in instant rejection, her heart lurching into pounding in double-quick time.
‘Don’t!’
It was his silence that gave away his change of mood. The sudden total stillness of the blurred figure seen through the steamed-up glass of the shower door that revealed far more than anything he might have said just how much he disliked her response.
‘I—I mean I was just coming out.’
It was simply the idea of him doing as he had said that had sent her thoughts into overdrive, her body into the sort of tension that made her nerves scream in protest, her skin colouring in a rush of blood that had nothing to do the warmth of the shower. But at the same moment the image in her head made her pulses race, her heart pounding in heavy excitement. Under the fall of the water, her already heated flesh tingled in sensual anticipation of the pleasure that had become such a dangerous part of her life.
‘Okay. Come on, then.’
She could see through the frosted glass that he was reaching for the huge, thick white towel, shaking out its folds, holding it ready. And she knew that she had no excuse not to do as he said. To keep him waiting any longer.
‘Peta…’
Was she hearing right? Had there really been a note of warning in the low, steady use of her name? The noise of the still running water made it difficult to decide if it had truly been so or if it was simply her already over-sensitive mood that had made her believe it was there.
‘Peta…’
No mistaking that voice! The ominous undertone had her rushing to switch off the water once again, smoothing back the sodden dark strands of her hair.
How could she face him, feeling the way she was right now? There was only one way to do it, she told herself. Play it his way. The way it had been from the start of this marriage. The way she knew that Liam wanted it to be, because he had declared that openly to her face when he had not so much proposed as outlined a business venture to her. But for the past few months she had known that she couldn’t go along with the original terms of their arrangement, and she had tried desperately to find a way of telling him so.
Marry in haste; repent at leisure. Once more the phrase echoed inside her head as she opened the door of the shower cubicle. But she pushed it away with all the strength she could muster, desperately dragging up the smile that she knew he would expect from her and praying it would hide the truth.
Marry in haste; repent at leisure.
The words had been plaguing Liam’s thoughts all day long. He had woken up with them running on a loop through his mind and he hadn’t been able to switch them off for more than a moment since.
He supposed it was inevitable that today, the first anniversary of his ill-considered rush into matrimony, would bring such thoughts to the surface. But, if the truth was told, he hadn’t expected the feeling of self-reproach, the kick of What the hell have I done? to be quite so savage.
That wedding, just four days before the previous Christmas, had seemed like the answer to so many prayers—so many problems. But uncharacteristically he hadn’t thought things through. There had been many developments along the way that he had just not anticipated. And this latest change in his circumstances was one that had knocked him completely off balance. How had he ever got himself into this situation?
‘Peta, damn you, are you coming out of there or do I have to come in and—?’
The words evaporated on his tongue, choked off hastily as the shower-cubicle door was pushed open and his wife stepped out.
Damn, damn, damn it! Did he really need to ask himself how or why he had trapped himself in this marriage? If he did, then just to look at her gave him his answer.
Silently he cursed his body’s instant response to Peta’s physical appearance. He only had to see her to want her—and want her with a force and a hunger that came close to actual physical agony. The swift, brutal tightening below his belt, the twist of desire, was so sharp, so savage he had to bite back a cry of pain, of protest.
‘Or you’ll come in and…what?’
Did she know just how provocative she looked, standing there, trails of water still running down her stunning body, the normally pale ivory of her skin flushed pink by the warmth of the shower? Did she know what it did to him to see her lush form exposed so blatantly, revealing the high, full breasts, narrow ribcage and waist, the long, smooth lines of hips and thighs, sweeping down to the delicate ankles and feet?
Of course she did! She couldn’t be unaware of it. She saw and felt the results of her impact on him in bed every night. It was what had brought them together in the first place. What had pushed them into this ill-considered marriage in such a rush.
Sex, pure and simple. Though there was nothing remotely pure about his thoughts right at this moment.
‘Liam?’
His silence had disturbed her. Her sapphire eyes were narrowed in confusion, a frown drawing her fine, dark brows together.
Deliberately he switched on a grin that was wickedly provocative, letting his own green gaze sweep over her from the deep brown hair clamped tight around the fine bones of her skull by the water, down to where her small pink toes curled on the soft bronze carpeting.
‘Do you have to ask? You know what would have happened… If I’d joined you in that shower you wouldn’t have been able to get out. Instead we would still be in there, having wild, passionate sex.’
It was only what she had expected him to say, after all. Only what he had always said, all through the three hundred and sixty-five days of their married life. If he had said anything different now, then it would have rocked the boat desperately, shaking the foundations they had built this relationship on. And that would be dangerous. It would risk her coming to suspect that things had changed. That they were no longer how they seemed.
And that was something he wasn’t prepared to admit to himself yet, let alone to her.
‘We still could.’
Invitation sparked in her eyes, lighting their blue depths, and an enticing smile curled the rich fullness of her mouth.
‘If you want…’
He was tempted. God help him, but he was tempted when she looked at him like that, with that wicked sparkle in her glance, that curve to her mouth. He could even see just the very tip of her pink tongue where it rested on the edge of her lip. She looked like nothing so much as some small, contented cat that was watching a saucer of cream being poured, anticipating its rich taste with delight.
She was totally unembarrassed by her nudity. Standing tall and proud and straight, completely unfazed by the fact that she wore nothing at all while he was still fully dressed in the elegant silver-grey suit, darker grey shirt and silk tie that he had worn for a business meeting that day.
But then she had to know that she was beautiful. Surely no woman could see her own face as it was now—with its high, slanting cheekbones, the richly coloured full mouth, the deep, deep blue of her eyes—in all the purity of its essential beauty, every trace of make-up and any other artifice washed away, and not know how stunning she was in masculine eyes. In anyone’s eyes.
‘But you’ll have
