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Shaking, he pushed himself another inch inside her. She gripped his shoulders, straining for more. His eyes were closed, but she saw beads of sweat on his forehead from the effort to hold himself back.
It was only when he heard her start to swear at him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, that his eyes flew open. He looked down at her, his gaze dark and hungry, and a growl came from the back of his throat. “Admit you want me.”
“I want you,” she panted.
With a massive, brutal thrust, he pushed himself inside her, so wide and deep that she gasped in shock. He filled and stretched her to the limit. Pulling back, he thrust again, gripping her shoulders, holding her against the mattress as if to prevent her escape. He thrust again, faster, until he rode her hard and deep. The antique bedframe creaked beneath the violence of his possession, swayed perilously beneath them. As the last vestiges of his self-control frayed, he rode her with increasing intensity, forgetting to be gentle, forgetting everything but blinding, brutal need.
She heard his low, hoarse moan build to a shout as the wooden headboard rattled, pounding against the wall. He impaled her completely, touching her heart, and she screamed as the first waves of new fulfillment washed over her. His low voice joined her in ecstasy, and in that instant of black joy she wept without tears and felt the world crash beneath her.
Afterward, they held each other. She felt the warmth of his body against hers. It could have been moments or hours later when she slowly opened her eyes.
Théo’s eyes were still closed as he held her against his naked body, protecting her with his strong arms, caressing her, keeping her close. Carrie started to put her arms around him, only to discover that two fragments of the black silk sheet were still in her hands, ripped by her fists.
Closing her eyes, she dropped the fabric and pressed her cheek against his warm, naked chest. She took a deep breath. It would be so hideously easy to fall in love with him again.
Her eyes flew open. She couldn’t love him. He didn’t want her love. He was a selfish bastard, foolish enough to believe love was a fantasy. He wanted her to resign herself to a loveless marriage, full of empty luxury.
But she’d just slept with him anyway, risking her heart. Risking everything, since she knew from experience how a condom could fail.
Who was the fool now?
The coverlet fell off her shoulders as she sat up naked in bed.
“Where are you going?” he asked lazily behind her.
“Nowhere,” she whispered.
It was just sex, she told herself fiercely. Only sex. Meaningless. But she had a lump in her throat. She’d surrendered Théo everything, knowing that she could not give a man her body without also soon giving him her heart.
No, she told herself. She suddenly felt like crying. I won’t love him again. I can’t.
She felt his dark assessing gaze behind her. Could he read her feelings? Did he know that part of her would always love him? That her supposed hatred was nothing more than a desperate attempt to protect her broken heart?
With a low French curse, Théo suddenly sat up beside her in bed, his black eyes wide. “The dinner!”
“What?”
“I left the steak and bacon frying on the stove!”
He leapt naked from the bed, a horrified expression on his chiseled face.
A sudden laugh rose to Carrie’s lips. Then, as he reached for a robe, her eyes traced the exquisitely muscled, tanned body of the man who’d just made love to her—the man who’d fathered her child. And all the laughter fell away from her face as she felt the anguished pang in her heart.
She’d just fallen for him. All over again.
Fifteen minutes later, Théo could tell Carrie was lying, and it made him furious.
“Tell me the truth,” he ordered, standing next to the kitchen table. “I can take it.”
“Um. It’s not as bad as it looks,” Carrie offered as she sat, her naked body covered by a white terry-cloth robe. “Really.” She took another bite of the charred meat and mushy vegetables in an overcooked burgundy sauce and gulped it down hard. He could almost see it go down her throat. “It’s um…not half bad.”
“You mean it’s all bad,” Théo said glumly.
Wiping her mouth with a linen napkin, she gave him a cheerful smile. “Still better than raw foamy eggs.”
Typical Carrie, Théo thought with irritation. Al ways trying to make the best of things. Dipping his wooden spoon in the congealed sauce, he tasted it and nearly spat it out. Covering his face with his hand, he leaned against the table and groaned. “I wanted to impress you.”
Their eyes met. The smile fled from her face.
