by Annie West
She shrugged. ‘It shouldn’t have happened and it won’t be repeated.’ Bravado hid wounds she refused to reveal.
‘Why? Because you’ve set your sights on someone else?’ The words bit like nails, hammered hard and fast. She sensed anger surge in him.
‘What are you talking about?’ She shook her head. ‘Someone else?’ The only man with whom she’d had anything like a private conversation was the caterer.
Her pulse raced. She couldn’t cope with Declan so near. If he didn’t go, she might fracture in front of him.
‘What is it you need, Mr Carstairs?’
He stiffened, his face hardening. She told herself her tone was professionally cool, not insolent.
He stepped nearer, cramming her against the sink, but she refused to cower. Instead she met his dark look unflinchingly. She had done nothing wrong.
‘You think this is all about what I need?’ His eyes gleamed dangerously. Apprehension tingled in her veins but she stood straight. ‘What about admitting what you need, Chloe?’ His voice dropped to a ribbon of seduction that she despised at the same time she reacted to it. ‘I’ve never known a woman as needy as you for what I can give her.’
Flame seared her cheeks and throat. She’d been abandoned, wanton with this man. She’d experienced passion such as she’d never known and she’d revelled in it.
She opened her mouth to say he’d been just as needy then clamped her lips. A slanging match wouldn’t help.
‘If there’s nothing else, I’ll get on with the washing up. It’s late.’ When he didn’t move she added, ‘I don’t need or want anything from you.’
She reassured herself it was true. Or would be, if only he’d leave her alone.
Her hands had just sunk into the warm water when he gripped her shoulders and spun her round.
‘That’s a lie, Chloe. We both know it.’ His voice was pure gravel as he loomed over her, his face taut. Suppressed emotion radiated from him in waves.
She opened her mouth to deny it when warm fingers settled over her right breast, sure, hard yet gentle as they cupped her. Shock stole the words from her mouth. His hand moved, caressing, squeezing, and her throat dried.
One touch and he evoked a longing she’d thought she’d evicted from her being. One tantalisingly erotic caress and her knees were jelly.
‘No!’ She clamped a wet hand around his wrist and tugged. Nothing happened. Nothing except she felt the pull and shift of muscle and tendon as he changed his hold, plucking at her budded nipple through the fabric of her dress. Heat coiled deep within.
‘Don’t lie. Not about this.’ His voice thickened as he leaned in, undeterred by the hand she shoved against his chest. He bit the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck and shudders of longing engulfed her. Even her anger and hurt couldn’t prevent her response. Her head spun.
He kissed the spot then suckled it and her nerves shot to clamorous alert. ‘You want me, you know you do.’
It wasn’t him she fought but herself. How could that be?
This man had walked out on her, rejected her. She couldn’t want him. She couldn’t!
‘No.’ She shook her head, still pushing desperately against him. Or perhaps not so desperately. Why had her hand tightened against his shirt? Not to push back but to mould his warm muscle. ‘I’m not available for a quick grope now your fancy friends have left. I’m not your bit on the side.’
‘Ah, Chloe, you were never that. You were always …’ He groaned and tightened his hold, feathering kisses at the corner of her mouth.
She had nowhere to turn or hide, caught between his unyielding frame and the sink. His strong thighs surrounded her. The ridge of his arousal pressed against her abdomen.
Had she stopped struggling?
Damp heat pooled between her legs as he slipped his hand beneath the V of her bodice and bra. The skin-on-skin contact was her undoing. She shuddered as he pinched her nipple then bent to suckle her other breast through the thin material.
‘Declan.’ It was supposed to be a protest, but her hoarse voice turned it into a plea.
This was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Yet it felt …
‘Yes?’ His mouth moved against hers again, his voice cajoling.
He didn’t kiss her fully, just skimmed her lips and moved on to nibble her ear. His other hand parted the discreet gap in her crossover skirt, and an instant later his fingers were against damp silk at the apex of her thighs. He pressed close and she almost moaned.
