A Husband's Vendetta

by Sara Wood

  Luc’s expression became briefly guarded, but then he treated her to one of his dazzling smiles. ‘Almost the middle of the night for you, isn’t it?’ he mused. ‘I’m leaving early because I have a fair way to drive for my meeting. Reminds me of my lorry driving days when I got up at five. Remember?’

  Somehow she managed to smile too. ‘Ghastly.’ But her mind had winged back to the early days when he’d woken and made love to her, leaving her sprawled languidly on the bed and feeling sated and loved.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t disturb you.’

  From the way he looked, she wondered if he’d remembered those days too. Dragging her gaze from his soft mouth, she said awkwardly, ‘What a relief!’

  Luc studied her with his penetrating stare. ‘You can get me on my mobile any time, remember. Gemma’s welfare comes before anyone and everything. Got that? Contact me if you’re at all concerned or you need advice.’

  She couldn’t fault him on his devotion. A plaintive little wail nestled in her head. Why hadn’t he given her that much attention when they were first married? Why hadn’t their relationship, their love, come first, before work? Ruthlessly she stopped herself from whinging about the past and concentrated on the future. Her eyes began to sparkle.

  ‘I think I’ll manage. Oh, Luc, we’re going to have such fun! I can’t wait for you to find out all the surprises I’m planning!’

  There was a slight change in the way he stood. A tension which hadn’t been there before, an electricity in the atmosphere. There was an answering tightness in her chest, and she knew her breasts were ripening beneath his hungry stare.

  Her toes curled in her shoes and she swayed when he eased his tie loose and undid his top shirt button. It had always been one of the sexiest things he did and this time was no exception. He looked so incredibly handsome, she thought hazily. His mouth had become deliciously pliable and ready to be kissed…

  ‘Shall we have a night-cap?’ he murmured, the cadences of his voice slipping silkily along her sensitised nervous system.

  Tempting though that sounded, she knew that it would be unwise to accept. He was back in macho mood again, and definitely giving her a sexual invitation.

  ‘I think I’ll turn in, thanks,’ she said, and calmly—how did she do it?—pushed her shaky legs towards the bedroom Donatello had vacated.

  Behind her she heard the chink of a glass. Luc was comforting himself with a whisky. Good! Her hand closed on the doorknob and suddenly she froze. He was walking swiftly towards her.

  ‘Let’s check you have everything, shall we?’ he suggested, clearly intending to follow her into the bedroom.

  ‘All I need is a bed,’ she said in jerky little spurts. Before he misconstrued that stupid remark, she pushed the door open, intending to say goodnight to him and to shut it quickly before he took another step.

  But Luc’s hand was on hers and he was right behind her, his body exuding warmth and that knee-weakening male smell. She had to move forwards into the room or be plastered against his chest and loins. Her back quivered at the very thought, giving an unintentional wiggle to her hips which she quickly brought under severe control again.

  ‘It’s a double bed. I hope that meets with your approval,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Perfect.’ Fear made her babble inanely. ‘I can thrash around all I like, can’t I?’ She groaned. Her big mouth!

  To her alarm, he closed the door behind them, then strode past her and into the en suite bathroom. ‘Toothbrush, paste, flannel and bathrobe…here,’ he called, while she remained rooted to the spot and trying to overcome her nerves. ‘Obviously shoe-cleaning stuff, the usual things. You can ring the housekeeper if there’s anything else you need.’ He reappeared, smiling and studying her from beneath half-closed lashes. He took a swig of whisky and made her stomach contract by briefly touching his lips with the tip of his tongue.

  ‘B-brilliant,’ she husked and dropped her gaze. ‘Night, then.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re more…together,’ he said softly, determined, it seemed, to prolong his visit. ‘Donatello said you’d been very remote…well…‘‘lifeless and indifferent’’ was how he expressed it.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘You’re hardly that now.’

  ‘I told you.’ Pointedly she switched on the bedside lamp. ‘I’ve been ill.’

  ‘And now you’re back to normal,’ he mused. ‘As beautiful as ever. More lovely, perhaps.’

