LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      ‘That’s what it sounded like.’

      She heard him inhale and her anger shifted to guilt. It wasn’t fair to twist his words when she wasn’t being honest about her own feelings.

      ‘I just mean that being a father is a lifetime commitment.’

      His face hardened. ‘I’d like to say that’s not something I’m going to forget but, given my own childhood, I can’t. All I can say is that I am going to be there for George—for you.’

      Teddie fought the beating of her heart. He was saying all the right things and she wanted to believe him—only believing him set off in her a whole new spiral of half-thought-out fears and uncertainties.

      ‘Good.’ She was trying hard to let nothing show in her eyes but he was staring at her impatiently.

      ‘Is it? Because it doesn’t sound like it to me.’

      He moved swiftly round the table, stopping in front of her. The paleness of her face made her eyes seem incredibly green, and he ran his hand over his face, needing action to counteract the ache in his chest, unsure of his footing in this uncharted territory.

      ‘Teddie…’ He softened his voice.

      She lifted one hand to her throat and raised the other in front of her, as though warding him off. It was a gesture of such conflicting vulnerability and defiance that he was suddenly struggling to breathe.

      ‘I’m not just saying what I think you want to hear.’

      ‘I know.’ She gave him a small, sad smile. ‘And I want you to be there for George. It’s just it’s only ever been me and him. I know you’re his father, but I’ve never had to share him before and it feels like a big deal.’

      Aristo stared down at her. The fact that Teddie loved her son so fiercely made something wrench apart inside his chest and, taking a step forward, he pulled her gently towards him.

      ‘I’m not going to take him away from you, Teddie,’ he said softly. ‘I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You’re his mother. But I want to be the best father I can be. The best man I can be.’

      He felt some of the tension ease out of her spine and shoulders, and then, leaning forward unsteadily, she rested her head against his chest.

      Listening to the solid beat of his heart, Teddie felt her body start to soften, adrenalin dissolving in her blood, his clean masculine scent filling her chest.

      The air around them was suddenly heavy and charged. She felt weightless, lost in the moment and in him, so that without thinking she curled her arms around his body, her fingers following the contours of the muscles of his back. And then she was pushing up his T-shirt and touching smooth, warm skin.

      His hand was sliding rhythmically through her hair, tipping her head back, and his mouth was brushing over her cheeks and lips like the softest feathers, teasing her so that she could hear her own breathing inside her head, like the waves rushing inside a seashell.

      She took a breath, her hands splaying out, wanting more of his skin, his heat, his smooth, hard muscle. Her heart was pounding, the longing inside of her combusting as she felt the fingers of his other hand travel lightly over her bare back. And then her stomach clenched as he parted her lips and kissed her open-mouthed, his tongue so warm and soft and teasing that she felt the lick of heat slide through her like a flame.

      Her head was swimming.

      She wanted more—more of his mouth, his touch, his skin—so much more of him. Reaching up, she clasped his face, kissing him back, pulling him closer, lifting her hips and oscillating against him, trying, needing to relieve the ache radiating from her pelvis.

      Heat was spilling over her skin and, arching upwards, she felt his breath stumble, and then he was sliding a hand through her hair, holding her captive as he kissed her more deeply, his warm breath filling her mouth so that she was melting from the inside out.

      Her fingers were scrabbling against his skin… She moaned…

      There was a second of agonising pulsing stillness, and then slowly she felt him pull away.

      His eyes were dark with passion. For a moment he didn’t speak, and she knew as he breathed out roughly that he was looking for the right words, looking for any words because he was as stunned as she.

      ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.’

      She stared up at him, an ache like thirst spreading outwards. ‘Me neither.’

      ‘So I suppose we should just forget it ever happened.’

      He made it sound like a statement, but she knew it was a question from the dark and unblinking intensity of his gaze. Suddenly she could barely breathe.

      Should they? Would it really be so very bad to press her foot down on the accelerator pedal and run the red light just once?

      She could feel something inside her shifting and softening, and the urge to reach out was so intense and pure that she almost cried out. But her need for him couldn’t be trusted on so many levels—not least the fact that no man had come close to filling the emptiness that she’d been ignoring for four years.

      ‘I think that would be for the best,’ she said quickly, lifting her gaze, her green eyes meeting his. ‘Just be a father to him.’

      His steady, knowing gaze made her heartbeat falter and she glanced away, up to a near perfect moon, glowing pearlescent in the darkening sky.

      ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, but I should probably go and check on George.’

      And, taking a fast, hard breath, she sidestepped past him and walked on shaking legs towards the villa.

      In the darkness of her son’s room she leaned against the wall, seeking solace in its cool surface.

      She shouldn’t have agreed with him.

      She should have told him that he was wrong.

      Then remembering his open laptop, she tensed. They might have called a ceasefire, but she still didn’t trust him.

      And it wasn’t just Aristo she didn’t trust. She didn’t trust herself either.

      Four years ago she’d let her libido overrule not just her common sense but every instinct she’d had, and it had been a disaster. Nothing had changed except this time she knew the score.

      Aristo might be the only man who had made her body sing, but she knew now that if she allowed herself to be intimate with him then she ran the risk of getting hurt—and she’d worked so hard to un-love him.

      So that left friendship. Not the sort of easy affection and solidarity that she shared with Elliot, but the polite formality of former lovers now sidestepping around each other’s lives and new partners.

      Her heart lurched as visions of Aristo with a new wife flooded her head and she felt suddenly sick. It had been hard enough getting over him last time. Far worse though was the thought of having to witness him sharing his life with someone else.

       CHAPTER SIX

      IT WAS THE most perfect peach Teddie had ever seen. Perfectly plump, sunset-coloured, it was half concealed by a cluster of pale green leaves, like a shy swimmer hiding behind a towel on the beach.

      She’d spotted it yesterday evening, when she and George had joined the housekeeper, Melina, as she’d wandered around the garden, choosing ingredients for the evening meal. In the end they had collected fat, dark-skinned figs to go with the salty feta and thyme-scented honey that had followed a dessert of delicious homemade strawberry ice-cream—George’s favourite.

      She let out a quiver of breath, remembering her son’s reaction as she’d told him that Aristo was his father. Watching his face shift from

Скачать книгу