The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (202 page)

Read The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) Online

Authors: Helen Bianchin

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

BOOK: The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections)
10.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘Suzanne.'
She swung round to face him.
Fine
. If a confrontation was what he wanted, then so be it!
‘What do you want, Sloane? A pound of my flesh because I dared assess a situation, and decided retreat was the wisest course of action?' She was defiant, determined to hide the utter defencelessness she hadn't been able to deal with then, any more than she could now.
His eyes darkened into a deep flaming brilliance. ‘Dammit, were you so emotionally unsure of yourself—of
me
, that you felt the only option you had was to throw in the towel?'
Anger flashed in her clear blue eyes. ‘I didn't throw in the towel!'
A slight smile curved his mouth, lending it a cynical edge. ‘Yes, you did.'
‘No, I didn't!'
One eyebrow rose slightly. ‘What would you call it?'
‘A tactical withdrawal.'
He was silent for several long minutes, his regard unwavering. ‘You possess a high degree of common sense.' His gaze intensified, and his eyes became incredibly dark. ‘Sufficient, I would have thought, to judge me for the man I am beneath the superficiality of material possessions.'
It hurt to enunciate the words without allowing a slight catch to affect her voice. ‘Oh, I did, Sloane. I fell in love with the man.' Her expression became pensive, her eyes incredibly sad. ‘Then I discovered it was impossible to separate the man from everything that comes with the Wilson-Willoughby tag.'
‘On that basis, you took the easy route and threw what we had together away?'
She felt like a laboratory specimen being examined beneath a microscope, and at that precise moment she hated him. ‘Damn you, Sloane! What was I supposed to do?'
‘Stay.'
One word. Yet it conveyed so much. ‘I'm not into masochism.'
His eyes narrowed. ‘What in hell are you talking about?'
‘You
are regarded as the ultimate prize in a field of wealthy, well-connected men.' A tight smile momentarily widened her mouth. ‘And I, heaven forgive me, am merely a nonentity who dared to usurp each and every one of the women aspiring to share your life.'
The hurt, some of the pain clouded her eyes, and her lashes lowered to form a protective veil. ‘I chose not to compete.' There was more, much more she could have said. Repeated the bitchy comments, relayed one very real threat.
‘Unnecessary, when there was no contest.' Sloane enunciated the words with quiet emphasis, and felt a wrench of pain at the momentary sadness reflected in her expression.
‘No?'
‘You hold me responsible for other women's aspirations?'
Her hands clenched until the knuckles showed white, although she managed to keep her voice remarkably calm. ‘No more than I hold you responsible for being who you are.'
He wanted to shake her. ‘And, being
who I am,
I should select any one of several society princesses from the requisite gene pool, have her grace my arm, my bed, and produce the expected two children?'
The image hurt. So much, it was all she could do not to close her eyes in an attempt to shut it out.
‘Be content with a marriage devoid of passion?' Sloane persisted ruthlessly. ‘Based on duty and a degree of affection?' His voice lowered and became almost brutally merciless. ‘Is that what you're saying?'
Her eyes flashed with latent anger at his analytical and persistent questioning. ‘Damn you! I'm not on the witness stand.'
He didn't touch her, but she felt as if he had. ‘Humour me. Pretend that you are.'
‘And play the truth deal, entirely for your benefit? Sorry, Sloane. I'm not in favour of game-playing.'
His eyes held hers, and she was unable to look away. ‘Neither am I.'
‘Yet you do it every day in the courtroom,' Suzanne retaliated, and saw his mouth form a cynical twist.
‘I don't allow my profession to intrude into my personal life.'
His compelling scrutiny was unsettling, and her eyes gleamed with hidden anger. ‘You're so skilled with word play, I doubt it's possible to separate one from the other.'
‘You think so?' He moved forward, and she had to forcibly refrain from taking a step backwards. His action wasn't intimidating, but nevertheless she felt threatened.
‘Sloane—'
He lifted a hand and brushed a thumb along her jawline. ‘Tell me the love changed.'
