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‘A good choice,’ he remarked sagely. ‘I know the artist well.’
‘I suppose you employ him?’ she asked brittly.
‘Her,’ he corrected brutally. ‘And no, I do not.’
Pain, fierce, sharp, unwilling and debilitating— punched at the pit of her stomach. Was the artist who had produced this as exquisite as her painting, with eyes as black as his and hair like the night? Tears threatened to sting the back of her eyes.
‘I’ll get my things,’ she said, and scooted off to the bedroom before she made a fool of herself. Once there, she packed a suitcase full of clothes, hesi- tating as her gaze halted on the manila envelope on her dressing table. It contained the rough draft of her first chapter. She moved away, then hovered back again, torn with indecision.
If she really was going to go through with marrying Constantine, then what was she pro- posing to do while he went out to work? Surely this was an ideal time to complete the book?
She moved back and picked up the envelope, thrusting it to the bottom of her suitcase, when some sixth sense told her that the bedroom door had opened, and that Constantine had walked silently into the room. She didn’t turn round, stayed looking at the suitcase, afraid to look at him, vul- nerable in such an intimate setting as her bedroom. ’I’m almost ready.’
‘Are you?’ he said softly.
He was behind her; she could hear the soft rise and fall of his breathing.
‘Please wait outside,’ she said shakily, but now she could feel his warm breath on her neck, feel the strong hands at her waist, firmly turning her to face him, and the black ice-fire in his eyes almost blinded her. How could she stay immune to the stark, dark passion so evident in that cruelly handsome face? A passion that he had awakened in her; a passion of such strength and intensity that it terrified her.
And excited her beyond belief.
‘I’m almost ready,’ she said again, foolishly.
‘Ready for what?’ he queried softly. ‘For this?’ He bent his head to plant a soft, soft kiss on her neck, and her body was drawn towards his with a trembling yearning.
‘Please don’t,’ she whispered.
‘But you want me to. You’re ready for me.’ One finger trickled with sensitive awareness to find the tip of her breast, and he pressed it with delicate precision, drawing attention to the fact that it was hard and hot and ready for him. Just as he’d said.
‘Don’t you?’ And then he did take her in his arms, but he didn’t kiss her, just held her very, very tightly with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, imprisoning her, and Jade had never felt so safe in her whole life. She shut her eyes against his shoulders, recognising one of the truths behind his attraction for her.
That was it; the secret of how he physically over- whelmed her with such ease. It was because the in- security and chaos of her upbringing had left her feeling rootless, and because she had never met a man like him before. Someone so strong; so sure. Someone you could depend on; lean on.
But she couldn’t lean on him, not really. He was motivated to marry her not by an urge to protect her, but through some outmoded concept of ’honour’, and a physical ache for her.
That was all.
She should pull away, but the powerful warmth of his embrace held her to him more securely than any chains of metal could have done.
‘Let me go,’ she whispered weakly against his neck.
‘Not yet. I have a much better idea. Let’s go to bed. Let me undress you again. God, how I want to do that. It is too long since I’ve seen you naked, Jade. Just twenty-four hours and yet not a second has gone by when I haven’t thought about how it felt to have you naked and helpless beneath me, gasping with delight as I filled you—your body arching as you cried out your climax. Do you know, I didn’t sleep at all last night for thinking about it, not at all. It was like a fever,’ he whispered in a voice husky with hunger. ‘I want to make love to you as with no other woman.’
Jade swallowed; unbearably and shamefully tempted. ‘But your brother and chauffeur are outside waiting in the car.’
‘Let them wait!’ He pulled her closer. ‘They can wait all night for all I care.’
She could feel the hard throb between his legs, and oh, she wanted to reach out and touch him there, she wanted to know and explore every gorgeous inch of him. ‘But they’ll know exactly what we’re doing—’ Her own voice sounded husky.
‘I don’t care!’ he murmured against her hair. ‘I care for nothing other than making love to you’
She pulled away from him, her green eyes lighting with triumph as she saw the ache of frustration etching lines onto his handsome face. ‘But we didn’t make love yesterday! Did we, Constantine? We had, as you so charmingly put it, “good sex”, and do you know, I regret every single minute of it! For two pins I’d like to have the gumption to call your bluff and tell you to get the hell out of here, be- cause I honestly can’t imagine that anyone would threaten the livelihood of a group of old men by sacking them’
‘Try me,’ he taunted softly.
Jade shook her head, saw him watch the blonde hair shimmering in angry tendrils over her shoulders. ‘No, I shan’t bother. You aren’t just anyone—you’re ruthless enough to do anything. But let me tell you one thing—we haven’t made love and we aren’t going to make love, either—and if that makes you frustrated, then that’s great!’
He gave her a cruel, mocking smile. ‘Want to bet?’ he queried softly, as his eyes alighted on her strained, pinched complexion. ‘I’m not the only one feeling frustrated around here, am I, Jade?’
