'What are you doing?' she asked hoarsely.
'My spine's all tied in knots—a nice hot shower should do it some good.' Now he had his eyes open she had the distinct impression he wasn't missing any detail of her naked body. Unconsciously her chin went up as she met his sensual appraisal head-on.
Those knots couldn't be as complicated as the ones that tightened in her belly. A space that moments before had seemed luxurious was now overwhelmingly claustrophobic.
'Fully clothed?'
She couldn't do anything but stare as he unfolded her fingers one by one from the bar of soap she clutched. Her hands were hardly adequate to cover her growing sense of vulnerability, so she kept them rigidly to her sides. Wondering just what he was going to do next made the blood pound in Hannah's ears.
'Not an insurmountable obstacle. I was hoping my wife might give me a hand. Such a delicate, pretty hand too,' he murmured, turning her hand palm up and pressing it to his lips.
'I suppose you're pretty angry with me?' she said faintly. This was probably part of some elaborate punishment, she thought hazily.
'Why should I be angry?' he enquired, evincing confusion. 'Oh, you mean because everyone knows my wife thinks I have a mistress. And the fact I've had to offer the woman you so publicly slandered a grovelling apology. You've managed to destroy my respectable image with remarkable efficiency.'
She watched as, very slowly, he worked the soap into a lather. Ethan looked at his soapy hand, then into Hannah's wide eyes, and deliberately closed his hand over one taut breast. A deep sigh rippled through his body. 'Like lovely firm tender apples, ripe for the plucking,' he breathed, leaning forward to plant his other hand on the tiled wall behind her head. His thumb moved back and forth over the erect nipple.
'Ethan!' she gasped. Was he trying to say he wasn't having an affair? she wondered, too intensely involved with the movements of his clever, cruel hand to concentrate properly on anything else.
'That's my name,' he agreed grimly, 'and don't you forget it. Not Jean-bloody-Paul, and not Drew what's-his-name. Ethan Kemp, your husband, the man who shares your bed, given the opportunity. Why I let you turn this house into a damn hotel, I don't know.'
'This isn't a bed.'
'Don't be pedantic, Hannah.' He took her chin in his hand and stroked her jawline with his thumb.
Tm sorry. I...I assumed... I mean, you're a normal man with the usual appetites, and she's attractive, clever...'
'You assumed one hell of a lot. And it didn't bother you when your fertile imagination decided I'd been sharing more than professional courtesies with the nubile Miranda.' He sounded strangely annoyed by his interpretation of her reaction.
'It was none of my business.'
"That's not the way it sounded last night. It sounded like it bothered you a lot.'
'Things'are different now...' she said, feeling trapped by his relentless pursuit Of her motivation. She could hardly say, I'm jealous as hell because I'm in love with you, could she?
'At least you admit that much,' he grated triumphantly. His kiss was tinged with a driving desperation, and he sucked at her mouth as if he'd drain her. Hannah's hands opened and closed spasmodically as her fingers twisted the fabric of his shirt-front.
She could hardly breathe. His expression was hidden by the mist that filled the small cubicle. 'Your clothes will be ruined,' she reminded him as his hands ran slowly over her from shoulder to flank, turning her body into a quivering mass of burning anticipation.
To hell with my clothes.'
Considering his lack of concern, it was with a clear conscience that she tugged urgently at the front of his shirt.
'Oh, yes,' he approved throatily as she touched her tongue experimentally to the pebble-hard centre of his male nipple. His fingers pushed roughly into the saturated strands of her hair. Encouraged by his response, she suckled softly. Under his open shirt her arms moved around his waist, drawing her breasts closer to his lean body. She leant into him, revelling in the strength of his muscular thighs which were braced to support her body.
'You like it?' she gloated. Delight and a heady sense of feminine power coursed through her veins as she shook the wet hair from her eyes and gazed up into his face. He liked it—it wasn't hard to interpret that strange mixture of pain and pleasure in his short, irregular gasps and the ripples of muscular contractions that ran beneath the smooth surface of his golden skin.
Drops of water trembled on the tips of her eyelashes and she licked at the moisture that ran into her mouth. Deliciously confident, she reached up to ease the clinging material off his shoulders.
This was a Hannah she hadn't known existed: a sexy, irresistible Hannah. Men were putty in her hands—Ethan was putty in her hands. Maybe not putty—Ethan felt altogether too firm to be classified as malleable, and certain parts of his anatomy were anything but soft. The shirt fell in a sodden heap on the tiled floor and she spread her splayed fingers up over his taut belly and across his chest and shoulders.
'You are so beautiful!' she breathed almost reverently.
'Do it again!' he commanded hoarsely. 'I want to feel your mouth on me.' A harsh cry was wrenched from his throat as she eagerly complied.
Abruptly his hands slipped under her bottom and he lifted her to waist-level. Hannah's legs automatically wrapped themselves around his waist as he walked forward with her until her back was pressed against the tiled wall.