Oh, God. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, stricken by the tearing pain deep inside. She was powerless to move as he lowered his mouth to capture hers in a kiss that made her ache for more.
She physically had to prevent her body from leaning into his as she tried to stem the hunger that activated every nerve-ending. It would be so easy to wind her arms up around his neck and hold on as he took her on an emotional ride, the equal of which she'd never experienced with anyone else. Yet eventually the ride would be over, and she'd be left with only battered pride.
The sensual magic that was his alone tore at the very foundation of her being, tugging her free until she had no concept of anything but the heat of his mouth and the wild, sweet promise of heavy, satiated senses as they merged as one entity, meshing mind and soul.
A hollow groan rose and died in her throat at the need for
more
, much more than this. She wanted to dispense with the restriction of their clothes, to feel the texture of his skin, the flex of muscle beneath her hands, and have his lips, his mouth savour every inch of her body as they urged each other from one sensual plane to another.
What are you doing?
The insidious query rose silently to taunt her. For a few long seconds she ignored it, then reality intervened as the magnitude of what she was inciting doused the heat and began cooling the warm blood in her veins.
Sloane sensed the moment it happened and mentally cursed the swing of her emotions. For the space of a few seconds he considered conquering the subtle change, then discarded the urge, aware that she would hold it against him.
Instead, he lightened the depth of emotion. Slowly easing the pressure of his mouth as he withdrew his possession, he allowed his lips to linger against her own as he pressed a number of light kisses over the full, slightly swollen contours.
At the same time his hands soothed her body, sliding gently over her slim curves, subtly massaging her nape, the delicate bones at the base of her scalp, the fine slope of her back, the firm waist.
Then his mouth left hers and trailed down the edge of her neck to savour the faint hollows at the base of her throat.
He wanted to lift her into his arms and take her here, now, remove what remained of her clothes, his, and make love until there could be no vestige of doubt in her mind as to how he felt.
Except she would equate that with sexual satisfaction. And while it would certainly ease the ache it wasn't enough while there were doubts to appease. He wanted her mind, her soul.
Everything
.
Who had poisoned the verbal darts and aimed them with careful precision, sufficient to undermine her confidence to such a level that she felt the only option she had was to leave?
Any one of many, came the cynical knowledge as he ran a mental gamut of numerous female acquaintances capable of sowing the seeds of doubt... and revelling in the byplay.
Sloane trailed his lips to her mouth, pressed a warm kiss to its edge, then withdrew to within touching distance, his smile tinged with a certain wry humour as he surveyed her bemused expression.
‘There's a path leading off from the beach. Shall we see if it leads back to the villa?'
He was letting her off the hook...for now. She told herself she was relieved, and made a valiant effort to ignore the vague st irrings of disappointment.
‘Let's go,' Suzanne declared decisively. ‘Maybe we can fit in a set of tennis before dinner.'
His gaze was far too discerning. ‘With the intention of wearing yourself out?'
How could she say she wanted to collapse into bed, too tired to do anything but sleep, instead of lying awake for most of the night cautioning herself not to toss or turn in case the movement disturbed the man occupying the large bed a short distance from her own?
‘I might even permit you to win,' she said lightly. Some chance. He had the height, the strength, the experience to trounce her off the court!
Sloane's husky chuckle set the nerves in her stomach into action, and he slid on his sunglasses, then extended his hand.
Suzanne hesitated fractionally, then threaded slender fingers through his own.
They crossed to a sandy path that curved through increasingly dense rainforest, and initiated a leisurely pace. Sunlight filtered between wide-branched trees, lowering the warm temperature by several degrees.
There had to be a variety of tropical insects, but none was immediately evident. It was so quiet. Peaceful. Almost idyllic. A wonderful place to get away from it all.
If only... She stopped the traitorous thought right there. Life was crowded with ‘if only's and ‘what if?'s. And in the weeks since she'd moved out of Sloane's apartment she'd covered a plethora of each.
Silence allowed for too much introspection, and she sought a temporary distraction.
