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“I hope your new…accommodation will be as comfortable as the other was.”
She blushed at the thought that she might lie down and he’d be next door. The idea made her tingle in the most inappropriate places.
“I’m sure they will.”
“Pity…the other arrangement meant we could…spar more often.” His clove gaze boldly told her that “spar” was not the verb he’d had in mind.
Her heart jumped, she sucked in a much needed air, the room suddenly too hot, for her dark purple bombazine silk dress felt too warm.
His gaze turned from sarcastic to hungry and it strolled over her with deliberate appreciation. Every place it surveyed, branded like wicked touch on her skin.
He wanted her. Now. He’d never stopped wanting her, not even while roaming Europe aimlessly. She remained in his mind day and night. Especially night. All he could think about at that precise moment was to carry her back to his chamber and make her his, sate both of them, alleviate the hunger that had eaten at him incessantly.
As a widow, she wouldn’t be betraying anyone, even if this anyone had been his own uncle. He was past any care. He’d tired to lay at night alone, craving her.
“You travelled, I gather.” Her voice sounded a little husky and he supressed a moan. Would she sound like this in the height of passion?
“Yes, exploring some of the continent, before my duties drag me in.”
“You never said you planned to leave.” She dabbed her lush mouth with the napkin, he followed the movement, envying the bloody piece of cloth.
“I hadn’t. It was a rather sudden decision.” He ate a forkful, never leaving his eyes from her.
He had to remember, though, that she was just a gold digger, as any other petit-noblesse woman. He couldn’t let her entice him so miserably. Anger and contempt had to defend him from falling in her web.
If he didn’t stop looking at her that way, she would…dissipate, for pity’s sake! They sat far from each other, but he swallowed the distance with his stare.
“You’re happy now, aren’t you?”
“Happy? How so?“ The movement of his Adam’s apple, as he ate drew attention to the smooth skin of his neck, golden with the Mediterranean sun. What’d it feel like to slide her fingers along it, untie his cravat and…Stop this damn nonsense!
“You held your title and obtained a considerable settlement on top of it.” Saccharine smile plastered on his thin sensuous lips.
Fury exploded in her like a canon ball. This she would not tolerate ever again. She clapped her hand on the table, where she left her napkin, stood resolutely and started tramping, ramrod straight, chin lifted, to the door, behind him.
He stood agile as a feline and caught her hand on the door-handle. A lightning sensation hit her the moment their skin touched. And spread itself like burning whisky all over her body. Philip seemed to sense it too, as he froze, their eyes combatting.
Her heart thundered, her breath uneven. He towered over her, so close she could see the darker rim around his irises, when she lifted her furious eyes to him. He smelled soap and man. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his sleek black hair, see for herself if it was as smooth as it seemed.
“Never forget,” His voice low, dark, hoarse. “I am a predator. I caught the enemy by hunting them down.” His thumb strolled lazily over her hand on the door-handle as he bent and inched closer, their mouths apart by a breath. “If you run, I’ll chase you and bring you under my power.
Ripples of sensation emanated from her hand under his lazy thumb; his breath caressing her lips ever so feathery. Mesmerized by his stare, she almost leaned in and tasted his wine flavoured mouth. She struggled to catch hold of herself, gyrated the door handle, untangled her hand and broke free, banging the blasted door behind her.
Hands fisted on the banged door, Philip rested his forehead on the cool wood. He didn’t have the power. She did. All of it. Her presence made him do things he’d never imagined himself able to do. Again he treated her badly due to a long accumulated frustration.
He dragged himself to the study, filled a glass with a generous amount of brandy, threw himself on the sofa and gulped it in one swig.
Selene ran to her chamber; fell on the bed breathing fast, her emotions thorn between despising him bitterly and her own sense of nonfulfillment. She avoided thinking from where the latter came from. She didn’t understand it and had no wish to.
The week that followed figured among one of the most distressful of her life. She tried hard to put up with his renewed presence in the house, failing miserably. Even when he wasn’t in sight, she sensed his presence in the study; knew he’d come back from wherever he’d gone. They bumped in the breakfast room, in the hallways. And there were the dinners. Damn, the most difficult of it all, where she had to keep up a cool posture and maintain polite conversation for the sake of their bearing before the staff. She wished she could escape somehow.
She couldn’t escape her own thoughts, though, filled with him. The nights begun to be what she dreaded awfully. Between sleep and wakefulness, her mind broke loose and produced very shameful images of them indeed. So much so, she had extreme difficulty meeting his eyes in the morning. She felt her body aflame, her thoughts turned over, her life totally out of her control. How would she be able to endure more, if a simple week went this way?
Philip was no better. The difference being that he didn’t deny the fire she ignited in his blood. Seeing her every day, being in her presence, looking at her, cast him in a hell of desire and frustration. Something about her kept him hanging on. He couldn’t put his finger on what. His friends constantly invited him for…outings, where women would be available. He knew he should go and try to get rid of this obsession. He found himself unable to do it. The idea of touching another woman felt disgusting. Thus he spent his nights burning with unconfessable fantasies, his days with sinful thoughts, his eyes following her whenever possible. The pressure building, his blood boiling, the solitary solutions ineffective. He fast approached exploding point.
Cha
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