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A muscle throbbed at the base of his jaw. “That’s something we have already addressed.”
Addie’s eyes were silently pleading. “Let me finish.” She bit down on her lip for a moment, focusing on his mouth, a mouth that was so beautiful and capable o
f giving pleasure. “You were angry with me, but I wasn’t angry with you. Not at all.”
“Why should you have been?” He demanded, his nostrils flaring as he examined her with ruthless disinterest.
Addie pretended he hadn’t spoken. “Nothing changed for me, that night. Everything I felt then,” she sucked in a wavering breath, telling herself to be brave, “I feel now, Guy.”
His eyes narrowed, his expression laced with rejection – almost humour. “I’m sure you do.” It was a delayed response, drawled through a jaw that was clamped like a vice.
Addie frowned a little. “I mean it, Guy. I fell in love with you the night we met…”
“Don’t.” The single word hissed from his lips. “Don’t you dare make this about love.”
His anger was like an electrical storm, filling the room with cracks of lightning. “Why not? Why pretend that’s not what I feel…”
“Because pretending is what you do, Ava. You pretend until you’re tied up in knots, not knowing what way is up.”
“No,” somehow she dredged a smile to her lips, but it was awkward and heavy. “You’re wrong about me. I didn’t plan to fall in love that night…”
He made a guttural noise of rejection. “Love? Love?” His hands curved around her arms, pulling her to him, holding her body pressed to his. “We were never love. We were sex and lies.”
His lips shattered whatever she’d been about to say, crashing down to hers, ripping apart her equilibrium as desire took its place, hot and urgent, desperate for acknowledgement. Desperate for release. A noise of fight and surrender burst through her. Surrender to this, but fighting his suggestion that this was all they were.
Her hands lifted to his shirt, pushing at it, too impatient to bother with the buttons. She fumbled one and then ripped, needing to see him and feel him more than she’d known it was possible to feel a need for anyone. She made an exhilarated sound of success when the shirt gave way, opening to reveal his tanned chest, sprinkled with coarse hair that ran down his middle, all the way to his impressive manhood.
Her breath was hot and dry in her mouth; impatience zipped through her. She dropped her lips, kissing his throat, running her tongue along his collarbone, while her hands continued to push at his shirt. He helped, shaking his arms out, freeing himself from its confinement, revealing himself to her so that she could touch all of his torso. His strong, powerful, honed torso.
She ripped her head back, to stare at him, her eyes hungrily devouring the sight of him, something she’d been denied for far too long. God, he was so handsome. So perfect. But his face, oh, how it was filled with derision. With scathing distaste, even as his fingers found the hem of her dress and pushed it up, over her naked body, revealing all of her to his gaze.
Her nipples were taut, her flesh covered in a fine sprinkling of goosebumps, and her knees buckled forward, swaying her to him without her knowledge or consent.
The second her breasts connected with his naked chest, her insides melted away. So too her doubts that this was right. It would always be right with them. Perfect. No matter what words they threw at one another, no matter what he said he felt, bodies didn’t lie, and theirs were as perfectly in-sync as ever.
You were easy to replace in my bed, Addie.
His statement flooded her brain out of nowhere, and she pushed aside the coldness that threatened in the wake of that memory. She didn’t want to think about Guillem – her Guillem - being with anyone else. She didn’t want to imagine that he’d known this blissful pleasure, this soul-deep connection, with another woman. No, he was hers, all hers. This, the intensity of their coming together, was uniquely theirs.
She knew it.
“It was good sex, I’ll admit,” he muttered roughly, reaching for his pants and undoing the button, pushing them down his legs with fiery impatience, bringing his mouth to hers urgently once he was naked, lifting her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her through the yacht.
The moon was high in the sky and its light cut through a window optimistically, carving a line of silver in the middle of the boat. Addie was bathed in it as they crossed.
She didn’t notice.
Her fingers knotted in Guy’s thick hair, luxuriating in every single feeling he sparked inside of her. The closeness of their bodies, the feeling of their mouths dueling, the smell of his skin, the taste of him, the sound of his heart that she could hear in her own blood.
Everything.
He backed against the door to his room, fumbling against his side table without breaking their kiss, before dropping her down onto the mattress. He stood then, his eyes glittering as he stared down at her, his face all angles and planes, hardened by a determination Addie couldn’t analyse.
“How can I want you even now?” There was loathing in his voice; loathing for her? For himself? She somehow suspected the latter and a ball of tears gathered in her throat, along with a desperation to relieve him of that pain.
It was all so hard when it should have been simple. So complex and knotty when it should have been straight-forward. She remembered the clarity and perfection that came of their love-making. The sense of complete togetherness and rightness, the certainty that they could take over the world, side by side. She always felt it when he moved inside of her, and that same sense was tantalizingly near now.
He towered over her, close, naked, clearly as desperate for her as she was for him, all of him hard and imposing. There was no denying that his body craved her touch, and she wanted to give him that.
