Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  ‘Sort of... No.’

  She shifted from one foot to the other, stared at the floor.

  Flicking him a quick look, she found Alexander staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

  ‘You lied.’

  Yes.

  ‘No. Not really,’ Rosie said at her wit’s end.

  Then she was saved by a spark of irritation.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to talk about it. No one asked you to stick your nose in, did they?’

  Now he folded his arms.

  ‘You made a complete fool of me.’

  Stung by the injustice of the comment her chin lifted.

  ‘I did not. You did that all by yourself.’

  Then she frowned and spoke without thinking,

  ‘At least he wasn’t married.’

  Okay.

  There was something going on and he was so far out of the loop Alexander realised he might as well be on Mars.

  ‘Bronte says your heart is broken. Is it?’

  Her mouth opened, then closed as her brow creased.

  ‘A little bit,’ she said faintly.

  He could hardly strangle her when all he wanted to do was to protect her, hold her close.

  But then another emotion raised its ugly head. Jealousy.

  ‘Do I know him?’

  Her wince made his eyes narrow and he was almost sure he heard her whisper, ‘Bugger.’

  ‘Sort of,’ she responded in an anguished whisper.

  Hmm.

  ‘That is not an answer.’

  Now those dark eyes flashed into his and he read something like sheer desperation.

  And that wasn’t right.

  ‘Can’t you just let it go?’ she asked in a tortured voice.

  The way her eyes slid from his told him something was off with her.

  ‘No. And you lied to Bronte. You never lie to Bronte.’

  She flinched, went white.

  Hmm.

  Hit a nerve with that one.

  Rosie never lied to his sister. Never. So it was a mystery. A secret.

  Okay, he loved mysteries and Rosie never kept a secret from Bronte.

  She simply stood there and stared at him and he had the strange sensation of a huge battle being waged inside her

  Silence.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’ he asked at last and kept his voice low and soft.

  But then she took a huge breath and her eyes met his.

  ‘He doesn’t exist,’ she said and her voice was no more than a whisper.

  Silence.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Now her cheeks burned.

  ‘I mean I made him up. I don’t have a secret lover, except in my head. I lied to Bronte to stop her digging, discovering my feelings for...’

  A wave of relief hit him so hard it took his breath.

  And hot on its heels came another wave of shocked disbelief.

  ‘You knew that man was innocent. You knew that I was going to talk to him and yet you didn’t tell me the truth?’

  Now her eyes flashed into his.

  ‘I told you to back off. I told you to leave it alone. But no!’

  He blinked, tried to think.

  ‘You have a lover in your head you said. So you’ve been dreaming about a man. What man?’

  Now she just sent him a bland stare and raised a dark brow.

  He saw the truth in her eyes.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Not you specifically. Alexander Simon Ludlow. And let me tell you this he’s a big improvement on the real thing.’

  The way she spat the words and the reality of what she’d done and how it had come back to bite her, hard, had him remember all the times he’d mentioned Simon and how she’d looked so terribly guilty.

  The little witch!

  Rosie watched as Alexander’s eyes filled with an unholy glee.

  His laugh roared out of his chest as he bent double on the couch.

  There was no point in being annoyed with him.

  He had every right to crow.

  At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humour and it was funny in a sick sort of way.

  But what worried her was what would happen when his logical brain moved onto the next step.

  He sat up, took a deep cleansing breath and she saw that brain do its thing.

  Those green eyes met hers and she recognised the question before he asked it.

  ‘So you’re leaving your home, your life here and Bronte and the kids, because of me?’

  He stood and came into her personal space to place his hands on her shoulders.

  His voice went soft and low.

  ‘Look at me.’

  Well, she’d asked for it, hadn’t she?

  But her fingers fiddled with the bottom button of his shirt for long drawn-out seconds before she lifted her eyes to his.

  Those amazing eyes the colour of new grass searched hers.

  ‘I broke your heart?’

  Omigod.

  ‘A little bit,’ she whispered despairingly.

  Now his brow rested on hers and his hands stroked her arms from shoulder to elbow and back again.

  ‘Forgive me?’

  What?

  Her eyes flew to his and she saw the guilt, the anxiety and it absolutely floored her.

  But then wasn’t this just like him?

  He’d feel sorry for her, take responsibility for her feelings.

  With small cry of utter frustration with him but mostly with herself Rosie pushed him away and moved to the French doors to open them and step out into her garden.

  He followed her and now she spun to face him.

  ‘It’s not your fault. There’s nothing, nothing for you to be forgiven for. The whole thing was in my head.’ She hammered a finger into the side of her skull. ‘All in here and it wasn’t real and it wasn’t healthy. So the fact I want to move on from living in a dream world in my head is not your responsibility.’

  She began to pace while he perched on the arm of a garden chair watching her with a patience that made her want to scream.

  And she couldn’t stand the look of tolerant sympathy in his eyes for her.

