Playing the Dutiful WifeExpecting His Love-Child

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Six hours leaves no time for sleeping…’ He pulled back just a fraction, his husky words not asking, but telling… Telling Millie what she already knew.

  That the precious few hours she had left were for them.

  It was as if all her rules had turned around—the inner compass that guided her running amok—north suddenly south—everything shifted.

  This hadn’t been a working holiday—it had been work, work, work. No sightseeing, no exploring this amazing country and no romance.

  Why, Millie begged of herself, why shouldn’t she allow this one indulgence—this one crazy, impulsive moment with a man she’d remember for ever?

  Remember for ever because, gazing into his eyes, Millie knew she could never forget—when everything else had crumbled, when all she had left were her memories, this would surely be one. The most beautiful, sensual of men holding her in his arms and wanting her.

  He kissed her all the way up in the lift—and all the way back down to the foyer when they missed their stop. Urgent, hot kisses that were as fabulous as they were indecent. His impatient hand barely missed a beat as he hit the twentieth floor again, then returned to her bottom, cupping it, pressing it against him as his tongue worked its magic. He was kissing her mouth, her eyes, her ears, making her shiver. His body was pressing hers against the cold mirror, and his want for her was not remotely overwhelming—because it exactly matched hers. Desire was lacing its way through her body, the pressure against the dam that had been building for hours unleashing inside her the second he touched her.

  Nerves only caught up as she entered his vast suite—her glittering eyes widening as she took in the opulent surroundings. She’d known he was wealthy, but it hadn’t really equated till now. She felt her heels sink into the carpet and suddenly it unnerved her—standing in her cheap waitress uniform, every scrap of make-up thoroughly kissed away. She knew she didn’t belong in his world. She was frozen with the awareness that she should be bathed and scented and gorgeous, and she was feeling anything but.

  Levander didn’t seem to notice at first, taking her in his arms and proceeding from where they’d left off. But then he sensed her unease.

  ‘I’m sorry…’ She felt like a tease, seeing utterly and completely the error of her ways, but she just couldn’t not tell him. ‘I don’t belong here—this just isn’t me…’

  ‘What isn’t you?’

  ‘Here…’ Millie wailed, her arms flailing, her breath coming out fast as she rued the ridiculous situation she’d found herself in. ‘This isn’t me…’ And it wasn’t just the luxurious surrounds that were panicking her, but Levander. Even after she’d seen the tears from Carla she had kissed him so fully, pressed her groin against his in the lift—she had taken, utterly and completely, leave of her senses.

  ‘Levander, I’m not like this…like that.’ She gestured to the closed door and the lift behind it, her cheeks scorching at the inappropriateness of it all. Shame was sweeping through her at the thought that in a few seconds she would have to clip her miserable way through the hotel foyer. She knew he couldn’t possibly understand, and at first tensed, flinching, when he came over and held her. But her panic subsided a touch when she found that, actually, he did…

  ‘That was not you…’ His voice was low and soft in her ear as he held her trembling body. Her face was burning as she leant it against his chest. ‘And that was not me,’ Levander said, lifting her chin with his hands and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes stared in wonder and recognition as he continued. ‘That, Millie, was us.’

  It made sense—for the first time in this mad night something actually made sense. It wasn’t just about her or about him. It wasn’t just Millie acting wildly out of character. It was about them—about the instant chemistry that had ignited, the longing, the want that had flared.

  Such longing.

  She was shaking with arousal, literally trembling with want, and now that she understood it she could let it happen—could watch as his fingers opened the remaining buttons of her blouse, staring down at herself as if seeing her body for the first time, as if seeing it through his eyes, and actually feeling beautiful. He slid off her blouse, unhooked her bra, and all she felt was want—such want—as his tongue flicked her swollen nipple.

