The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (174 page)

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Authors: Helen Bianchin

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General

BOOK: The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections)
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‘More tea?' Dominic enquired with urbanity.
‘Thank you, no.'
Benedict rose to his feet in one smooth movement, his eyes enigmatic as they met those of his wife. ‘If you'll excuse us, Dominic?' His smile was warm, and tinged with humour. ‘Dinner was superb. Do give our compliments to Louise.'
‘It's been a lovely evening,' Gabbi said gently, collecting her purse. She spared Francesca a brief, enquiring glance and could determine little from her friend's expression. Their imminent departure provided an excellent excuse for Francesca to leave, and Gabbi's interest intensified when her friend failed to express that intention.
Perhaps, Gabbi speculated, Francesca was determined not to cut and run at the flimsiest excuse to avoid being alone with Dominic.
‘Francesca is quite able to handle herself,' Benedict assured her as he eased the car through the electronically controlled gates and turned onto the street.
‘So is Dominic,' Gabbi reminded him as she spared him a frowning glance.
‘That worries you?'
. ‘Yes,' she answered starkly. ‘I wouldn't like to see Francesca hurt.'
‘I failed to see any hint of coercion on Dominic's part,' Benedict returned tolerantly. ‘And she chose not to take the opportunity to leave when we did.' He brought the car to a halt at a traffic-controlled intersection.
‘Next you'll predict we'll dance at their wedding,' Gabbi declared with a degree of acerbity, and heard his subdued splutter of laughter.
‘It wouldn't surprise me.'
‘Mario—'
‘Is dead,' Benedict stated gently. ‘And Francesca is a beautiful young woman who deserves to be happy.'
The lights changed and the car picked up speed. Gabbi turned her attention to the tracery of electric lights on the opposite side of the harbour. It was a picture-postcard scene, and one she'd admired on many occasions in the past. Tonight, however, it failed to hold any attraction.
‘You don't think she could fall in love again?'
Gabbi was silent for several long seconds. ‘Not the way she loved Mario,' she decided at last.
‘Affection, stability and security can be a satisfactory substitute.'
She felt something clench deep inside her, and she caught her breath at the sudden pain. Was that what he thought about their marriage? The fire and the passion... were they solely
hers
?
The car traversed the Harbour Bridge, then turned left towards the eastern suburbs. Soon they would be home. And, like the nights that had preceded this one, she would go to sleep in his arms. After the loving.
To deny him was to deny herself. Yet tonight she wanted to, for the sake of sheer perversity.
Gabbi made for the stairs as soon as they entered the house. ‘I'll go change.' And slip into the Jacuzzi, she decided as she gained the upper floor. The pulsating jets would ease the tension in her body and help relax her mind.
It didn't, at least not to any satisfactory degree. The doubts that were ever-present in her subconscious rose to the surface with damning ease.
One by one she examined them. Benedict wanted her in his bed, but did he
need
her?
Only
her? Probably not, she admitted sadly, all too aware that there were a hundred women who would rush to take her place. With or without marriage.
One couldn't deny the security factor...for each of them. In her, Benedict had a wife who one day would inherit a share of a billion-dollar corporation, thereby doubling
his
share. Yet, conversely, she also stood to gain.
And stability would be cemented with the addition of children. Why, then, did she continue to take precautions to avoid conception?
Gabbi closed her eyes as images swirled in her mind. The shared joy of early pregnancy, her body swollen with Benedict's child, and afterwards the newborn suckling at her breast.
But it was more than that. Much more. The newborn would develop and grow into a child who became aware of its surroundings, its parents. Financial security would not be an issue. But emotional security?
Divorce had a traumatic effect, and having to accept a stepparent in the place of a loved one was infinitely worse.
Fiercely protective, she wanted desperately for her child to grow up in a happy home with two emotionally committed parents. A marriage based on a business merger lacked the one ingredient essential for a mutually successful long-term relationship: love.
A one-sided love wasn't nearly enough.
Damn
. Introspection didn't help at all.
‘Sleeping in a Jacuzzi isn't a good idea.'
Gabbi didn't open her eyes. ‘I wasn't sleeping.'
‘I'm relieved to hear it. Do you intend staying there long?'
‘A while.'
He didn't comment, and she sensed rather than heard him leave. Perhaps he'd go downstairs and peruse the latest financial bulletin faxed through from London, New York and Tokyo.
Somehow she doubted he'd simply undress and slide between the sheets, for he was a man who could maintain maximum energy on six hours' sleep in any given twenty-four.
The warm, pulsating water had a soporific effect, and she allowed her thoughts to drift. To her childhood, early treasured memories of her mother, and James. After James followed Monique, and—
Gabbi's eyes flew open as a foot brushed her own. Her startled gaze met a pair of dark brown, almost black eyes heavy with slumberous, vaguely mocking humour.
‘What are you doing here?' Why did she sound so—shocked? It was hardly the first time they'd shared the Jacuzzi.
‘Is my presence such an unwelcome intrusion?'
‘Yes.' Except that wasn't strictly true. ‘No,' she amended, unable to tear her eyes away from the strong features within touching distance of her own. Broad cheekbones, a well-defined jaw and the sensual curve of his mouth.
The mouth tilted slightly, and she caught sight of strong white teeth. ‘You sound unsure.'
Her gaze didn't waver. ‘Perhaps because I am.'
Sinews moved beneath the smooth skin sheathing the powerful breadth of his chest as he extended a hand to trail a gentle pattern across her cheek.