  How dare he?

  Goddamit!

  ‘I’d decided to get real! To get a life! Perhaps even meet a wonderful flesh and blood man. But of course, you couldn’t leave well alone, could you?’

  She was winding herself up quite nicely now and Rosie grabbed the life raft of years of pent up frustration and fury.

  And it felt wonderful.

  She spun on him again and almost spat the words,

  ‘Not the great Alexander Ludlow. Oh no, not him. He just had to decide that he had the hots for Rosie Gordon. Out of the blue, by the way. And he expects her to drop all her plans and fit in with him. Well, let me tell you this, big boy. I’m moving on. I’m going to start looking after me.’

  This time she stabbed her finger into her own heaving chest.

  When he said nothing but simply continued to watch her with that dead on stare, she felt a horrible ache fill her lungs.

  Her brow creased and that ache rose into her throat, made a buzzing in her ears as her eyes filled and her vision blurred.

  But she blinked furiously, swiping the tears away.

  She would not cry in front of him.

  He moved fast.

  She was in his arms, on his lap as he held her tight.

  And the way she cried with great heart rendering sobs into his shirt mortified her even as a part of her knew this was where she belonged, to him.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Alexander didn’t speak.

  He knew her well enough to know that breaking down in front of him like this was killing her.

  His Rosie had her pride.

  Plenty.

  So he just let her get it all out.

  He pressed his cheek to her fragrant hair, held on and simply rocked her.

  The way her arms wound around his waist, the way she b
urrowed into his chest, broke his heart.

  He’d done this to her.

  No matter what she said about living inside her own head, this heartache, this pain, he’d brought to her.

  By not following his heart when he should have done he’d hurt them both.

  Instinct told him this was not the time to declare himself.

  She wouldn’t believe him.

  He’d no idea how long it took her to settle.

  It might have been minutes but it felt like hours.

  She sniffed, heaved a heartfelt sigh and raised her head to look at him.

  Her nose was red, her eyes were puffy and he’d never seen anyone look more beautiful in his entire life.

  ‘Feeling better?’

  She tried to sit up, but he held her firm.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered and those big dark eyes misted.

  Her distress was killing him and he couldn’t bear it.

  ‘If you don’t stop doing that I’ll need to kiss you,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘With tongues?’

  Aaaand she was back!

  Smiling now, he bent his head and indeed kiss her, with tongues.

  How could a man not love her?

  He stood with her in his arms and she didn’t complain.

  Instead she wound her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder in a way that told him she’d surrendered.

  ‘What’s this? Channelling An Officer and A Gentleman?’

  ‘You love that film.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Sniping at me won’t work, you know.’

  She didn’t pretend not to understand him.

  She could see by the way he grinned at her, looked at her, being snarky wasn’t working.

  And that was a first.

  They were climbing the stairs to her bedroom and the usual curl of arousal uncoiled low in her belly.

  He entered her room, laid her down on the bed, kicked off his loafers.

  With great care he stripped her where she lay and she didn’t move or make a sound.

  Once he was naked he slid next to her to lie on his side.

  She turned her head to stare into his eyes.

  ‘I’m a little sore from last night,’ she told him softly.

  Amused, Alexander brushed his fingertips gently down her arm.

  Her skin felt all silky and smooth.

  Maybe she was too vulnerable, too emotional, to make love to?

  It wasn’t like he was an adolescent, he was absolutely certain he could control himself.

  He wanted to bring her the ultimate pleasure.

  Now his eyes stayed on hers and what he saw there made him weak.

  Innocence.

  Not physical, but emotional and he felt waves of it flow from her.

  But amazingly, he recognised it was the same for himself.

  He’d had plenty of lovers but he’d never had the deep emotional connection he was now experiencing with Rosie.

  Gently, he turned her towards him so they lay facing each other.

  ‘That’s okay. We won’t do anything if you’re not ready. Touch me,’ he whispered and saw her mouth curve.

  He made a promise, right there, to give her nothing but tenderness.

  He’d never given her tenderness or been gentle enough with her.

  Ever.

  And that was a damned disgrace.

  He didn’t touch or look at anything except her beautiful face with those big, big eyes.

  Eyes a man could drown in.

  Those lips curved again, fractionally, as she reached a trembling hand to his hair and stroked him with tentative fingers in a way that made him close his eyes and just feel.

  And he realised with a sudden insight that they were both vulnerable, to their needs and to each other.

  The early evening light in the room was dim and washed with shadows.

  All was quiet except for the sounds of their breathing.

  He opened his eyes.

  They needed this, he realised.

  They needed the time to stop and simply look at each other, see each other.

  Gently, slowly, his hand slid up her leg from knee to thigh in a smooth rhythm and he saw her pupils dilate, heard her breath hitch in a way that him smile.

  ‘Your skin is like silk,’ he said.

  ‘Are you romancing me?’ she whispered.