  Such want as he slid the zipper down on her skirt till all she wore were her shoes and panties. His tongue traced a line down her stomach as he knelt ever lower, her thighs twitching with anticipation as he slid his way down…

  ‘I should…’ She hadn’t washed, had been working all night, then walking the streets with him. But she didn’t have to say it. Those dark eyes were looking up, meeting hers.

  ‘It is you I want to taste—not soap, not perfume—it is your scent that has driven me crazy all night—don’t take it from me now.’

  He made it sound like a gift, like a treasure, his fingers parting the flimsy fabric of her knickers, then growing impatient, sliding them down over her bottom, her thighs. He buried his face in her damp bush, and Millie’s last stabs of embarrassment were quashed by moans of pleasure. His tongue was like a cool, insistent pulse, and her fingers laced through his hair as her body both willed him to go on but begged him to stop. She was sure her knees would buckle as he worked on. Her pleasure was his, and she knew it—knew from his moans, from his hot breath and the tense fingers digging into her buttocks that Levander was as lost in the moment as she.

  At that second it was imperative he was as naked as her, and he sensed it, pulling at his shirt. As he stood her impatient fingers wrestled with the belt on his trousers, and even though his lavish attention might have abated for a few seconds just the sight of him naked had Millie gasping—that gorgeous body, toned and delicious, merely a breath away.

  He asked her.

  As she stood there, eyes wide with lust, staring at him, he actually asked her what she was thinking.

  She toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, tried to work out how to say what was truly was on her mind: that she’d never been with anyone before, that even though it must surely seem otherwise this was actually her first time—the first time she’d ever been this intimate with anyone. But she knew, just knew, she couldn’t—knew from the little that she did know that the night would cease if she told him that truth. So instead she told him another—her answer raw and honest…

  ‘It’s beautiful…’

  ‘Then hold it.’

  So she did, tentative at first, and horribly, horribly gauche. But, feeling him so silken yet so strong beneath her fingers, something trilled inside her. Feeling him grow in her hand, feeling him harden beneath her fingers, wanton, reckless, yet terribly shy, she sank to her knees as she held him, her hungry eyes begging to please be allowed just a taste.

  ‘Careful…’ His throaty word was more a threat than a warning—his explosive device was so charged to the hilt that Millie knew that with one false move, with one hasty, gratuitous shift, it would all be over.

  He was divine.

  Greedy now, she devoured him—just so, so much pleasure in giving. She felt his fingers knotting in her hair, smelled the provocative scent of his most intimate place, felt black wiry curls kissing her eyes as she worked tenderly, boldly on…as he urged her deeper even while pulling her back.

  ‘Octahobka,’ Levander groaned, before repeating it in English. ‘Cease now…’

  There was no point trying to stand as he raised her up. Instead Millie fell on the vast bed with him—she so oiled and ready, and him so erect it was indecent. He was holding her—holding her so close she could hardly breathe—his lips kissing her eyes, his cheeks suffocating her with his desire. And it didn’t matter about tomorrow; right now was enough. His tongue, hot and determined, pressed its weight on her, passion flaring as if they had been doused in petrol and set alight. His hands pushed her thighs apart more quickly than she could spread them. From his rapid breaths, from the rush of flesh swelling dangerously close, all she could do was guide him—guide him to her sweet, wai
ting entrance.

  Her mouth was so full of his that she couldn’t even call out as he thrust himself in, as her body adapted to the fabulous sensation of him inside her. It could have, should been over then. Only it wasn’t. As if somehow just being there together was too good to end, his body sliding over and over hers, each measured stroke building towards a nearing target. Her throat, her stomach, her thighs contracted as still he bucked within, her fingers digging into his taut buttocks, her groin arching into his. She was weeping, frenzied, as he filled her, her orgasm so intense that she begged relief. But still he was bucking, still aroused when surely he should gladly wilt.

  ‘I can’t,’ she wept in her exhaustion, ‘Levander, I ca—’

  Her sob was muffled by the muscle of his shoulder, and she bit into his salty flesh as she realised that, actually, she could.

