The Marriage Bed. Helen Bianchin
Читать онлайн книгу.
accept a stepparent in the place of a loved one was infinitely worse.
Fiercely protective, she wanted desperately for her child to grow up in a happy home with two emotionally committed parents. A marriage based on a business merger lacked the one ingredient essential for a mutually successful long-term relationship: love.
A one-sided love wasn’t nearly enough.
Damn. Introspection didn’t help at all.
‘Sleeping in a Jacuzzi isn’t a good idea.’
Gabbi didn’t open her eyes. ‘I wasn’t sleeping.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it. Do you intend staying there long?’
‘A while.’
He didn’t comment, and she sensed rather than heard him leave. Perhaps he’d go downstairs and peruse the latest financial bulletin faxed through from London, New York and Tokyo.
Somehow she doubted he’d simply undress and slide between the sheets, for he was a man who could maintain maximum energy on six hours’ sleep in any given twenty-four.
The warm, pulsating water had a soporific effect, and she allowed her thoughts to drift. To her childhood, early treasured memories of her mother, and James. After James followed Monique, and—
Gabbi’s eyes flew open as a foot brushed her own. Her startled gaze met a pair of dark brown, almost black eyes heavy with slumberous, vaguely mocking humour.
‘What are you doing here?’ Why did she sound so—shocked? It was hardly the first time they’d shared the Jacuzzi.
‘Is my presence such an unwelcome intrusion?’
‘Yes.’ Except that wasn’t strictly true. ‘No,’ she amended, unable to tear her eyes away from the strong features within touching distance of her own. Broad cheekbones, a well-defined jaw and the sensual curve of his mouth.
The mouth tilted slightly, and she caught sight of strong white teeth. ‘You sound unsure.’
Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘Perhaps because I am.’
Sinews moved beneath the smooth skin sheathing the powerful breadth of his chest as he extended a hand to trail a gentle pattern across her cheek.
The faint aroma of his cologne had a tantalising effect on her equilibrium, and her pupils dilated as one finger traced the outline of her lower lip.
Please, she begged silently. Don’t do this to me.
Slowly, with infinite patience, he began to erode her defences, breaking them down one by one with the brush of his fingers against the pulse at the base of her throat where it beat in an increasingly visible tattoo.
Those same fingers trailed the contours of each breast, cupped and weighed them in his palm, then teased each tender nub.
Her lips parted and her eyelids drooped low.
No one person should have this much emotional control over another, she thought. There should be some in-built mechanism in one’s psyche to prevent such an invasion.
Possession, she substituted as her bones began to liquefy.
Strong hands settled at her waist, and with no effort at all he turned her round to sit in front of him. She felt caged by the strength of his shoulders, the muscled arms that curved beneath her own.
There was warmth, a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water, and when his lips grazed the delicate hollow at the edge of her neck Gabbi sighed in unspoken acceptance.
He had the touch, she mused dreamily, and the knowledge to arouse a woman to the brink of madness. And the control to hold her on the edge until she almost wept for release.
It was a sensual journey that traversed many paths, along which Gabbi had no desire to travel with anyone but him. She knew she’d give up her fortune, her life, everything... if only he felt the same.
His hands slid to her shoulders, shifting her so that she faced him, and his mouth took possession of her own.
Her arms lifted to encircle his neck, her fingers burying themselves in the thickness of his hair as she held him close.
There was passion as he tasted and took his fill, and she met his raw energy with matching ardour, then let her mouth soften beneath the teasing influence of his, savouring the lingering sweetness, all too aware of the leashed power as he traced the full curve with the tip of his tongue.
She wanted to tease him, test the level of his control. And see if she could break it.
Gabbi let her arms drift down, trailing her fingers over the muscled cord of his neck, taking time to explore the hard ridges, the strong sinews stretching down to each shoulder.
Dark, springy hair covered his chest, and she played with the short curls, twisting them round her fingers, pulling gently, only to release them as she moved to capture a few more.
She lowered her head and touched her lips to his shoulder, then gently trailed a path inch by inch to his ear, using the tip of her tongue with wicked delight on the hollow beneath the lobe before nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive flesh.
With extreme care she caressed the length of his jaw, traced a path across his cheek, then moved to brush each eyelid closed before trailing the slope of his nose.
The sensual mouth was a temptation she couldn’t resist, and she touched her lips to its edge, nibbling and tasting as she explored the lower fullness before traversing the upper curve, withdrawing as she felt it firm in preparation to take control.
Gabbi shook her head in silent remonstrance, then slid to her feet and stepped out of the Jacuzzi, grabbed a towel and wrapped it round her slender form, reaching for another as she turned and extended a beckoning hand.
Benedict held her gaze for a few heart-stopping seconds, and she saw his eyes darken with smouldering passion as he reared to his feet
He loomed large, his frame a testament to male magnificence, muscled sinew moving with easy fluidity, darkened whorls of hair glistening on his water-drenched skin.
His movements were deliberate as he stepped onto the marble-tiled floor, his pace slow as he shortened the distance between them, and his eyes never left hers for a second.
He held out his hand for the towel, and she shook her head, bunching it in her hand as she reached forward to blot the moisture from his skin.
Gabbi began with one shoulder, then the other, and moved to his chest, taking time and care as she slowly traversed his ribcage, his waist, the lean hips, then the muscled length of his powerful thighs. With deliberate casualness she stepped behind him and tended to the width of his back, watching the play of muscles as they flexed and tensed at her touch.
‘Nice butt,’ she teased gently as she trailed the towel down the back of each thigh.
‘You’re playing a dangerous game,’ Benedict warned with ominous softness as she moved round to stand in front of him.
‘Really?’ Her lips tilted slightly as she feigned a lack of guile. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’
‘And I haven’t even begun.’
Each word possessed the smoothness of silk, and a slight tremor slithered across the surface of her skin.
Was she mad? In setting out to smash his control, was she inviting something she couldn’t handle?
Yet she couldn’t, wouldn’t throw in the towel. Literally, she established with a choked laugh as she brushed the thick cotton pile over the matt of dark, curling hair at the apex of his thighs.
, A man’s arousal was a potent erotic testimony to his sex, his power and his strength. And instrument of a woman’s pleasure. With knowledge and expertise, it could drive a woman wild.
Gabbi looked at it with fascination. Unbidden, she trailed the length, gently traced the tip,