Presents, Passion and Proposals. Кэрол Мортимер
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Chapter Five
‘I—WHAT do you think you’re doing?’ Beth had wanted to sound indignant, dismissive. Instead her voice was husky. Breathless.
‘I’m sure you already know the answer to that, Beth,’ Nick murmured throatily, looking down at her as she swallowed hard, her cheek hot against the back of his hand.
She moistened her lips with the pink tip of her tongue. A totally sensuous caress that caught and easily held Nick’s attention. He felt the urge, the need, to run his own tongue across those soft and slightly parted lips before kissing her. He wanted to take her in his arms and mould those slender and delicate curves against him.
Beth couldn’t move, held captive by the sudden darkening of Nick’s gaze as he looked down hungrily at her mouth, unable to do more than groan low in her throat as his arms moved about her to draw her slowly towards him.
God, his body was so warm. Hot. And hard. His chest against her breasts feeling like steel encased in velvet, and his thighs—
Beth raised her panicked gaze to his. ‘I don’t think we should be doing this, Nick…!’
His eyes were dark and smouldering. ‘Why not?’
Because Beth could feel herself reacting, responding to the sheer intimacy of having Nick’s body moulded against hers. Her breasts felt full and heavy, the tips ultra-sensitive, and there was a fluid heat between her thighs, a swelling moistening of those delicate tissues.
She didn’t want to feel this way! Didn’t want to have this response to Nick Steele, a man far beyond her reach in physical experience!
‘We both know how ultimately damaging any relationship between the two of us would be!’ she reminded him.
‘But we already have a relationship, Beth…’
Beth stiffened. ‘What…?’
He gave a slow, seductive smile. ‘You’re Bekka’s teacher, and I’m her father.’
‘Exactly!’ Beth managed to push her hands in between them, against that warm and velvet-hard chest. ‘Let me go, Nick!’ she insisted. ‘You have to let me go now.’ Tears stung her eyes as she looked up at him pleadingly.
Nick’s gaze narrowed as he saw the tears on Beth’s lashes. Those tears were a complete contrast to the way her body had melted against his seconds ago. ‘How long has it been for you, Beth…?’ he probed softly.
She stilled. ‘Has what been for me…?’
‘Hell…!’ Nick gave a groan as the truth of this situation suddenly hit him. ‘There’s been no one for you at all since your husband died, has there…?’
She blinked. ‘In what way?’
In any way!
Anyone looking at Beth Morgan could see that she was beautiful, with a body that was ripe for physical arousal. But those tears balancing so precariously on her lashes also told Nick that there had been no other man in her life—or her bed—since the death of her husband two years ago.
He had been utterly faithful to Janet during the years of their marriage, but since their separation and divorce there had been numerous women to briefly share his bed. Contrary to what he might have thought—hoped—the same obviously wasn’t true of Beth!
He gave a firm shake of his head and dropped his arms back to his sides before he stepped away from her. ‘I can’t be that man for you, Beth,’ he rasped harshly.
‘What man?’ She looked slightly dazed.
‘That man,’ he said again pointedly, his expression grim. ‘The man you will want to fall in love with. That you would want to fall in love with you.’ He should have realised sooner—should have known—
‘I didn’t start any of this—’
‘No, I did,’ Nick accepted. ‘And I have nothing to offer any woman except a casual relationship.’
‘Aren’t you being conceited in thinking I would want any sort of relationship with you?’ Beth glared her indignation at him.
Nick searched her face for several seconds, knowing by the flush in her cheek, the slightly wild glitter in her eyes and the hard swell of her breasts, that no matter how Beth might deny it, wish it wasn’t true, she had been as aroused by their closeness just now as he was.
‘I apologise.’ He nodded abruptly. ‘You’re right—it is time I drove you home now.’
It was a relief, now that Beth no longer had Nick’s body pressed so intimately against her own, to be able to breathe again. To think coherently. To realise how close she had come to having Nick Steele kiss her. To allowing him to do so much more than just kiss her…
What was wrong with her? How could she have allowed herself to respond, to feel desire for Nick, when she already knew exactly how wrong he was for her?
Nick was sophisticated, handsome, rich and powerful, and experienced in ways Beth couldn’t even imagine—in ways she didn’t want to imagine. She certainly didn’t want to be the next in the long line of women in Nick Steele’s life. Or his bed!
Then why did her body still tremble from that near-kiss? Why could she still feel the imprint of his hard body pressing against her own? Why did her breasts still ache for the touch, the caress, that hadn’t happened?
She would be an idiot, a fool, if she allowed herself to see Nick as anything more than a governor of the school she worked at and the parent of one of her young students.
‘Ready?’ he prompted, not waiting for Beth’s reply before striding out into the hallway, already holding the front door open for her to leave by the time Beth joined him there only seconds later.
As anxious to be rid of her now as she was to go, Beth thought.
Not surprisingly, the drive to her home was completed in strained silence. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ Beth murmured quietly, once Nick had parked his car outside her apartment building.
‘Very nicely said,’ Nick drawled, and his hand came out to grasp her arm to stop her from getting out of the car. ‘Can I take it you’ve definitely decided not to come bowling with us tomorrow?’
Beth turned back with a frown, her face appearing very pale in the moonlight. ‘Nor will I be joining you and Bekka for Christmas Day.’
Nick’s eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. ‘Or setting eyes on me ever again if you can help it?’ he guessed easily.
Her mouth firmed. ‘No.’
He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘Nothing really happened tonight, Beth, so stop beating yourself up.’
She chewed briefly on her bottom lip. ‘I don’t know what you mean…’
‘Liar,’