  ‘Millie.’ He was pounding every one of her senses as he swelled further inside her, and though she had nothing to base it on, no touchstone to measure by, somehow as he eked the last dregs of restraint from her, as Levander spilled his full cup, taking her to the brink of insanity, she knew this was once in a lifetime. That this wasn’t what she had been missing out on—this was what she must now forever miss.

  And later, when exhausted, sated, she fell asleep beside him, instead of relaxing, instead of merely enjoying the precious time that remained, Levander wrestled with the impossible.

  One heady taste had him hungry for more.

  And not just for her body, but for her mind. He wanted those blue eyes to open on him—wanted to hear that voice—wanted more of the closeness they had shared tonight…

  And that was what terrified him the most.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘YOU DON’T HAVE to go.’

  Waking to those words, Millie felt her heart still in her chest—her mind struggled to wake up, to assimilate all that had happened, and frantically she sat up, panic seizing her as she realised she’d fallen asleep.

  Levander pushed her gently back down. ‘It is only eight a.m. Relax.’

  ‘Relax!’ Millie let out an incredulous gurgle of laughter. ‘I have to be at the airport to check in in two hours.’

  ‘I say you don’t.’ He was propped on one elbow, leaning over her at the same time, his free hand stroking the outside of her thigh under the sheet, and for the second time in less than a minute Millie’s heart stilled.

  All the promise she hadn’t dared glimpse dazzled her now, as she took in his raw naked beauty, that colourless face even more sensual somehow, his face pale in the stark morning sunlight, heavy-lidded eyes squinting slightly as he stared down at her—unshaven, untamed, and utterly unattainable, Millie decided with a reluctant sigh. Levander Kolovsky was so far out of her league it wasn’t even worth considering the possibility. Last night had been amazing, undoubtedly the most romantic, sensual night of her life—and one she would never regret—but whatever magic had caused their stars to collide was one cosmic miracle that surely couldn’t be sustained. They came from different worlds—and not just geographically. It had been too much, too soon, but completely unregrettable, and that gave her the courage to answer him honestly.

  ‘Yes, Levander…’ She watched as his eyes crinkled into a frown and then elaborated. ‘I do.’

  ‘If your visa is a problem then I can have my lawyer sort it out,’ Levander said dismissively. ‘Surely a few days won’t make a difference? I can buy you another plane ticket if you have trouble cancelling at such short notice.’

  His answer only strengthened her resolve—people like Levander gave no more thought to an international flight than Millie would to catching a bus, yet her airline ticket—the entire trip, in fact, had taken months of saving and planning. But, aside from that, a few more days wasn’t going to change the ending to this dream. A few more days could only make the inevitable parting all the harder—at least for Millie.

  ‘My family’s expecting me.’

  ‘Tell them you’ve been unexpectedly delayed…’ His hand was moving to the inside of her thigh now, delivering long strokes, and though his touch was softer now the effect was heightened, making arguing her case all the more difficult. ‘Tell them something came up…’ His sensual mouth curled into a slow smile as he moved her hand to his morning erection. ‘See—you would be telling the truth… You know it is too soon for this to end.’

  He whispered the words to her left breast, taking the nipple in his mouth and sucking slowly, drawing sense from her mind with each decadent motion. His impact on her actually unnerved her, and if he touched her for even a second longer then Millie knew she was lost.

  ‘No—I have to go, Levander…’ Jerking her hand away, wriggling herself free from him, she stepped out of the warm bed, her words, her actions coming more harshly than intended.

  She tried to read his expression, but it was as if bandit screens had come up at a bank—like looking at him, talking to him, through thick glass as he stood up and pulled on a robe. All the closeness, all they had shared last night, was gone now—and she couldn’t blame him for what he must be thinking: that scenes like this for Millie must be the norm. They certainly were for him, she thought, remembering the beautiful teary Latina of the night before. Holding on to that thought, she squared her shoulders, grabbing her clothes and almost running for the bathroom, desperate for distance.

