his. ‘And I know you will never hurt me or our baby in the way you mean.’
‘How can you be so certain?’
‘Because I would feel it.’
‘Feelings cannot be trusted.’
‘Sometimes feelings are all we can trust.’
The fingers gripping her hair tightened as he breathed in deeply.
It would take no effort to hurt this woman, Javier thought. No effort at all.
How could she trust he wouldn’t abuse his disproportionate strength and power against her as his father had done, first to his brother, who he had revelled in abusing with the form of corporal punishment he’d malevolently deemed to be necessary and corrective, and then on that fateful night when he had used his strength as a weapon to take his mother’s life?
Where did Sophie’s trust come from? She must know it would take little effort for him to do serious damage to her.
It would be as easy as breaking a butterfly’s wings.
Could those eyes staring so trustingly into his read the train of his thoughts?
It felt as if every organ in his body clenched, the strength enough to send a wave of nausea racing through him.
Why had the fates brought this woman of all women into his life? What cruelty had set them on this path together?
How could she put her life and trust in nothing more than a feeling?
He could not begin to comprehend it, nor comprehend why his heart hammered with such strength or why he was bringing his mouth to hers to taste those rosebud lips and the sweetness of her kisses again.
Dios, this had to stop.
Breaking the kiss, he took her face in his hands.
‘I will try to meet you halfway,’ he said roughly, ‘but I promise nothing. I can’t make promises when I don’t know if I can keep them.’
‘I wouldn’t want to hear them if they were lies.’
‘That is one promise I can make. I will never lie to you.’
‘And I will never lie to you.’
His lips found hers again as if they had a will of their own.
Her lips returned the kiss as if she were taking the air she needed to breathe from them.
Everything about her was so soft. Her skin, her hair, her heart...
Soft, pliable and being entrusted into his large, brutal hands.
* * *
‘How long are you going to be away for?’ Sophie asked, making sure to keep her tone neutral.
She did not want Javier to know how much she dreaded the thought of him going away.
In the two weeks since they’d been married, it would be the first time they had slept apart.
He looked up from his phone. ‘Five nights if it all goes well.’
Her spirits sank even lower.
Five nights?
When he’d casually mentioned that he’d be going on a business trip to Cape Town for a few days, she’d thought he meant two or three.
His case was already packed and in the car.
She supposed she should be grateful that he’d stayed to eat breakfast with her before leaving.
Although he hadn’t said so in words, she was aware the exclusive apartment complex he intended to build in the South African city was the first development he would be undertaking without his brother.
The pressure he was under must be horrendous.
She’d deliberately held herself back from asking too many questions about it.
They had reached an understanding on their wedding night. She was not to push too hard. He was to stop pushing her away with so much force.
So far it was, tentatively, working.
She put no pressure on him and asked nothing of him.
He ate most evening meals with her. Sometimes he even put his phone down and talked to her.
He no longer slept with his back to her.
That was the best and worst aspect of it all. Now that the genie of sex had been let out of its bottle they made love every night.
She wished they could make love more. During the long, boring days when she whiled her time away swimming either in the outdoor pool when the weather was sunny or in the indoor pool when it was a bit too chilly for her, or exploring Madrid’s streets as she’d never had a chance to do before when she’d spent six days a week in a dance studio, she found her thoughts continually drifting to him.
She’d made a promise not to push him for more than he could give but as the days passed she found she wanted so much more. Sometimes the urge to call him, just to hear his voice, would overwhelm her.
And although their lovemaking was regular and frequent that magic ingredient she kept hoping for never came through. The connection she craved still wasn’t there.
Javier was still holding back.
He was always considerate; on that she could not fault him. He never took his release before she found hers.
When they were done, she would lie with her head pressed against his chest, her hand in his. On paper, he was ticking all the boxes, painting in all the numbers.
She wanted more. More passion, more spontaneity, wanted to feel that he desired her, that he wasn’t going through the expected motions with the woman he’d been forced into marrying because she carried his child. When their lovemaking was over, she longed to drape her limbs all over him, mesh herself to his skin and relish the scent of their sex that lingered in the air, but always held herself back from doing any of these things.
Javier reached for his coffee and surprised her by continuing the conversation. ‘I’ve been thinking...’
‘Oh?’
‘While I’m away, you should start organising the baby’s nursery.’
‘Really?’ she asked dubiously.
‘You said only last night that you’re bored.’
He’d listened to her?
It had been a passing comment made after yet another day of doing nothing useful. She might not miss dance but she missed being active and having a purpose in her life. She hadn’t expected Javier to take her comment seriously.
‘Don’t you want to have any input with the
