The Australian's Marriage Demand

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Please…’ She nipped at his mouth and then his shoulder. ‘Please, I want to…’

  He slipped a hand down between their writhing bodies and found the swollen nub of her frantic desire, his touch gentle but determined. Jasmine sunk her teeth into his shoulder as the spasms hit her in great rolling waves that threatened to toss her to the floor of the ocean when they were over. She felt him tense as he prepared to let himself go, his body tight with sexual energy ready to burst forward.

  He groaned his release beside her ear, sending delicious shudders of vicarious feeling through her. It made her feel so vital, so alive, so energised to think she had brought him to that.

  He rolled to one side, his breathing still out of control.

  ‘God.’ He flung a hand over his eyes, his chest rising and falling as she watched him with hungry eyes. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

  He rolled to his side in one fluid movement, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her.

  ‘So are you.’ She lowered her eyes, her shyness returning.

  He hitched up her chin with one long finger.

  ‘Hey, don’t look away. I want to see that satisfied look in your eyes.’

  She had no choice but to look at him.

  ‘I’m sure you’re very used to seeing very many satisfied women in your bed.’

  ‘I prefer to concentrate on one at a time,’ he said. ‘And for now you’re it.’

  ‘For how long?’ she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  There was a funny little silence.

  ‘For as long as it takes.’

  She didn’t know what to make of his answer. She supposed he was referring to the press interest. Perhaps he was planning to terminate their marriage once the hue and cry had died down.

  She shut her eyes in case he could see her distress, her fingers plucking at the edge of the quilt in an absent manner.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jasmine.’ His tone was teasing. ‘I won’t make you stay with me for ever if you don’t want to.’

  ‘I’m not the least bit worried,’ she said tersely. ‘I know this is a temporary arrangement.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be temporary.’

  Her eyes flew to his but his closed expression gave nothing away.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her frown deepened.

  ‘I mean we don’t have to end our marriage unless we both want to.’

  ‘But—’ she bit her lip ‘—surely you won’t want to tie yourself to me indefinitely?’

  He shrugged noncommittally. ‘It might be fun, you know, having kids and all.’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ She got off the bed in her agitation and snatched at the nearest article of clothing to cover herself.

  ‘Why not?’ His eyes sought hers. ‘You think I won’t be a good father?’

  She opened and closed her mouth, uncertain how to respond.

  ‘Well?’

  A vision of him cradling a tiny dark-haired infant flitted unbidden to her mind, his large hands gentle around the precious bundle.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I mean yes, you’d make a wonderful father.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘We don’t love each other,’ she said.

  Another casual shrug. ‘Most couples don’t after a few years of marriage, so I can’t see the problem.’

  ‘Your cynicism is not reassuring.’ She frowned at him.

  He grinned. ‘I know, but neither is the truth. More than two-thirds of all marriages end in divorce, most of them because one or the other has fallen out of love.’

  ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘It leaves us with a good chance of making a success of it because we haven’t got the issue of blind love to cloud the issue.’

  She bit her lip once more as she thought about his words. It was obvious he didn’t love her, otherwise he’d have said so, surely?

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring a child into a relationship where hate is the dominant emotion,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.

  ‘You don’t hate me, Jasmine.’

  She lifted her chin, pride coming to her rescue. ‘You seem very sure about that.’

  ‘Sure enough.’

  ‘Well, sorry to disappoint you but I’m very likely going to go to hell for the way I feel about you.’

  He laughed. ‘So am I.’

  She couldn’t stop her own smile at his wry tone.

  ‘You find most things in life amusing, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘I find it pointless to torture myself with useless guilt and regret. We have one shot at life; my credo is to make it a good one.’

  ‘So you flit from woman to woman in search of the ultimate physical experience?’

  ‘You have a woeful view of my morality,’ he quipped. ‘I’m not a serial dater—I’m selective, that’s all.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’

  His mouth stretched into another quick, sexy grin. ‘Of course.’

  She looked away, not trusting herself not to give in to the temptation of returning to his bed and his arms for the pleasure promised in that smile.

  ‘I think I’ll have a bath,’ she said.

  ‘Want some company?’

  She shook her head. ‘The tub isn’t big enough.’

  ‘We can economise on space.’ The wicked grin was back as was the twinkle in his dark eyes.

  ‘Don’t you ever think about anything else?’ She scowled at him as she snatched at a bathrobe.

  ‘Not much else when you’re around,’ he confessed unashamedly.

  She felt a warm pool of pleasure fill her at his words but hastily reminded herself it was all about male physicality, nothing whatsoever to do with love.

  The bathroom was cold but once she turned the hot tap on full it soon filled with steam and with a sigh she sank into the warmth of the water. As she soaped her body she couldn’t stop herself from recalling how Connor’s hands had explored every inch of her flesh in glorious mind-blowing detail. She lifted her leg free of the suds and immediately felt the pull of inner muscles and a quick spurt of remembered delight arrowed through her belly. She slid down beneath the water level.

