by Kate Hewitt
Alex nodded to her simple navy-blue shift dress. ‘Do you need help with the zip?’
‘No.’ The word came out more vehement than she intended. She’d known Alex was businesslike, even cold, but she realised now she’d still hoped for some tenderness on their wedding night, some tiny hint of romance or affection. Instead he seemed more clinical than ever.
She turned away from him, fumbling with the zip. Maybe he was right, and they should just get this over with. Clearly he didn’t respond to her the way she did to him, and that should be no surprise. She was plain; she knew that. She’d always known that. If he desired her at all, he surely would have handled this whole evening differently.
And, oh, she wished he had. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back furiously. You agreed to this, she reminded herself silently. None of this should come as a surprise. This was part of the bargain.
The zip snagged halfway down her back and she nearly wrenched her arm trying to pull it down further, letting out a little cry of frustration and despair as it continued to stick.
‘Here.’ Suddenly Alex was next to her, moving swiftly in the dark. She felt the heat of his bare chest, the brush of his arm, and she sucked in a breath as he gently removed her hand from the zipper and then slowly pulled it down himself. She sucked in a hard breath, her whole body hyper-aware as his fingers traced her spine, his breath fanning her neck, the moment spinning into something both taut and tender.
Heat bloomed inside her, unfurling like a precious flower, seeking sunlight. She swayed and he rested his hands on her shoulders; for a heart-stopping second his lips skimmed the nape of her neck and Milly couldn’t keep from making a little mewl of desire. He stilled and she started to lean into him, longing for him to slide his hands from her shoulders to—where? Anywhere. She just wanted to be touched.
‘Milly...’ His voice was an ache, and it made unexpected tears sting her eyes. He pressed his lips against her neck again, this time in the curve of her shoulder, and she shuddered, arching her neck so he could have greater access.
For a second it seemed as if anything, everything were possible; as if a whole world of experience and emotion shimmered before them. His hands tightened on her shoulders and his lips moved on her skin. A shiver of longing rippled through her.
Then, all of a sudden, Alex lifted his head, dropped his hands, and stepped away. Milly half turned to him, conscious of her dress pooling about her waist, the longing that had rippled through her still licking at her senses.
‘Alex...?’
‘We should get this over with.’ Alex walked towards the bed, slipping off his trousers while she watched uncertainly. Why had the mood changed, plunged suddenly from sweetness to sensibility, or something worse? Cold, clinical business. Again.
‘Alex...’ She stopped, because she had no idea what she would say. ‘Please touch me?’ ‘Can’t tonight be different?’ She couldn’t make herself say the words. Despite the desire coursing through her, she still wasn’t brave enough to risk what she felt.
‘Come on,’ he said, and nodded towards the bed.
Wordlessly Milly slipped out of her dress and underwear, not knowing what else to do, walked silently to the bed and lay down, longing only for him to touch her again the way he had before. Surely he would...? Why wouldn’t he? She looked up at him appealingly, excitement stirring once more inside her just at the sight of him—his blazing blue eyes, his midnight-dark hair, his bronzed chest. She trembled with excitement as she licked her lips and whispered, ‘I’m ready.’
* * *
Frustration bit deep as Alex stared at Milly lying on the bed like some virgin sacrifice, looking as if she had to brace herself for what lay ahead. She was actually trembling.
In any case, he supposed that was what she was—there could be no pretending she wanted to be here, that she was looking forward to being touched by him. She’d made her feelings plain enough, the way she’d gulped the champagne and insisted on unzipping her dress by herself.
For a moment, when he hadn’t been able to resist touching her, he’d thought things might change. Then she’d shuddered and he’d realised what an utter fool he was making of himself. And even if he wasn’t...even if she felt some small flicker of something...he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t bear to be wrong. To be pitied...and by his wife.
Taking a short, sharp breath, his face angled away from her, he removed his boxers. Then he walked towards the bed and stretched out next to her, noticing the way she trembled even though he hadn’t touched her yet.
She was tense as a bow, her toes pointed, her whole body rigid with expectation. Even so, she was lovely, her skin pale and golden, her body lithe and slender, her high, small breasts, small waist, and shapely legs all perfectly proportioned.
He ached to touch her, to explore every part of her body with his hands and mouth, and to have her do the same to him. Learning each other’s bodies like living maps...but of course that was a nonsense. She didn’t want to so much as touch him, much less explore.
Still Alex couldn’t bring himself to climb on top of her like some rutting stag. Gently he placed his hand on her hip, her skin cool and silky beneath his palm. She let out a shuddering breath. He slid his hand from her hip to her breast, unable to keep himself from the caress, longing for more.
Her breast filled his palm perfectly and he ran his thumb over the taut peak. Another shuddering breath and she bit her lip. Shame roiled in his stomach; clearly this was no more than an endurance test.
Alex removed his hand, his body already pulsing with need. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and he knew it wouldn’t take much to put him over the edge. Perhaps the kindest thing for him to do was, as he’d said before, simply to get it over with.
