Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

Скачать книгу

away from him and he clenched his fingers tightly to prevent himself from doing anything else.

      Passion pounded in his body, begging for release as she turned to face him. Her hardened nipples were clearly visible through the fine material and he wondered how he’d never noticed until now she was braless. The thought shifted the demanding desire inside him up several notches, ever closer to breaking point.

      The air hummed with heavy desire as she picked up the nightdress his mother had magically found from somewhere and walked into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. For a moment, relief washed over him until he realised that when she returned she’d be wearing even less. The cream nightdress would offer even less protection from him.

      With an angry growl he took off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been a slave to desire. He was always in control. Except with this woman.

      As the bathroom door opened he crossed the room, not daring to look at her, not wanting to see her wearing the silky nightdress which would reveal far more of her body than he could tolerate. He kept his back to her as he heard the bedcovers being moved and then headed for the bathroom. Once inside, he shut the door firmly and turned on the shower, selecting the coldest setting.

      When he returned to the bedroom, invigorated from the icy cold jets of water, Emma was lying in the bed, as far to one edge of it as was possible, and either asleep or pretending to be. Wearing only his underwear, he slid beneath the cool covers, turned off the light and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the darkness. Anger boiled up in him, thankfully dimming the throb of desire, allowing his usual stern control to return.

      Emma sighed softly next to him and turned over, moving closer to him. He lay rigid in the bed as her breathing settled into the soft rhythm of sleep again. He could feel the warmth of her body, and in his mind all he could see was her naked in his bed in Vladimir. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t relax. Damn it, he’d never sleep.

      He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, and, just when he thought he might achieve that elusive state, Emma stirred and moved again. Closer to him. Far too close. She put her arm across his chest and pulled herself closer, pressing her body against the side of his, and instantly his body was ready for her. He clenched his jaw tightly, fighting the throb of desire and the urge to turn to her, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her awake before making her his once more.

      A feral curse slipped from his lips as she sighed once more, pressing herself tighter against him so that he could feel the swell of her breast against his arm. He couldn’t move. He didn’t trust himself to. He had to prove he was stronger than the desire he had for her, something he’d never had a problem with before.

      How could he want her so much? What had she done to him? Questions raced through his mind and he focused on them instead of the heady warmth of Emma’s sleeping body next to his.

      Never in his life had he spent a night with a woman without having sex. How had it come to this? He tried again to sleep, to ignore the heat of her body, and it was more than torture as he lay rigid next to the one woman who threatened everything, from his sanity to his family. How the hell could he want her so badly?

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      EMMA BLUSHED AGAIN as memories from the few hours they’d spent in bed together came rushing back to her. She still couldn’t believe that she’d been wrapped around Nikolai when she’d woken. She’d opened her eyes as spring sunshine had streamed into the unfamiliar room, wondering at first where she was. Then she’d realised they were entwined, as if they were lovers. Slowly she’d moved away from Nikolai as he slept, taking the chance to steal a glance at his handsome features before slipping away to put on a dress left for her last night.

      Had anything happened? Had she embarrassed herself by saying or doing something stupid in a sleepy state? She hoped she hadn’t let her growing feelings for him show—especially as he’d been adamant that nothing would happen between them. So many questions had raced around her mind as they’d left the beautiful house and started the drive back to his apartment in New York. A tense silence had enveloped them in the car and she hadn’t been about to break it, especially not by asking about last night.

      Now they were back in his apartment and she was lying in her bed alone, replaying the events of the party. The kiss for their engagement photo had been so powerful, so very evocative, she’d thought it was real, but then he’d pulled away from her, the hardness of his eyes warning her against such thoughts. But it was when he’d helped her out of her dress that things really had changed. She’d seen raw desire in his eyes as he’d looked at her, and when he’d touched her she’d clamped her mouth tightly closed, worried she might say something and give herself away—because she’d wanted him to touch her.

      She should be grateful he hadn’t said a word about the previous night other than to make small talk about the party itself, but she wasn’t. It didn’t feel right, ignoring whatever it was that sizzled between them. With a huff of irritation, she flung back the covers. There was no way she could sleep now. Her mind was alive with questions and her body still yearned for a man who didn’t want her.

      Silently she left her room and padded across the polished wooden floor to the kitchen as the sounds of a city which never seemed to sleep played out in the background. Was this what her life would be like from now on? Would she be hiding an ever-deepening affection for the father of her child for ever? Could she live like that?

      She poured some water and went to sit by the windows, needing the peaceful view of the park to soothe her tortured emotions. She just couldn’t be falling for Nikolai, not when all she’d wanted was that happy-ever-after with a man who loved her. But she’d never get that happiness now, even by marrying Nikolai. He didn’t love her and had made it clear their marriage was to be nothing more than a deal.

      ‘Are you unwell?’ Nikolai’s voice startled her, but when she looked up she was even more startled. Just as he’d done that night in Vladimir, he’d pulled on a pair of jeans, and looked so incredibly sexy she had to stop herself from taking in a deep and shuddering breath.

      ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ She tried hard to avert her gaze from his bare chest, but couldn’t. All she could think about was lying with her arms across it last night. She could still feel the muscles beneath her palm and distinctly remembered the scent of his aftershave invading her sleep. What else was she going to remember?

      ‘But you are feeling quite well?’ The concern in his voice was touching and she smiled at him.

      ‘I’m fine, just not sleepy.’ She didn’t have much chance of feeling sleepy now after seeing him like that. All her senses were on high alert, her body all but tuned into his.

      His gaze travelled down her bare legs and she realised how she must look, sat on the sofa wearing only a vest top and skimpy shorts, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now, not without alerting him to the fact that she was far from comfortable having a discussion with him when they were both half-undressed. It was much too intimate.

      ‘Is it because you are alone tonight? Nobody to curl up with?’ The seductive huskiness of his voice held a hint of laughter. Was he making fun of her?

      She looked up at him and knew that wasn’t true. He moved closer and stood over her, his dark eyes seeming to penetrate deep inside her, searching for something. ‘About—about last night...’ she managed to say, but hated the way she stumbled over the words. ‘What I mean is, did we...? Did anything happen between us?’

      The air heated around them, laden with explosive sexual tension, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t break the connection which was becoming more intense by the second.

      ‘Trust me, Emma, you’d remember if it had.’ A smile lifted his lips and a hint of mischief sparked in his eyes.

      He was making fun of her.

      ‘Oh,’ she said softly, heat infusing her cheeks.

      ‘You

Скачать книгу