The Scandalous Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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pulled open the door.
The unexpectedness of seeing Ash there, outside her bedroom door, obviously on his way to see her—where else could he be going, after all?—flooded her with so much happiness that she immediately reached out to him, her hand on his arm as she urged him inside her room, her joy showing in the warmth in her voice as she said his name.
Automatically Ash allowed himself to be drawn towards her. Her open delight at seeing him was confusing the ice-cold deadening river of controlled self-loathing inside him. His gaze—the one that only seconds ago under the influence of that deadening flow had, like his other senses, assured him that there was nothing about any aspect of Sophia that could break through the barriers he had so regrettably allowed to weaken in the privacy of his own treacherous thoughts—could see the sweet warmth of the curve of her lips, lips which he already knew were so soft and incredibly responsive to his kisses that just to look at them was enough to have them quivering with longing, and her body softening with desire for him just as right now his was hardening with its desire for her.
He must not think about that. He dragged his gaze from her face and then realised his mistake as it slipped to her body, its burgeoning shape revealed to him through the flimsiness of the nightgown he could see beneath her open robe. Her breasts looked fuller, her belly rounding. His heartbeat had picked up and was now racing, thumping, in fact, with the renewed force of his longing to reach out for her and take hold of her, to discover her newly forming body with his fingertips so that he could learn its promise and rejoice in the gift it was holding.
Ash was here. She had been allowing her silly vulnerability to get the better of her. He was here and soon he would hold her and in the secret darkness of their bed they would share an intimacy that surely she could build on to sustain her. Only now that he was here could she admit to herself the true depth of the sense of loss and abandonment she had felt through his absence from her bed. In fact, she was physically trembling with the intensity of her relief—trembling inside and close to tears caused by that relief, as well. Perhaps there was hope for the future after all. It was obvious that she had misjudged the situation in thinking that Ash didn’t want her any more now that she was pregnant. Loving him meant …
Loving him? Loving Ash? Her heart felt as though it had been thrown into a theme park ride and was now racing upward towards the final terrifying drop. When had love crept into the equation? It wasn’t a question Sophia was in any state of mind to answer. All she did know was that in one blinding moment of clarity she had been shown the reality of her own feelings. She loved Ash. Hadn’t she read somewhere that women were engineered differently than men by nature, to produce a hormone during sex that automatically forged a unique bond by that woman’s senses and emotions to the man with whom she had shared the experience?
And wasn’t it the truth that she had already been programmed to love Ash by her own past even if she had genuinely believed that he had killed that teenage adoration with his rejection of her?
Love. For her husband and their sons. Surely that was something worth fighting for, something worth striving and hoping for? They were already married, and …
And Ash had sworn never to allow himself to look for love within their marriage.
But he was here. He had come to her.
Here in this room was everything in his world that held real value, Ash found himself thinking. Here was everything he could ever want or need because here was Sophia.
He moved closer to her just as she moved closer to him, an appeal in her eyes that he couldn’t misunderstand. His body certainly wasn’t misunderstanding it. His body was welcoming that soft look of female need she was giving him.
‘Ash.’ All Sophia’s pent-up emotion trembled through her voice. Ash was so close to her. He was within touching distance of her.
‘Ash.’ She whispered his name this time, and then felt the warm gust of his breath against her lips as he exhaled in response before bending his head to kiss her.
He wanted her so much. His body was on fire with that need. It had already gone far too long without her, and it hungered for her. As though something inside him had snapped Ash felt his self-control break. Wrapping Sophia in his arms he began to kiss her over and over again, the sensuality of his passion turning her weak with her own response to it as she returned each increasingly deep kiss.
Unable to stop himself, Ash started to caress Sophia’s body, the full curves of her breasts with their dark crests so clearly visible beneath the fine silk and so responsive to his touch, causing her to make small sounds of pleasure deep down in her throat. Her head was thrown back against his supporting arm as he brought those sweet moans of pleasure from her. He couldn’t wait to take her to bed and complete their lovemaking. His body ached and burned for that intimacy and that release; it dragged out the need racking him so that he could feel it in every nerve ending. He kissed her hungrily, savouring the sweet rich taste of her, the pleasure that lay within the warmth of her mouth, his free hand automatically moving lower over her body and then stilling when it encountered the soft swell of her pregnancy.
Lost beneath the intensity of Ash’s kiss and her own response to it, at first Sophia couldn’t quite take in what was happening when Ash abruptly stopped kissing her and pushed her away from him, releasing her.
‘What is it?’ she asked him shakily. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘The twins,’ was all Ash could bring himself to say, his voice terse as he half turned away from her to conceal from her his own disgust with himself. How could he have been so lost to all sense of what it meant to be a father to have allowed his desire to drive him towards an action that might have endangered the twins’ safety and Sophia’s physical comfort? He was disgusted with himself.
‘The twins?’ was all Sophia could manage to repeat as she tried to cling to the remnants of her dignity, pulling it around herself in much the same way in which she was now drawing her open robe around her body.
After the realisation that she loved Ash, his appearance in her bedroom and then her hopes heightened by what had looked as though it was going to turn into intense lovemaking, his rejection of her now was unbearably painful.
‘I don’t want …’ Ash began, but Sophia was in no mood to let him continue. Where there had been hope and arousal, there was now disappointment, hurt and anger—the hurt anger of a feisty woman who wanted her man but who was being rejected by him.
‘You don’t want me any more now that I’m pregnant, is that what you were going to say? I’m carrying your sons so you don’t have to have sex with me any more, is that it? What about that sexual chemistry between us you spoke of when you were persuading me to marry you, Ash, or did that only exist when you were thinking about me conceiving your heir? Or maybe it’s just that you don’t find me desirable now that I’m pregnant. But whatever the case, I want you to know that coming here and … and … and doing what you did and then rejecting me isn’t the kind of behaviour I expect from a man like you. It’s … it’s cruel and … and unfair.’ Her voice was becoming thick with the tears she was determined not to unleash. Ash was standing with his face averted from her, and not moving at all.
He was ignoring her, blocking her out, distancing himself from her. Because he didn’t want her in his life at all, really? Because he never had and he never would?
It was too much for her to endure.
‘Did you ever really desire me at all, Ash, or was it just something you forced yourself to pretend?’
‘No.’ The denial was ripped from Ash’s throat before he could silence it, the sheer intensity of the emotions inside him that had broken through physically forcing him to turn round, and look at Sophia. ‘Of course I wanted you.’ He wanted her now. He wanted to go to her and take hold of her and show her how wrong she was, but he had her to think of, and the twins. He was a husband and a father-to-be now and not just a man burning and driven by his own shameful lusts.
‘But you haven’t been near me for weeks, and just now …’
‘I was thinking of the twins