  Closing the door, she sat naked and trembling on the edge of the vast bath. It had to be this way, Millie assured herself. For a dangerous moment she’d actually considered what he was offering—succumbing to his lovemaking, staying on for the golden few days he was offering. Peeling herself out of his embrace had taken a supreme effort, but the thought of ringing her family—her family who, so excited at her return, were preparing a little welcome home party—telling them…

  Telling them what?

  Turning on the shower, Millie stepped in, closing her eyes as a blast of hot water brought her to her senses. That she’d met some rich guy a few hours ago who’d offered to buy her a new ticket? That she’d fallen into bed with a man she barely knew and was seriously considering letting everyone down just so she could get to know him a little better.

  Millie barely looked at guys, was always so careful not to let anything interfere with her dream. And she had been, Millie realised. All her life she’d been careful—right up till this point. Her hand stilled on her body. In fact for a second everything stilled. And Millie wasn’t sure if it was the water running or the blood gushing through her ears as an appalling truth hit.

  Not only hadn’t she been careful, last night she had been downright reckless. He was so intriguing, so intoxicating, so potently sexual she hadn’t even considered contraception—hadn’t thought of a single consequence.

  Oh, God.

  With a whimper of horror she almost doubled up in self-loathing.

  Where had careful been when she’d needed it most?

  Naïve, reckless, stupid… Brutal words slapped her ears as she quickly dressed.

  ‘Would you like some breakfast?’ His voice sounded incredibly forced as she came out of the bathroom, and Millie couldn’t really blame him. She was having trouble with her own words.

  ‘I really ought to get moving.’ She attempted a smile, but it faded when he didn’t return it. ‘Look, it really was terribly nice of you to offer to get me another ticket—’

  ‘It probably is for the best that you go,’ he interrupted abruptly. ‘I am extremely busy over the next few days—I probably wouldn’t be able to schedule much time with you.’ Even allowing for his slightly limited English, his words were brutal. ‘I’ll make sure there is a driver available for you this morning—he can take you to your hotel, and when you are ready to the airport.’

  And if it seemed like a kind offer, it only served to make her feel worse, if that were possible—as if somehow he were paying her back for her time. Perhaps the driver would stop en route and let her pick a bauble? She hated how he’d changed since she’d insisted that she was lea
ving—as if now he didn’t even have to pretend to be nice to her any more. Tears glittered in her eyes as she declined his offer.

  ‘I’d rather take a taxi.’

  ‘As you prefer.’

  She didn’t bother with make-up. Rummaging through her bag, she just gave her hair a quick comb, wishing she could look more seductive, just a touch more fabulous as this amazing chapter of her life came to its sad close. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t just walk out on him as if last night didn’t matter, and she couldn’t tell him either just how much it had. So, awkward and horribly shy, but trying not show it, Millie tested the water.

  ‘I can give you my phone number…perhaps you could give me a call?’ It was a brave thing to offer, but incredibly stupid to lay herself so open to rejection, and it stung like hell when he shook his head.

  ‘Perhaps not.’

  Trying not to cry, trying to get out of his apartment with just a teensy shred of dignity, Millie didn’t turn around. But she stilled for just a second as she walked out of the door and his beautiful rich voice delivered the strangest of farewells.

  ‘You know where I am if you decide to come and get me.’

  * * *

  It took no time to get ready—three months of clothes thrown into a suitcase, her passport and tickets collected from the hotel safe and her bill paid. And as Millie took her second taxi ride of the morning, she stared at the streets she’d walked last night with Levander. She was filled with longing—almost homesick for a city she’d barely graced—and, passing the gallery, it was impossible not to stop for one last look. With the meter running she dashed out, blinking in amazement at the red dot on her painting. She raced inside and greeted an equally delighted Anton.