Billionaire’S Bride For Revenge: Billionaire’s Bride for Revenge. Susan Stephens
Читать онлайн книгу.
means you and I are now betrothed. Which means we need to seal the deal.’
Before she could guess what he meant, he’d hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. Before she could protest or make any protective move of her own, he’d covered her mouth with his.
Having no preparation or warning, Freya found herself flailing against him, her hands grabbing his arms as her already overloaded senses careered into terrifying yet exciting new directions. She struggled helplessly to keep possession of herself while his lips moved against hers in what she instinctively knew was the final marker in the game he’d been playing, Benjamin claiming her as his in an expert and ruthless manner that...
His tongue swept into her mouth and suddenly she didn’t care that it was all a game to him. Her body took possession of her brain for the very first time and she was kissing him back, taking the dark heat of his kisses and revelling in the sensation they were evoking in her. Such glorious, heady sensations, burning her skin beneath her clothes, sensitising flesh that had only come alive before for dance. She loosened her hands to wind them around his neck and press herself closer still while he swept his hands over her back, holding her tightly, possessively, devouring her mouth as if she were the food he needed to sustain himself. When his hand moved down to clasp her bottom and grind their groins together, it was her moan that echoed between them.
Her breasts were crushed against his chest, alive and sensitised for the first time in her life, making her want to weep that she had chosen to wear a bra when she so rarely bothered, and as these thoughts flickered in her hazy mind reality crashed back down.
All the clothes she wore, her underwear, her shoes, every item designated as hers under this roof had been bought without her knowledge.
She was a pawn in Benjamin’s game of vengeance and she hated him.
She would not accept his kisses with anything but contempt.
When Freya suddenly pulled out of his arms and jumped back, seeming to leap backwards through the air yet still making the perfect dancer’s landing, Benjamin had to blink rapidly to regain his focus and sense of place.
What the hell had just happened?
Breathing heavily, he stared at her, stunned that one simple kiss could explode like that. He’d known the attraction between them was strong but that...that had blown his mind.
He hadn’t experienced such heady, evocative feelings from a kiss since...since ever, not even those illicit teenage kisses when he’d first discovered that the opposite sex was good for something more than merciless teasing.
She stared back, eyes wide and wary, her own breaths coming in shallow gulps, her cheeks flushed. Her hair was still pulled back in that tight bun but there was something dishevelled about her now that made the heavy weight in his loins deepen.
He put a hand on the table, partly to steady himself and partly to stop himself crossing the room to haul her back into his arms. His loins felt as if they had been set on fire, the burn spread throughout him but concentrated there, an ache such as he had never experienced before that threatened to engulf his mind along with the rest of him.
Had she reacted to Javier’s kisses with that same intensity...?
The thought deflated the lust riding through him as effectively as a pin in a balloon.
He needed air.
‘Your pre-nuptial agreement. Where is it?’ he asked roughly.
A flash of confusion flittered over her features before she blinked sharply. ‘In Javier’s safe but I have a copy of it on an email attachment.’
‘Bien. I will get your phone unlocked. When it is working again, forward it to me. I will get it redrafted with both our names on it. It will be ready to sign by the end of the day.’
BENJAMIN RAPPED LOUDLY on the door to Freya’s quarters, his heart making as much noise in his chest as his knuckles made on the door.
It was incredible to think these would be her permanent quarters.
When he had bought the chateau seven years ago there had been a vague image of a future Madame Guillem to share the vast home and land with but it had been a secondary image. He’d bought it for his mother and, at the time, nursing her through her final months had been his only concern. Not long after her funeral, he’d found himself unable to repay the mortgage and forced to face the reality of his financial situation. Nursing his mother had taken him away from his business. The bills had mounted. Suppliers had threatened court action. He’d been days away from losing everything.
All thoughts of a future Madame Guillem had been buried. He’d dated. He’d had fun. But nothing permanent and definitely nothing serious. He’d had neither the physical time nor the mental space to make a relationship work.
It was only when he’d reached a position in his life where he could take his foot off the accelerator and slow things down enough for a real life of his own that he’d reached the inescapable conclusion that he would never trust anyone enough to pledge his life to them. As much as he’d regretted it would likely mean he would never have children, another of those vague in-the-future notions, he would not put himself through it. If he couldn’t trust the people he’d loved all his life how could he trust a stranger?
He didn’t have that worry with Freya. Knowing there was no trust to fake made taking this step more palatable.
Reading through the contract she and Javier had signed had made it even more so.
He had read it, shaking his head with incredulity at what it contained.
He could easily see his old friend signing this cold, emotionless contract but for the hot-blooded woman whose kisses had turned him to fire to sign such a thing stretched the realms of credulity.
But then, she was already proving to be far more fiery a woman than he’d thought Javier would commit himself to.
He hadn’t seen her since their explosive kiss that morning. He’d been busy in his office organising things. She’d kept herself busy doing her own thing, his staff keeping discreet tabs on her.
He knocked again. After waiting another thirty seconds, he pushed the door open and let himself in.
Her quarters were large and comfortable, a small reception area leading to a bedroom, bathroom and dressing room to the left, and a spacious living area to the right, where the faint trace of music played out through the closed door. He opened it and paused before stepping over the threshold.
All the furniture had been pushed against the far wall to create a large empty space. The music came from her freshly working phone.
Freya had contorted herself into the strangest shape he’d ever seen the human body take right in the centre of the room. Her calves and knees were on the carpet as if she’d knelt to pray but instead of clasping her hands before her and leaning forward, she’d gone backwards into a bridge, her flat stomach arched in the air, her elbows on the floor where her toes rested, her face in the soles of her bare feet with her hands clasping both her heels and her temples.
It looked the most uncomfortable pose a person could manipulate themselves into but she didn’t appear to be in any discomfort. If anything, she seemed at peace, her chest expanding and her stomach softening in long, steady breaths.
He found his own breath stuck in his lungs. He didn’t dare make a sound, afraid that to disturb her would cause her to injure herself.
After what felt like hours but in reality was probably less than a minute she uncoiled herself, walking her hands away from her feet then using them to push herself upright.
Kneeling, she finally looked at him. She showed no concern or surprise at his appearance in her quarters.
He’d been so entranced with