He rolled on top of her, bracing himself above on his forearms. Her eyes were still closed, her teeth sunk so deep into her lower lip she’d drawn blood. Self-hatred burned white and hot inside him. Was this really what it had come to? A woman who couldn’t even look at him, who was tensing herself for his touch? Why had he ever thought marriage could be a good idea? Could work?
Her eyes fluttered open, her dazed gaze fixed on his face. ‘Aren’t you going to...?’ she began, and Alex, hating himself even more, gave a terse nod.
‘Yes.’ He positioned himself at her entrance, nudging her thighs apart with his knee but they were rigid and unmoving. ‘Milly, you have to relax at least a little bit,’ he gritted. ‘Otherwise...’
‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was small, making him ache in an entirely different and more painful way. ‘I just...’ She took a hitching breath, making his guilt pierce even more deeply. ‘I thought...’ She stopped, and then she spread her thighs, inhaling sharply as he began to move inside her.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked in a low voice. He had barely begun.
‘Not...not exactly...’ She put her hands on his shoulders, clasping him to her, and even though he knew she was just bracing herself, the touch reached deep inside him. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had touched him, skin on skin, an intimacy he’d forgotten existed. It enflamed him even more, even as the shame of how he must be hurting her bit deeply.
He gritted his teeth as he slid slowly inside her, inch by precious inch, filling her tight warmth, pleasure flooding his senses as he sheathed himself fully. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her eyes clenched shut once more, her body still so very tense.
‘Milly, relax.’
‘I’m trying,’ she gasped out with a nervous laugh that almost, improbably, made him smile. ‘This is...very strange.’
‘I know.’ It was strange for him too, in an entirely different way. In the past, when he’d been with a woman, he’d been focused on her pleasure. It had been a source of both honour and pride, and yet this...
This was the opposite. Yet he couldn’t imagine it happening any differen
tly. Slowly Alex began to move, sweat beading his brow as he sought to make her as comfortable as possible, even though everything in him ached to find a faster and deeper rhythm.
After a few seconds, she began to match him, her hips moving jerkily. When Alex looked down at her, he saw how her face was screwed up, a drop of blood on her lip from where she’d bitten it. His vision was blurred at the edges, his mind dissolving as he came close to the peak.
‘Alex...’ Her voice was a plea, although for what he didn’t know. Could it possibly be pleasure—could she be feeling even a little of what he was? At that thought, he came in an intoxicating rush, his body spending itself inside her, the pleasure crashing through him in intense waves.
They lay entangled for a few heart-thudding moments until Milly started to squirm beneath him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘But I think I’m going to be sick.’
CHAPTER NINE
ALEX ROLLED OFF her in a lightning-quick movement and Milly scrambled off the bed and raced to the bathroom, barely managing to shut the door before she heaved into the toilet. She should not have drunk that champagne. She’d never had a head or, for that matter, a stomach for alcohol, and the tension of the last hour had made it worse.
She knelt by the toilet, her cheek resting on the rim, feeling more wretched than she’d ever thought it was possible to feel. She hadn’t expected violins and roses as Anna had wanted, of course she hadn’t. She considered herself a practical person. And yet that...that...
That had been her wedding night. She sat up slowly, her body aching in strange places. She hadn’t expected to feel so overwhelmed. She understood why Alex had called it the marital act. It had certainly felt binding. But she’d wanted to be touched, and caressed, and kissed, and none of that had happened, except for a few exquisite moments at the beginning, moments that she now treasured because she feared they would be so rare. Why had Alex stopped? Should she have done something differently? Perhaps if she had, he would have kept on with the lovely kisses and caresses her heart and body both cried out for.
Instead, those tantalising flickers of pleasure she’d felt when Alex had touched her had never had the opportunity to fan into flame. She felt unsated, a restless ache at her centre that she knew only Alex could satisfy, and yet, despite those wonderful moments that had given her such hope as well as pleasure, it seemed as if he didn’t want to. Didn’t desire her, at least not enough to prolong what had happened between them. Should she really be surprised? He’d never indicated in any way that he responded to her physically, little mouse that she was.
Milly drew a ragged breath and then reached for the thick terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, grateful to swathe herself in its soft warmth. She dreaded leaving the bathroom and facing Alex again, but she knew she couldn’t stay in here for ever.
She rinsed her mouth, combed her fingers through her hair, and gave her bleak reflection a wry look. Surely things could only get better. If they were able to get worse...but, no.
They’d talk, she decided. She’d tell him that she didn’t care about romance, but the bedroom side of things could surely be better. What man wouldn’t want to hear that?
One who doesn’t desire you.
Flinching at the thought, she took a deep breath and then opened a door and stepped into the bedroom.
It was empty.
Milly gazed around the space, taking in the rumpled duvet, the single candle still burning. Alex was gone...and so were his clothes. Her stomach cramped at the thought. Was that it? She hadn’t thought they were going to cuddle all night, of course, but...
She’d expected a little more than this. She had to keep giving herself reality checks, because, no matter what she told herself, she still came up against disappointment again and again. He didn’t think of her with romance or even affection. He didn’t desire her physically. When was she going to get it through her thick skull?
She sat on the edge of the bed, still unwilling to let go of the frail thread of hope. Perhaps he’d gone to get some food or drink, or...something. Surely he wouldn’t just disappear.
