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I’d brought her here to pay her off. To pay off my responsibilities to the child, to manage the fallout from that night long ago. I’d wanted to be angry with her for her deception, wanted to believe she was guilty of everything I’d ever accused her of in my grief, guilt and loneliness, even though I’d already known before she’d arrived most of it wasn’t true.
I had read the report from the private investigator whom Etienne had hired on my behalf. I knew exactly how hard it had been for her financially, especially during the early years of our son’s life—after I had banished her and threatened her with arrest. I had been wrong, not just about her relationship with my brother, but about my desire for her. I had always tried to pretend it was nothing more than a one-night stand brought about by alcohol, loneliness and opportunity.
The minute she had touched my face, though, the minute she had looked into my eyes, I had seen her compassion, but also her desire, and my body’s response had made me acknowledge how much I had lied to myself.
But I wasn’t the only one lying.
I still wanted her—as much as, if not more than, I had five years ago—but she still wanted me. And now I needed to decide what I was going to do about that too.
Etienne had told me an hour ago Belle had refused the financial package I was offering her. But I was determined my son—and by extension his mother—would be financially secure.
Marching out of my bedroom suite, I headed down the stairs and walked out into the night. It was warm for May, the sultry breeze filling with the scent of wildflowers. But, as I crossed the villa’s terrazzo and took the steps winding down to the pool, the memories blindsided me again. I felt tense and edgy, my skin prickling with the unrequited desire I couldn’t seem to tame, but instead of struggling to hold the memories in, as I stripped off my clothes and dived into the pool, I let them flood through me again as I sunk beneath the crisp, cool water.
‘But I do want you, Alexi. I always have. And I don’t care about the consequences.’
As I stood on the pool terrace, my mind tried to engage with what Belle was saying to me.
Who was this girl? Because it wasn’t the tomboy whose thick braids made her hair look like a couple of hunks of vibrant red rope, the kid who had trailed around after my brother, Remy, for years and got into no end of trouble with him.
I couldn’t ignore the evidence of my eyes any longer. She wore the same shimmering green dress she’d worn a month ago to the Galanti summer ball. I hadn’t recognised her at first that night, and after I had I’d tried to ignore her. But I’d known then I was already in big trouble. Because she didn’t look like a kid any more. She looked like a woman. A beautiful woman.
And tonight she didn’t just look like a beautiful woman, she looked like a goddess, wild and untamed. Her vibrant red hair—no longer pinned up in a sophisticated concoction of curls, as it had been at the ball—caught the moonlight, creating a fiery halo around her head. Those slanting eyes were the colour of rough-cut emeralds, and her high breasts pressed against the tight bodice. Barefoot, brave and unashamed, she was like some Greek water nymph—beautiful, bold and devastating to my peace of mind.
Heat throbbed and surged in my groin, stiffening my shaft and making me forget about the ache in my jaw where my father had lashed out to end our argument.
With Belle I had always felt like a person instead of a shadow. But I felt like much more than just a person now. The sweet passion and approval in those emerald pools weren’t just soothing all the feelings of inadequacy which had haunted me since childhood. They were firing my soul.
What was so wrong with wanting her for myself, just this once?
Tonight I needed her so I could feel like part of the world. To take away the hollow ache in my soul that had always been there. Ever since the night my mother had left and my father had used his fists on me for the first time.
I didn’t want to think about consequences, about the past or the future. I just wanted to live in the now.
Reaching out of their own accord, my palms caressed the shimmering silk.
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sp; Her breath gushed out against my lips, her arms reaching around me as her body bowed to mine.
I tasted her for the first time. She was like nectar—both sweet and spicy, both refreshing and addictive. I knew I should take things slowly. Be careful with her, be kind. How much experience did she have? But then her fingers curled into my hair, her nails scraping across my scalp, and sensation arrowed into my sex, turning my erection to iron.
Her tongue tangled with mine in fast, furious strokes as if she couldn’t get enough of my taste. I knew how she felt. The hunger was consuming me as I dragged her against the thick ridge in my pants and ground it against her soft curves so she would know how much I needed her.
She didn’t flinch or squeal, she matched my hunger with hunger of her own. My mind, or what was left of it, rejoiced. This was not a woman without experience, or how could she know exactly how to touch and taste me to drive me insane?
The last of my inhibitions died as I scooped her into my arms and carried her to a lounger. She lay panting, her eyes wild, her full breasts heaving against the floaty material. Material I’d wanted to rip off her the first time I’d seen her in the damn thing.
Her hair lay around her and I imagined that mermaid in the cartoon she used to love watching when she’d first come to live with us.
The thought should have had a sobering effect. But remembering her as a kid only seemed to make me more aware of how much older she was now.
Not a girl, a woman. A seductress in full charge of her sexuality.
I wanted to tear the sheer fabric, but forced myself to control the urge.
‘I want you so damn much,’ I admitted.
Her skin flushed, the sight breathtaking as her lips spread into a smile that consumed her whole face and left me feeling a little dazed, a lot dazzled.
