The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (33 page)

He wanted to skim his hands over her hips, then slide up to cup each breast, teasing the peaks with the tips of his thumbs, then replace his hands with his mouth.

‘I don't really care.' It was as well her face was hidden from him, otherwise he'd have seen through the fabrication in a heartbeat.

Then he was there, his hands turning her towards him, and he dealt with her token struggle as easily as if he were restraining a child.

There was little she could do to prevent him capturing her chin and tilting it so she had little option but to look at him.

‘Yes, you do.'

His voice was a soft drawl, and she fought against swallowing compulsively, afraid the gesture would give hint to her fragile emotions.

‘Don't.' The single word was a desperate plea as his head lowered down to hers, and she closed her
mouth against him, only to have her lips part involuntarily at the first, slow sweep of his tongue.

It was a kiss to die for, gentle, evocative, pervasive, and she ignored the taunting little voice in her head that warned he was merely embarking on a skilled seduction.

A faint groan sighed in her throat as he reached for the pins in her hair, slipping them free with practised ease, then he threaded his fingers through its length and held fast her head, angling his own as he deepened the kiss to something that was almost an oral duplication of the sexual act itself.

Then it was too late, and she was unaware of him removing his clothes, only that he had, and she reached for him, drowning in his touch as he tumbled her down onto the bed, the magic his mouth was able to evoke, and her own unbridled response.

It was only later, much later that she rolled away from him, angry with herself for her own weakness and with him for what she perceived as his ability to take advantage of it.

‘Deny what we share, if you can,' Nicos said hardily.

Her eyes assumed a fiery sparkle. ‘And that's supposed to make me feel okay? You think I don't hate myself for this…addiction to—'

‘Sex?'

‘You.'

‘Thank you,
agape mou
,' he acknowledged silkily, ‘for the distinction.'

Katrina burst into angry speech. ‘I shouldn't be
able to feel like this. It's—' words momentarily failed her ‘—disgusting!'

His expression hardened, and she glimpsed a muscle tense at the edge of his jaw. ‘I can think of many apt descriptions,' he said with deceptive quietness. ‘
Disgusting
isn't one of them.'

‘What would you call it, then?' she demanded.

‘Sensual magic. Primitive passion. Raw desire. Meshing into something unique…for both of us.'

Dear God. In the beginning it had been all of that, and more. Much more. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Even now, after everything that had split them apart, the emotional intensity was just as fierce. A primeval force demanding recognition.

A year ago she would have vowed it was
love
. But how could she call it that now in the face of his infidelity? It didn't make sense.

‘Yet three months after our marriage…
three
months,' she emphasised, ‘your obviously not-so-ex-mistress delights in revealing she's pregnant and names you the father.' Her eyes sparked green fire. ‘A fact by anyone's calculation that lays the proof of infidelity squarely at your door.'

Anger moved up a notch or two. ‘Hell, you must have gone straight from our nuptial bed to hers within days of returning from our honeymoon!' It didn't help to remember the idyllic, carefree few weeks they'd spent on Maui. Lazy days and long, love-filled nights.

‘At the time you took Georgia's word over mine.' Nicos wanted to
shake
her. ‘Did you pause to consider how that made
me
feel?' His hands fisted, and
he controlled the urgent need to smash something. Soon, he would have the proof he needed. But for now all he had was words.

‘Did it never at any time occur to you that Georgia deliberately set out to destroy our marriage? You,
me
?'

‘Yes.' It was an honest admission, one that had been her first thought. A woman scorned could prove a dangerous threat. ‘But she provided dates, places…hotels.' Receipts as confirmation. The horror of being presented with such proof came flooding back, the memory leaving her features pale, her eyes too large, too dark with remembered pain.

‘I wasn't with her.'

‘Dammit, she was
pregnant
,' Katrina vented. ‘She had medical proof.' Her breath hitched, and she sought control. ‘She showed me a copy of the ultrasound.' A video delivered to her apartment weeks later by special messenger. Vivid, cruel evidence she'd only been able to view for seconds before being physically ill.

It was too much. To think she'd behaved shamelessly and wantonly in his arms sickened her.

With a groan that was part despair, part self-loathing, she rolled to the edge of the mattress, only to have any form of escape felled before her feet could touch the carpet.

‘Let me go.'

His grasp was firm, with a hint of steel should she attempt to struggle. ‘No.'