  ‘Thanks.’ This was hurting. He was making a play for her and all she could think was that it was too late. The marriage was dead. ‘Luc…’

  She made the mistake of looking at him. Their eyes met and in that instant she saw the rawness of his longing. Astonishingly, it wasn’t a lust which had been encouraged by her figure-hugging top and skirt, or by her recent display of nakedness in the art class.

  Her eyes widened and softened as it dawned on her: he felt the same sense of loss. There was a sadness in his eyes, a deep hunger for the love they’d once felt for one another. And she felt that too, from the bottom of her heart, her emotions spilling into every corner of her body in an unstoppable flood.

  ‘Ellen,’ he said in an appealing, gravelly voice.

  ‘Luc.’

  Or that was what she’d meant to say, loving the sound of his name. She’d shaped the word but her throat was so choked with sweetly poignant feelings that no sound had emerged. Being wistful about the past didn’t mean he cared, she told herself severely. Anyone could mourn happier times.

  As if in slow motion, he put down his glass with studied deliberation, his gaze never leaving hers. She couldn’t move and neither, it seemed, could he.

  If she tried, she could stop him now, with a word or a gesture. It would be so easy. A haughty tilt of her head, a snappy remark… But while he looked at her like that she couldn’t bear to betray what was between them by pretending that she didn’t care, that she didn’t want him to touch her and kiss her… Her head rolled back and a small moan whispered imperceptibly through her lips.

  But he’d heard it in the stillness of the room. She closed her eyes when he walked with maddening slowness towards her. In the hushed silence she sensed his nearness and the soft sound of his breathing, and registered how fast it was—as rushed and as strangled as hers. There was nothing she could do but remain waiting helplessly. This situation had been inevitable from the moment she’d heard his voice on the telephone; she realised that now in the deep secrecy of her heart.

  Because she might hate him, but she certainly still loved him.

  And yet as the silence lengthened, and the tensions in her body drove her crazy with suppressed desire, she remembered her vow that he’d never touch her or humiliate her again.

  Her eyes snapped open wide. ‘N-no, Luc,’ she whispered, hoarse with the pain of denial.

  Too little, too late. His eyes had become drowsy, and his hot mouth descended swiftly to sear hers with a punishing kiss which took her by surprise and bore her backwards forcibly, till she fell so hard onto the bed that her breath left her body and only excitement and a delicious anticipation remained.

  A storm of kisses rained on her lips and every inch of her face. He wasn’t allowing her time to think—every part of her seemed to be focused on the fierce hunger of his mouth…and now, fatally, his marauding hands.

  One had slid to her thigh, where his fingers stroked in a monotonous, maddening rhythm. One was stealing millimetre by millimetre beneath her cropped top, and suddenly, before she knew what she was doing, she was returning his kisses, her mind and body assailed by physical and emotional sensations which blocked out her ability to be sensible and call a halt to his assault.

  Her hands caressed his hair where it curled just above his collar. Her head was thrown back and his mouth was exploring her slender throat with gentle kisses which were unbelievably tantalising in their promise. She drew in a shuddering breath. He was sliding his hand to the underside of her breast, and at the same time as his lips encircled the painfully hard nipple she felt
the touch of his fingers on the inside of her thigh.

  Perfect timing. He’d always known how to drive her wild, how to pile sensation on sensation till she was completely incoherent and frantic for more.

  She tensed every muscle. She had to stop him. This was madness…

  ‘Le piace questo?’ he murmured throatily.

  She bit her lip to stop herself from blurting out the truth. Yes, she liked it. Adored it. Wanted more.

  No one had touched her there except Luc, and the smooth slide of his fingers was evoking painfully wonderful memories in her mind and body even as they aroused her beyond all control.

  ‘Ahhh…’ she groaned on an outrush of breath, as he probed more deeply.

  ‘E questo…e quello…qui…la…’

  And this, and that, here, there… Yes! Yes! she wanted to cry. He was driving her insane, kissing her, touching her, whispering seductively in that infuriatingly sensual Italian till she was no longer in her right mind but overwhelmed with the need for satisfaction. But not at any cost. If all he wanted was sex, then he could go elsewhere, she thought miserably.