‘Word has it you'll win a large settlement in the Allenberg trial.'
Sloane had a reputation for scrupulous research and meticulous attention to detail. He enjoyed pitting his skill in the court arena, and was known to accept difficult and complex cases for the mental challenge rather than his barrister's fee.
‘Interesting.'
Now there was an ambiguous statement if ever there was one. Interesting that she'd mentioned the brief? Or interesting that she'd opted to veer away from anything personal by way of conversation?
She looked at him carefully. ‘You have doubts?'
The path levelled out and began following the shoreline. Leading, she suspected, in a meandering fashion back to the main complex.
‘I never discount the element of surprise.'
Suzanne had the strangest feeling he wasn't referring to the brief. ‘I imagine you've covered all the angles.' Impossible that he hadn't.
He spared her a penetrating glance, then lightened it with a faint smile. ‘It's to be hoped so.'
There was a sense of isolation in the stillness surrounding them. Possible almost to believe they were the only inhabitants on the island.
It was comforting to know that staff and civilisation lay within a short distance. Trenton and Georgia were also in residence, and tomorrow the guests would arrive.
People, in this resort deliberately designed for solitude, would be a welcome advantage, Suzanne determined. It meant there would be plenty of opportunity to socialise, and less time spent alone with Sloane.
T
HE path was clear, but not well trodden, and Suzanne suspected it was deliberately kept that way by the resort management to provide the ambience of lush rainforest.
Sloane walked at her side, matching his stride to her own. How long would it take them to reach the main complex? Ten minutes? Longer? A lot depended on how the path was structured. The trip would be leisurely, she imagined, if the upward slant and winding curves were anything to go by.
‘It probably would have been quicker to go back via the beach,' Suzanne offered, and he projected an indolent smile.
‘At least this way we don't have to traverse a collection of boulders and rocks.'
She met his gaze with equanimity. ‘They were relatively easy to navigate.'
He tipped his head and allowed his sunglasses to slip fractionally down the slope of his nose. One eyebrow lifted as he regarded her with a degree of quizzical humour. ‘Yet you slipped and injured yourself.'
‘It's the effect you have on people,' she declared with wicked mockery.
‘People?'
‘They either covet your company or choose to avoid it.'
‘That's a particularly basic observation,' he said lazily. ‘Would you care to elaborate?'
Her response was a succinct negative, and a husky chuckle emerged from his throat as she quickened her pace to step ahead of him.
The trees provided excellent shade, and did much to reduce the sun's heat. It was a lovely day, a beautiful island, and given different circumstances she would have considered herself in seventh heaven to be here alone with Sloane.
‘Suppose you enlighten me as to precisely which verbal exchange, if not by whom, caused you so much grief?'
She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘You don't give up, do you?'
‘No.'
Whatever had made her think that he would? ‘There's no point.'
‘I beg to differ.'
She was mercilessly vengeful. ‘I wasn't born into the social hierarchy.' She held up one hand, fingers extended, ready to provide a graphic example by ticking off each one as she cited the given reasons. ‘No private schooling. At least, not at one of the few élite establishments. My mother still
works,
would you believe?' She was on a roll. ‘How could someone like me dare to think she could compete with the
crème de la crème
of Sydney's society? For you to have a fling with me was quite acceptable, but marriage?
Never.'
It was impossible to gauge anything from his expression. Dammit, didn't he care how each criticism had been like a finely honed barb that had speared through her heart?
Why
didn't he say anything?
‘Your response was no doubt interesting.'
His drawled amusement set her teeth on edge, and she glared at him balefully when he brushed his knuckles across one cheekbone.
‘I took the line of least resistance, smiled sweetly and assured her you kept me because I was incredibly good in bed.'
It was
he
who possessed incredible skill,
she
who became a willing wanton at his slightest touch.
‘And the rest of it?'
‘What makes you think there's more?'
‘I can't imagine you taking notice of a few bitchy remarks.'
Verbal threats hadn't worried her. Written missives were something else entirely.
