Font Size:  

‘Cristos, Theresa, I don’t want you to grit your teeth through sex. What the hell do you take me for?’

His offence was obvious. She grimaced, offering an apologetic smile before pushing up to stand on feet that were none too steady. She was a mess. She hadn’t thought this through before—she hadn’t been capable of thought—but as she looked around, she saw no towels and a perfectly nice floor she didn’t want to saturate.

‘I don’t want to leave puddles everywhere.’

‘It’s a yacht—puddles go with the territory.’

She didn’t respond. The idea of walking, dripping wet, away from him was undignified and somehow wrong.

‘I’ll get you a towel.’ As he stepped out of the spa, the evidence of his own arousal was on display, so she turned her back, lips parted, breath burning. She was beyond confused. If he was aroused, then it was proof that he had wanted her. But maybe that was just a physical response, like sneezing when you looked at the sun.

Plagued by self-doubt, she hated herself in that moment, and everything that had happened to turn her into this. Wasn’t there a saying about time healing all wounds? Maybe eventually she’d be herself again.

Alex returned with the towels, but instead of handing one to her, as she’d expected, he placed one on the floor at his feet and gestured for her to step out. She did so, not able to meet his eyes, and when she was standing in front of him he wrapped the other towel around her shoulders, making her feel warm and protected and safe. All feelings she immediately pushed aside. She was none of those things because of him. She had to find her own way to those emotions, she couldn’t rely on Alex to provide them.

‘Thank you.’ Her gratitude was expressed crisply.

A sharp sigh escaped his lips and then he was lifting her up again, cradling her wet body to his broad chest, carrying her through the yacht. They were definitely leaving the puddles she’d intended to avoid, but she clung on to Alex, breathing in his masculine scent as he turned and walked through a door, into a bathroom that was too grand to exist on a yacht. Her family’s own boat was well-appointed but this was next level.

He placed her on the tiled floor, holding her right in front of him. ‘May I?’ he asked, hand lifting to the back of her bra.

She couldn’t look away. Eyes huge in her face, she nodded slowly, then blinked her eyes closed as he unclasped it.

He dropped it to the ground and her nipples puckered against the evening air, her skin lifting in goosebumps: not because she was cold, but because she was warming up again, finding it hard to keep a grip of the reality she so desperately wanted to have uppermost in her mind.

It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him. To throw caution to the wind and surrender to their passion as they’d done earlier, but doubts collided with her absolute need to control the terms of their relationship, so instead she took a step backwards, looking over her shoulder. ‘Is there anything I need to know about operating the shower?’

A lump formed in her throat and she looked away, conscious of the way he moved to the enormous shower and stepped inside, flicking a lever then sliding another one. ‘This does temperature,’ he said. ‘And this, water pressure.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ she mumbled nervously.

‘Do you need anything else?’

It was a loaded question with one answer. She needed him. But she needed, even more than that, to push the past from her mind. She just didn’t know how. Marrying Alex had made sense on the day, but she hadn’t realised that she’d be living with—making love to—the man who’d broken her heart and destroyed her self-esteem. She honestly believed she’d got over it, but the more the idea of sleeping with Alex became a reality, the more her fears bubbled to the surface, convincing her he’d reject her all over again. And how sharp would the sting of pain be this time?

‘No. I won’t be long.’

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like