A Very French Affair. Эбби Грин
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personality. He could see the way she held herself…so stiff…but when he’d been coming out from the water, when he’d seen her first, she’d had a look of something close to exultation on her face.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I was out jogging. And I was merely making sure you were OK. I didn’t know who was swimming, and the currents here can be strong.’
He picked up a towel from nearby. She hadn’t even noticed it. ‘Would you have saved me if I’d got into trouble?’
Sorcha snorted inelegantly. ‘What do you think?’
He rubbed at his hair, totally unconcerned by her comment. With his face obscured momentarily, she couldn’t halt the inevitable slide of her gaze downwards again, seeing how the cold water had made his nipples hard. Her own seemed to pucker and tighten in direct response, and she hurriedly crossed her arms over the thin material of her T-shirt.
‘It was amazing.’ He jerked his head back towards the pounding waves.
Sorcha was distracted for a second, that sexy accent making her breath hitch again. And she did envy him the experience, knowing well how he must be feeling right now—the rush of endorphins, the tingling sensations as life came back into a body that would be near frozen.
‘I know.’ She sounded wistful. ‘It’s been a while since I swam in the sea here, but I remember.’
‘Nothing stopping you now. You could go in in your underwear. I can keep an eye.’
The lightness in his voice didn’t fool her for a second. And if he thought she was going to strip off in front of him…
She shook her head and watched with widening eyes as he proceeded to hitch the towel around his waist and strip off his shorts underneath. At the last second she whirled away from him.
‘Do you mind?’
Romain studied her taut back. Just who was Sorcha Murphy?
‘I’m decent again.’
Sorcha turned around reluctantly, relieved to see him buttoning up his jeans—although that led her eyes to his hands, and the line of dark hair that snaked up to his chest. A worn sweatshirt abruptly concealed him from view and she felt saggy with relief.
He strolled towards her nonchalantly. ‘So, why don’t you?’
She frowned, her head feeling muggy, unconsciously backing away ‘What?’
‘Go for a swim.’
She shook her head again. ‘No.’ And she struck off up the beach.
He kept pace with her all too easily.
She looked at him sideways, it seemed silly not to admit the truth. ‘But you’re right…I did think of it. I was going to go back inside and get my swimsuit.’
‘Coward,’ he called softly.
She avoided his eye, afraid of what she’d see, and looked at her watch. They were at the back of the house, a huge hedge obscuring them from view. ‘As I have to be in make-up in less than half an hour, I’m sure you don’t want to be encouraging me to be late?’
He spread an arm wide for her to precede him up the path and dipped his head. ‘Of course you’re right.’
She went to squeeze past him. The narrow gate was too small for two people, and he wasn’t budging an inch. Sorcha gritted her teeth, not even breathing, but even so she could feel his chest. She imagined it would still be cold from the sea…and were his nipples still hard?
She felt like screaming inwardly. Until she’d met him in New York, thoughts like this had never entered her head. She didn’t know if he was doing it deliberately, just to unsettle her, or because he—
Two arms came round her at that moment, and her heart skidded to a halt.
The feel of her lithe, athletic, yet lush body was too much for him. He was only human, and he couldn’t wait any more. Not after the extreme erotic torture of holding her in his arms yesterday and his sleepless night last night.
She looked up, panic-stricken. ‘What do you think you’re—’
‘Something I’ve wanted to do ever since I saw you across that room in New York, and more especially since yesterday…What we would have done if we hadn’t been interrupted.’
His powerful arms held her captive. She couldn’t move, and to do so would be to invite a friction between their bodies the thought of which made scorched colour enter Sorcha’s already pink cheeks. His words and her own body’s reaction scared the life out of her, but something joyous moved through her too, and that scared her even more witless.
She had to do something!
His head dipped, and she tried in vain to push with her hands.
‘Aren’t you afraid you might catch some immoral disease?’
His mouth hovered just inches away…Sorcha knew she should turn her head away—so why didn’t she? Her eyes, big as saucers, gazed up into his.
Romain felt his whole body tighten, felt fire blazing a trail along every vein and artery, pumping blood to areas that were becoming painfully engorged. He couldn’t even take in her words, or answer with any coherence.
Before Sorcha could move or stop him his head had dipped. The morning disappeared. Mad insanity arrived. Insanity that tasted delicious…like nothing she’d ever dreamt of before. This was a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. The first press of his lips to hers was benedictory, almost reverent, and then he drew back. She opened her eyes. When had she closed them? And how had her hands crept up to his neck? The stark reality of what she was doing washed through her and she struggled again, but Romain was ruthless. He pushed her back against the gate, trapped her completely with his hard body.
‘No, you don’t…You want this just as much as me…’
‘No!’ she panted. ‘I don—’
And this time there was no gentle. He was hard, intrusive, ruthless, and determined to break through her every defence. His tongue forced her mouth open, made a bold foray into her mouth, and though she first had an instinct to bite…it turned quickly into a desire to explore, touch and taste. He tasted of salt water. His hand was on the back of her head, angling her better for his satisfaction. She gave a deep mewl in her throat and her treacherous hands climbed again, finding the way the skin grew silky around the back of his neck, where his wet hair made her think of him emerging from the sea just moments ago. That had a tight spiral of need starting in her belly and rising upwards, consuming every part of her on the way.
Her breasts felt sore, aching heavily against the thin material of her T-shirt and bra. She pressed herself closer, lost in a maelstrom of passion so dizzyingly new and overwhelming that she couldn’t even question it. Romain’s other hand smoothed down her back, all the way to her bottom, where he cupped one cheek, pressing her even closer, and all the time their mouths clung, tongues duelling in a frantic building heat that threatened to combust around them.
It was a dog barking that finally cut through the insanity that had taken them over. Romain noticed before she did, and pulled back with extreme reluctance. His eyes darted to a dune nearby, and he contemplated taking her right now, right there…the aching in his loins crying out for immediate release. But a dog would have an owner, and now was not the time or place. Something triumphant moved through him when he looked down into slightly glazed blue eyes. He’d been right. But when he’d sensed passion under that pale skin he hadn’t dreamt how incendiary it was. He smiled.
Sorcha finally reacted to his smile. It was smug…and something else. It made her heart turn over and at the same time her blood run cold. This time she pushed and he let her go. She fought to control her breathing, her hammering heart, and looked at him, trying not to let the confusion she felt show on her face.
‘I don’t know what you thought that was, but it won’t be happening again.’