He continued, ‘But this…situation—’
‘We’re married, it’s not a situation,’ Poppy inserted, still feeling prickly at the thought of him blithely seeking out his lovers. He’d agreed to a duration of five years for this marriage but there had been nothing in black and white about fidelity.
‘OK, fine, thismarriagehas not conformed to any expectations I ever had. I want you, Poppy. I want my wife. But we both know where we stand here. There’s no ambiguity. No promise of anything more.’
To Poppy’s shame and consternation, she could feel herself weakening. Because she did want him too. She was desperate to know if it would feel the same. Be as good. As amazing. She’d believed he’d never touch her again, but he was looking at her now as if he was barely holding onto his restraint and it was seriously exciting.
Nevertheless, she tried to resist. ‘What if I don’t want you?’
Caius lifted his gaze from where it had been on her mouth. He said, ‘I’ve never forced a woman in my life, and I’m not about to start. If you say you don’t want me, I have to respect that. I won’t touch a hair on your head.’
She believed him. In this, he had integrity. And he was proud. He wouldn’t debase himself. But the thought of the next few days stretching out between them with this palpable tension between them and knowing that he wanted her… Poppy could feel herself caving.
That night with Caius in Paris had been the most reckless thing she’d ever done in her life. And they were here now, because of the consequences of that act. Would it be so bad to take something for herself again?
She felt acutely conscious of her own desire. She’d always imagined attraction and sex would be civilised matters, not this stomach-clenching, prickling, hot urgency under her skin, in her blood. It was animalistic.
Caius put his hands up now and took a step back. ‘OK, fine, if you don’t want this then I won’t mention it again. Maybe you’re right, things are complicated enough.’
But suddenly Poppy felt reckless again. This man wasn’t rejecting her. He wanted her. He hadn’t been with anyone else since her. He turned to walk back to the buggy and she turned and called out, ‘Wait, stop.’
He stopped. Turned around.
A volcanic surge of need mixed with a kind of possessiveness she’d never experienced before propelled Poppy forward and her arms were around Caius’s neck and he was stumbling backwards and wrapping his arms around her at the same time and just about managing to stay upright as Poppy breathed out, ‘Damn you, Caius Mansur—’ just before her mouth connected with his and she kissed him with a fervour born of everything roiling around inside her.
The fact that Caius matched that fervour, splaying his big hands across her back and holding her to him, only made her press closer.
Their mouths were fused, Poppy’s blood was pumping, heart clamouring. Then something shifted…became less desperate. Caius eased back slightly and said against her mouth, ‘Take a breath, it’s OK, we have all the time in the world.’
Poppy opened her mouth slightly and sucked in air and Caius’s mouth settled on hers again and the desperation faded, to be replaced with something more languorous and toe-curlingly erotic.
His tongue stroked hers and heat pooled deep inside Poppy, between her legs. Her belly was pressed against Caius’s body and she could feel his erection between them. She was practically climbing him like a tree. Everything around them forgotten.
After long drugging minutes, Poppy pulled back and looked up into Caius’s face. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glittering. Hungry. The evidence of his desire made her feel a hundred and one things at once along with a pricking of insecurity—was this her unique effect on him or was this just his sexual frustration?—but she pushed it aside. She needed him too much. But she also needed to reiterate to herself that she had this under control.
‘This is just physical, right?’
He nodded. ‘It’ll burn out. It always does.’
Somehow, Poppy didn’t find that hugely reassuring but she was too hot for him to question it. ‘We can see the vineyards another time. Let’s go back to the chateau.’
Cauis took her hand and led her, on distinctly wobbly legs, back to the buggy and this time he got into the driver’s seat. Poppy didn’t care, she just wanted him to get them back to the chateau before she could overthink what was happening.
Caius drove carefully but fast and within minutes he was leading her into the chateau and to the wing with the bedrooms, and up the winding stairs and into his bedroom suite, which mirrored hers more or less exactly except for the decor. This suite was more muted, and neutral. But Poppy didn’t see any of that. All she could see was Caius, commanding the space.
He stood apart from her and said, ‘Undo your hair.’
She’d pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. She reached back and pulled out the tie. The fact that he seemed to like her hair filled her with a sense of confidence. Her father used to look at her and say, ‘No one in this family was ever a redhead, it must be from your mother’s side.’ It had been another strike against her. Another reason to not be good enough.
But Caius came forward now and reached for her hair, loosening it out and spreading it over her shoulders. She luxuriated in the sensation like a cat. Then he dropped his hands to her shirt and looked at her. ‘OK?’
She nodded. He undid the buttons and pulled the shirt open. She immediately felt self-conscious. Her breasts were bigger and she’d all but forgotten about the belly, which now felt huge.
But Caius was looking at her, avid, cheeks flared with colour. Hesitantly, Poppy said, ‘I’m a bit…bigger.’
Caius slid the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms and it fell to the floor.
‘You are beautiful.’