Hannah didn't respond passively to his initiative. She matched the hungry ferocity of his mouth, and the fine, rhythmic rotation of her pelvis drove her closer to him, and drove him beyond reason. Ethan was gasping and groaning as he continued to feed on her lips frantically. He backed out of the shower cubicle and, without lifting his head from the sensual feast, carried them as far as the bed. The metal frame hit the back of his legs and he collapsed backwards with her onto the sheets which still bore the earlier imprint of her body.
Hannah let out a startled cry as she found herself lying on top of him. She sat upright and wiped away some of the wetness from her face.
"The other night was the first time for me in more than three years.'
Hannah stared at him. It wasn't a joke; he meant it! Her instinctive response of smug elation was swiftly followed by the sobering realisation of the reason for his abstinence. The memory of Catherine had been more important to him than the needs of his body. That memory still hung between them, a constant reminder of the contrast between their placfcs in this household and in his heart.
'Would you have been happier if I'd kept a mistress? You don't look very pleased.'
'I'm wondering what's changed. Sex wasn't in the forefront of your mind when you married me.'
Ethan's eyes, dark with passion, moved slowly over the slender, pale curves of her body. 'It is now,' he groaned, reaching for her.
Hannah might not have been satisfied with the absence of an adequate explanation, but in every other way she was totally satisfied!
It began with a cushion lobbed at her from the trio involved in an enthusiastic game on the floor, which involved Drew on all fours, with Tom on his back, being chased around the room by Emma. Hannah's retaliation escalated things to the point where they were all on the floor, panting and laughing as cushions were flung back and forth.
'This will all end in tears,' Hannah predicted as she held her arms across her face to hold off a vicious onslaught from her stepson.
'Being struck repeatedly over the skull by a soft object is the very latest cure for a hangover,' Drew teased softly. 'Surrender?' he suggested in a louder voice.
'Never!' she cried, flinging herself sideways to catch a stray missile. Her retaliatory strike went wildly astray and hit— The room went suddenly silent as they all saw whom it hit.
Miranda Saunders was standing in the doorway beside Ethan. She was casually dressed, but desperately elegant, and Hannah was immediately conscious of her own deficiencies: namely a face pink from exertion and hair which look
ed neither smooth nor sleek. Dressing for comfort rather than glamour no longer seemed the best decision she'd made today. Brushing down her crumpled clothes, Hannah got to her feet.
'We were...' she began breathlessly.
'It looked like great fun,' the redhead responded with a tentative smile.
'I see your head is quite recovered, darling,' Ethan drawled as she tried to press her tumbled locks back in place. 'Miranda dropped in to see how you are.' He responded to the appeal in Hannah's wide, horrified eyes with a casual and, to her mind, deeply callous smile. I’ll chase up some coffee for you both. Perhaps we should transfer this rough-house out into the garden. Do you play soccer, Drew?'
Typical—he could make out they were bosom buddies when it suited him! Hannah thought with disgust. She watched the traitors respond eagerly to Ethan's suggestion. He can't do this to me—he is doing this to me, she realised bleakly.
'Girls can't play football,' she heard Drew observe with innocence as they left the room.
'Tell him, Daddy!' Emma shrieked, tugging her father's arm. 'Tell him I can.'
'Show him, sweetheart,' she heard Ethan advise as he closed the door firmly behind them.
'I had to come.'
To watch me grovel, Hannah thought weakly. To grind her elegantly shod size six into my face. 'About last night...' she began. There was no point skirting around the issue.
'Are you feeling better?'
'I stayed in bed until midday.' Even in the midst of her present predicament she felt something warm and heavy stir in the pit of her belly as she recalled with whom she'd stayed in bed most of the morning. That memory's not going to help you now, she told herself sternly.
'I owe you an explanation.'
Hannah blinked in bewilderment—either she had missed something or they were talking at cross purposes. Her bewilderment wasn't diminished by the embarrassed expression in the tall young woman's eyes.
'You do?'
'I've no excuse. I knew he was married.'
Hannah froze. What was she saying? Had her first instincts been correct? Ethan had denied it and it hadn't occurred to her to disbelieve him. Had he sent Mkanda in here to flaunt their affair as some sort of bizarre punishment? She cursed her willingness to accept everything he said at face value as a tide of bitter humiliation rose in her throat.
'He's so attractive, but I don't need to tell you that.' Miranda's smile was apologetic. 'He was very kind to me, which makes it worse, really. He's such a good teacher.'
Don't I know it? Hannah thought grimly.
'I pulled out all the stops to get him.'
And what man could resist what this woman had to offer? Hannah thought grimly. What man would even try? Not my husband, obviously. The pain solidified in Hannah's chest until she felt as if she couldn't breathe. All that stuff about it being the first time in over three years and she'd swallowed it whole.