The faint aroma of his cologne had a tantalising effect on her equilibrium, and her pupils dilated as one finger traced the outline of her lower lip.
Please
, she begged silently. Don't do this to me.
Slowly, with infinite patience, he began to erode her defences, breaking them down one by one with the brush of his fingers against the pulse at the base of her throat where it beat in an increasingly visible tattoo.
Those same fingers trailed the contours of each breast, cupped and weighed them in his palm, then teased each tender nub.
Her lips parted and her eyelids drooped low.
No one person should have this much emotional control over another, she thought. There should be some in-built mechanism in one's psyche to prevent such an invasion.
Possession, she substituted as her bones began to liquefy.
Strong hands settled at her waist, and with no effort at all he turned her round to sit in front of him. She felt caged by the strength of his shoulders, the muscled arms that curved beneath her own.
There was warmth, a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water, and when his lips grazed the delicate hollow at the edge of her neck Gabbi sighed in unspoken acceptance.
He had the touch, she mused dreamily, and the knowledge to arouse a woman to the brink of madness. And the control to hold her on the edge until she almost wept for release.
It was a sensual journey that traversed many paths, along which Gabbi had no desire to travel with anyone but him. She knew she'd give up her fortune, her
life, everything
... if only he felt the same.
His hands slid to her shoulders, shifting her so that she faced him, and his mouth took possession of her own.
Her arms lifted to encircle his neck, her fingers burying themselves in the thickness of his hair as she held him close.
There was passion as he tasted and took his fill, and she met his raw energy with matching ardour, then let her mouth soften beneath the teasing influence of his, savouring the lingering sweetness, all too aware of the leashed power as he traced the full curve with the tip of his tongue.
She wanted to tease him, test the level of his control. And see if she could break it.
Gabbi let her arms drift down, trailing her fingers over the muscled cord of his neck, taking time to explore the hard ridges, the strong sinews stretching down to each shoulder.
Dark, springy hair covered his chest, and she played with the short curls, twisting them round her fingers, pulling gently, only to release them as she moved to capture a few more.
She lowered her head and touched her lips to his shoulder, then gently trailed a path inch by inch to his ear, using the tip of her tongue with wicked delight on the hollow beneath the lobe before nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive flesh.
With extreme care she caressed the length of his jaw, traced a path across his cheek, then moved to brush each eyelid closed before trailing the slope of his nose.
The sensual mouth was a temptation she couldn't resist, and she touched her lips to its edge, nibbling and tasting as she explored the lower fullness before traversing the upper curve, withdrawing as she felt it firm in preparation to take control.
Gabbi shook her head in silent remonstrance, then slid to her feet and stepped out of the Jacuzzi, grabbed a towel and wrapped it round her slender form, reaching for another as she turned and extended a beckoning hand.
Benedict held her gaze for a few heart-stopping seconds, and she saw his eyes darken with smouldering passion as he reared to his feet
He loomed large, his frame a testament to male magnificence, muscled sinew moving with easy fluidity, darkened whorls of hair glistening on his water-drenched skin.
His movements were deliberate as he stepped onto the marble-tiled floor, his pace slow as he shortened the distance between them, and his eyes never left hers for a second.
He held out his hand for the towel, and she shook her head, bunching it in her hand as she reached forward to blot the moisture from his skin.
Gabbi began with one shoulder, then the other, and moved to his chest, taking time and care as she slowly traversed his ribcage, his waist, the lean hips, then the muscled length of his powerful thighs. With deliberate casualness she stepped behind him and tended to the width of his back, watching the play of muscles as they flexed and tensed at her touch.
‘Nice butt,' she teased gently as she trailed the towel down the back of each thigh.
‘You're playing a dangerous game,' Benedict warned with ominous softness as she moved round to stand in front of him.
‘Really?' Her lips tilted slightly as she feigned a lack of guile. ‘I haven't finished yet.'
‘And I haven't even begun.'
Each word possessed the smoothness of silk, and a slight tremor slithered across the surface of her skin.
Was she mad?
In setting out to smash his control, was she inviting something she couldn't handle?
Yet she couldn't,
wouldn't
throw in the towel. Literally, she established with a choked laugh as she brushed the thick cotton pile over the matt of dark, curling hair at the apex of his thighs.
, A man's arousal was a potent erotic testimony to his sex, his power and his strength. And instrument of a woman's pleasure. With knowledge and expertise, it could drive a woman wild.
Gabbi looked at it with fascination. Unbidden, she trailed the length, gently traced the tip, and brushed a light finger down the shaft.
She wanted to taste him, to use her tongue and her mouth as if she were savouring an exotic confection.
‘Do you know what you're inviting?'
Did he read minds? And was it her imagination, or did his voice sound husky and vaguely strained?
She lifted her head and met the burning intensity of his darkened gaze. ‘Yes.'
A thrill of anticipatory excitement arrowed through her body at the thought of what demands he might make when caught in the throes of passion. With it came a sense of fear of his strength if it was ever unleashed without restraint.
She swallowed, the only visible sign of her nervousness, and his eyes registered the movement then flicked back to trap her own.
‘Then what are you waiting for?' he queried softly. The silent challenge was evident in the depth of his eyes and apparent in the sensual slant of his mouth.

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