“Yes, Proyart’s cooking shows that he’s the best in England when it comes to fish.” Ethan scooted next to her and put his hand over hers. “Why are you so tense?”
Because I’m going to hurt you. “Ethan...” she took a deep breath, mustering courage. “I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else. I-I’m getting married.”
That bastard. “MacCraig.” Ethan already knew, but to hear the words from her mouth just sliced his heart open again. He drank a gulp of water to dislodge the stale taste that had filled his mouth. How can you do this to me, Sophia? I trusted you.
“Yes. Alistair Connor. In August. The seventh.” Oh, damn! Slow down, Sophia! Focus on him. She remembered Edward’s words. ‘Do be gentle when you break his heart.’ “But I don’t want it to interfere with our friendship. I like you and...” She felt bad for him. She truly did.
I don’t like you. I love you. For a minute he lost track of her words as his gaze roamed over her face and he remembered Eve, spacing out to a dark place inside his mind.
“...Ethan. But I value our friendship much more than any business transaction. I perfectly understand if you want to cancel the contribution-”
His finger landed smoothly on her mouth, “No. Never.” So, this is it. No more chances. He quietly regarded her as she stammered away inviting him to her wedding and finally fell silent.
For once in his adult life, Ethan Ashford didn’t know what to say or how to proceed.
Since Eve, no woman had dismissed him. No woman had exchanged him for another man. No one else had the chance to betray him. He was always the one in charge. He was the one who dismissed them. But with Sophia, from the beginning, things had gone awry, because he couldn’t control his jealousy or work out his inability to deal with children. He had fallen hard for her and didn’t know what to do to free himself of his obsession.
Their silence weighed over them as a suffocating icy fog.
Sophia cleared her throat. “Ethan, I don’t want you to feel...” What? I’m not his girlfriend - or lover - anymore. It’s not in my power to make him feel better. She wrung her napkin in her damp hands.
Exchanged? Betrayed? Hurt? I’m feeling that and much more. “Sophia. Darling,” he captured her hand in his and squeezed it, the two words softly and tenderly washing over her like a soothing wave. “Promise me just one thing.”
“What?” she rasped, looking down at the wrinkled linen napkin on her lap.
“Promise me you will never let MacCraig hurt you. That you will be happy,” he demanded seriously.
“I can promise you that,” she murmured relieved.
He curled his fingers under her chin and turned her face to his. There was no light in his azure eyes when he said, “Know that if you need something, anything, I’ll be here for you. Any time.” He kissed her forehead and smiled down at her, in a swift, faked, change of his mood. “Shall we order dessert?”
Atwood House.
Tuesday, June 1st, 2010.
6.05 a.m.
A low fire flowed through her veins as Sophia crawled her way up through the sea of sleep. It took her only a moment to understand why she felt hot. Alistair’s mouth was on her breast, his lips and tongue stirring an almost painful pleasure in her.
She moaned softly as she threaded her fingers through his silky, long hair, holding him close and silently inviting him to do as he pleased.
He muttered good morning, but didn’t raise his head from her breast. His tongue teased her nipple with so much care that her breathing speeded up.
“Good. Morning,” she murmured between moans, arching beneath his stroking hands and warm mouth.
There was a small part of her that still marveled at how wanton Alistair could make her even in the early hours of the morning. Thoughts soon disappeared from her mind as he made his way, with kisses and nibbles, down her belly and beyond.
“Alistair,” a ragged gasp left her mouth as she pushed up against his lips.
“Easy and slow.” His hands on her hips held her firmly in place, loving the feel of her soft, bare skin under his lips. “Relax and enjoy, sweetheart.” He kissed and teased her leisurely, stoking her desire with slow strokes of his tongue. When his fingers entered her, she was already wild with need, clawing at his hair.
“Please,” she asked in a voice so thick with desire, she barely recognized it as her own. She grabbed hold of his broad shoulders as he kissed his way back up her body with a slow pace she had no patience for. She tugged his hair, “Alistair Connor, don’t tease.”
All mine. He hovered above her, basking in her beauty, those yellow diamond eyes that he’d never seen in any other.
“I want you,” she whispered as she wrapped her legs around him and used them to make him lower his hips to hers, struggling to quench the throbbing fire inside her. She took his hard arousal in her hand and stroked him.
He closed his eyes with a low grunt. Her touch was soft and firm.
“Can you feel how much I want you?” she whispered as she kissed his neck and shoulders.
“Yes.” His green eyes opened to blister her with a possessive look while he let her position him just at her entrance. He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss and thrust shallowly, easing himself into her, bit by bit, in contained movements that left her even more heated. “You’re beautiful.”
“Ah, yes!” She pressed her feet down on his taut buttocks, pushing him deeper. His big, muscular body settled down on her more firmly and she held him close, her fingers and nails exploring the ridges of his back as he filled her, fighting to hold back the need for release mounting inside her with every long plunge of his.
“Alistair, please,” she panted mindlessly, on fire, overwhelmed by his intense passion.
“I love you,” he rasped in her ear taking her earlobe in his mouth, plunging inside her, a long movement that ended in a circling motion, teasing her clitoris.
She wound her arms around his neck, dipping her fingers in his hair, as her inner muscles contracted rhythmically around his manhood until he was moaning and a sheen film of sweat covered his forehead.
“Wait! Not yet.” He closed his eyes and took her mouth again in a fevered kiss, enjoying the slick feeling of her silken depths squeezing him in tempo with his quickening thrusts. This is when we’re one.
She dug her nails on his shoulder for support as she began to tense up and a constant shuddering took hold of her body.
“Alistair, now. Please.” Another long shove of his hips cut the last tie she had on her control.
Her climax raced through her with such force that she threw her head back and choked back a scream when she came, shaking as convulsions gripped her with the strength of her pleasure.
She was briefly aware of Alistair thrusting fast and hard a few more times before he growled out her name and trembled in her arms as his own orgasm shattered his rigid body.
He fell on her, hauling deep breaths as if he had been rescued from drowning.
Sophia welcomed his weight, her arms holding him tightly before he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.
“You were tense,” she murmured and placed her head in the crook of his arm, resting her cheek against the warmth of his broad chest. He was all hard muscle covered with soft velvet skin and she wanted to crawl under it. Unable to move or even think, Sophia was utterly unaware when sleep claimed her again.
Alistair laid there looking up at the patterns in blue and green on the canopy over her bed, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he wondered how she would react when she discovered that the press would abound at the gallery opening later that evening.