by Abby Green
‘Look at me,’ he said roughly. ‘Don’t ever doubt that you are a very desirable woman, Lia.’
She looked down and saw him take himself in his hand as he guided himself towards her, and then he fed himself into her body, slowly, inch by inch, making her draw her breath in on one long inhale as he impaled her...utterly.
He was big...bringing her almost to the edge of discomfort. But he held himself still for a long moment, letting her body adjust to him. And then, when she took another breath, he started to move, and everything in Lia’s world was reduced to the here and now. This moment. This man. And the exquisite sensations rushing through her body.
She’d never felt anything like it as a wholly new tension built inside her with every movement of Ben’s body in and out of hers. She wrapped her legs around his back, heels digging into his taut muscles. His hand gripped her thigh and his movements became less careful, a little rougher.
He came closer, moved down over her, making his chest hair abrade her still sensitive nipples. She reached up and found his mouth, and as everything inside her coiled to a point of excruciating pleasure/pain she pressed a desperate kiss to his mouth until finally she was broken apart into a million shattering pieces.
She was barely aware of Ben’s own shout as his body tensed over hers for a long moment, muscles locked and taut as a paroxysm of pleasure held him in its grip too.
* * *
When Lia woke she felt completely disorientated, recognising that she wasn’t in her own bed, or room. And then she felt the unfamiliar aches in her body and memory came rushing back.
Dawn was breaking outside, bathing Ben’s room in a pink pearlescent hue that didn’t diminish the masculine tones one bit. Gingerly, Lia moved her head, and sucked in a breath when she saw the unashamedly male and indolent sprawl of a very naked Benjamin Carter beside her.
Even like this, in repose, he was magnificent... Dark stubble lined his jaw, making him look rakish. Long lashes should have prettified the stark and strong lines of his face but they didn’t. He looked marginally less fierce, especially when those blue eyes weren’t watching her and gauging her reaction to every little thing. She might hate him for that if she wasn’t feeling so...sated.
Her gaze travelled down over hard muscles and her face grew hot when she saw that most masculine and potent part of him—no less impressive at rest.
They’d made love again last night, after that first cataclysmic time. The second time had been slower, more luxurious, but no less intense. A surge of emotion made her throat tight. She wasn’t frigid. At all. In fact the woman revealed under Ben’s expert tutelage was sensual and voracious...and he had shown her that. As easily as flicking a switch to let light into a dark room.
Lia sucked in a breath. That was exactly what he’d done. He’d shone light into the dark corners of her soul, where she’d felt closed-off. Deficient.
His expert dismantling of her defences had started yesterday. By the time they’d gone to his friends’ party they’d already been crumbling, thanks to their idyllic day spent walking around one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with surely one of its most charismatic and charming guides...
A voice mocked her: who was she kidding? Her defences had been crumbling from the moment she’d bumped into him outside the Algonquin Hotel in New York.
And then something cold flickered down Lia’s spine as she registered the full magnitude of just how easily and completely she’d capitulated. It really hadn’t taken much at all, in the end. She’d proved no less susceptible than any other woman to this man. Finding out about his troubled past had only added another layer of depth to a man who was fast becoming far too complex and fascinating.
And now there was this—the ultimate intimate exposure. She’d slept with him because he’d made love to her mind as much as to her body. He’d delved deep and she’d let him in, far more than anyone else.
Emotions she’d never felt before rushed around her in a sickening mix...fear, exultation, hope.
It was the hope that brought her back to earth with a bang. Hope...for what? The kind of thing she’d always told herself didn’t exist? Hope that she wouldn’t face the excruciating lash of rejection if she opened herself up to someone?
As Ben had said himself the previous evening: ‘I’m under no illusions about the myth of a romantic ideal.’ And neither was she, she assured herself, but for a dizzying moment there she’d felt hope—and that was dangerous.
The thought of Ben waking, and of herself trying to act blasé when she had no idea how to navigate this kind of situation, made her go cold all over. She had nowhere left to hide.
Her mother’s abandonment had not only devastated her father—it had devastated Lia. The knowledge that she hadn’t been lovable enough to make her stay had been indelibly inked into her skin from a young age, and Lia knew now that that was at the heart of why she’d avoided intimacy for so long, and why she’d agreed to a marriage of convenience.
She’d found it easy to dissociate, not to engage, because no one had ever broken down the walls she’d erected...until now. The galling reality that she could be as susceptible to heartbreak as her father after years of avoiding it made her feel nauseous.
Ben would see through her in an instant—see all her weaknesses. And, worse, possibly even see that flicker of hope. The part of her that wasn’t half as cool and collected as she’d always thought she was. Impervious to fickle emotions.
Lia slid out of the bed, making not a sound. Ben moved minutely, frowning in his sleep, but then he relaxed again, and her heart pounded with a mixture of panic and desperation.
Benjamin Carter had somehow managed to slide under her skin enough to make her realise that all the foundations she’d worked so hard to build up were far shakier than she liked to admit. And that was enough to drive Lia as far away from this man as she could go.
