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‘Then why can’t you just let me leave?’
He gritted his teeth, his body tensing, on edge. ‘Because you, my sweet, selfish wife, made promises. One of which was to attend my father’s ninetieth birthday party.’
That got to her, he thought as her eyes widened.
He released his grip. ‘Perhaps in your quest for independence that slipped your mind. But it hasn’t slipped mine.’
And he was prepared to exploit the chemistry she was so desperate to deny one last time to get what he wanted.
When the car stopped, he got out. Seconds later, as he had known he would, he heard a door slam. The click of heels.
‘What you’re asking is impossible.’
He turned. Delphi was standing in front of him. A light breeze tugged at her dress so that it clung to her legs, and he felt a current of hunger curl beneath his anger.
‘For you to attend an event as my wife?’ He frowned. ‘How so? It’s not something you haven’t done before.’
He saw her hands ball into fists.
‘Being a wife isn’t just a title It’s what you feel about a person. I don’t feel that way about you.’
Her face was back to that carefully schooled mask he knew so well.
‘I’m not an actress. You can’t just snap your fingers and ask me to perform.’
Later he would wonder if it was that click of her fingers or the cool, maddening indifference of her expression that made him step forward. But in that moment, he had no conscious thought. He was just pure need.
‘I’m not asking.’
In one seamless movement he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her against him. He fitted his mouth to hers, claiming her as he had done a thousand times before and would have done a thousand times more if she hadn’t walked out on their marriage.
He felt her tense, her hands pressing into his chest, pushing, and then not pushing but pulling him closer.
He heard her breathing quicken and felt a spike of satisfaction as she leaned into him, her fingers clutching at his jacket.
She might be able to hide everything else, but in his arms she couldn’t hide the need she felt. A need that mirrored and matched his own.
Hunger and heat swamped him. It burned everything in its path, consuming the past, melting the present.
Her lips were soft and urgent, her tongue was in his mouth, his in hers, their hands were in each other’s hair, tugging, teasing, not tender but frantic, unthinking, ungovernable, astonishingly carnal.
It was not enough.
Behind him, across the fields came a distant flurry of thunder. No, not thunder. Fireworks.
He dragged his mouth from hers. She stepped backwards, stumbling a little, her hands clenching. She looked like he felt. Shaking inside, shaken by the burst of heat that was still roaring through him.
He forced himself to meet her gaze. ‘See,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t even need to click my fingers.’
Her pupils flared. ‘I don’t have my passport.’
‘But I do.’ He reached into his jacket and pulled it out. ‘I had one of my people pick it up this morning. So, if there’s nothing more, I suggest we get going. We’re on a tight schedule as it is.’
And, ignoring both the flames still crackling through his body and her pale, trembling face, he turned and walked across the runway to the waiting plane.
