with one final thrust, one final guttural roar, he sent her shattering, coming apart in his arms, falling, spinning weightless and formless and satisfied beyond measure.
‘So beautiful,’ he said, as he smoothed her hair from her damp brow, kissing her lightly on her eyes, on her nose, on her gasping lips.
And you’re dangerous, she thought as he disappeared to the bathroom, as her brain resumed functioning and a cold and very real panic seized her heart. So utterly, utterly dangerous.
And I am so in trouble.
What should one say now? What would an army do, its defences stripped bare, the castle walls well and truly breached? Try to hastily rebuild them? Call for reinforcements?
Or surrender?
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about the sizzle under her skin where his fingers had stroked her shoulder.
As if she had a choice. She would no sooner patch up her defences and he would have them down again. One silken touch, one poignant kiss, and he would have those walls tumbling right down.
But she was kidding himself. There was no point rebuilding walls or calling for reinforcements. No point trying to save herself from attack from outside the castle walls.
Not when the enemy was already within.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she swiped them away. Damn. What was she doing? What was she risking? ‘I can’t afford to get pregnant again,’ she said when he returned, putting voice to her greatest fear.
‘I wouldn’t let you.’
‘But Sam’s father—’
He rose over her, cutting her off with his kiss. ‘I would never do that to you.’
‘How do I know that? And I would have two babies from two different fathers. How could I cope with that?’
‘Believe me. It won’t happen but even if it did, I would not abandon you as he has done.’
‘But you wouldn’t marry me either.’
He searched her eyes and frowned and she thought it was at her words, until he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the moisture there.
‘I thought I heard you say any woman would be certifiably insane to want to get shackled to me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, remembering the scene in the bar. ‘I was angry.’
‘As was I. I should never have said what I did about Sam’s father thinking the same of you. But you’re right. Marriage is not an option, which means the best thing for everyone is to ensure we’re careful. All right?’
She wished he wouldn’t be like this. She wished he could go back to being ruthless and hard, because when he was tender and gentle with her, she could almost, almost, imagine he actually cared.
And she could almost, almost, imagine that she cared for him. She couldn’t afford to care for him. She couldn’t afford to read anything into his apology for what he’d said about Sam’s dad when it was plain he wasn’t lining up to marry her himself.
But she could enjoy him.
Two more nights in Leo’s bed. Why was she fighting it when it was where she so wanted to be? Why not treat it as the holiday it really was? Time spent in a tropical paradise with a man who knew how to pleasure a woman. No ties, no commitments and a promise not to let her down.
Was she mad to fight it?
And was it really surrendering, to take advantage of what she’d been offered on a plate?
His hand cupped her breast, feeling its weight, stroking her nipple and her senses until it peaked hard and plump under his fingers while his lips worked their heated way along her jaw towards her mouth. ‘Evelyn?’
A woman would have to be mad to want to give this up, she reasoned, leaning into his ministrations, giving herself over to the sensations. Two nights to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. It was more than some people had in a lifetime.
It would be enough.
It had to be enough.
‘All right,’ she whispered, giving herself up to his kiss.
SAM’S morning chatter roused them, as he tested all the sounds in his vocabulary in one long gabble, then she heard a tell-tale bump on the floor, followed by a squeal. ‘That’s Sam,’ she said unnecessarily, locating her nightie and snatching up her balled-up underwear and a robe and making for the bathroom for a quick pit stop, wanting to ensure she looked maternal rather than wanton when she greeted her son. Not that he was old enough to notice anything amiss, she thought, giving thanks for his innocence.
Sam was hanging onto the rails and bouncing on the mattress and greeted her with a huge grin followed by ‘mumumumumum’, which warmed her heart. Unconditional love. There was nothing like it. She changed him on the table provided and equipped for the task before popping his wriggling body down on the floor. ‘Bear!’ he shouted, gleefully scooping up the toy and running with his wide toddler gait out of the room before her, looking a little bit lost at the new surroundings for just a moment, before running full pelt and colliding with the bed.
Dark eyes blinked up at Leo, openly curious. He blinked back, wondering what one was supposed to say to a child. Sam looked around at his mother, who was pulling milk from the fridge in the small kitchenette and pouring it into a jug. ‘It’s okay, Sam, you remember Leo,’ she said reassuringly as she put the jug in the microwave, and Sam turned and careened straight into his mother’s legs, hiding his face between them.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, hoisting him to her hip in one efficient movement, although it wasn’t so much the efficiency that impressed Leo but the unexpected way the sudden angle of her hip displayed the long line of her legs. His mouth went dry, his blood went south. Strange really, for here she was, dressed in a cheap cotton nightgown, a toweling robe sashed at her waist and with a baby at her hip, and maybe it was her tousled hair, or the jut of that damned hip, or even the fact she’d just blown his world apart in bed—twice—but suddenly he was thinking about a third time.
The microwave pinged.
‘Ping,’ cried Sam, holding his hands out. ‘Ping!’
One-handed, she poured the milk into some kind of cup, fixing on a spout before passing it to the boy. ‘Here’s your ping, Sam.’ Leo watched her, admiring the way she looked so at ease working one-handedly. Sam dropped his bear to clasp the cup in his pudgy hands, gulping deep. ‘Sam’s used to joining me in bed in the morning,’ she said, bending over to retrieve the bear and giving his sex a hell of a jolt in the process. Until, through the fog of rising testosterone, it occurred to him that she was about to bring Sam back to bed.
‘Although, admittedly,’ she added, already on her way, ‘he’s not used to finding someone else there.’
He