She turned on him, like an angry, spitting feline.
‘What do you want to prove, Nicos? Superior male strength?' Her eyes speared his, darkly luminous, and totally without fear. ‘Sensual expertise?'

Something moved in his eyes, and she banked down the sudden apprehension that clenched in her stomach.

He didn't say a word. The silence stretched between them, like a taut wire on the verge of breaking. She could see the tension,
feel
it, as if it was a throbbing, palpable entity.

Then he moved, tumbling her down on top of him, anchoring her there with an arm whose hand splayed over her buttocks, while the other fisted in her hair as he dragged her head down to his.

He ravaged her mouth, conquering it in a manner that left her stunned and unable to breathe. It was a total ravishment that gave no quarter as he used the edge of his teeth, his tongue, and plundered at will.

She heard someone whimper, and was unaware the sounds came from her own throat.

It was possession. Absolute, total
possession
. Savage in its intensity, devouring, devastating. Almost barbaric.

A man teetering on the edge of controlling his emotions, bent on imprinting his image on her soul.

Something stirred deep within, an answering, compelling need that rose of its own accord, dispensing her shocked passivity and replacing it with active response.

Katrina was hardly aware of the change, only that she was meeting and matching his passion, greedily
intent on giving what he'd taken, and with equal fervour.

Hard and fast, with no preliminaries. She wanted, needed the force of it, the intense, animalistic coupling with no holds barred.

She used her hands to push against his shoulders, her voice little more than a guttural plea as she arched against him, rising to cushion the moist folds of her femininity against the base of his arousal.

With a deliberate intention to tease, she rocked against him, gently at first, then slowly traversed the length of his shaft and back again, creating a tactile slide that brought a deep, husky groan.

Heat pulsated fast, heady, magnetising, as it washed in vibrating waves through her body, and she rose up, tantalising him further for several heart-stopping seconds before she took him deep inside in an achingly slow movement that tested his control as much as it did her own.

Unleashed passion flared, raw and libidinous, as they took a ride that lasted long and left them both breathless and slick with sensual sweat.

Katrina subsided against him, and sighed as his fingers traced a lazy pattern along the edge of her spine.

This…
this
, was everything and more. A special time before problems and doubt could intrude.

The lingering aftermath of erotic, riveting lovemaking, where every sensual pleasure-pulse had become acutely heightened in sexual intimacy.

What they'd just shared was more than just sex. More than the slaking of mutual desire.

At this precise moment Katrina was loath to put a name to it.

Nicos nuzzled a sensitive ear lobe, then took the soft flesh between his teeth and bit gently before moving to caress the curving slope of her neck, following it inch by inch to settle in the hollow at the base of her throat.

A faint moan escaped her lips as his mouth found hers, initiating a gentle exploration with a slow, evocative sweep of his tongue that stirred the lingering warmth to renewed life.

With a fluid movement he rose into a sitting position and held her loosely in his arms as he trailed a path down to her breast.

The darkened peak invited his touch, and he circled the aureole with his tongue, savouring it, before taking the peak into his mouth.

Katrina felt her body give an involuntary shudder as he began to suckle, and she cried out as he grazed the tender nipple with his teeth. Seconds later he sought the soft flesh beneath the peak, bestowing a gentle bite before moving to render a similar salutation to its twin.

She had a need of her own, and her fingers sought the dark whorls of hair on his chest, tugging a little as she trailed his midriff and followed the narrowed line of hair to his navel, caressing it before tracing a path to tangle in the soft curling triangle of hair at his groin.

His reaction was immediate as he swelled deep within her, and she touched where they joined,
feather-light, tantalising, and heard his groan as he lowered her down onto the mattress.

This time he took it slowly. Building the intensity with loving care as he sought the highly sensitised nub and stroked until the pleasure mounted and her soft, throaty murmurs begged him to ease the ache deep within.

Then she did cry out as he shifted, leaving her bereft, only to settle his mouth over her navel and trail slowly down to gift her the most intimate kiss of all.

Could you die and go to heaven, and still be mortal? she thought. At what point did pain become pleasure? And vice versa?

Katrina didn't know. She was aware that it could be both. A pleasure so intense it hovered close to pain and the need for fulfilment. The sense that she could never know its equal, the acuteness so erotically evocative she wanted it go on and never stop.

Was it
she
who cried out? She, who begged,
pleaded
with the man whose skilled touch came close to destroying her?

