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Logically, he made perfect sense and he'd reiterated the arguments she'd been having with herself ever since she'd said yes to his ridiculous proposal.
Emotionally, she wanted to rant and scream and kick her slippers into the Great Barrier Reef, because now she'd made up her mind to alleviate some of this growing tension between them she didn't want to take the safe, sensible option anymore.
But what could she say? Backing down from her previous stance would make her seem fickle, indecisive, and decidedly stupid, not to mention shooting down any credibility in convincing him her acceptance of his proposal was one hundred per cent business.
For him, having sex would be satisfying his lust. For her, it was so much more and he'd know it. She'd told him ten years earlier and knowing Nick he wouldn't have forgotten.
‘So let’s stick to business, right?'
With a sinking heart, she nodded. 'Right.'
‘Glad we got that settled.'
He didn't move, and when she raised her eyes to his she knew nothing was settled, far from it. Nick might be singing the business tune but his eyes gobbled her up and came back for seconds.
'Britt?'
She swallowed, knowing her voice would come out squeaky if she didn't, because the longer he stared at het, the harder it was to breathe.
'Yeah?'
'You made a breathtaking bride.'
His compliment didn’t make her blush as much as the memory of how she'd envisioned him taking her wedding dress off.
'The dress was pretty special—'
'I wasn't talking about the dress.'
His hand snaked across the bed and rested on hers, the simple touch setting her body alight as her gaze flew to his, unable to look away even if she wanted to. Tension crackled between them as she wavered between yanking her hand out from under his to re-establish equilibrium and closing the short distance between them and straddling his lap.
'You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.'
A soft, wistful sigh escaped her lips, a sigh filled with hope and fear and wishes that things could be different for them, that this could be a real wedding night in every sense of the word.
Mustering a smile, she said, 'And you're still the charmer.'
He winked. 'Is it working?'
'Depends why you're trying to charm me.'
'Ah…the million-dollar question…'
Rather than releasing her hand, his thumb traced slow circles on the back of it, grazing her knuckles, dipping into the grooves, sending heat spiralling through her body.
Her eyes drifted shut, as if she could block out his touch and what it was doing to her body, but if anything the sensations increased tenfold.
Her nerve endings snapped to attention with every caress, every muscle liquefied with the barest brush of his thumb, and when he stroked her fingers from knuckle to tip the tension strumming her body coalesced into a fiery yearning that had her leaping off the bed like he'd prodded her.
'I'm really tired.'
His knowing gaze told her he knew exactly why she'd retreated yet thankfully he didn't push it.
'Okay. Do you want to have supper? I can get Room Service to bring us up something or would you prefer bed?'
‘Bed.’ To her endless embarrassment, she blushed. ‘I’m not hungry. Be back in a sec.’
She dashed to the bathroom, ditched the towel, and pulled on the ugly pyjamas, before rushing back into the bedroom and sliding under the six-hundred-thread-count sheets. The sooner she feigned sleep, the sooner she could avoid looking at his delicious body and wishing he was supper.
