He suddenly stilled his movements. ‘Did I hurt you?’ His voice contained a deep chord of concern, his gaze searching hers.
‘Of course not.’ Layla smiled and stroked the side of his face with her hand. ‘I’m just getting used to the feel of you.’ She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t see through her little white lie. She didn’t want him to stop making love to her, not while her body was aching and throbbing for more stimulation.
His eyes moved between each of hers, dipping every now and again to her mouth, his breathing still uneven, his body still encased in hers. ‘I’ll take it a little more slowly. But tell me if you’re not comfortable at any time.’
‘I’m perfectly comfortable.’ Layla moved beneath him, rocking her body to encourage him to keep moving. Her body was used to him now, her intimate muscles wrapping around him, welcoming him, delighting in his strength and potency.
He slowly began to thrust, his movements measured and controlled. Layla’s excitement grew as his body within hers triggered flickers of heat through her female flesh. The erotic motion of their bodies working together in perfect harmony was like a complicated but beautiful dance she hadn’t realised she had known the steps to until now. The choreography of their movements was instinctive, intuitive, intensely arousing. Her senses soared, her desire leapt, her blood hummed and thrummed like the rhythmic backbeat of a musical score.
His mouth came back to hers in a long, drugging kiss that ramped up her passion for him like fuel flung on a naked flame. Their tongues met, tangled, mated, moved with the same perfect symmetry as their bodies. His hands caressed the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, her thigh and then he found the slippery secret heart of her. The soft stroking of his fingers on her most intimate flesh made her gasp and writhe and shudder as the orgasm swept over her in pulsating waves. Waves that fanned out from her core to the far reaches of her body, making every cell of her body vibrate with aftershocks of pleasure.
Logan’s release followed hers with a series of deep urgent thrusts, his face buried into the side of her neck, his breathing as erratic as hers. He groaned and the tension in his body left him, making him slump against her.
Layla held him to her, not wanting him to pull away, wanting, needing to feel the warm embrace of his body for as long as possible. Their breathing came back to normal almost in unison, their entwined limbs rearranging themselves as if they had been doing it since time began.
After a long moment, Logan raised himself on one elbow to look down at her, his fingers idly playing with some tendrils of her hair. His features were cast in relaxation and the afterglow of pleasure and she had never seen him look more heart-stoppingly attractive.
‘I’m having my own Oh, wow moment here.’ His eyes were dark and warm, his voice pitched low, a lazy smile tilting his mouth. ‘Make that oh, wow to the power of ten.’
An internal glow radiated through Layla’s body at his words. She drew a line from the bridge of his nose to the well-defined philtrum ridge below and then traced his mouth. ‘It was pretty amazing, wasn’t it? Or maybe it’s always amazing for you?’
He coiled a tendril of her hair around his finger, releasing it so it bounced against her cheek. He tucked the curl behind her ear, his expression undergoing a subtle change like the slow drift of clouds across the sky.
‘I’m not the sort of man to kiss and tell, but sometimes sex works well and other times...’ he twisted his mouth ‘...it’s best left as a one-off.’ He eased away to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, and Layla rolled onto her side, her eyes drinking in the long lean line of his back and taut buttocks and strong thighs.
She sighed and stretched like a sleepy cat, her limbs feeling so relaxed it was as if her bones had been removed. But then she happened to notice a mark on the bedlinen where she had been lying and her heart came to a screeching halt. She scrambled into a sitting position, hauling the bedcovers up to cover the bloodstain and her nakedness just as Logan came back into the bedroom.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Um...no, I—I just feel a bit embarrassed about being...naked.’ Layla bit her lip and couldn’t hold his gaze.
Logan came over to the bed and sat down beside her. He pushed the fall of her hair back behind her shoulders, his hand going to the small of her back in a warm circular caress. ‘I saw the blood on the condom. You don’t have to be embarrassed about having your period.’
Layla swallowed, her heart beating so loudly she could feel it in her ears. ‘I’m not having my period.’ The words fell into the room like a loaded grenade, fizzing in the sudden silence.
Logan’s hand stilled on her back, his body stiffening as if snap-frozen, his expression etched in shock as realisation slowly dawned. ‘You were a...a virgin?’ His voice was so hoarse it came out like the screech of tyres on gravel. He shot off the bed and shoved a hand through his hair, looking at her in alarm. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
Layla pulled the bedcovers closer. ‘It’s not like it’s a disease.’
He let out a short sharp swearword. ‘I hurt you. You should have told me so I could’ve—’
‘Could’ve what?’ Layla shot back. ‘Stopped? Not made love at all? Go on, admit it—you would never have made love with me if I’d told you I was a virgin.’
He closed his eyes in a slow blink and swore again. He turned away and snatched up his trousers from where they were lying on the floor and stepped into them with such force she was sure they would rip. The sound of his zipper going up was as savage as another bitter curse.
‘You made me believe you were experienced,’ he said, reaching for his shirt and shoving his arms through the sleeves. ‘You lied to me, if not outright then by omission.’
‘Stop making such a big issue out of it. It was just sex.’
