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‘You mean Carlos?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I saw him on the way in, enjoying a hot dog and a frankly unfeasibly large portion of fries. No judgement. Next time I come over I’ll give you a heads-up, that way he might have a chance of getting here before things get out of hand.’
A shiver spread down her spine. She knew exactly how out of hand things could get between her and Trip, and so did her body. Feeling her nipples harden, she let go of the swatch and took a step backwards, her heart racing.
‘There won’t be a next time,’ she snapped. ‘You can’t seriously think I want to see you again, let alone marry you. Why would I? I don’t need your money or your surname. In fact, I’m struggling to think of exactly what I would get out of your crackpot arrangement.’
She felt the ripple of that put-down spread outwards to the corners of the room, but Trip didn’t react. He just stared at her, his blue gaze bright and hot and intent in a way that made her feel as if she were an animal in a trap.
‘I suppose you’d get the same as you got before,’ he said slowly.
There was a tense, electric moment she could feel everywhere.
She knew from the streak of colour touching his incredible cheekbones what he was talking about. Her body did too, because the air changed then. Or maybe it was the light. Whatever it was, she felt it snap taut, that quivering, electric thing between them that she’d been telling herself wasn’t real.
Ignoring the heat flaring low in her pelvis, she stiffened her shoulders and met his gaze. ‘That was then. This is now. Like I said earlier, I don’t feel the same way as I did.’
She forced herself to hold his gaze as her lie ping-ponged round the room but all she was really aware of was the blue of his gaze washing over her like a wave, pulling her towards him and out into deeper, more dangerous water.
‘Are you sure about that?’
Her belly clenched as he lifted his hand and smoothed her cheek, and the feel of his hand against her skin was so familiar and so irresistible that she stared up at him, mute and paralysed, incapable of convincing herself to do what was sensible and right, which would be to tell him to leave, to tell him that she was sure, could not be any surer.
But instead she said nothing. Did nothing even as he moved closer so that they were a breath apart now. His blue gaze was jewel bright on hers, striking against her skin like a match and she couldn’t look away, couldn’t bear to think that he would never look at her like that again.
She wanted to savour it. To let it linger on her tongue one last time, breathe in its intoxicating scent and let it roll through her like wildfire.
Maybe that was why she did nothing when he bent his head and fused his mouth to hers.
And just like that she forgot her anger and her outrage. She forgot that she was anything but a woman with needs. And as he curved his arm around her waist to pull her closer, she leaned into him, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt.
Oh, how she had missed this, missed him. She could feel herself melting, body softening and stirring at the same time with that same yearning need that only Trip had ever satisfied, and she wanted him so much, wanted him here, now...
As if he could read her mind or, more likely, her body, she felt his hand slide beneath the thin fabric of her blouse to find hot bare skin and her lips parted against his as his fingers stroked the swell of her breast, the nipple hardening.
It was like being on a merry-go-round, everything blurring into a shivering streak of vivid colour and hot, bright light.
She moaned softly against his mouth, and it was that sound that penetrated her brain. Suddenly she could hear Trip’s voice inside her head.
‘I don’t remember you complaining at the time. Moaning, gasping, crying out my name, sure...but not complaining.’
And here she was again, moaning, lost in her desire and the muscle memory of those frantic, feverish months together as if he hadn’t opened her up and carved out her heart while it was still beating.
She jerked her mouth away, pushing at his broad chest, and he stepped back unsteadily, releasing his grip, his blue eyes blazing with both frustration and a barely concealed triumph.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHATEVER YOU’RE ABOUT to say, don’t,’ Lily said hoarsely, trying to tamp down the flames crackling through her.
‘Not even thank you?’ His voice was mocking but there was a roughness there too, as if he was as thrown by this as she was. ‘You’re usually such a stickler for manners.’
She glared at him. ‘Don’t think this changes anything, because it doesn’t.’
He started to laugh.
‘I’d love to believe you, Lily, but out of the two of us you seem to be the one who doesn’t know her own mind. What was it you said?’ He screwed up his face as if he was trying to remember. ‘Oh, yes. “I don’t feel the same way as I did.”’
She hated him then. But hated herself more for her lack of control, for still wanting him even at a moment like this.
Taking a breath, clinging to what was left of her pride, she met his gaze. ‘Maybe I did respond to you. Because I’m human and seeing you alive made me feel things in the moment. That’s all it was though, Trip, a moment. But marriage, that’s about committing to someone. Sharing their life. I don’t want to fake that just to help you rebrand your image. If and when I choose to get married, it’s going to be to a man who understands what that entails. A man who understands me. A man who solves his own problems. Not makes them for other people. So, basically, not you.’
