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The rest of the evening passed in a blur for her. When she realised, she lay back on her cold bed, for a sleepless night.
Chapter Sixteen
A few days later, she sat in the study checking the ledgers while Conrad remained out. Her real feelings stared her in the face, she had shied away even more from him. A grotesque game of hide and seek established itself in the house. She came to parts of the manor or the surrounding terrain at times she realised he would be absent. If he came upon her, she would find an excuse to leave within moments. She dreaded enclosing herself in the same space as he for fear of losing the tenuous control she had managed to keep.
The nights prolonged her miserable want of him, anguish so intense she almost threw everything to the blazes and crossed the grim connecting door. To beg. Beg to be his in any way he wanted her, as if it would be better than the laceration of his distance. She held herself firmly from it though, pride getting the best of her. But pride was a lousy bed partner, she gathered gloomy. She would rather keep her self-preservation despite everything.
The movement at the door tore her from her musings. Her head up, she saw Conrad entering. At her presence, he stopped mid-movement of closing it. Blast! The hours drained by—in alarm—if he had already returned from the fields. Ruffled-haired, coatless, open-necked shirt, he embodied overpowering attraction.
She jumped abruptly from the chair, on retreat mode. Their eyes crashed then, making her body react in the bluntest way, heat assailing her while her heart skipped a beat only to go off suddenly. Her feet surrounded the desk, and she walked to the door.
“Sorry, I was just checking ledgers.” She apologised awkwardly. “I am on my way to tea.”
His eyes persisted fast on her. For an answer, he clicked the door closed. She made to the door. Never leaving her eyes, his hand gyrated the key, plucked it from the door and kept it in his pocket.
Dear me!
“You will have to find other ways to avoid me.” His husky voice informed her.
Catching her in the study listed among the best it had happened in days, Conrad celebrated inwardly. After the hell she had put him through with her skittish strategies; or parading in that frock before him during the most difficult dinner party of his deranged life, trapping her seemed the unique resource left to him.
She dressed one of her practical prudish attires which succeeded solely in making him hotter for her. Strands of her rosewood hair freed from her tight bun, framed her delicate features.
Her attention followed the key, and lifted to him wide-eyed. Her lips parted, and he heard her breath stagnate at the same time her beautiful face coloured. No novelty she wanted him, the problem being her taking him. For that, he was compelled
to siege her in the same room as he.
Paces towards her, he halted so close, he saw his reflection in her dilated pupils. Legs apart, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. She bent her head back to meet his eyes; so wide, she seemed to engulf him. He wished she engulfed him in other… delectable ways.
“I am not avoiding you.” She breathed, the sound hardening him. “We did not agree on our cohabitation arrangement. Full stop.”
“We most certainly do not agree even on the very concept of cohabitation.” He stated, as she tried to live separate from him, not with him.
Her breasts elevated as she captured breath. His eyes fell on them, fuller, more delicious. He lamented not being able to follow the changes his child made in her body. On the other hand, she made changes in his body all right!
“Precisely.” Her faint answer.
She moistened her lips with a nervous twitch causing his erection to grow to a painful point.
“We should elaborate a more… comfortable arrangement, don’t you agree?” For ‘comfortable’ was not how he felt at that exact moment.
She flushed scarlet, her breath uneven. “I-I don’t think so.”
“Your mouth says one thing. Your eyes beg me to take you.” He defied her. “Decide whether you hate me or want me.” This indefiniteness tortured him.
She must hate him, to rag his guts in such way, to keep him so frustrated, he went insane. To request him to be away from her, even if she wanted him.
Hate him? If he only knew! Her blurred thoughts produced.
Her eyes focused on him burning with unwanted desire and her lips widened breathless. God help her, she possessed no forces to hate him, but craved him like fire devouring logs in a hearth. The blue flames fuelled her acid feelings; the red ones licked her hungry body, the contradiction turning her mind to ashes. He represented the grapes, green and rotten at the same time. But when his hands palmed her buttocks and pulled her firmly to his ready manhood, the red flames prevailed and she was lost.
His longed for mouth ravened hers in a plundering kiss. They assaulted each other’s mouth open, impudent, thirsty, their tongues chasing, touching, provoking. She made a sound in the back of her throat as her hands merged in his divinely smooth hair. Iron arms closed tighter around her, gluing their eager bodies.
“You cruel harridan!” He moaned on her mouth. “To segregate me in this abstinence all this time!”
“You deserved it!” She moaned back, not even sure she was right.
No more talking because his hand had found her breast and teased it merciless. She groaned; his stubble mouth collated to her neck, her head falling back as his skilled touch assaulted her senses.