‘You like that, don’t you, Chloe?’ His voice was a whisper of seduction in her ear.
She shook her head, struggling to drag herself from the whirlpool of sensation and think.
He pressed close, body to body, erection to her needy centre. A jolt of response rocked her whole being.
‘Tell me, Chloe. Tell me what you want.’
She heard the words through a fog of sensual pleasure and rising need. Incoherent warnings flitted by but she couldn’t grasp them. Instead all the emotions she tried so hard to ignore rose to the surface.
‘What do you want, Chloe?’ He breathed the words against her mouth and she arched into him.
‘You,’ she whispered on a sob. ‘I want you.’
Bliss beckoned. He surged close, his arousal hard against her, his hands hot and possessive.
Then suddenly he was gone. His big hand slipped from beneath her bra, the other from under the edge of her panties. Cool air brushed her skin and dazedly she realised he’d undone the tie of her dress so it hung open, revealing her bare skin and sensible underwear.
She lifted a hand, whether to pull the gaping edges together or to reach for him she didn’t know. Instead his voice stopped her.
‘No!’ The raw denial cut straight through the fog of sensual awareness. ‘That will never happen again.’
Glittering eyes raked her. Then he spun on his heel and marched from the room.
CHAPTER NINE
AIR. He needed air.
His lungs couldn’t suck in enough oxygen.
Declan strode away, shoved open a door and catapulted out onto the roof garden.
His lungs pumped frantically and now, finally, searing air filled his chest. For a minute there he’d wondered if he’d black out from lack of oxygen.
It was fury, he assured himself. Disgust at the woman who’d betrayed Adrian, broken his brother’s heart and left him so distraught he’d committed suicide.
Together they were responsible for Adrian’s death. She for driving him to it and Declan for not preventing it. Guilt swarmed like ants over his burning flesh.
What greater betrayal of Adrian than to take Chloe into his bed? To grab at the happiness denied his brother?
Nausea churned in his belly.
Chloe had tried to play Declan for a fool, deliberately targeting him as a rich, easy mark with his blindness and his grief. Hell! He’d been so gullible, wanting more from her than he’d wanted with any woman.
Even when his own eyes had confirmed her identity he hadn’t wanted to believe the worst, had fought it with every fibre of his being. Till he’d been hit with even more proof of her culpability. Proof he couldn’t ignore.
Yet still he desired her. He even—and it shamed him to admit it—felt jealous he’d shared her with Adrian.
Bile rose, nearly choking him. How low had he sunk?
In shock he’d left Carinya, unable to face the enormity of his disillusionment, or the woman who had torn him in two. She made him yearn to believe the impossible—that it was all some terrible mistake.
For the first time ever he’d run, he who tackled every challenge head on. For two days he’d been in meetings and medical appointments, confirming his restored vision should be permanent. But in reality he’d avoided her. Because he didn’t want to face the moment she confirmed the truth with her own admissions. Was he such a coward?
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Despite the new proof against her he was torn. Part of him clung to
the memory of the honest, lovely woman he’d been on the verge of falling for.
Just now in the kitchen, desperation had driven him. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. He’d wanted to take her sweet mouth with his and lose himself in her sinfully addictive body. He’d craved it so badly his hands still shook with the force of control he’d had to exert.
He wanted the woman he’d known at Carinya. The woman he could respect and even … love.
Love? He’d almost fallen lock, stock and barrel for a fantasy.
She’d turned her sights on him when she’d discovered Adrian had lost his money with the failure of his London business. How convenient that Declan, wealthier than Adrian had ever been, had come to Carinya. She’d no qualms about going from one brother to another.
Was that why she’d delayed her return to the house? Had she feared Adrian had told Declan about her?
He stalked to the pool, reefing open his shirt. He needed more than air. He needed a workout to exhaust himself and dull the knowledge he’d been weak, touching her again.