  She had to stop thinking about him all the time!

  Was she so desperate for his attention that she’d put up with years of his womanising just so she could call herself his wife? That was surely the path to personal destruction. How could she ignore his track record where women were concerned? If she did it would only come back to haunt her some time in the future, no doubt when he grew tired of her and went looking elsewhere. The thought of bringing a child into such a tenuous arrangement was beyond all rational thought. It was asking for trouble. The sort of trouble she had to deal with daily at the clinic. Broken people who turned to substance abuse to mask the pain of fractured relationships, bowed by bitterness and regret until they no longer functioned as normal people.

  No. She was not going down that path.

  She came up for air to find Connor looking down at her.

  ‘You could have knocked!’ She clutched at a face cloth to cover herself.

  ‘I did but you were under the water.’

  ‘You should have waited until I responded.’

  ‘I thought I’d come in and wait for you to come up for air. The view is much nicer this side of the door.’ His eyes ran over her thoroughly.

  ‘You’re being disgusting.’

  ‘You’re being unnecessarily coy.’

  ‘I’m not being coy; I’m just not used to people waltzing into the bathroom when I’m having a bath.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll get used to it in time.’

  She gave him a black look. ‘You have no respect for personal boundaries.’

  ‘I have the greatest respect for your boundaries.’ He trailed a long finger in the water right next to her thigh. The movement of the water where his finger disturbed the surface caressed her thigh in gentle laps, reminding her
of the feel of his tongue…

  ‘In fact,’ he continued in a smoky tone, ‘I was thinking about revisiting those boundaries.’

  ‘Don’t…’ Her breath caught at the look in his dark eyes.

  His finger moved up and traced the surface of the water in front of her breasts. He hadn’t touched her once and yet she could feel herself melting, her intimate moisture gathering in anticipation.

  It was a battle she could never win; she knew that and so did he, if the smouldering look he gave her was any judge.

  She made room for him in the bath without a word. His eyes communicated his pleasure at her capitulation, lingering on her curves possessively until the blood ran thick and fast through her veins. He reached for her, sending a huge slosh of water over the sides, but she was beyond caring. His mouth was on hers, his hands were on her body, his thighs were between hers—this was heaven.

  Her head thumped on the back of the bath as he sent her backwards with his first forceful thrust but she made no demur. She welcomed him with abandon, her limbs stretching apart to give him more room. He took her with him on a tidal wave of passion, his hands and mouth joining in the task of delivering her at ecstasy’s door with harsh cries of release echoing his own.

  The bathroom floor looked as if someone had left a tap on. Connor lay back in the almost empty tub and eyed it ruefully.

  ‘You’re one messy woman. Look at that.’

  She gave him a playful poke in the ribs with her big toe.

  ‘How like a man to blame someone else for the mess they made themselves.’

  He caught her foot and gave her toe a quick hard suck, sending shudders of sensation along her spine.

  ‘Hey!’ She wriggled ineffectually. ‘Let me go. That tickles!’

  He sucked harder.

  ‘Connor, I’m warning you,’ she gasped. ‘I can’t think straight when you do that.’

  ‘I don’t want you to think straight,’ he growled, dropping her foot to reach for her arms to haul her upwards towards him. ‘I want you to think crookedly, sinfully, shamelessly— like me.’

  She felt the unmistakable pulse of his growing erection between her legs as she slid on to his chest, but it was the only thought she had for quite some time…

  Jasmine woke in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark but the moon made several brief appearances before the curtains of cloud created another interval for its performance.

  She lay and watched Connor relaxed in sleep. His breathing was deep and even, his long frame taking up far too much room in the bed, but she wasn’t going to wake him by pointing out that fact. Without his penetrating gaze to disturb her she could drink her fill of his features.

  She sighed and allowed herself the luxury of reaching out a hand to his chest where his heart lay beating, her fingers nestling against the light sprinkle of masculine hair.

  He muttered something in his sleep and turned over, taking her hand with him. She was right up against his back, her legs fitting in the crook of his, her cold body soaking up his tempting warmth…

  Connor woke to the soft murmur of her voice near his ear. At first it was just a few indistinguishable sounds, nothing he could make any sense of. But then it changed. Her body tightened, her limbs rigid with fear as the nightmare took hold, her desperate cries filling all four corners of the room.

  ‘Jasmine.’ He shook her gently. ‘Honey, wake up.’

  ‘No!’ She tossed her head as she thrust against his restraining hands. ‘No!’

  ‘Baby,’ he soothed. ‘Hey, it’s just a dream; you’re having a bad dream.’

  She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

  ‘Hey, sweetheart, you were having a nightmare.’

  She pushed against his hands and got out of the bed, her body stiff as she faced him.

  ‘You should have woken me.’

  He gave her a bewildered look. ‘I was doing my best.’