‘I received an anonymous note in the mail.'
His eyes sharpened, and there was a still quality about him she found disquieting. ‘What type of note?'
‘Plain paper with an assemblage of cut-out letters from various news publications.'
‘Pasted together and worded to say?'
‘I had two days to get out of your life.' Even now she could recall it so vividly.
‘Or?'
‘I would be sorry.'
A muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw, and a string of pithy oaths escaped in husky condemnation. ‘Why in hell didn't you tell me?'
‘Because I didn't take it seriously.'
He barely restrained himself from shaking her. ‘Something obviously occurred to persuade you otherwise?'
A few isolated incidents which had at first seemed coincidental. Except for one. And her mistake had been an attempt to deal with it herself.
‘Suzanne.' Sloane's voice was too quiet. Ominous. She suppressed a shiver, and held his gaze. ‘I was driving home after work, and someone tried to run me off the road, then demonstrated very graphically that the next time I wouldn't be so fortunate.' She paused, and drew in a deep breath. ‘It was followed by a personal confrontation demanding I get out of your life.'
‘Why in
hell
didn't you tell me?'
She didn't flinch at the icy viciousness of his tone. ‘You were away at the time.'
He was hard-pressed not to shake her within an inch of her life. ‘That shouldn't have stopped you.'
Her eyes assumed an angry sparkle. ‘And what could you have done?'
‘Taken the next flight back.'
Knowing the importance of his London-based client and the seriousness of the case...
‘Believe it,' Sloane assured her inflexibly.
‘I dealt with it myself.'
‘How, precisely?'
‘Assuring her a full report would be lodged with the police and followed by legal action if I ever heard from her again.' Her eyes were dark crystalline sapphire, her features pale. ‘Or if another suspicious accident should eventuate.'
And removing herself from his apartment, and to all intents and purposes from his life. Choosing not to confide in him, or seek external help. The silent rage deep within him intensified. Putting him through hell, not to mention herself.
Now, there was only one question.
‘Who?' His tone hadn't altered, but she recognised the anger beneath the surface. And his immense effort to control it.
‘It's my decision not to name her.'
His eyes held a ruthlessness that was frightening. Merciless, almost brutal with intent. ‘It isn't your decision to make.'
He was a formidable force, but she refused to back down. ‘Yes, it is.'
‘You're aware I can override you? Initiate enquiries, and eventually obtain the answer I need?'
Her gaze didn't falter. ‘To what end? What charges can you lay? I wasn't molested, or hurt.' Just very badly shaken by a vindictive woman who should have been seeking professional help for a sick obsession.
‘Harassment constitutes a threat that, proven, is punishable by law.' His eyes were so dark they resembled obsidian shards.
‘I'm as much aware of that as you are.' Her resolve was determined. ‘Her father has a very high profile which would be irreparably damaged should this come out. It's out of my respect for him that I've chosen to keep quiet.'
He held onto control by a bare thread, and wondered if she knew just how close he was to full-blown anger. Twelve inches less in height and half his weight didn't diminish her stance in comparison to his own. Nor did she reflect any fear. Just steadfast intent that would be difficult to bend. But not impossible.
‘You disappoint me.'
She was already ahead of him, for she'd had weeks to prepare for this moment. ‘A psychological shift into skilled tactician mode, Sloane?' Her chin tilted fractionally. ‘Don't waste your time. Or attempt to persuade me that
love conquers all.
We're heavily into reality, not fantasy. That combination is immiscible.'
‘You want reality, Suzanne?'
His head lowered down to hers, his breath warm as it fanned her lips before his mouth settled over hers in a kiss that tore at the foundations of her being.
In an imitation of the sexual act itself, his tongue teased hers in a mating dance so evocatively persuasive that her bones seemed to liquefy, and she lifted her arms and held on as her body instinctively arched into his.
One arm curved across her back, while a hand tangled in her hair, holding her head fast as he deepened the kiss into something so incredibly erotic she lost track of time and place.
