aftershock of pleasure surged through him. Still joined together in the most fundamental way a man and woman could be, he wanted to stay like this forever, just holding her close and running his fingers through her hair, placing tender kisses at her temple and across her forehead.
‘Well, that’s the kitchen christened! Which room’s next, Mr Jackson?’
‘Are you ready for the tour of the master bedroom now?’
‘I just might be.’ He loved her dimples as she gave him a starry-eyed smile. ‘Do you think I might stay for a sleepover?’
‘Mm. That would be great. Just don’t bank on much sleep.’
Lifting her up off the bench, her legs still wrapped around his hips, he began walking out of the kitchen. Each step he took while he was still inside her sent up a delicious friction, making him hard all over again.
As they approached the staircase that led up to the bedrooms, Sophie said, ‘I don’t think we’re going to make it to the bedroom.’
‘Have to, honey. I need another condom. I can assure you I’m healthy, and I’d pretty much guarantee you’re clean, but unless you’re using some other form of contraception…’
The jerk of her body and the sudden stiffness of her limbs was impossible to miss.
Drawing his head back to look down at her, his heart stilled as he saw the pallor of her complexion.
‘Sophie?’
‘I probably can’t have children.’
Her bald statement had him tensing.
The arms that had been wrapped around his back drew away and she pushed at his shoulders a little as she eased herself off him, out of his arms, and stood facing him. Her hands crossed defensively over her breasts.
‘Wow. I’ve never felt quite so naked,’ she said, but didn’t look at him.
Her skin went from unnaturally pallid into a flush, her embarrassment palpable.
‘Come here, sweetheart.’ He swept her up once more, this time cradling her to his chest, one arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees.
His heart shattered as he saw the tears pooling in her eyes, but he walked up the stairs with her, all the way to the master bedroom. He didn’t pause, didn’t speak until they were both in his bed under the linen, Sophie secure against him — not sobbing, but the tracks of her tears making his chest moist. Every now and then she sniffled.
The advantage of wealth meant his new home was completely ready to move in to. Whoever it was who saw to such matters had placed a box of tissues on the bedside table. He’d noticed all these small details earlier when he’d stashed more condoms in the top drawer of his bedside table.
Passing her a tissue, he said, ‘Want to talk about it?’
She sat up. After wiping her tears and blowing her nose, she explained. ‘I had an accident while I was horse-riding. I broke my pelvis and my fallopian tubes were damaged. The doctors have said that even if they harvested eggs from my ovaries, my pelvis may not be able to take the weight of a full-term baby.’
It wasn’t often Logan didn’t know what to say. She’d never told him the cause of the scars that she’d been embarrassed about the first night they’d been together, and he’d never asked because he didn’t want to intrude on her privacy or make her think that they made any difference to him.
Sophie gave a self-conscious laugh and looked away. ‘My God. This is awkward.’
He reached out and took her hands in his. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been through all of that.’
Sending him a watery smile, she said, ‘So you see, I’m not a good candidate to be anybody’s wife for real. I’ll never be able to give any man sons or daughters.’
Logan frowned. ‘Having
children isn’t important to me.’
‘Well, the problem doesn’t apply to you, does it? You only want a temporary wife anyway.’
The words stabbed at him and in a split second he found himself re-evaluating his priorities. He still wanted to marry Sophie, but he wasn’t sure whether it was a temporary marriage he desired. When he’d said earlier that he could picture her in the kitchen and hear her laughter ringing through the house, he hadn’t been kidding. The fantasy of her living here with him didn’t seem a transient thing. He could picture them in this house together for the long-term.
‘Are you sure you can’t have children?’ he asked gently.
‘I haven’t been recently to a specialist, but that’s certainly what I was told.’
Medical science was always improving. He trailed a hand through her hair. ‘And if you could have children, would you want them?’
‘Yes.’ There was no hesitation in her response. ‘I told you once before that I didn’t want any children, but I was lying to myself and to you. There’s nothing more I’d rather in the entire world than to have children of my own.’
He shifted his body so they lay side by side and he could look straight into her eyes. ‘We’re so good together, Sophie. I don’t think temporary would be enough. Marry me for the long haul, sweetheart. Be my wife and Charlotte’s mother.’
Her intake of breath was audible as she registered and seemed to think over his words. ‘Taking you up on that would be selfish. I’ve been an only child, Logan. I would’ve loved a brother or sister, or both. It would be great for Charlotte to have siblings.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s more important for Charlotte to have two adults raising her who care about her and each other.’
‘Don’t you want children of your own?’
Fleetingly he looked away from her. ‘I’ve never wanted children.’ He swallowed. ‘I told you I didn’t have the happiest of childhoods.’
‘But now that you’re going to be a father figure you might reconsider.’
Oh, hell. He lifted his hands, palms up. ‘God, Sophie. I haven’t thought that far through this. Scott’s death, Charlotte needing a guardian — it all happened so quickly, but I haven’t reconsidered having children.’
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