They were in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil on the stove, and Layla put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. ‘What do you have planned for today?’

      He tipped up her face with his hand so she was looking up at him. ‘You mean apart from going back to bed and making mad passionate love to you and then serving you breakfast in bed, and after that showering together?’ His eyes were glinting and his lower body already stirring against her.

      Layla lifted her hand to his stubbly jaw, tracing the line of his smiling mouth with her fingertip, her insides twisting and coiling with desire. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time in bed before, not even when I’ve been sick.’

      ‘Neither have I.’ His voice had a husky quality that made her feel weak at the knees.

      He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his in a kiss that made the ache inside her body go to fever pitch. His hands went to the small of her back, drawing her closer to his body—closer to the potency of his erection. His tongue played with hers in an erotic dance that made something swoop and dive in her belly. His mouth moved from her lips to the side of her neck, his tongue leaving a hot trail along her sensitive flesh. He used his teeth to gently nip her earlobe and a shiver shot down her spine at rocket speed.

      He pulled apart the dark blue bathrobe she was wearing and uncovered her naked breasts. He caressed each breast with his lips and tongue until her inner core was melting and flowing like scorching-hot lava. His teeth grazed her nipple, his tongue rolling over its tight point, and desire drummed a primitive beat between her legs.

      ‘Why didn’t I think to leave a supply of condoms in every room?’ he said, with a rueful grin.

      Layla rummaged in the pocket of the bathrobe, which was hanging around her hips with just the waist tie keeping it in place. She took out a tiny foil packet and handed it to him.

      He took the condom from her, his eyes darkening to a glittering blue-black. ‘I just love your organisational and planning skills. You really do think of everything.’

      ‘Glad to be of service.’

      A shadow flickered across his face and he drew in a breath and pulled the edges of the bathrobe back around her shoulders, slipping the condom back in the pocket. ‘Layla.’ There was a guarded quality to his voice, his expression losing its earlier teasing playfulness and changing into a frown.

      A cold ghost hand pressed against the back of her neck, sending a flow of ice over her scalp. ‘What’s wrong? What did I say to make you frown at me like that?’ It had been a flippant comment, sure, but why had it upset him so much?

      Logan let out a long breath. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you’re just here to service my needs. It’s important to me that you feel equal in our relationship.’

      Did she feel it was an equal relationship? In some ways, yes. In others, no. How could it be truly equal when he was the one who insisted their marriage end at a specific point? ‘It was just a throwaway line. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

      ‘This past month has been good, better than good, but it’s not always going to be like this,’ he said, still frowning in a brooding manner. ‘We can’t live in a bubble at Bellbrae for ever. You have work commitments and so do I.’

      Now it was Layla’s turn to frown, her mood soured by the sudden change in his. ‘Have I stopped you from doing your work? I haven’t exactly chained you to my side. You’re perfectly free to fly off to wherever you need to, whenever you need to.’ She spun away to lift the whistling kettle off the hob and place it on a heat protector, all but steaming herself. Why did he have to remind her this last month together wasn’t going to last? She didn’t need reminding. It was front and centre in her head every single day.

      ‘I don’t want to argue with—’ he began.

      ‘Then stop blaming me for you feeling guilty about taking time off,’ Layla shot back, turning to face him. ‘You’re a human being, Logan, not a flipping robot.’

      He moved across the floor to place his hands on the tops of her shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. His eyes were troubled, his frown still in place. ‘But what about your work? I’m concerned you haven’t got an office away from here yet.’

      Layla pulled out of his hold and folded her arms across her body, her glower hotter than the hotplate the kettle had just come off. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is about? You’re worried I’m going to get too comfortable working from here once the time is up on our marriage? Well, here’s some news for you. I’ve already been looking online at potential rentals in Edinburgh. There’s one in the Old Town that looks promising. It’s a bit expensive but I want the position to attract good clientele. It’s got a tiny bedsit upstairs so I can stay there if I don’t feel up to driving back here. And I can live there once our marriage ends.’

      His frown deepened. ‘You’re surely not thinking of commuting between here and Edinburgh over the winter? The roads are treacherous with black ice and snow and—’

      ‘Make up your mind, Logan,’ Layla mock-laughed. ‘You either want me to prioritise my work over you or you don’t.’

      He came back to her and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her back against him. ‘That’s the whole damn problem.’ His tone was a low rumbling growl, his expression still set in brooding lines. ‘I don’t want to share you with your work or with anyone and it scares the hell out of me.’ And then his mouth came down heavily, explosively on hers.

      It was a kiss of lust and anger and frustration and scorching need racing out of control. But she relished every heart-stopping second of it. His mouth was a fire on hers, his tongue a flame teasing hers into a combative dance with bone-melting expertise.

      Layla thought her legs were folding beneath her but he had picked her up and sat her on the kitchen bench in front of him. Her legs parted and he stepped between her open thighs, his mouth still locked on hers. The closeness of his erection, the molten heat building in her body, the escalating need communicated by their mouths was a potent combination.

      Logan untied the waistband of the bathrobe and stripped it off her shoulders, leaving her naked and exposed to his smouldering gaze. His eyes travelled over her breasts, his hands cradling them before placing his mouth on each in turn, subjecting them to a spine-tingling array of licks and strokes and circles of his tongue. Darts of pleasure shot through her and she shuffled as close to him as she possibly could.

      Logan rummaged in the pocket of her discarded bathrobe for the condom, swiftly tugging down his trousers and applying it. He surged into her with a primal groan of satisfaction, thrusting deeply and rhythmically, making her senses spin out of control. The delicious pressure built and built to bursting point and then, with the added caress of his fingers against her most sensitive female flesh, she was tossed into the maelstrom of a powerful orgasm. She cried, she gasped, she shook, she shuddered and quaked and still it went on in ripples and waves that were only intensified by his release, which coincided with hers.

      Logan framed her face in his hands, his breathing still laboured. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’

      Layla brushed his hair back from his forehead, gazing into his intensely blue eyes. ‘Do what? Kitchen bench sex?’

      His mouth tilted in a crooked smile. ‘Yeah.’ He