Her skin felt alive, each sensory nerve-ending so acutely attuned to this one man's touch that she groaned out loud as one hand cupped her bottom and he lifted her up against his body so that his mouth could pay homage to the slope of her neck, the soft hollows at the base of her throat, before tracing a path to the delicate curve of her breast.
She was incapable of offering any protest as he pulled up her top and undid the clip fastening of her bikini bra, nor when he pushed the thin Lycra aside and sought one rosy peak, taking it into his mouth and suckling it until she cried out at the wealth of sensation that swept through her body.
It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. And her hands clung to his deeply muscled shoulders, then slid down his chest in a tactile exploration of the dark whorls of hair stretching from one male nipple to the other.
She felt the flex of sinew beneath the pads of her fingers as she slid her hands over his ribcage to the back of his waist, slipped beneath the elasticated band of his shorts, then curved low over tensely muscled buttocks to hold him close.
His arousal was a potent entity, a powerfully male shaft pressing against the softness of her belly.
An anguished moan escaped her lips as his hand slid beneath her shorts and bikini briefs and teased the soft curling hair at the apex of her thighs, and she cried out as he sought and found the damp folds guarding entrance to her feminine core.
A touch was all it took. His touch. And she climbed a mental wall as he stroked the highly sensitised folds, sending her mindless with a desire so strong it was almost too much to bear.
Her whole body seemed to throb as acute sensation took possession of every nerve-ending, and the blood pulsed through her veins to a quickened beat as awareness transcended onto a higher plane.
Sloane knew he could take her now, here, and she wouldn't stop him. It would be so easy, the act so primal, so intensely satisfying, it took all his strength not to take the final step that would make it happen.
He felt the damp heat of her climax, exulted in her soft, throaty cries, the warm savagery of her mouth on his as she lost herself to him with stunning completeness.
Slowly, gradually, Suzanne became aware of where she was and with whom. And what had almost transpired.
Warmth coloured her cheeks, and he watched as her eyes darkened, then became shadowed as long lashes swept down to form a protective veil.
She didn't struggle as he allowed her to slip down to her feet, and he saw a lump form and rise in her throat, only to fall as her mouth worked silently in an effort to form a few words.
‘Don't,' Sloane cautioned gently, and pressed a forefinger to her lips. ‘What we share is more powerful than mere sexual gratification.' His eyes darkened, and became almost black.
‘That
is the reality I have no intention of abandoning.' His finger slid to the corner of her mouth, then traced the curve of her jaw.
He smiled, a soft, slightly humorous, warm curve of his mouth that melted every bone in her body. ‘Until the day you can look at me and say the love isn't there any more. Then...' he paused, and depressed her lower lip with one forefinger ‘...I might listen to you.'
Suzanne felt as ambivalent as a feather floating in a fragile breeze. Surely he didn't—couldn't be implying what she thought he meant?
‘Shall we head back?'
Her lips parted, then closed again. ‘Sloane, I don't think—'
‘You want to stay here?'
Oh, God, no. She didn't dare. To risk a repeat of the past—how long? Ten, twenty minutes? A slight shiver shook her slim shoulders as she remembered with vivid clarity just how deep her involvement had been.
Total wipe-out, she accorded silently. If she allowed him to kiss,
touch
her again, she would be reduced to begging for the wildness of total consummation. And that was a divine madness she could ill afford if she was to walk away from this weekend with her dignity intact.
Sloane watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features, and interpreted each and every one of them.
He extended his hand, and she took it, all too aware of the way he curled her fingers within the enveloping warmth of his own.
They followed the path along its winding curve through the rainforest until it took a steady downward slant to the beach adjacent to the main complex. Their conversation was, as if by tacit consent, confined to inconsequential subjects unrelated to family or anything personal.

Other books

A Monster of a Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon, Scott Burroughs
Titan's Fall by Zachary Brown
Shuttlecock by Graham Swift
Dead to You by Lisa McMann
Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee
When an Omega Snaps by Eve Langlais
Out on a Limb by Gail Banning
The Women's Room by Marilyn French