Except he had. She waited for half an hour before she acknowledged he wasn’t coming back. Feeling sick at heart, she ventured out of his bedroom. As she tiptoed down hallways and peeked in empty rooms, she realised he wasn’t even in the villa. He hadn’t just left the room, he’d left the whole house. Left her. Disconsolate, feeling more rejected than ever, Milly crept back to her own room and her own bed.
She woke some time after dawn, groggy from lack of sleep, her body still aching along with her heart. She hadn’t heard Alex come back, and she had a leaden certainty weighing her down inside that he hadn’t. She didn’t know where he was, and he hadn’t seen fit to tell her. Was that indicative of how their whole marriage was going to be?
By lunchtime Alex was still nowhere to be seen. Yiannis drove Anna back home, and she came into the house on a wave of enthusiasm, her bright eyes and ready smile making Milly realise afresh how much her sister wanted a fairy tale. And why shouldn’t she? She’d had precious little happiness in her life.
‘So?’ Anna asked as she came into the kitchen where Milly was making a salad for lunch. ‘How was it?’ She held up a hand, pretending to shudder. ‘Please don’t give me any details. I just mean...was it romantic?’
That would be a big fat no, Milly thought sourly. After being on her own all morning she was starting to feel angry as well as incredibly hurt. Couldn’t Alex at least have said where he was? What if he was hurt or lost, and she didn’t even know it? And yet she doubted he was.
‘It was fine,’ she said as diplomatically as she could. ‘It’s going to take time, Anna. It’s not a rom-com, okay?’
‘I know.’ Anna looked indignant, but it didn’t last long. ‘Did you like the candles? And the champagne?’
Milly thought of Alex snuffing them out with brusque precision. ‘Very nice touches,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you.’
Alex did not make an appearance for the rest of the day—or that night. After her initial hurt, Milly decided she was relieved. It was easier to spend time with Anna without worrying that Alex was going to come frowning in on them. And if she kept telling herself that, she thought wryly, she might even start to believe it.
Anna, fortunately, had bought Milly’s excuse that Alex had pressing work to do, and she didn’t nag too much about where he was. Like Milly, she was enjoying the sister time they so rarely had.
After dinner, they piled on the sofa together and watched a rom-com, a big bowl of popcorn on their laps. Milly couldn’t remember the last time they’d done something like that together—it had to have been before their parents had got divorced, when Anna was only seven or eight. Having her sister snuggling against her once again was a balm to her bruised heart. This was why she’d married Alexandro Santos. Not for whatever did or didn’t happen in their relationship—or in their bedroom.
Still, both she and Anna felt the gap when the film had finished, and Anna was heading off to bed.
‘Where’s Alex?’ she asked uncertainly as Milly took their dirty dishes to the kitchen.
‘He’s working,’ she said as matter-of-factly as she could, trying to hide the hurt and confusion she felt. ‘Don’t worry, Anna. Remember he’s mega-rich?’ Milly tried for a smile. ‘He’s got to make that money, you know. He’ll be back soon.’
But the words felt hollow as she headed up to her own bedroom, wondering where her husband was—and when he would come back.
She found out the next day, from Yiannis.
‘Alex went to Athens?’ Milly stared at him in disbelief as he stood in the kitchen doorway, looking resolute but also a bit shamefaced at the news he had to deliver. Anna was still asleep; Milly had arisen at the crack of dawn, too restless to stay in bed. ‘But why?’
‘Work.’
Work. Of c
ourse. Still, she felt numbed by the news. He hadn’t even said goodbye. The last time she’d seen him she’d been racing from his bed, about to be sick. ‘When will he be back?’ she asked, trying to sound practical rather than devastated.
Yiannis gave her a sorrowful look. ‘I don’t know, Kyria Santos.’
Kyria Santos. The name jolted her. She was Alex’s wife, and yet she didn’t feel like it. She felt even less important than she had as his housekeeper, having been utterly dismissed and ignored after giving so much of herself to him.
‘I’m sure he’ll be back soon,’ she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, and feeling she’d failed. But surely he would return in a day or two? He still needed an heir, presumably. What happened to three times a week?
But the days passed and Alex didn’t return. He didn’t even ring, and when Anna asked her why she didn’t call him, Milly was too ashamed to admit she didn’t have his mobile number, and she was too proud to call his office like some cold-calling supplicant.
She tried to ignore the hurt that needled her at inopportune moments, the memory of his touch that had been so sweet, and then how awfully it had all ended. She wished she knew what was going on in his head, never mind his heart, but she felt as if she had no clue about him at all. He was as much a stranger as ever—even more so, because now she was married to him.
As the days passed Milly did her best to relax into time spent with her sister, whether it was curled up on the sofa watching films, or strolling along the beach, or having a coffee in the village. The time was precious and fleeting, for all too soon three weeks had passed and Anna needed to return home to get ready for school.
‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ Milly said, her voice choking as she watched Anna pack her bag. Yiannis had given her the message from Alex that Anna would return to Rome via his private jet, and Milly tried not to feel stung that he hadn’t deigned to tell her himself.
