Modern Romance November 2019 Books 1-4. Эбби Грин
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her brittle exclusion of her own children, and her all-encompassing absorption in her philandering husband, and her preoccupation with her own appearance. He’d wanted someone soft and caring and honest and true. Someone with a heart and someone with a conscience—and Lucy had ticked all those boxes, and more.
He swallowed. Much more.
He hadn’t been expecting her to keep surprising him as a lover, nor imagined he would find it difficult to drag himself away from the seductive sanctuary of her arms each morning. Sometimes he would even find himself glancing at his watch at the end of a working day and itch to get away, but he forced himself to work as late as he’d always done, because independence was key to his success. Wasn’t that one of the reasons why his Singaporean trip had provided such a welcome relief and the space he needed? Because no way was he ever going to rely on another human being and open himself up to pain.
Yet Lucy wasn’t asking for the world, was she? She wasn’t demanding emotional reassurance, or expecting him to bolster her unrealistic dreams about marriage. She simply wanted him to accompany her while she took the baby swimming. Not the biggest ask in the world.
‘What time do you want to leave?’ he growled.
‘In about an hour.’
‘I have a couple of calls I need to make first.’
‘Of course you do,’ she said, with a smile which somehow niggled him.
The gym was only a short walk away, reached through an oasis of a garden square which was new to him, but then, it was a long time since he’d taken a walk in London just for the sake of it. Feeling like a man who had just emerged from a long sleep, Drakon heard the unmistakable sounds of birdsong coming from the bare branches of a tree, before peering down at a carpet of snowy white flowers whose white tips were pushing their way through the grass.
‘Snowdrops,’ said Lucy as she followed the direction of his gaze.
‘I know they’re snowdrops,’ he snapped.
He was slightly disconcerted to discover mixed changing rooms at the upmarket gym—he hadn’t been in any kind of changing room since uni—and by the way Lucy thrust a pair of impossibly tiny armbands at him.
‘Could you put these on Xander?’
He looked at them with a frown. ‘Can’t you do it?’
‘Well, I can, of course—but I thought you might like to.’
What could he say in response? That he had no desire to do so? That the thought of touching the baby filled him with dread because he was so impossibly tiny? Especially as a nearby blonde was openly listening into their conversation, her eyes devouring him in a predatory way he hadn’t come across in a while. Was that because he never really looked at other women any more, other than to compare them unfavourably to Lucy? He shot the blonde a glance before disdainfully averting his gaze. She was practically falling out of some skimpy bikini and he thought how much sexier his wife looked, clad in a sleek one-piece which hugged her toned curves.
He turned back to the task in hand and stared down at the tiny baby who was now cradled in the crook of his arm. It was a nerve-racking experience to slide on the armbands and he wanted to lash out at Lucy for making him do it, when he looked up and met the soft understanding shining from her blue eyes.
‘You’re doing just fine,’ she said softly. ‘Babies are stronger than they look and all dads feel funny at first. I’ve seen men the size of mountains looking completely lost when confronted with a newborn. You just need to do it more often. You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.’
But Drakon could hear his heart pounding. Pounding in a way he didn’t recognise. Xander was wearing a hooded little towel which made him look like a miniature caped crusader, but nothing could detract from his vulnerability, despite the fact that he was over three months old now. Drakon stared into black eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. He had his father’s eyes. Niko’s eyes, he realised with a wrench. But they were his eyes too, for hadn’t he and his twin brother been identical, sharing almost the same DNA? He stared down again at his adopted son and something inside him turned over and started to melt.
And that was how it started. Insidiously at first, but with gathering force—like the fierce Meltemi wind which blew through his homeland every summer—Drakon began an emotional connection with the child he had adopted.
He tried to deny it. To convince himself his life wouldn’t change in any way because he didn’t want it to change. He would play the part of husband and father, yes. That had always been part of the deal. But he would play it from a suitable distance, for that was how he operated. He was there to support Lucy in her role of mother, because that was her primary role. At times he’d started to wonder whether she truly understood and accepted the boundaries within their relationship, then something happened which made it clear he was going to have to spell it out for her.
The episode in question occurred when he was returning from a day trip of meetings in France and found his limousine waiting for him at the airfield. Unusually, the chauffeur remained in the driving seat and Drakon opened the rear door himself, to discover Lucy sitting on the back seat waiting for him—a vision in a silky dress which matched her eyes and suede high-heeled shoes in exactly the same colour.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ he said, his eyes narrowing as some unknown fear clouded his heart. Something to do with Xander, perhaps? ‘Is something wrong?’ he demanded.
‘No, nothing’s wrong. I just thought it would be fun to come and meet you for a change.’ She crossed one pale, stockinged leg over the other and tilted him a smile he’d never seen her use before. It was a slightly nervous smile but also kind of…predatory.
His senses were on instant alert as he got in beside her, noting the tense atmosphere inside the tinted interior of the car. He could see that she’d floated up the soundproofed and darkened screen which separated them from his chauffeur, so they were in a private world of their own. As the powerful vehicle pulled away she leaned forward to kiss him, guiding his hand up her skirt to illustrate the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties. Before too long she had unzipped him and was straddling him, easing herself slowly down onto his rigid length and riding him as if they were in some kind of erotic rodeo. He felt compromised and manipulated but his desire for her was so intense that he had no choice other than to submit to her sexy ministrations. Even when inside her he tried to hold back—to make her wait for what he knew she wanted—but suddenly his seed was pumping out and he was moaning softly against her mouth.
It was undoubtedly the most stimulating homecoming he’d ever experienced—possibly because it was so unexpected. It was hard to believe this was the same blushing virgin he’d seduced on his Mediterranean island, and that disturbed him almost as much as this sudden reversal of control. He’d chosen her for her suitability and purity. Didn’t she realise that he had chosen her because he had wanted a mother for his son? If he’d wanted a vamp, he would have married one.
‘So what was all that about?’ he demanded, once he’d got his breath back.
She paused in the act of smoothing down her rucked skirt before looking up, and he was caught in the teasing crossfire of her bluebell eyes. ‘You didn’t like it?’
He didn’t respond to the feigned innocence in her voice. ‘I didn’t say that. I just wondered if there was any particular reason for such a mind-blowing homecoming and whether this is something I should expect every time I take a flight in future?’
Something in the repressive tone of his voice sent a shiver down Lucy’s spine. He was looking at her with a stony expression in his black eyes, which somehow contradicted his passionate response, and she felt a worm of worry wriggling away inside her. Should she tell him the truth? Should she confess she’d been concerned he might find too much domesticity and fatherhood stultifying and she wanted to reassure him that she intended to remain as exciting a lover as possible? But that might let too much light into her occasionally paranoid thoughts and make