'At first he ignored it,' Mkanda recalled, her colour heightened. 'Then when I got a lot more obvious he told me straight—he told me he wasn't interested. He was very convincing,' she recalled drily. 'When you go after what you want,' she observed philosophically, 'you have to take the rough with the smooth, but that's part of being a woman today.' She sighed. 'I may be tough, and not as moral as I should be, but I do have a conscience.
So when I realised last night that you thought...' She lifted her slender shoulders and her face twisted in a grimace of self-contempt. 'I couldn't bear it if I was the cause of any conflict. He obviously loves you very much.'
These revelations left Hannah's thoughts in a mad whirl. Ethan had refused this gorgeous creature! Only for a split second did she contemplate that he had done so because of her. In her heart she knew that it was Catherine's image which gave him the strength to resist temptation—that and the fierce sense of protectiveness he felt for his children. She couldn't afford to nurture any illusions on that score; he'd protect this marriage because it gave the children stability.
'You didn't have to tell me this,' she said wonder-ingly. She didn't think she'd have been brave enough to do so if the circumstances had been reversed.
Miranda nodded slowly. 'I know—maybe I'm not as hard-boiled as I thought,' she mused with a self-conscious laugh. 'I don't usually go after married men. I had heard some gossip that your marriage wasn't all it...' She cleared her throat noisily. 'Not that that's any excuse,' she said hastily. 'And I can see it wasn't true anyway. You must think I'm a total bitch,' she said frankly.
'I don't know what I think of you,' Hannah said honestly. 'I know it must have taken guts to come here and say this.'
'I turned the car around three times on the way over.'
'I appreciate your honesty.' It was hard not to, and she could afford to be generous, she told herself, under the circumstances. 'And I can understand any woman finding Ethan irresistible—I do myself,' she admitted, with the faintest glimmer of a mischievous smile.
Miranda gave a sigh of relief that was half a sob. "Thank God,' she breathed. 'I thought you might want to...'
'Tear your hair out?' Hannah suggested. "The thought did occur to me.' It wasn't easy to make a joke out of the violent revulsion of her feelings.
'Miranda gone?'
Hannah turned from her task of preparing vegetables to look at Ethan in a manner as casual as his own. 'I couldn't persuade her to stay,' she quipped waspishly.
'Pity.'
'A real loss,' she drawled. 'Did you enjoy your game of football?'
'Emma has a very pronounced competitive streak,' he mused, rubbing his shin. 'Just like her...'
'Like her mother,' she finished emphatically, even though the reminder hurt.
'I was gong to say like me,' he said, his brows raised a little at her tone.
Her sensitivity had made her jump the gun, and she continued swiftly to extinguish that disturbingly thoughtful expression on his face. 'I'm glad you tell her she can do anything shs sets her mind to,' Hannah observed truthfully. 'It's important for any child, not just a girl, to have someone believe in them.' She was unaware of the hint of wistfulness that had entered her voice.
'Did nobody ever believe in you, Hannah?' he asked softly.
She gave him a startled look. 'Are you trying to discover the reason behind my inadequacies?' she asked sharply, instinctively reacting to the pity she thought she read in his voice. 'Just because I can't ride or sail or swim like a fish—swim at all, actually,' she corrected honestly, 'it doesn't mean I don't have self-confidence. When you're on your own you learn a lot about yourself, about your own resources. Don't worry, I won't infect Emma with my lack of self-esteem.'
'Where the hell did that come from?' he asked incredulously when she paused, breathless and flushed. 'Why the hell should I give a damn if you can ride or... ? Oh, I see, you think I'm comparing you to Catherine.'
Everyone else did; why should he be different? 'It must be impossible not to,' she observed gruffly.
'You're two very different people.'
'I know that. She didn't need a prenuptial agreement,' she snarled, throwing down the knife in her hand. She stopped, appalled at what she'd just said. Why, she wondered with despair, do I keep saying these things?
'The circumstances were very different when I married Catherine. You could say I learnt from experience,' he added obscurely. 'Surely what we have now is more important. I enjoy being with you, Hannah; I enjoy you. I think you enjoy me.'
The soft way he emphasised 'enjoy' brought a rash of goosebumps to her warm skin. 'Why? Why do you...enjoy me?' she asked, unable to tear her eyes from the warmth of his regard.
'You...' he began emphatically. He stopped, and she had the impression he was backtracking. 'You make me laugh,' he finished lightly.
Hannah sighed softly. The sense of anticlimax was intense, but she was prepared to accept the pace he set. Slow and steady got there in the end, and she really did feel now that they had a destination to reach together. 'Like a clown?' she suggested.
; 'Like a warm, funny...lady.'
This time it was Hannah who felt things were running too fast. The glow in his eyes made her knees tremble. 'You no longer appear to think Drew is a danger to the moral fibre of this family.'
Ethan acknowledged her withdrawal with a wry quirk of one darkly defined brow. 'I must admit it's easier to view him in a kinder light now I know he's not sharing my mother's bed.'
'You're so broad-minded!' she admired with a twinkle.
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