When he entered her, it was almost a relief, and she welcomed him, willing the intensity to lessen, only to have it rebuild and escalate as he took her to the heights, and beyond.

This time she wasn't alone, and she heard his exultant groan as he reached his own climax, and she savoured the moment, loving his passion and the joy of sharing it.

Afterwards she might analyse and dissect, but for now she was content to live for the moment.

And that was Nicos. Held in his arms, her cheek buried against the curve of his shoulder, she heard the strong, steady beat of his heart, felt the strength of his large muscled body, and savoured the comforting warmth of his breath as it stirred her hair. A stray hand skimmed lightly over her waist and settled possessively on her hip.

She loved his scent, the faint muskiness of his skin. The flex of muscle and sinew beneath the satin smoothness of its olive texture. The subtle tang of his exclusive cologne that always seemed to linger, the result of layering the same expensive brand with matching soap and deodorant.

There was something in the way he cupped his hand…beneath her elbow, her chin, curving over her shoulder. A light possessive touch that claimed her as his own.

And the simmering passion evident in his dark eyes. The look that made mere words fade into inadequate comprehension.

Once, in the beginning, she had only to meet his gaze to
know
. To nurture that need, to be aware when they were alone the night really began…a long night of loving, pleasuring each other until sleep claimed them and they woke to a new day's dawn.

Could it ever be that way again?

Complete and utter trust. Total fidelity. Because together, they were twin halves of a whole. Two hearts beating together. One soul, one love.

At the time, she'd thought nothing could come be
tween them.
No one
could ever tear what they had asunder.

Yet someone had, and the spectre that was Georgia remained.

‘R
ISE
and shine.'

Katrina heard the words, lifted her head and groaned, then rolled onto her stomach and buried her head beneath the pillow.

‘It's the middle of the night,' she protested in a muffled voice.

‘Nine o'clock,' Nicos informed her with amusement. ‘You get to have breakfast in bed, then we're driving into the Blue Mountains for a picnic.'

She wasn't sure which surprised her the most…breakfast in bed, or— ‘A picnic?' she queried as she removed the pillow and turned to look at him. ‘Are you mad?' It might be spring, but it was still cool. And several degrees cooler in the mountains comprising the Great Dividing Range.

The mattress depressed as he sank into it, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, toast, and…was that bacon?

Orange juice, too. She levered her body into a sitting position and bunched a pillow behind her back.

‘This is decadent,' Katrina began as she plucked a glass of juice from the tray and took half the contents in one long swallow. She cast him a suspicious glance. ‘What do you want?'

He swung long legs onto the bed, copied her action
with the pillow, then began to do justice to a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. ‘I couldn't prepare breakfast and serve it in bed out of the goodness of my heart?'

He had already showered and dressed, and she silently cursed him for appearing so refreshed and vital at this hour of the morning, while she felt like something the cat had dragged in. Hair a riotous tumble, naked, and needing, she admitted silently, at least another hour's sleep.

‘No,' Katrina declared with stunning succinctness.

‘You malign me. I remember a few occasions when I brought you breakfast in bed.'

‘Yes,' she agreed. ‘Except you were contriving to keep me in bed, not persuade me to get out of it.'

‘I thought we could get away for the day, take in the scenery, pick up some lunch, and have a break.'

She finished the juice, and forked some bacon into her mouth. Was it possible to maintain light-hearted camaraderie? To cast aside lingering animosity and—uppermost—attempt to dismiss Georgia for a day?

‘No phones, no interruptions, no pressures,' he continued.

‘We each have a cellphone,' she reminded him cynically.

‘So, we have any calls go to message-bank.'

‘It'll be cold in the mountains.'

‘I could be persuaded to change my mind if you prefer to stay in bed.'

‘A picnic sounds great,' she capitulated with alacrity, and heard his amused chuckle.

What was the alternative? A repeat of last Sunday?
Or did she contact a friend and organise time spent exploring The Rocks with its many craft shops and food stalls? Maybe arrange time on the court at a private tennis club? Or did she bury herself in work on the laptop?

There were many choices, none of which held much appeal.

Besides, an entire day spent in Nicos's company could help put their enforced relationship in perspective.

What perspective? Katrina mentally derided as she showered, then dressed in jeans and a rib-knit top.

It was nine days since she'd moved back into his home, and already she was sharing the same room, the same bed. Despite her voiced avowal to the contrary.

So what did that say about her? That she was weak-willed and malleable? Or merely enjoying the fringe benefits of their relationship?

