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He was here, and now it was time to do what she'd promised herself. She'd get everything out into the open, tell him the truth—tell him she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
She wouldn't tell him about the baby, though. Not yet. He might look on it as emotional blackmail. He had to freely agree to keep their marriage going because he wanted it that way, not because he felt it was an inescapable duty.
Tentatively, she moistened her dry-as-dust lips and tried to swallow. Her throat still wouldn't work.
As soon as she could speak coherently, she would know whether he wanted her or not. Permanently. Her head began to spin dizzily as she watched him avidly. Scrub 'permanently', for the moment—she could tell he wanted her right now, if only for a brief hour of unreasoning rapture.
He'd closed the door behind him and had walked a couple of paces into the room. He looked tired. The lines of strain made his features harsher, but the dark smudges around his eyes didn't detract from the slow, simmering, brooding gaze that lingered over every lush curve of her scantily clad body.
Flesh burning, her stomach quivering, she instinctively raised her hands to him in mute supplication. He'd removed his jacket, dragged off his tie, dropping them on the floor, his eyes still riveted to her, a dull flush stealing over his hard cheekbones.
Slowly, his eyes lifted to hers, locking. She felt dizzy with longing, with needing him. Desperate. Her heart lurched. He wanted her, too—now. She knew he did. The truthful little speech she'd run over and over in her head evaporated in the sizzling heat of mutual desire.
With a tiny moan she ran towards him, her arms outstretched. Words were superfluous. What was needed was a whole lot of the sensuous lovemaking that they'd become so demonstrably good at. Together.
CHAPTER TEN
His eyes had turned to deepest smouldering silver, Cassie noted with a delirious kick of her heart as she impulsively wound her arms around his neck and wriggled her nearly naked body as close to his as she could possibly get.
She knew there were things she had to say to him, things she should tell him—plus the million-dollar question that had to be asked. But not now, not just yet... She needed this... Needed to feel close to him...
Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape. It was damp with perspiration, the rest of it soft and ruffled, falling over his forehead in dark wayward strands, touching the clenched black bar of his brows.
His eyes were closed now, his mouth compressed.
Cassie slid her hands down the strong column of his neck, splaying her fingers out over the intimidating width of his shoulders. He made no move to hold her but she knew he wanted to, that at any moment the power of her love for him would break through his resistance.
Her tingling breasts were pressed against the broad span of his chest and she could feel the heavy, rapid beat of his heart and the firm leap of his arousal against the yielding softness of her bare tummy, and that told her all she needed to know.
'I missed you,' she said, her voice thick with longing. She knew he wanted her, so why didn't he hold her? Why was he holding back, denying himself the reaffirmation of her love?
Her heart missing a beat, she slipped his shirt buttons from their moorings and slid her hands beneath the soft fabric, her palms moving frantically over the hot satin of his skin.
'So it would seem.' His voice was gritty, his eyes opening at last to spear her with silver intensity. 'As I've already said, the change in your attitude to sex is mind-blowing.'
'Don't!' She dropped her bright head, burrowing her face into his tautly muscled chest. 'This isn't just about sex,' she promised, the frenzied need to have him believe her making her slur her words. 'I know what you think of me, but don't! You mustn't—it simply isn't true!'
Any hope of coherency left her then; the warmth of his skin was burning her, the tangy, clean male scent of him drugging her senses. The power he had over her knocked her senseless, made her dizzy with a need that would never go away.
With a tiny smothered groan she pressed her mouth to his flat male nipple, tasting him recklessly, and dragged her hands over the hard arch of his rib-cage and down over the tight muscles of his stomach and heard him pull air between his teeth just before he muttered, 'So be it!' and enfolded her, one hand pressing against the small of he
r back, pulling her closer into the thrusting power of him, the other tangling in the wild fall of her hair, dragging her head back.
'Por Dios’ The harsh words cut through the thick sultry silence as his mouth took hers with a raw passion that was almost savage. Cassie gave a cry of willing, exultant capitulation as his sensual mouth moulded hers, his tongue clashing with hers as he sought her inner sweetness.
Wild fingers tangled in the soft rich darkness of his hair, anchoring his head, holding him to her as if she would never let him go. And she wouldn't, not if she could help it. That was her last clear thought as his thighs thrust between the quivering shakiness of hers and he edged her back towards the bed.
Together they fell onto the soft silk that covered the deep mattress and he rolled over and pinned her beneath his weight, finding the front fastening of her bra with impatient fingers, releasing the lush fullness of her breasts to the urgency of his hungry hands.
Only then did he break the demand of his kiss, dipping his dark head to suckle her, and Cassie gasped out loud, flinging her arms above her head in wild and wanton abandon, his for the taking, now and always.
And then the phone rang.
It was the internal house phone. It sat on a small table beneath one of the tall windows. Roman's lithe body stiffened and Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck and held him. 'Ignore it,' she breathed raggedly.
But Roman reached for her clasped hands and released himself, swung his long legs over the side of the bed, dragged in a long shuddering breath then stalked across to the strident instrument.
Would he come back to her? Cassie wondered unhappily. His face in profile looked remote. Guarded. All passion gone. She knew—who better?—that he'd returned as full of reservations as he'd been when he'd left two days ago—but she'd broken through his defences, hadn't she? And in the sweet, lazy aftermath of loving she would have told him what he needed to know, pleaded with him if necessary to give her another chance to make their marriage work.