  She turned away, her arms tight across her chest at the chill of the room.

  ‘What did I say?’ she asked, still with her back to him.

  ‘Nothing I could make any sense of,’ he answered.

  She turned around to glare at him through the pallid light of the reappearing moon.

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  ‘Of course I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie?’

  ‘Because lying is second nature to you, that’s why.’

  He frowned. ‘Jasmine, I know sharing a bed with someone is new to you but people say and do things in their sleep all the time. It’s no great drama, believe me.’

  ‘It is to me.’

  ‘What are you trying to hide?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Now come back to bed before you turn to ice out there.’

  ‘I don’t want to come back to bed.’

  ‘I promise I won’t touch you.’ His tone was growing impatient as he switched on the lamp. ‘Just get back in the damn bed before I lose my temper.’

  ‘Lose your temper, I don’t care.’

  He thrust the quilt aside with an angry scowl.

  ‘All right then.’ His feet hit the floor with an ominous thud. ‘You’ve asked for it.’

  Jasmine stood her ground, determined not to be intimidated by him. He came to stand in front of her, glaring down at her in the soft lighting of the bedside lamp.

  ‘I’m in no mood for this push and pull game you’re so intent on playing,’ he growled.

  ‘I’m in no mood for your games either,’ she shot back.

  ‘Fine.’ He held his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. ‘I promise not to touch you, OK? I just want you to get back in the bed and go back to sleep. That’s it, all right?’

  She felt a bubble of emotion spring in her chest and, before she could stop them, two tears squeezed past the tight clamp of her eyes.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sweet sake.’ He reached for her and hauled her into the shelter of his warm chest.

  She sobbed against his thudding heart, all her normal control disappearing as if he’d turned a switch.

  ‘Hey, this is new,’ he mused as he stroked the silk of her hair. ‘I’ve never seen you cry before.’

  ‘It’s not a show!’ she howled.

  ‘I know that,’ he soothed, his palm gentle against the back of her head. ‘I’m just surprised you trust me enough to let your guard down.’

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ she sobbed.

  ‘I know you don’t think you do but you do underneath, where it counts.’

  ‘I don’t! I don’t trust anyone!’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ His voice was like a caress as he held her against him. ‘You just don’t like admitting it.’

  ‘I want to be alone.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘You don’t know what I want.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘I hate you.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘I do so.’

  ‘You don’t.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  ‘Then don’t talk.’

  She looked up at him through tear-washed eyes.

  ‘Why are you so annoying?’

  He smiled. ‘Because it’s my job.’

  ‘You’re fired.’

  He laughed and gathered her back into his chest.

  ‘Jasmine, I’m sure I’m getting laughter lines just because of you.’

  She didn’t know what to say in response. He had the most disarming manner at times, dissolving anger in a matter of seconds with a phrase that sent a smile to her lips and another arrow of love to her heart.

  ‘I wish I’d never met you,’ she said, not meaning it at all.

  ‘I know.’ He laced his fingers through the silk of her hair. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ He tilted her chin and planted a soft kiss on the bow of her mouth.

  She sighed into his mouth, her limbs already loosening at the probe of his
determined tongue. What was the point in fighting it? She was his for as long as he wanted her and surely that was all that mattered?

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN she woke the next time she was alone in the bed. The birds outside the window were chirping with the vigour of early morning energy, a type of energy she couldn’t help envying.

  Her body felt languorous, sleepy and contented from the early morning activity Connor had insisted would be a sure cure for her insomnia. It had certainly worked for him for within minutes of their passionate exchange he’d been asleep, his arms still around her, his legs still entwined with hers.

  Her own sleep had been slightly less forthcoming. She’d lain looking at the shadows of dawn dancing across the ceiling until they were shadows no more but streaks of golden light.

  Connor had sighed and turned her over with him in a single movement. She’d closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, wondering how many mornings she had allotted to her before he would be on to new, more exciting, pastures.

  They spent the next few days in much the same way. Jasmine went for long walks along the seashore while he worked on the house. Occasionally he’d join her at the tail end of her walk, his arm slung casually around her shoulders, his smile frequent as he recounted some anecdote that brought a reluctant smile to her own mouth.

  She liked watching him work. Having grown up with a father who thought handyman tasks beneath his theological intellect, it was quite a novelty for Jasmine to see Connor up and down a ladder while he repaired a crack in the plaster of a high wall or ceiling. Sometimes she handed him a tool from the toolbox at the foot of the ladder, her fingers touching his as she held it up to him. His dark eyes would send her a silent message as he took the instrument and she would look away, frightened he’d be able to see the desperate longing reflected in her gaze.

  The nights they shared with a passion she hadn’t known she’d been capable of. Time and time again he delivered her to the threshold of fulfilment with him in hot pursuit, their groans of delight a single sound. It made her shiver every time she recalled the way he collapsed against her, his great body wrecked by passion spent.