That weakness sickened him. The mere sight of her tipped him over the edge and made a mockery of his guilt and her betrayal.
Declan tore his shirt off, his hands going to his trousers, ready to get naked and work off his frustrations in the pool. But the sight of the water brought him up short. Last time he’d swum, he’d surfaced and found Chloe.
He shuddered and dropped his hand. Suddenly the pool didn’t hold the same allure. With each stroke the caress of silky water against his skin would remind him of her touch.
Even in basic black, without jewellery or designer flair, Chloe had stood out in the throng of pampered beauties. With her ivory skin and her rose-gold hair up in an elegant chignon, she’d caught his eye immediately.
Declan told himself she wasn’t beautiful. It was just that he’d learned the silken texture of her skin and the lush softness of her body.
Tonight he’d almost lost it when he’d seen her cosying up to a stranger.
When she’d knelt at his feet, so briskly competent, obviously unmoved by seeing him again, he’d wanted to lose the women he’d gathered close as protection against her, against the urge to stalk across the room and grab her. He’d wanted to haul her to him and brand her as his even while he’d wanted to shake her for daring to touch another man.
He’d stood, transfixed by the tiny, unexpected sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks that made her appear almost innocent.
Innocent! He stalked across the garden, impatient at his own weakness.
He’d gone to the kitchen because his conscience demanded he face her at last. But the sight of her in that dress, held together with a single tie, its soft fabric outlining every dip and curve, had got the better of him.
‘What the hell was that about?’
Declan shoved his hands into his trouser pockets as her husky voice shivered across the bare skin of his torso.
Slowly he turned his back on the city view, pushing away a moment’s reluctant admiration that she was no coward. She’d followed him almost immediately.
She stood a couple of metres away, her chin lifted. Her hair was up but softened by delicate wisps that framed her face. Her dress was knotted tight, too tight, given the way it stretched across her breasts.
Heat dived in his groin and he firmed his jaw. He was too savvy to be fooled by that trick again.
‘I said—’
‘I heard you the first time.’ He shrugged and watched with satisfaction as her narrowed eyes widened and dropped to his bare chest.
Deliberately he crossed one foot over the other and spread his arms wide on the railing, projecting a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
Her mouth sagged before she remembered to snap it shut. He’d never been one for an idle life, but in these last months the long hours of exercise in the pool had toned his muscles even more. Almost enough, it seemed to make up for the ravaged face that stared back from the mirror each day.
People winced when they saw him, averting their eyes. But that hadn’t stopped women tonight latching on to him. They loved his money and power.
Had Chloe shut her eyes rather than look at him when she’d shared his bed? Distaste curdled his belly and soured his tongue.
He should have been prepared for the fact Chloe’s care and attention was mercenary. Yet it hurt. He’d truly believed.
‘Are you going to explain yourself?’ Her voice was jerky, as if she had trouble keeping her breath under control.
‘I thought my meaning was clear.’ He spoke slowly, finding this harder than he’d expected. ‘I wouldn’t touch you even if you were sprawled naked in my bed.’
Yet, even as he said it, shuddering doubt undermined him. He watched her lush mouth firm and remembered the graze of her lips, hot against his skin. He remembered the way she’d knelt at his feet tonight and how it wasn’t just the unexpected sight of delicate freckles that had held him rigid. It was the idea of her leaning in and …
‘Why, because I dared to cross the line and stopped behaving as an employee?’ He watched her wrap her arms around herself, as if cold despite the balmy night. Yet her chin stayed high, her eyes flashing. ‘Don’t tell me you have one rule for women and another for yourself? Once you’ve had a woman, you don’t respect her. Is that it?’
He almost thought he discerned vulnerability in her face. Did he imagine that sexy mouth trembled? A rush of heat filled him and he leaned towards her. No, it was impossible. She was simply projecting emotion.