Neither was true, she dismissed, as she pulled on socks and slid her feet into trainers.

There was a part of her that wanted to block out the turmoil Georgia's reappearance had caused. The woman's timing was masterful. Contrived to destroy any chance of what she perceived could lead to a genuine reconciliation?

Was that Georgia's aim?

Dear heaven. Was the woman desperate enough to resort to deliberate subterfuge?

Katrina didn't like the way various scenarios were swirling through her brain, and she resolutely put
them on hold as she slung a sweater over her shoulders and knotted the sleeves together in front.

She intended to seize the day, and enjoy it as best she could…without introspection or censure.

Nicos took the Great Western Highway to Katoomba, passing through various small towns which often seemed to merge. There they picked up filled rolls, fruit, bottled water, and drove on through precipitous valleys, taking a turn-off leading to a picturesque waterfall where they stopped to have lunch.

Nicos took a rug from the car and spread it on the grassy verge. They sank down comfortably, and began eating in companionable silence.

It was cool, much cooler than Sydney, the peace and tranquillity a direct contrast to city living. It was possible to almost
hear
the silence beyond the soft rush of water spilling down the rock face.

The isolation was complete, and it wasn't difficult to imagine another time when life was reduced to carving out an existence, rising with the dawn to take from the day as much as humanly possible.

The evolution of man had advanced into the twenty-first century, but the beauty of nature abounded, often stark, frequently simple…a pertinent reminder of a primitive power.

Katrina finished her ham and salad roll, and bit into an apple.

‘Thanks,' she said quietly.

‘For bringing you here?'

‘Yes.' She could feel the tension of the past few weeks begin to ease, and a sense of peace invade her
being. The city seemed far distant, as did the stress of everyday living, Enrique's demands…
Georgia
. Even her aggression with Nicos temporarily ceased to exist.

He capped his bottled water, and stretched out. His jeans were a soft denim that moulded his legs and clung lovingly to his hips. A thick sweater covered his polo shirt, accentuating his breadth of shoulder, the depth of his chest.

Katrina finished her apple, then rose to her feet, only to have Nicos capture her hand.

‘There's no rush.' He tugged her down beside him. ‘Rest for a while.'

She
was
tired, and perhaps if she closed her eyes for half an hour…

 

‘Time to leave. It's going to rain very soon.'

She opened her eyes, saw the overcast sky, registered the rug draped over her incumbent form, and stood to her feet. ‘What time is it?'

Much later than she thought. She'd slept for more than an hour.

A light, misty rain could be seen shrouding the ranges, and soon after Nicos set the car in motion rain began splattering the windscreen. The green foliage took on a dark blueish-green tinge, and once they'd traversed the mountain and reached the valley below the mist cleared and there was sunshine.

For some reason Katrina felt reluctant to have the day end and return home.

‘How do you feel about strolling round The Rocks and eating pizza alfresco?' he asked.

She turned towards him as they entered the city fringes. ‘Done,' she agreed with an impish smile.

It became a pleasurable few hours as they examined the many craft and novelty shops, the restaurants and outdoor cafés abounding at the popular Rocks area, topped by the best pizza she'd ever tasted washed down with a glass of wine and followed by strong, sweet black coffee.

There was a sense of anticipation, an expectancy of how the evening would end as Nicos garaged the car, and Katrina entered the house at his side, then ascended the stairs to their room.

By tacit agreement they showered together, taking their time then, both towelled dry, Nicos led her to the bed, tumbling her down onto it with him. A husky chuckle emerged from his throat as she rolled on top of him.

Tonight was his, to pleasure and gift him the ultimate in sensual arousal. His skin tasted of soap and male muskiness as she trailed her lips from the edge of his mouth down the column of his neck, laving each nipple before travelling low…to tantalise the most vulnerable part of his anatomy with her lips, tracing his shaft with the tip of her tongue, and rendering a trail of soft kisses from groin to its acutely sensitive tip.

Nicos's groan urged her on to take an even greater liberty, and she embarked on a sensual tasting that drove him almost to the edge of control.

Then it was she who cried out as he returned the favour, lingering until she went wild and begged his possession.

Long afterwards they lay together, limbs tangled, her head pillowed against the curve of his shoulder as he buried his lips in her hair.