  Now her fingers stroked across his forehead, down his cheek.

  He turned his mouth into the palm of her hand permitted the tip of his tongue to whisper over the sensitive flesh.

  And her tiny shudder made him do it again.

  Her hand gave a delicate tremble where she touched him.

  ‘Hmm. How do you like it so far?’

  The mattress gave as he moved closer, promising himself he’d keep it light, not pressure her into giving more than she wanted to give.

  They came together, body against body.

  His heavy thigh pushed between her legs.

  His hand rested on her hip bone, his thumb rubbing circles, caressing the spot again and again.

  ‘I like it,’ she said softly against his mouth.

  How could she have known it would be as easy as this?

  Her skin became hot, so hot wherever he touched it.

  Now his lips found hers, he demanded and he took but with such tenderness, such patience, her throat closed and her eyes stung.

  This was what she’d dreamed of for so many long and lonely years.

  His tongue searched her mouth, stroking, tasting in a way that made her tremble, made her breath catch.

  And now his hand slid up her hip, past her waist his knuckles skimming the swell of her breast, down over her hip to cup her bare bottom.

  Liquid, hot and slick pooled between her legs.

  His shaft, thick and hard, pressed into her thigh.

  She gasped as he moved her onto her back.

  The trembling started again and his kisses remained gentle, undemanding, as his hand stroked her from knee to thigh until she settled.

  But her body called for more.

  Of its own accord her pelvis tilted towards his hand and she moaned into his mouth.

  He raised his head to look into her eyes.

  ‘Open your legs for me, baby.’

  Her teeth sank deep into her bottom lip as she acquiesced.

  His hand cupped her mound, pressing the heel firmly against the swollen screaming nub of nerve endings.

  Then his mouth met hers as he explored her soft wet flesh, slid his tongue against hers and her legs opened wider.

  An invitation he accepted.

  His finger slicked the evidence of her arousal down and back over and around her clitoris.

  Her heart was pounding so hard she was shocked he couldn’t hear it.

  She heard a sound, a high whine, and realised it was her.

  He lifted his head to watch her face.

  Without taking his eyes from hers he lifted his hand and sucked his finger, tasting her.

  The move was so intimate, she almost came right there with the shock of it.

  ‘So sweet.’ He placed his finger on her bottom lip. ‘Want to taste?’

  Her eyes went wide and he smiled.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he murmured. ‘Not quite ready for that yet.’

  But then his hand reached down between her legs and his finger slid inside her.

  Not once did his eyes leave hers.

  Then he added another finger and slid them in and out, in and out, in a slow, slow motion that made her head spin.

  Her pelvis arched in time with his hand.

  Liquid heat clenched her belly too hard, too fast, making her gasp as he added a third finger.

  He spread his fingers, stretching her in a way that made her brow crease and still his eyes never left hers.

  ‘Too much?’

  She shook her head, but he read the question in her eyes, answered it,

  ‘We need to take it slow and easy, get y
ou nice and wet.’

  Alarm slid up her spine, made her eyes go too wide.

  ‘For what?’

  His lips curved.

  ‘We’ll only make love if you want to. I’m getting you ready in case you feel like it.’

  His mouth took hers and this time she felt branded, possessed in a way that thrilled her.

  He raised his head, watched her face as his fingers weaved their magic over her slick, hot flesh.

  ‘This is all about you,’ he whispered. ‘Everything is all about you.’

  She’d had plenty of orgasms before.

  Plenty.

  But nothing could have prepared her for what his touch did to her this time.

  The sensation that raised her body from the bed was like being taken by a surging wave and eased up, up, up.

  He kept her teetering on the brink until she cried out, until his thumb flicked the swollen nub of her clitoris and she shot up and over, until she sobbed his name, until he held her tight, until the trembling in her limbs stopped.

  And until her breathing calmed.

  Her face burned as she buried it into his neck and he held her close, all the while his hands stroked her bare back, her bare bottom and up again.

  He’d played her body like an instrument.

  And of course one thought led to another.

  What about him?

  What about his release?

  Another wave of heat flushed her skin because his need of her was crystal clear, pressing hard against her belly.

  Not once had he rubbed himself against her or tilted his pelvis or made her feel under pressure.

  As a lover she’d never been selfish.

  So why was she being selfish now?

  She reached for him but his hand caught her wrist.

  Those amazing eyes found hers and although she read arousal, she didn’t see frustration.

  ‘No, baby. If you touch me I’ll explode.’

  She blinked.

  ‘But I can’t leave you like this. It’s not fair and it’s not right.’

  His mouth found hers and this time she felt him smile.

  He raised his head to watch her face.

  ‘My choice. Was it good for you?’

  Was he kidding?

  But now the ache deep in her belly, the tiny part that still wasn’t satisfied, throbbed with need.

  He was lying flat on his back as she rose to lean over him.