The Return Of Her Billionaire Husband. Melanie Milburne
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stopped her heart for a moment. He was still wearing his wedding ring? Why? She had left hers at his villa in Positano, but hardly a day went past when her thumb didn’t go in search of them on her finger like a child’s tongue checking the vacant space left by a missing tooth.
His gaze came back to hers—dark, deep, mysterious. ‘Celeste is Damon’s cousin. This is her first job after being sick with blood cancer. It would upset God knows how many relatives of his if we make a big deal about this. Greeks are all about family. Besides, this is Lucy and Damon’s wedding and I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to our situation.’
Juliette chewed at her lip, knowing there was a lot of truth in what he said. Wedding party guests were meant to be the supportive team, not the main event. And it made sense not to make a fuss, given Celeste’s health issues. She admired the girl for getting back out there, and with such focus and dedication. Juliette hadn’t been able to illustrate another children’s book since she’d lost the baby. Her publisher and editors, and Lucy who co-wrote the books with her, had been incredibly patient but how long would that continue?
‘But what if one of us stayed in another room? Another hotel? There are plenty of hotels further down the—’
‘No.’ There was an intractable tone in his voice. ‘I’ve already spent the best part of an hour trying to find somewhere and drawn a blank. Lucy and Damon wanted the wedding party staying in one place. And there are no other rooms vacant here. So we will have to share.’
Juliette swung away and began pacing the floor, her arms wrapping around her body again. ‘This is ridiculous. I can’t believe this is happening. A weekend of sharing a suite with you? It’s...it’s unthinkable.’
‘You’ve shared much more than a suite with me in the past. Our first night together was spent in a room very much like this one, was it not?’ His coolly delivered statement triggered a firestorm in her body, sending waves of heat coursing through her flesh.
She didn’t want to think about that night and how her body so wantonly, greedily responded to him. How her senses had reeled under the ministrations of his touch. How many women since their breakup had enjoyed the pressure of his mouth, the smooth, hard thrust of his body, the sensual glide of his hands? A hot spear of jealousy drove through her belly, sending pain so deep into her body she only just managed to suppress a gasp.
Juliette sent him a glare hot enough to blister the paint off the walls. ‘How many women have you shared a hotel room with since we separated?’
Something moved across his features like a zephyr across a deep dark body of water. ‘None. We are still technically married, cara.’ His voice had a low and husky quality, his eyes holding hers in a lock that felt faintly disturbing. Disturbing because she found it almost impossible to look away.
She frowned, opening and closing her mouth in an effort to find something to say. None? No lovers since her? What did that mean?
She swallowed and finally found her voice. ‘You’ve been celibate the whole time? For fifteen months?’
His crooked smile made something kick against her heart like a tiny invisible hoof. ‘You find that surprising?’
‘Well, yes, because you’re...’ Her words trailed off and her cheeks grew warm and she shifted her gaze.
‘I’m what?’
Juliette rolled her lips together and glanced at him again. ‘You’re very good at sex and I thought you’d miss it and want to find someone else, many someone elses, after we broke up.’
‘Have you found someone else?’ A line of tension ran from the hinge of his jaw to his mouth.
Juliette gave a choked-off laugh. Her, sleep with someone else? The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Which was kind of weird, come to think of it. Why hadn’t it? She was supposed to be over him. Wouldn’t being over him mean she would be interested in replacing him? But somehow the thought of it sickened her. ‘No, of course not.’
Joe’s eyes were unwavering on hers. ‘But why not? You’re very good at sex too. Don’t you miss it?’ His deep and husky tone was like dark rich treacle poured over gravel.
It wasn’t just her cheeks that were hot—her whole body was on fire. Flickering flames of reawakened lust smouldering in each of her erogenous zones. Erogenous zones that reacted to his presence as if finely tuned to his body’s radar. Her body recognised him in a thousand and one ways. Even his voice had the power to melt her bones. Her flesh remembered his touch as if it were imprinted in every pore of her skin. Hunger for his touch was a background beat in her blood but every time his gaze met hers it sent her pulse rate soaring.
And she had a feeling he damn well knew it.
Juliette smoothed her suddenly damp palms down the front of her bathrobe, turning away so her back was to him. ‘This is exactly why I don’t want to share a room with you this weekend.’
‘Because you still want me.’ He didn’t say it as a question but as a statement written in stone.
Juliette turned and faced him, anger rising in her like a pressure cooker about to explode. Her body trembled, her blood threatening to burst out of her veins. Should she mention the divorce papers burning a hole in her tote bag? The thought crossed her mind but then she dismissed it. She planned to hand them to him once Lucy and Damon left on Sunday morning for their yachting honeymoon. It would spoil the happy couple’s celebrations if the hideous D word was mentioned.
But Joe had mentioned the other dangerous D word. Desire.
‘You think I can’t resist you?’ Her voice shook with the effort of containing her temper.
His eyes went to her mouth as if he were recalling how she had shamelessly, brazenly pleasured him in the past. His gaze came back to hers and something deep and low in her belly rolled over. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, cara.’
‘What do you want to do then?’ Juliette should never have asked such a loaded question, for she saw the answer in the dark gleam of his chocolate-brown eyes.
Joe closed the distance between them in a number of slowly measured strides but she didn’t move away. She couldn’t seem to get her legs to work, couldn’t get her willpower back on duty, couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t just stand there and enjoy the exquisite anticipation of him being close enough for her to touch.
He lifted his hand to her face and skated his index finger down the curve of her cheek from just below her ear to the bottom of her chin. It was the lightest touch, barely there, but every cell in her body jolted awake like a dead heart under defibrillator paddles. Every drop of blood in her veins put on their running shoes. Every atom of her willpower dissolved like an aspirin in water. She could smell the lime notes of his aftershave cologne. She could see the sexy shadow of his regrowth peppered along his chiselled jaw and she had to curl her hands into fists to stop from touching it. She could see the lines and contours of his sculptured mouth, could remember how it felt crushed to her own.
Oh, dear God, his mouth was her kryptonite.
‘Take a wild guess what I want to do.’ His voice was rough, his eyes hooded, the air suddenly charged with erotic possibilities.
Juliette could feel her body swaying towards him as if someone was gently but inexorably pushing her from behind. Her hands were no longer balled into fists by her sides but planted on the hard wall of his chest, her lower body pulsing with lust-heated blood.
His hands settled on her hips, the warmth of his broad fingers seeping into her flesh with the potency of a powerful drug. His black-as-night gaze went to her mouth and she couldn’t stop from moistening her lips with the darting tip of her tongue.
He drew in a sharp breath as if her action had triggered something in him, something feral, something primal. He brought her even closer, flush against his pelvis, and her traitorously needy body met the hard jut of his.
His