Forbidden Desires. Marion Lennox
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didn’t know what to make of her announcement that she was going out for the evening. His brows almost went through his hairline, but she didn’t let that deter her.
“Amber is a friend who moved to Canada years ago. She’s coming into London tonight. It’s her only free time, so I’d like to join her for tapas and a drink and leave Lucy with you.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” he asked with one of those sweeping glances that lit fires all over her.
“Of course,” she said more stridently than she intended, but the way she tingled every time he so much as turned his head in her direction was driving her crazy. She couldn’t wait to get Amber’s objective view of this situation.
With a shrug, Raoul said, “Pack a bag and we’ll stay at the penthouse. That way you won’t be so late getting in and I can go into the office in the morning. We’ll test-drive one aspect of this arrangement I’ve suggested.”
One aspect. Part of her wanted to refuse on principle, but she liked the idea of a shorter trip home. Her doctor was pleased with her progress, but between Lucy’s needs and her body’s wants, she wasn’t sleeping enough.
And by the time she’d packed, driven in, unpacked and settled the baby, she was ready for bed, not a night on the town. She put on a black skirt and ruffled green top anyway. Both were a bit tight. At least her hair was an asset. She’d been clipping it up for months and hadn’t realized how much it had grown. She rather liked it clouding around her shoulders, drawing attention from her still-thick waist. Wearing heels and makeup for the first time in ages, she looked pretty good.
Echoes of her stepmother’s critical voice swept through her, cataloging her flaws and bringing Sirena down a smidge, but she had been practicing how to block that painful denigration for years. She stood straight and ignored the whispers of insecurity, jumping when Raoul appeared in her bedroom doorway.
“Who is this Amber?” he asked in a dark growl.
“A friend from school.” Sirena turned from the mirror, a wicked slide of excitement careening through her as she took him in.
He wore jeans and a button-down shirt open at his throat, cuffs rolled up to his forearms. He was the man who always made butterflies invade her middle.
“You dress like this for a woman?” His gaze made a slow, thorough study of her from collarbone to ankles.
“This is all that fits. I can’t show up in my sweats and trainers. Or do you mean I look like a pile of socks pushed into a leg of tights? Should I change?” Her hand went to the zip of her skirt.
His expression was dumbfounded. “Yes. No,” he insisted. “You look fine. Excellent. Beautiful. You’re not meeting a man?”
“Because my dating profile of ‘unemployed new mum with custody issues’ is so irresistible? No. I’m meeting a girlfriend. I wish you would quit calling me a liar.”
“I called you beautiful,” he said with a raking glance of masculine hunger, his frown both askance and...not critical, but not pleased.
She curled her toes in her shoes, disconcerted by how admiring and possessive he seemed. “I wasn’t fishing for flattery.”
He barred the door with his arm.
An uncomfortable silence stretched as her stepmother’s voice did a number on her again, cataloging the extra pounds and shadows under her eyes and lack of a manicure, but as Raoul skimmed his gaze down her figure once more, and his expression reflected nothing but male approval, she felt quite beautiful.
The swirling sensation in her abdomen redoubled and little sensors in her body began reaching out toward him, tugging her with magnetic power toward him.
She forced herself to stand still, but he dropped his arm and stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her, towering despite her heels. His gray eyes shone with a startlingly warm regard as he scanned her face and hair. Strong hands came up to frame her face with disconcerting tenderness.
Her breath stalled in her lungs as he started to bend his head, his gaze on her mouth.
“What are you doing?” she managed, pressing against his chest.
He paused, gaze smoky with intent. “Reminding you that if a man comes on to you tonight, you have one right here willing to satisfy your needs.”
He began to lower his head again but she leaned away.
“Don’t smudge my lipstick,” she argued shakily, the best protest she could rouse when her whole body wanted to let his take over. Her breasts ached for contact with the hardness of his chest and heat pooled between her thighs. A fine trembling invaded her limbs, making her weak. Her arms longed to reach out and cling to him.
At the last second, he veered to bury his lips against her neck. His light stubble abraded her skin while his open mouth found a sensitive spot on her nape that took out her knees.
“What are you doing?” she cried, melting into the arms that caught her. Her nipples sharpened into hard points as he applied delicate suction, marking her.
She should have stopped him, but she was held not just by his strength, but by a paralysis of physical joy. Her mouth ached for the press of his while her mind became a turmoil of unconscious thoughts, processing only the sensations of knowing hands skimming her curves as he laid claim to her hips and bottom. He was hard, ready, so tempting—
“You make me lose my mind,” he growled, steadying her before he released her. “Do not start anything with anyone tonight. The car is waiting. That’s what I came to tell you.” He walked out.
* * *
Raoul didn’t resent Sirena taking a night out, but he didn’t like having no right to question her comings and goings and suspected the reason was old-fashioned jealousy. Not an emotion he’d ever experienced, and definitely unwelcome, but she was so hot. As sexy as a year ago, but less buttoned-down and professional. With her hair loose and her full breasts brimming her top, he’d seen what every man in London would see: a beautiful woman.
And he wouldn’t be there to warn them off with a don’t-even-try-it stare.
He shouldn’t have kissed her, but he hadn’t been able to resist imprinting her with the knowledge he wanted her. She’d been skittishly avoiding him since their kiss outside Lucy’s bedroom and he’d been trying to ignore how badly he craved her, but his hunger grew exponentially every day.
It was frustrating as hell, but no matter how uncomfortable they both were with each other, they were equally devoted to Lucy. He couldn’t countenance anything more than a few hours of separation from his child, so he kept coming back to sharing his house with her mother.
Disgruntled, still smelling of her perfume, he waited in the foyer to watch her leave, arms folded.
Sirena appeared, checked her step and flushed. Ducking her head, she opened her pocketbook. “I have my phone if Lucy needs me.”
“We’ll be fine. Do you have David’s number?” he asked, mentioning his London driver.
“Yes, it’s programmed—” She swept her thumb across the screen and frowned. “Oh, I missed this from Amber. She’s sick. That’s disappointing.”
More like devastating, if her body language was anything to go by. Raoul was disgustingly relieved, but as he watched her shoulders fall and the pretty glow of excitement extinguish from her expression, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
She tempered her sad pout into a resigned quirk. “All dressed up and no place to go,” she said wryly. “Sorry to drag you all the way to London for nothing. I guess it’ll be sweats and trainers after all. I’ll just let her know I got the message...” She ducked her head to text a reply.
“You were really looking forward to this,” he commented as she finished.
She shrugged. “We chat online, but it’s