  Her hands pushed at his shoulders and he looked down at her in surprise. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘Perfect. No thinking. Just action,’ he said, cradling her breast in his hand and stroking it maddeningly with his forefinger. And all she could think of at that moment was…just a little closer, a fraction nearer and he would be relieving the ache within.

  ‘No, Luc, I mean—’

  ‘This isn’t just sex, is it?’ he said rawly, tasting her arching throat with an intensity of passion which brought her close to groaning aloud. ‘This is more than that. Much more…’

  The truth was there, in the torment in his eyes and the shakiness of his voice. It showed in the desperate tension of his mouth and the faint frown disturbing the smoothness of his forehead, as if he feared she’d draw away.

  Her heart leapt. She could hardly believe it… Every look, every gesture, told her that he was yearning for the love they’d once shared. Her thoughts whirled, thinking the unthinkable but too scared to allow herself that luxury.

  A trembling mass of hope, she felt his finger testing the softness of her jutting lower lip. He slipped his finger between her teeth, and without being able to help herself she nibbled and then suckled it gently, her eyes closed in a bittersweet anguish when he withdrew it.

  She jerked when he found new places to tantalise, her body reacting to his touch till it almost vibrated with pleasure. Each bone in her shoulder claimed his attention. Each muscle grew soft and giving from the trail of his kisses.

  But still she held back. Go by your instincts, her friends had said. That was all you could trust. And she’d seen signs of longing. Perhaps…the hint of something more. Desperately she tried to think. The risk was huge. But so was the gain.

  ‘I’ve wanted this for so long,’ he murmured into her hair, kissing her feathery curls from the top of her head to where they nestled at the nape of her neck.

  Uncertainly she took his face between her hands and studied him with solemn, anxious eyes. The ache to love him surged up and caught her unawares, making a sob break from her lips. And Luc’s expression of pained, tender concern convinced her. He did care!

  Gently she touched her lips to his. ‘Me too,’ she breathed. ‘Make love to me!’

  He threw his head back and groaned. Then he kissed her so hard that her lips felt bruised and swollen when he lifted his mouth. But she didn’t give a damn. She felt the same urgent violence, the same frantic need, and moaned in anguish as his long fingers fumbled with the clasp on her skirt.

  He dragged it down over her hips. She felt the warmth of his mouth on her firm stomach, and then his fingers had torn away her briefs.

  ‘God!’ he groaned. ‘I can’t believe how much I want you!’

  And then he was kissing her—as though he was starved of a woman’s mouth, almost, she thought in hazy confusion, as if he was punishing himself—or her. Their bodies writhed together and she connived with him to remove her soft cotton top till it freed her tumbling breasts.

  ‘Oh, Luc, that’s wonderful!’ she whispered, when he suckled each one with deep concentration. Her heart was near to breaking when she gazed at his rapt face. Tenderly she touched his hair and stroked the smooth forehead.

  And then his hands were all but crushing her slender shoulders as his gaze avidly raked her entire body, leaving every inch of it tingling with sensation. She lifted up her arms to him, arching her body in unconscious demand because she couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

  Luc dragged in a strangled breath, and suddenly the weight of his body was covering hers, and a huge rush of air left her lungs as she groaned in pleasure and relief, revelling in the feeling of joy and possession, the firmness of him, the fierce heat of his breath on her neck.

  He had returned to her. It was a wonderful moment, far beyond her wildest dreams. Fantasies spun madly in her head, heightening her love and the urgency of her desire. She, Luc and Gemma. They would all be together. Unbelievable! Ecstatic, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, using all her strength to hug him close.

  ‘Take my clothes off,’ he whispered, lifting himself up a little.

  She struggled for a moment or two, furious that his buttons wouldn’t come free. Luc smiled and merely ripped the shirt apart, flinging it away and lowering himself again so they just touched, skin to skin, breast to breast. They both released a shaky breath at that moment, and she felt a lurch of wild delight that his heart should be thudding so erratically.

