Natalie Anderson - Be My Bride

She felt flayed, so hot it felt as if her skin could be peeled from her. It was so much more than a kiss.

Nothing sounded in the room but roughened breathing and the occasional moan pulled from that locked place inside her. It threatened to burst out of her completely. He pulled her closer, crushing her against him. Her fingers tightened on him as uncontrollable desire smashed into her. She wanted him. Everything. Now.

‘Liam.’

He broke away, his head snapping back with a violent jerk. His eyes went straight to her mouth. ‘I’ve bruised you.’

He hadn’t. She liked the kissed-to-full feeling. She wanted more of it. She wanted him to fill her in every way imaginable.

His eyes were wild and wide, but his face was surprisingly pale. He coughed. ‘I’m leaving now.’ His breath came fast and uneven.

‘Okay.’ Her wits were completely scattered. And it wasn’t okay. She didn’t want him to go.

He cleared his throat. ‘You have to work.’

Work? Oh, yeah. She did. ‘Okay.’

‘So I need to go. Because if I don’t go now…’ He looked at her.

‘Okay.’

‘Victoria?’

‘Okay.’ She just sat where she was, landing on her miserable, single bed. Her legs felt wobbly, her brain fried.

He hunched down in front of her and looked into her face. ‘Okay if I stay or okay if I go?’

She stared at him. Then her glance slid past, to her table—and she remembered all the ink and pens and pretty card she had to spend hours over.

‘I’m going to go,’ he repeated roughly, standing.

She looked back at him—encountering his long, strong, legs. ‘Okay.’

Cold descended on her. If he hadn’t made that decision, if he hadn’t pulled back, she’d be beneath him right now and not caring at all about the deadline hurtling towards her. Well, not ’til she’d come floating back to earth.

Then she’d feel bad.

‘Your timing is so lousy,’ she said softly. ‘It always was.’ He whirled away, scooping up her small bag from where she’d slung it on a chair when they’d first got in.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

He’d unzipped the bag and pulled out her phone. Now he tapped the screen. ‘If you don’t want people playing with this, you should put a password lock on it.’

‘That slows me down.’

‘And you don’t like to go slow?’ A whisper of a chuckle. ‘We’re not so different, you and me.’ He tapped the screen a few more times, then walked closer, stretching out his arm to hand her the phone but staying well out of touch zone.

She took it, watching his face but unable to determine a thing.

He looked back at her. With a small sigh he took one step closer and ran a finger along her lower lip. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘Okay.’ Victoria tossed the phone onto the bed before she dropped it from her trembling fingers. How was she supposed to work now? How could she possibly hold her pen with a steady hand? She clenched her fists.

He’d gone already. The door banged, she could vaguely hear the thuds as he headed down the kazillion steps. And what was she doing sitting here like a lemming?

All she’d been able to say was okay. Okay, okay, okay.

She punched the jelly feeling from her legs and stood. She was as pathetic as she’d been all those years before. So meekly acquiescent. All her progress had been obliterated in less than a minute. From what—some kissing? To just swoon in his arms and say okay? It was beyond pathetic.

Why hadn’t she shoved him away and said enough? Or, given she’d really wanted it, why not haul him close and have him completely? What was with the passivity? Why had she let him make the decision for her?

She wasn’t the malleable, eager-to-please girl she’d once been. She couldn’t revert to that type. She had more focus and strength than that now. But that weak part of her whimpered—so good. It had been so good.

Fantasy, she told herself. Just fantasy. Even though she’d blocked him from the forefront of her brain, she’d built him up. Finally being in his arms, it was sensory overload. Anyway, it had been so long since she kissed a man. Over a year. Maybe it wasn’t him; maybe it was hormones? Her body saying she needed to get out more, score herself something of a social life?

Or just score.

She closed her eyes and pulled on some strength. She’d work. She’d fake it. That was what she did these days. She’d get this work done. Then she’d find a love life.

And she’d never see Liam Wilson again.

FOUR

Cold showers. Many, many, cold showers. Showers to wake her up, showers to keep her awake and—most importantly—cool her down and keep her thoughts from straying into the forbidden hot zone. But that part of her feeling socially deprived needed some happy thoughts, so she mentally planned, listing the nightclubs she’d go to once the job was done. She’d head out on Saturday night when Liam was at that wedding. There’d be hotter looking guys than him at those clubs.

Liam.

Damn, she was thinking about him again. She bent closer to the huge sheet of card in front of her, narrowing her eyes as she prepared to write the next, the forty-fifth, name on the seating plan. She almost had the nib down when her phone rang.

Surprised, she lifted her pen quickly and checked. No blot or mark. Good. She scooped up her phone and put on her ‘professional’ voice.

‘Victoria Rutherford Design.’

‘How many have you done?’

She squeezed the phone hard so it wouldn’t slip from her fingers. Her heart squeezed harder. He’d always been an early riser and even over the scratchy connection she could hear his smile. ‘Pardon?’

‘Names on the table plan. How many?’

‘A few.’ Not enough.

‘How many?’

‘Who do you think you are?’ she said, trying to recapture some smarts. ‘I don’t have to report to you.’

He chuckled. ‘You never used to argue back. I remember you used to do everything anyone asked of you. Obedient and unquestioning. Eager to please.’

Victoria braced herself against the subtle suggestion in his last sentence. She hadn’t done what he’d asked her to. But she was hardly going to remind him of that. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve grown up a bit since then.’

She only did what others asked of her now if she wanted to. Like this work for Aurelie. Ultimately it was Victoria’s choice. But she knew part of her was still eager to please. She’d been so weak in Liam’s arms last night. If he’d asked she’d have done everything, and let him do anything. She’d wanted to please—and be pleased.

Not going to happen. Not with him. Not at this time. She straightened up from bending over her desk and twisted from side to side to ease the kinks and literally strengthen her spine.

‘Do some stretches,’ he instructed.

She froze. ‘Pardon?’

‘You’ll get stiff if you don’t take regular breaks. Walk around the room while you’re talking to me.’

She immediately bent back over her desk. ‘I just told you I don’t do everything anyone asks of me now.’

‘But this is for your own good.’ His amusement sounded louder. ‘Don’t take the independence thing too far. Just because it’s not you but someone else who suggests something doesn’t automatically make it a bad idea.’

Victoria tried to stiffen, to resist the sound of his smile. Him calling her like this was not good for her. ‘You don’t need to do this, you know.’

‘Do what?’

‘Act like you’re interested.’

‘Victoria,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s no act.’

Yeah, but it was only the one thing he was interested in. One thing, one night. He couldn’t have made it clearer. ‘Well—’ she gritted her teeth ‘—I’m only interested in finishing my job. And I need to get back to it now.’