style="font-size:15px;"> ‘You knew,’ he began, his voice thickening with emotion as he spoke, ‘you knew I was married when we first began seeing one another. I—never made any secret of the fact.’
‘I know—’
‘So why are you so impatient now?’
Why, indeed?
Isobel had to steel herself against the almost overwhelming urge she had to go to him then, to comfort him, to tell him that, far from wanting to split them up, she needed him more now than ever. She loved him; she’d known that from the minute she’d backed into his car.
She remembered that day on the supermarket car park now, how he’d uncoiled himself from behind the wheel of the huge Mercedes and come around to see what damage her small Ford had done. She’d expected many things, but not amusement, and his lazy smile had robbed the moment of any sting. She’d been hooked by that smile and by the easy assurance of his manner. The fact that he was also the sexiest man she’d ever seen was just the icing on the cake.
‘Perhaps I’ve changed my mind,’ she blurted now. Anything to distract herself from her thoughts. ‘It was fun at first—’
‘Fun!’
‘But I’m not getting any younger. I’ve decided I—I want a normal life; a normal relationship. I want to get married. Have you thought of that?’
‘I think of it all the time,’ he retorted bitterly. ‘But I’m not free, am I? I thought you understood.’
‘I do.’
‘It doesn’t sound like it.’
‘Well, it wasn’t meant to sound like that,’ she mumbled unhappily. Her heart ached, and she gripped herself tighter. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, I bet you are.’
He shoved his glasses back onto his nose and thrust savage hands through his hair. His hair needed cutting again, Isobel noticed with unwilling tenderness, and there were streaks of grey among its silky dark strands. Were there more now than when she’d first met him? She hoped not, but there was no denying that their affair had taken its toll on both of them.
‘So…’ He took a deep breath. ‘Who is he? Do I know him? Please don’t tell me you’ve been seeing him behind my back.’
Isobel’s jaw dropped. ‘Who?’
Jared closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Belle…’ he said, and she could hear the edge of violence in his voice. ‘Don’t do this to me. You know perfectly well who I mean. This man—this paragon—the one who can give you everything I can’t.’
‘There is no one else.’
The words were out before Isobel could give any thought to what she was saying. Her denial had been instinctive, and she saw Jared’s eyes open again and focus on her with piercing intensity.
‘Do you mean that?’ He gripped the back of his neck with a bruising hand. ‘Or is this what they mean by letting me down lightly?’
Isobel shook her head. Despite the fact that it would be so much easier to pretend that there was someone else, she couldn’t do that to him. ‘It’s the truth,’ she said huskily, and then, unable to go on looking at him without revealing what she was trying so hard to hide, she turned back into the kitchen behind her.
Had she known he would follow her? She hardly knew any more. After the morning she had had, she was in no fit state to make any reasoned assessment about anything. Besides, if she was honest she would admit that she had never needed his strength and his commitment more than she did right now. Only he hadn’t offered her any commitment, she reminded herself painfully, and she was a fool if she thought he ever would.
She sensed he was behind her even before he touched her. Where he was concerned she had always had a sixth sense, a sensory perception, that she’d used to tell herself proved that their relationship was meant to be. It was as if some energy arced between them, an electrical spark, that was as much spiritual as it was physical, so that when his hands cupped her neck she couldn’t prevent the little moan of despair that escaped her. And when his tongue found the pulse that was racing behind her ear, she could only tip her head to one side to facilitate her own destruction.
‘God, Belle,’ he groaned, his breath cool against her hot skin, and the passion in his voice stroked her flesh with sensual fingers. ‘Don’t do this to me.’
At that moment it was beyond her capacity to do anything more than stand there, feeling the heat of him at her back, and trying like mad not to lean into him. But it was too much. His teeth had fastened on the skin of her neck now, skin that was the colour of thick cream, and which he had always insisted was just as rich and smooth, tugging the soft flesh into his mouth. There’d be a mark there now, she knew it, but she would willingly have stripped all the skin from her bones if it would have pleased him. She loved him. Ah, God, she was crazy about him. He had no idea what it was costing her to leave him.
His hands slid down her arms to her hands, linking their fingers together. Then, with just the slightest pressure, he urged her slim body to mould itself to his, his legs parting so that she was instantly aware of his arousal against her bottom. She was a tall girl herself, and Jared had always said they fitted one another perfectly.
She trembled then, and, sensing her weakening state, Jared uttered a muffled oath as he turned her towards him. Cradling her face between his palms, he stroked the faint shadows that had only recently appeared beneath her eyes with his thumbs, before tilting her head to his.
‘I need you,’ he said unsteadily, and she believed him. Their relationship would never have survived as long as it had without the friendship that had flowered between them. This past year had been the happiest time of her life, and if that damned her soul for all eternity, given the chance she’d do it all again.
He bent to kiss her, their mingled breaths causing the lenses of his glasses to film over, and Isobel lifted her hand to remove them. Her lips parted under the increasing pressure of his mouth, and when his tongue plunged deeply into that moist void, she clutched his glasses as if they were the only stable thing in a wildly unstable world.
Jared’s hands moved down her back to her hips, bringing her more fully against him, the thrust of his erection nudging the junction of her thighs. His fingers shaped the rounded swell of her buttocks, finding the cleft that divided them easily through her thin leggings, and causing Isobel to arch helplessly against his insistent strength.
‘I want you,’ he told her thickly, his words barely audible as his mouth returned to hers with more urgency, and although she knew she was playing with fire, she wound her arms around his neck.
‘Not here,’ she got out jerkily, as her only concession to her departing sanity, but Jared seemed intent on proving to her that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
‘Why not?’ he demanded, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her man-size tee shirt to find the softness of her bare flesh. He stroked her midriff with caressing hands, before seeking the unfettered freedom of her small breasts. ‘It’s what I want; it’s what we both want.’
‘No—’
‘Yes.’ He teased the sensitive nipples that swelled against his palms, and then peeled