  The way he kissed her, the way he touched and caressed and murmured to her were all music to her soul. It was as if there had been no ill will between them. And she believed in that moment that they would never part again and her heart lurched with an indescribable joy.

  Hungry for him to claim her again, aching to be part of him, she reached down to undo his waistband and ease his zip. Then he was naked at last. His flesh on hers. She held her breath in a turmoil of swirling emotion.

  Ellen’s eyes misted. Everything would be all right. She just knew it.

  ‘Take me,’ she whispered, overcome with love. ‘I need you so much!’

  Pain slashed silver paths across his eyes as he stared down at her. And then he buried his head in her neck, lifted his hips and drove into her. She bucked in shock, but almost immediately gasped in pleasure as his long, slow strokes began their magic.

  He was desperate too. The fierceness of his lovemaking matched hers as every inch of his body tautened and he began to move with increasing speed and intensity. He muttered angrily into her neck, but she didn’t understand what he was saying. Only half her mind registered all this. The rest of her was flying, soaring with her heart and soul because she was with Luc and he wanted her again.

  He rolled her over with grim intent and she straddled him, teasing him with the sway of her hips and her breasts. He seemed insatiable. Heat was building within her. She was losing all sense of reality as his hands slithered all over her body and his tongue slicked her nipples into painful, erotic dark peaks.

  He hardly knew what he was doing. Couldn’t look at her. The pleasure was intense. He kept his eyes tightly shut as he explored her whole body, his fingers and mouth tasting, kissing and caressing, till he felt her breathing shorten and that incredibly sensuous tightening around him, the spasms of imminent surrender which he’d been waiting for.

  He flipped her onto her back again, then with a huge effort of will, he hesitated. She cried out, as he knew she would.

  ‘Please, Luc! Please!’ she whimpered, crushing her lips to his mouth in her hopelessness. Her tongue seduced him, her body lured him as she used all the tricks she could. For a long time he let her torment him. Till he could take it no longer.

  And then he moved, unable to hold back, fast, hard, stabbing. His heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest, every blood vessel in his body engorged and throbbing. She was a witch, he thought dazedly. A beautiful,
wickedly sexy Jezebel…

  He was losing consciousness. Her body was claiming his, driving him to the wildest, most intense and prolonged orgasm he’d ever known. The next few moments were blurred by pleasure, by her cries and his, their mouths searching for one another, hands, fingers clutching and squeezing as they rolled around the bed in a hot tumble of resisting flesh and wave after wave of sensation gripped his body.

  Slowly he came to. For a while he lay there, panting and amazed. Small tremors assailed him, making him jerk as if they were aftershocks following the earthquake that had occurred. And Ellen trembled too, her very skin rippling with the tension and flexion of her muscles. He gathered her close and waited for them both to be still, but his mind had become sharp and active.

  This wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d succeeded in the first part of his scheme. But at one hell of a price.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELLEN felt blissfully peaceful. The future stretched ahead like a long, golden path. Too drained to speak, she surrendered to the pleasure of being in Luc’s arms. But almost as soon as she began to nestle into him he began detaching himself, and then he rolled away.

  Feeling deprived, she stretched languorously, sighing in the hope that he’d change his mind. Despite the ripples in his muscles which suggested he’d heard her invitation, he began to gather up his clothes—for all the world like a casual lover who’d only wanted her for sex.

  It had been more than that! He’d said so! Alarmed, she sat up, the sheet falling completely away from her naked body.

  ‘Don’t go,’ she whispered in a soft caress.

  ‘Stop looking at me like that!’ he muttered thickly.

  ‘Like what, Luc?’ she purred in a pretence of innocence, reassured and delighted by his immediate physical response.

  ‘As if you want more.’

  She smiled, seduction definitely on her mind. ‘Is it a crime for me to want everything you have to offer?’ she asked huskily, wriggling over to the edge of the bed and stroking the firm skin of his thigh. For a second he stood very still, allowing her to trace the line of his muscles, his whole body quivering beneath her wandering fingers. Awed, she looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his expression ecstatic. ‘You want me,’ she breathed, tormenting him by crawling her forefinger closer and closer to the top of his leg.