* * *
The following morning Ben padded through the villa in a pair of hastily pulled on shorts with an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding prickling along his skin. He’d woken shortly before to find the space beside him in bed empty. And Lia hadn’t been in the bathroom.
When he’d woken, at first he’d registered a deeper feeling of satisfaction than he’d ever felt before. A memory had surfaced: after they’d made love again last night Lia had been draped over his body, her head in the crook between his head and neck, her body a deliciously curved and pliant weight on his.
He’d stroked his hand up and down her back and said gruffly, ‘See? I told you... It’s nothing to do with experience. We fit.’
She’d made a huffing noise into his skin, clearly too exhausted to speak. And Ben had smiled...before falling asleep and waking to find her gone.
Ben didn’t usually wake with the expectation of finding a woman in his bed—he preferred to keep that boundary firmly intact—but it hadn’t even entered his head with Lia.
He frowned now, when he saw she wasn’t in the main living area, but still wasn’t unduly concerned. She had to be here somewhere.
For the first time in days, since he’d first laid eyes on her, Ben’s head was feeling clear again. He’d known he wanted her, but he hadn’t expected their chemistry to be so explosive. And when he found her he was going to convince her to stay another day... He was going to woo her and persuade her to consider marriage—because if she’d considered it once before she’d have to be open to the option again—in spite of the way it had turned out. Clearly it meant a lot to her father, and he obviously meant a lot to her.
Lia Ford was not the one-dimensional person he had believed her to be at the very start. She was bright, sharp, compassionate, passionate.
He thought about how he’d felt claustrophobic when the idea of taking a wife had first been mentioned to him...how he’d felt when he’d sat down to discuss it with the Sheikh and the others. But now the prospect of making Lia Ford his wife appealed to Ben in a way that he hadn’t ever thought it would.
He realise
d that he’d seriously underestimated how much a woman like Lia could contribute to his life. They had ideals and goals in common. The more he thought about it, the less he felt inclined to take a wife who would just be meek and biddable. He wanted someone with fire, and Lia had that in spades. She was spirited and unafraid to stand up to him, and he liked that.
And for the first time he even found himself thinking of children. Of what it would be like to have a son or a daughter. Something in Ben’s chest grew tight at the thought of a small dark-haired child with sparkling blue eyes running around.
He’d never allowed himself to contemplate it before, because his own experience of watching his parents crumble so catastrophically under the strain of their lives self-destructing had scarred him enough to never want to risk subjecting any child of his to that.
But now he felt he could consider it for the first time. A woman like Lia would never crumble. She would get up and start again. Their marriage would be nothing like his parents’—falling apart like a flimsy structure at the first inkling of trouble.
Ben was in the kitchen now, but that too was empty. He ignored his growing unease and the fact that the villa was too quiet. As much as he admired Lia’s independence, and the fact that she obviously wasn’t one of those women who liked to cling like an octopus the morning after, he just wanted to find her now.
A sense of relief hit him when he thought of the beach—of course she’d be there. But when he walked out onto the pristine sand, he saw that his stretch of private beach was empty. No supple pale body was lying out under an umbrella.
He heard a sound and whirled around, but it was just Esmé, carrying flowers into the villa. She called out sunnily, ‘Morning, Boss. You slept late—not like you at all.’
Ben felt like scowling at the reminder that last night had made its mark, but he forced a smile, following Esmé back into the villa. ‘Have you seen Lia?’
She whirled around, frowning. ‘You don’t know?’
Ben was seriously struggling to hold his irritation in. ‘Know what?’
Esmé put the exotic blooms carefully on a table, her face a picture of quizzical innocence. ‘She left early this morning. When Joao dropped me off, she got a lift with him back into Salvador. She said she had to take the first flight to New York today, then get back to the UK. I presumed you knew... She said she didn’t want to wake you and left you a note. I put it in your office.’
As Ben watched Esmé start to put the blooms in a large vase on the table in the centre of the hall he felt something wide and uncomfortable open up in his chest. And sheer incomprehension. No woman ever walked away from him. But this one had. Twice now.
He turned before Esmé could make anything of his reaction, went to his office and saw the folded-over note with ‘Ben’ written on it in a very feminine script. He opened it to read.
Dear Ben,
Thank you again for your kind donation to the charity. I think after last night the terms of the bid are well and truly fulfilled. After all, this was never going to go beyond the weekend, was it?
I’ve enjoyed my time here in Bahia—thank you. I doubt I’ll run into you again.
Best wishes,
Lia Ford.
The chasm opening up in Ben’s chest snapped shut suddenly and became a hard, heavy weight. The insinuation that she’d slept with him more to fulfil the terms of the bid and less because she’d wanted to was not welcome.
He crushed the piece of paper in his hands as something broke the heavy weight apart—anger.
He’d underestimated her—again. But she’d underestimated him if she thought that she wouldn’t run into him again. He was going to make very sure that she did run into him again—and this time she would not be running away. Because she was perfect for him. And no way was he letting her, or this opportunity, slip out of his grasp.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHERE’S YOUR FATHER, LIA? Not ill again, I hope?’
