Kate Hewitt - Bad Blood

‘Jacob was in the audience.’

‘And you haven’t seen him for a while?’

There was a long silence. ‘I last saw Jacob twenty years ago.’

‘Twenty years!’ Katie couldn’t hide her shock. ‘You haven’t seen him since he walked out?’

‘We’re not what you’d call a close family. As reunions went, this one wasn’t exactly successful.’

Katie found it difficult to absorb. ‘No wonder you reacted the way you did—no wonder you walked out.’

‘I kept thinking about Annabelle. How his sudden reappearance would affect her. I just wanted to warn her he was back.’

So he hadn’t been involved in some complex love triangle. When he’d said, ‘He’s here,’ he’d been referring to his half-brother Jacob. And Annabelle was his sister.

When he’d walked off the stage, he’d been intent on protecting the sister he believed he’d failed all those years ago.

Her heart ached for the lonely little boy, hurt and abandoned by those who should have loved him.

The soft sound of the sea licked at the air and the smell of tropical flowers tinged the night with sweetness.

The stark contrast between the idyllic surroundings and his brutal, loveless childhood was acute.

His mother had left. His father had beaten him.

He had little or no contact with his family. No wonder he was hard and cynical when she talked about family. She winced, remembering all the things she’d said. Katie-land. She’d been insensitive. If she’d known …

‘Have you spoken to Annabelle?’

‘We exchanged a text.’

‘A text? That’s it? No conversation?’

‘This is the Wolfe family.’ His tone mocking, he reached out and picked a brightly coloured hibiscus from the profusion of flowers that crowded the terrace. ‘If our background taught us one thing, it was how to survive alone. A text is a lot for Annabelle.’

‘But you love your sister.’ She said it as fact, not as a question. ‘And Jacob—’

‘When I saw him in the front row of the theatre I felt nothing but uncontrollable rage, but those feelings were all mixed up with seeing my father beating Annabelle that night.’ Nathaniel stared at the flower in his hands. ‘I left without speaking to him. And I still don’t want to speak to him. It’s in the past. I don’t want to go back there.’

Instinctively she knew who was making those calls he ignored. ‘The two of you must talk.’

‘Talk.’ His tone mocking, he turned to her and slid the scarlet flower into her hair. ‘Katie’s answer to all life’s problems.’

Katie blocked out the sensuous stroke of his hands in her hair. ‘If you’ve never talked about that night, then surely it’s time you did.’

‘Why?’ His eyes were bleak and empty. ‘We can’t change what happened. We can’t change who we’ve become. It isn’t possible.’

‘But it is possible to change the future. And the present. And the way you feel about the past. You didn’t let Annabelle down—you wanted to help her.’ She tried not to feel disappointed as his hands dropped to his sides. ‘I’m glad you told me.’

‘Why? Because now you have a juicy story to tell the press?’

‘You know I wouldn’t do that.’ She reminded herself that he was raw and hurting.

‘Go to bed, Katie. We should never have started this conversation.’ He turned away from her, his broad shoulders forming yet another barrier between himself and the world.

Braced for rejection, she placed her hand on his back. The heat of his skin burned through his shirt and she frowned.

‘You’re burning up.’

He turned, his eyes glittering dangerously—a cold, fierce blue loaded with warning. ‘I don’t want your sympathy. Go to bed.’

‘Why? So that you can wallow and feel bad in private? I’m not leaving you, Nathaniel. You’ve tried dealing with this on your own. Now try the other alternative. I’m not walking away.’

‘Why? What is it that you want?’

She stood, poised and breathless as a diver on the highest board about to plunge. ‘I want you.’ She’d never wanted anything so much. She wanted it more than she wanted to protect herself. Because of that, the words were remarkably easy to say. ‘I want you.’

‘I’ve been offering you that all week.’ He kept his hands by his sides. ‘You rejected it.’

‘You offered me Nathaniel Wolfe, the actor. I’m not interested in him. I want the man. I want to know it’s real.’

‘You don’t want the man and you can’t handle real.’

Katie caught his arm before he could turn away again. ‘Don’t tell me what I want. Don’t tell me what I can handle.’

‘Real isn’t always pretty, Katie. Most people prefer their reality tempered with a little gloss. That’s why they go to the movies. They don’t want real.’

‘I do. I’m not afraid of that. I’m more afraid when you’re acting because then I can’t trust anything you say or do. Don’t hide from me, Nathaniel.’ Her fingers threaded through his and she felt his hesitation. And that hesitation punctured her confidence. Insecurity spread in widening ripples through her body. There was assertive and then there was pushy. He wasn’t just ‘a man,’ was he? He was Nathaniel

Wolfe, A-list movie star and sex god. What if he didn’t really want her? What if the flirtation had just been his way of relieving boredom?

When he still didn’t touch her, Katie took a step backwards, wishing she could vanish.

The embarrassment was hideous.

‘Right.’ She conjured up brightness to cover the oceans of humiliation. ‘Well, obviously you can’t always have what you want, so I’ll just—’ The words were crushed under his mouth as he hauled her against him, his hands rough and his body hard.

‘Is this real enough for you?’ He spoke the words against her lips and his eyes blazed hot into hers. When she didn’t answer, he took her mouth, his kiss rough and demanding. His movements were jerky and unsynchronised and yet the desperation in his touch was more erotic than any of the smooth, choreo graphed movements of their previous encounters. The hands that dug into her hair shook slightly, and when he yanked at her dress he fumbled in his desperation to strip her naked.

‘How does this—?’ Impatient, he tore it from neck to hem and she gasped, excited and nervous at the same time.

‘Nathaniel—’

‘I want you.’ His mouth was at her throat. Her head tipped back and her nerves exploded with heat. ‘I want you so badly ….’ His hands were rough as he scooped her up and deposited her on the bed but she revelled in the desperation she sensed in him.

For once, he wasn’t in control.

It wasn’t about camera angles or movements—it was about a primitive, elemental driving force that transcended everything. It was just about the two of them. And an explosive physical attraction like nothing she’d ever felt before. It felt real. It felt right.

His hands were in her hair, his hungry mouth awaking feelings so intense that she shook with the force of it. She ripped at his shirt and he helped her, his mouth still on hers as he tore it off so that she could touch him. And then he was crushing her against the bed. His fingers skimmed her body, exploring her intimately until fire licked through her veins and heated her skin. And she touched him too, fascinated by the dip and swell of muscle, by the contrast of sleek and rough.

Sounds mingled in the night air. The swish of the sea on the beach, a soft sigh from low in her throat as his touch grew more intimate. The pleasure rose to burning excitement, every part of her trembling and quivering as she writhed in a fever of anticipation.

And then he was above her and she sobbed in desperation as she felt the hard heat of him against her. With a single thrust he filled her and she gave a sharp cry of shock because it was so much more than she’d anticipated. Holding herself tense, she was aware of his harsh breathing, of the tension in his powerful frame as he forced himself to hold still.