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“Proving you wrong.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that her words had forced him to take action. He wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her back against the wall, so that he was tantalisingly close to her inner-most centre, dragging heavy kisses down the column of her neck. He felt her surrender immediately as her body went limp with the overpowering sensation they had always stoked in one another. Her hands feathered down his chest and pulled at the cotton fabric of his t-shirt, lifting it over his head. He had to dip his hips to hold her in place while she ripped the shirt from his body.
Then, her lips were on his shoulders, kissing, tasting, nipping the smooth tanned skin between her teeth. He groaned low in his throat and pulled her away from the wall, carrying her with him to the thickly carpeted floor.
Her fingers fumbled at the button of his jeans but finally, she unclasped them and pushed impatiently, so that he was almost naked. His gaze was dark with desire as it raked over her face, taking in every detail, from her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, to her own slumberous eyes.
He pulled her black trousers down quickly, sliding his hand in between her thighs and teasing the entrance to her core. She exhaled shakily and dug her nails into his shoulders. “Please, please,” she muttered incoherently, pulling at her own shirt and tearing it over her head, throwing it clear across the room.
His face was pure ecstasy as he removed her final undergarments. Poised to take her, he put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head, so that she was looking straight into his piercing black stare. “This was real,” He insisted roughly. “Never doubt that.” And he drove into her then, while their eyes were locked, and each was a complete prisoner of the other.
It was a funny thing, their desire, Cassie thought afterwards, when her brain had reacquired its ability to think rationally. Cassie had always believed lovemaking was better when it was just that – making love with a partner you loved. Or at least cared for. But her need for Benedict seemed to be growing exponentially each day, which was ironic given that they had come to a place where they seemed unable to stand one another.
He lay beside her, carefully untouching, staring at the elaborate crystal chandelier that hung a little to their left, from the double-height ceilings.
Through the haze of desire came a thread of a thought. It felt important and she tried to cling to it, to remember something that was dancing at the outer edges of her consciousness. The text message. She turned her head to the side, so that she was facing him. His autocratic profile was unmoving. His eyes glazed, cold.
“I stayed at my place last night.” She said quietly, watching him for a reaction that didn’t come. “Waitressing was a disastrous idea. I was mobbed. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. But I didn’t want to come back here.” She said honestly. “The text message you saw was from the Romanian weight lifter Cherie has temporarily let my room to. A woman weight lifter.” She clarified.
Still, he didn’t speak, and after a minute of waiting, she went to stand up. But Benedict grabbed her shoulder and held her back. “Why are you telling me this?” His words were carefully monotonous.
She chewed on her lower lip. “Contrary to what you might believe, I prefer honesty,
generally. And...” She searched for the right way to express the jumbled way she was feeling. “I just couldn’t bear the idea of you believing me capable of that.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t make sense when you believe me capable of so much worse. I know.”
His eyes glinted with his inner frustration. “I believe only what you’ve admitted to in the past. What you’ve shown yourself to be capable of. There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”
“I can’t believe it. You seem to have all the answers.”
“Why take Alyssia’s jewellery when you must have had scores of valuables at your disposal. You have a trust fund, for God’s sake.”
“I couldn’t access my trust fund until I turned twenty two.” She said automatically and then realised that he would see that as an explanation of her guilt. “But, yes, you’re right. There were valuables all over the house.”
His black eyes flared. “So the only reason to take from Alyssia was to wound her.” He shook his head.
She lowered her eyes, unable to bear the mocking reproach on his face. “We could argue until we’re blue in the face. You’ll never understand why I made the choices I did, and I’ll certainly never understand nor forgive you for how you deceived and then betrayed me. None of that matters any more. But the idea of a perfectly innocent set of circumstances leading you to believe I’d spent the night with another man... I don’t want that on my conscience.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” he drawled, his voice laced with sarcasm.
With a chortle of anger, she pushed up to standing and stomped down the hallway, wanting as much distance between them as possible. Why had she let her desire overtake her rational thought? Why hadn’t she been strong enough to resist?
Her temper reached boiling point and she stalked back to where he still lay, naked, glorious and perfect, staring at the ceiling. He looked so darned relaxed, like he could have fallen asleep any moment. “This is all your fault!” She fumed down at him, pulling her shirt on as she spoke, then stepping into her briefs.
“Oh?” He brought his gaze lazily to rest on her flushed face.
“I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you! Thought that you were on my team. You have ruined my life! Do you understand that? All I have ever wanted was to be normal!” She spat, blinking away the hot, angry tears that had moistened her eyes.
He stood then, pulling his jeans on. “Poor little rich girl,” he said with mock sympathy.
Her laugh was a staccato burst, a refuting of that very idea. “I don’t consider myself rich,” She contradicted, spreading her arms wide to emphasise her point.
“You have a trust fund that could buy a small nation,” He said incredulously. “You have a prince as a godfather. Yet you claim you don’t consider yourself to be rich?”
“Money isn’t the same as wealth.” She said with dignity. “You of all people should appreciate that.”
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinising her carefully. “Why, pray tell, should I of all people know any such thing?”