Lia felt like hitting the smug smile off the face of one of her father’s biggest competitors, who was making it very obvious that he did hope her father was ill, but instead she smiled beatifically and said, ‘Of course he’s not ill, George.’ Her smile stayed fixed as she went on, ‘He’s actually too busy to be here this evening—which is why I have to say I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t you know that this evening is the construction union’s annual winter party?’
The man’s already florid face grew redder as he blustered, ‘Well, yes, of course I did...but I wouldn’t normally think of going to one of those events—’
Which is why you’re only a fraction as successful as my father, she thought to herself privately, even as she said a placatory, ‘No, of course not. Most people don’t. He will insist on going, though—every year—and his employees seem to love him for it.’
The man was backpedalling away from Lia so fast that she nearly laughed out loud. It was a little mean of her, she knew, to tease him like that. But in fairness her father had put in an appearance at the union party largely because it wouldn’t be filled with vultures ready to pick him apart to see just how robust he was.
She’d just been informed that he was back, via one of his usual slightly ham-fisted texts, which was all in caps.
I’M HOME NOW. DON’T WORRY. HOLD THE FORT FOR ME, DARLING. DAD. XX
Lia sighed. That was what she felt as if she’d been doing all her life. Holding the fort for her father, who had never really recovered after her mother’s abandonment of them both. But she pushed that moment of uncharacteristic self-pity out of her mind now. She didn’t want anyone here at this exclusive London charity bash to suspect for a second that everything wasn’t absolutely fine.
So she pasted on another bright smile when she saw two more of her father’s biggest rivals bearing down on her, with glints in their eyes. But just before they reached her something in her peripheral vision made her look to her left and her heart stopped beating. Almost literally stopped.
It was Benjamin Carter, standing at the main doorway, dressed in a classic black tuxedo, scanning the room as if looking for something. Or someone. His bright blue gaze—visible even from where she stood—landed on her and stopped. Lia felt its impact immediately, deep in her body, like an electrical shock.
Everything dropped away. She was aware of voices from nearby, aware that she was meant to be responding to something, but had no idea to what.
It felt as if seconds had passed since she’d seen him, but it had actually been a week.
A week since she’d left this man lying on his bed amongst tangled sheets, with her heart pounding so hard she’d been able to feel it. It started again now, as he walked towards her, and she drank him in helplessly. He looked taller, darker, and more handsome against the backdrop of this much paler British crowd.
For an awful second she wondered if she was hallucinating—she’d believed she’d never see him again, and had done her best all week to repress the memories and images. But at night her subconscious hadn’t been able to stem the tide, and each morning she’d woken hot and sweaty, with the sheets tangled around her body after X-rated dreams.
He closed the distance between them with long strides, the crowd parting like water and hushed whispers following his progress. He reached Lia and she was struck mute.
Without taking his eyes off hers, he said, ‘Gentlemen, please excuse the interruption, but I have some unfinished business with Miss Ford.’
And then he reached for Lia’s hand, taking it in a firm grip, and started walking back out of the room, taking her with him. The lust that flooded her body at the touch of his hand told her that she wasn’t hallucinating—as did the excitement mixed with shock in her blood.
Lia had to lift her long black silk dress in one hand, afraid of tripping. She caught sight of herself and Ben in a long mirror and saw that she looked tiny behind him, her shoulders bare in the long strapless dress, her hair upswept into a rough chignon.
Panic flooded her system as the reality
sank in that he was really here. If he guessed for a second how deep he’d sneaked under her skin... The panic intensified. She dug her heels in and tried to pull her hand free, but his only tightened.
He stopped and turned around, a fierce expression on his face. Gone was the civil, suave man she’d first met. He was angry. But instead of feeling intimidated she found her anger matched his. Anger at him for coming into her world like this. For upsetting her equilibrium again.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped. ‘You’re on my turf now.’
Ben arched a brow. ‘Oh, forgive me, Lady Ford, do you own this hotel?’
She flushed. ‘No, of course not.’ Then she arched her own brow. ‘Do you have a private plane stashed on the lawn at the back? Are you planning another little kidnap stunt?’
He kept her hand firmly in his and faced her fully, his free arm snaking around her waist and pulling her close. She went on fire when she felt his burgeoning erection between them. His eyes gleamed when he saw her reaction. Lia was acutely aware of the audience around them, and cursed herself for not waiting to confront him until they were somewhere more private.
‘You asked me a question.’
Lia frowned. ‘What question?’
‘In that kind note you left, you said—and I quote—"This was never going to go beyond the weekend, was it?”’
Lia flushed hotter. ‘That was a rhetorical question.’
Ben shook his head. ‘Not any more—because I believe I’ve just answered it.’
‘How?’
He moved against her subtly, explicitly, leaving her in no doubt as to what he meant. Then he said throatily, ‘I suggest you come with me right now—unless you want to treat your peers to the kind of show they’d prefer to watch in private or on pay per view.’
Some emotion Lia didn’t want to name surged through her as the knowledge sank in—she wasn’t dreaming. He was here and he still wanted her. And, heaven help her, she wanted him too... She’d run scared in Brazil, but right now she couldn’t exactly recall why it had been so imperative to get away from him.