‘Hardly.’ He breathed deep. ‘I like women. I just don’t like you.’
Her jaw tightened as if he’d struck her. The pulse at the base of her throat trembled. He’d almost swear she paled.
He felt no satisfaction, only the desire to blurt out an apology. What sort of champion did that make him of his brother’s cause?
‘The feeling’s mutual.’ The words clipped out, sharp and precise from that lovely mouth. ‘I’ve never met a more arrogant, rude man without even the most common courtesy.’ She stopped and hefted in a breath that lifted her breasts towards him.
Declan kept his gaze fixed on her face.
‘You’re complaining about my manners?’
To his surprise Chloe stepped closer, her hands fisting on her hips. ‘What is it with you, Declan? You think you can walk all over me? Nothing gives you the right to speak to me the way you have! Even if you’ve lost interest in me now you’ve got your sight back.’
‘Oh, please, spare me the outraged innocence.’ She must know by now he’d recognised her.
He watched one hand snap up towards him then stop abruptly, as if at the last minute she’d thought better of striking him.
Strangely, he’d almost have welcomed the slap. Punishment, not for his rudeness but for his weakness in still craving this woman.
He exhaled slowly. ‘I know about you and Adrian.’
If he’d had any last, lingering doubts about Chloe’s innocence, her instantaneous reaction banished them. Pale skin turned bone-white. Her eyes grew huge and her gasp was unmissable in the silence throbbing between them.
Disappointment swamped him. Had he really hoped she’d be able to explain away what she’d done?
Roiling emotion filled him. He had to force himself to stand still and face what he must. He owed Adrian, and himself.
‘What do you know about Adrian?’ Somehow she dredged the words from a throat shredded raw by the tears she’d fought back in the kitchen. Tears of fury and outrage, of self disgust and bitter, soul deep disappointment with the man who’d shown his true colours tonight. She’d hoped …
No! She couldn’t go there. She couldn’t face her naiveté in spinning hopes and dreams about him. She’d given so much of herself. Declan had merely enjoyed sex.
‘I know everything.’
Stunned, Chloe looked up to find him standing closer, his feet wide and his arms crossed over his bare chest in a stance that signalled pure male domination.
How did he know about Adrian? Had Adrian confessed his behaviour? If so, why mention it only now?
‘Adrian … spoke to you?’ She frowned, finding it hard to believe he’d confided in anyone.
She’d urged Adrian to talk with someone, anyone, knowing he needed help. Help she’d been unqualified to give, especially given the role in which his increasingly delusional mind had cast her.
Adrian had been ill. He’d refused to listen and had become aggressive if she pushed. He’d seen every attempt to guide him towards help as betrayal.
‘You don’t deny knowing him?’ Declan pounced.
‘Of course not. He stayed at Carinya after he returned from the UK. While you were in China. You know that.’
‘Yet you don’t talk about him.’ Slowly Chloe shook her head, still disorientated by the change of topic.
She’d decided before she returned to Carinya that there was no point dredging up the harrowing past. There was nothing to be gained by mentioning Adrian’s fixation except distress for her and his brother.
Now Declan claimed to know about it. Chloe frowned. ‘What do you want me to say? What is there to say?’
‘How about saying sorry? That would be a start.’
She gazed up at his tight-lipped face, feeling she’d stepped into a parallel universe where nothing made sense. Why were they talking about Adrian and not what had happened between them?
‘I’ve already said I was sorry to hear he’d died.’ But from the look on Declan’s face, he didn’t believe her.
His nostrils flared, his jaw hardened and his hand shot out as if to grab her arm. Then it dropped to clench at his side. Silence engulfed them, broken only by the thud of her pulse in her ears.
‘You’re denying your role in what happened? You don’t feel any guilt?’ Declan drew a breath that shuddered through his massive chest.
Chloe watched, bemused. She put a hand to her brow, pushing back wisps of hair that feathered her face.