 

It was late morning before Katrina checked her voice-mail for messages: Siobhan, suggesting lunch one day through the week; Enrique, demanding she return his call urgently, followed by a second call with a similar request; Harry, who waxed eloquently about soft furnishings and request he discuss them with her over lunch the next day; and messages from two friends suggesting lunch.

She returned each of them, then got on with the day. Allocating, delegating, deferring, with an efficiency that had earned Kevin's respect. Estimates had been faxed through regarding her plans for the Melbourne site, and she tended to those, checking details and figures with close scrutiny.

For once she managed to leave the office at five, although there appeared little advantage as she sat stationary in stalled traffic, a delay which meant she didn't reach Point Piper until almost six.

Consequently there wasn't time for the leisurely shower she'd planned, and choosing something to wear to dinner and the ballet didn't permit much deliberation.

A bias-cut gown in three layered lengths of red, cyclamen and pink…colours which should have been
at variance with her auburn hair, but contrarily complimented it.

Make-up complete, she caught up an evening purse and emerged to find Nicos waiting for her, looking his attractive best in a dark evening suit, white shirt and black bow tie.

The mere sight of him sent a jolt of sensual electricity through her body, and his slow smile made her ache for his touch.

Dinner was a hurried meal eaten at a Double Bay restaurant, and they waived a starter, settled on a main course, and declined dessert in order to reach the theatre before the first act began.

Swan Lake
was a graceful, classical style, the music hauntingly beautiful as the dancers completed their practised moves to a level of breathtaking perfection.

One act followed another, each performed with superb artistry, and Katrina experienced a sense of disappointment when the curtain came down at the close of the final act.

Clearing the theatre and reaching their car took a while, and afterwards Nicos drove to Double Bay where they lingered over lattes and watched the social set at play.

Katrina mused that she and Nicos had sat at this particular sidewalk café during their brief courtship, and after their marriage.

It had been a favoured way to end an evening out. Almost as if they were deliberately lengthening the anticipation of what was to come. All it used to take was a look, Nicos would settle the bill, and together
they'd stroll hand-in-hand to the car. Lovemaking had been a delight, for their shared intimacy had been borne out of
love
, rarely lust…although she'd exulted in the occasions Nicos had barely held onto control.

‘Pleasant thoughts?'

Nicos's voice intruded, and she cast him a solemn glance. ‘Varied,' she responded succinctly, and watched the edges of his mouth curve into a warm smile.

‘Shall we leave?'

It was close to midnight when they arrived home, and Katrina made little protest as Nicos undressed her, then took her into his arms.

Their lovemaking was slow, almost gentle, and afterwards she curled in against him and slept until morning.

Nicos had already left when Katrina woke, and she showered, dressed, then ate a light breakfast before driving into the city office of Macbride.

She booted up the computer and got to work, frowning with vexation as the phone provided a constant interruption to the data she was intent on checking.

Consequently when it rang again she automatically reached for the receiver and intoned her usual businesslike greeting.

‘We should do lunch.'

Katrina heard the words, recognised her stepbrother's voice, and cut straight to the chase. ‘There would be no point in it,' she refuted evenly. ‘Besides,
I have an appointment to lunch with a colleague.' A slight stretch of the truth, and one Harry would adore.

‘I have some interesting information regarding Nicos,' Enrique revealed.

‘Which you'll divulge for a price?'

‘You know me well.'

Too well. ‘If I wanted an account of Nicos's movements, I'd hire a private detective.'

‘Why hire a professional when you have me, darling,' he responded smoothly.

‘Goodbye, Enrique,' she concluded with resignation.

‘Nicos is in Brisbane with Georgia.'

Did a heart stop beating, then race into overdrive? She was willing to swear hers did. Nicos had said nothing at breakfast about flying interstate. Nor had he intimated he'd be late home for dinner.

‘Ring his office, if you don't believe me.'

‘I don't have time for this.'

‘But you're curious.'

Curious
was too tame for what she was feeling right now.
Angry
came close.

‘You have my cellphone number,' Enrique taunted.

She ended the call, and endeavoured to focus her attention on a compilation of figures on the computer screen.

It didn't work. Her concentration was shot, and after making a third mistake she pressed the save key and dialled Nicos's private line, only to hear a recorded message refer the caller to his cellphone.

Which could, Katrina rationalised, simply mean
that he was in an important meeting or out of the office.

With an effort she returned her attention to the work at hand, only to redial the number half an hour later and receive the same response.

Dammit, this was ridiculous.
Phone him
, then get on with the day!