‘It was damn well not just sex.’ His tone was gruff, his gaze diamond-hard. ‘You knew I was uneasy about making our marriage a real one because we don’t fit the criteria for a one-night stand.’ He tucked his shirt into his trousers with rough movements. ‘I can’t believe how screwed up this is. I hurt you enough to make you bleed.’ He rubbed a hand down his face, dragging and distorting his features.
‘You didn’t hurt me,’ Layla said. ‘It was the tiniest sting—I hardly even noticed it and everything was fine after that. More than fine—wonderful.’
Logan came over to the bed and sat beside her but he clamped his hands to his thighs as if he was worried they might touch her of their own accord. ‘Why were you still a virgin? Was it a deliberate choice or something else?’ His tone lost its sharp edge, his expression softening from its harsh lines of self-recrimination.
Layla looked down at her hands clasped around her bent knees. ‘I came close once to having sex when I was a teenager but the guy got cold feet when he saw my leg. He made me feel terrible about my body. I’ve avoided any sort of intimacy ever since.’
Logan scrunched up his face as if suffering from an internal pain. He let out a sigh and took one of her hands in his, the gentle press of his fingers against hers making her eyes well with tears. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such an awful experience. That kid was a jerk for making you feel that way. You’re beautiful and desirable and deserve to be treated with nothing but respect. But don’t you see how what happened just now makes me feel like a jerk? I hurt you and that’s the last thing I wanted to do to you or to anyone.’
Layla looked into his frowning gaze and sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I was embarrassed, that’s all. I mean, what girl these days gets to the age of twenty-six without having had sex? It made me feel like a pariah. Completely out of step.’
He gave her hand another squeeze. ‘One day you’ll find what you’re looking for. Someone who can give you the security and longevity that enriches a physical relationship.’ He rose from the bed and moved some distance away, his expression still wrought with lines of tension.
<
br /> ‘What if I’m not looking for that right now?’ Layla asked. ‘What if I only want a fling to get some experience under my belt? What would be wrong with you being the person who helps me with that?’
He turned back to look at her, his fisted hands clenching and unclenching by his sides as if he was fighting the urge to come back and haul her into his arms. ‘I’m trying to do the right thing by you, Layla. I try to do the right thing by everyone I care about and yet I always seem to screw up.’
‘I’m sorry for not telling you...’
He approached her again, his expression wistful, the gentle stroke of his finger down the slope of her cheek making her heart swell to twice its size. ‘None of this is your fault, sweetheart. None of it.’
Layla grasped his wrist and turned his hand over so she could plant a soft kiss to the middle of his palm. ‘I’m glad it was you. I mean, that you were my first lover.’
His eyes smouldered for a long moment, his fingers entwining with hers. ‘It was pretty damn good, wasn’t it?’ His voice had a side note of gravel that made her inner core tingle.
‘Does that mean you’re going to tweak the rules?’
A shadow drifted through his gaze and he let out a sigh and released her hand. ‘Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.’ He softened it with a crooked smile. ‘I couldn’t have asked for a more generous and responsive lover. But there are consequences to factor in if we take this any further.’
‘I know,’ Layla said. ‘But I’m prepared to accept the consequences if you are.’
He traced the line of her lower lip with his finger, his expression sobering once more. ‘Thing is...it’s kind of scary how little I care about the consequences right now, which is why I’m going to sleep in the spare room. We both need some space to think clearly.’
Layla flopped back down on the pillows once he left the room. She didn’t need space. She needed him.
* * *
Logan gave up on any notion of sleeping for the rest of the night. He paced one of the spare bedrooms with his thoughts as tangled as fishing line. He could not forgive himself for not realising Layla’s lack of experience. How could he have been so blind? In hindsight, all the clues were there. He had never heard any mention of a boyfriend, he had never seen her bring anyone home to Bellbrae, and although he knew little of her life in Edinburgh, she had given him the impression she was experienced with her misleading and ambiguous comments about her past love life. And he’d fallen for it, because he’d wanted an excuse to sleep with her. That was the part of his conscience he was struggling with the most. He had broken his own rules—the rules he had instated to protect her from unnecessary hurt.
And he had gone and done it anyway.
He sucked in a jagged breath and released it in a rush. He had done it because ever since that day in the north tower, he had felt something shift in their relationship. A tectonic shift. He couldn’t be in the same room as her without feeling the subtle change in energy. Sensual energy that tingled and tightened his skin and made him want and want and want with an ache that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
And that was another tripwire in his conscience—he’d enjoyed every pulse-racing minute of their lovemaking. It had been off the scale in terms of pleasure. Satisfying in a way sex hadn’t been for him for years. The intuitive connection of their bodies, the rhythm and timing of every movement had felt so natural, so fluid and free and phenomenal it still rang in his flesh like a struck tuning fork.
Logan walked to the windows overlooking the ocean, trying to distract himself with the view, but it was no good.
How could you have not known? What were you thinking? You hurt her.
He wanted to blank them out but a perverse part of him relished in the self-flagellation. It was no more than he deserved. He had once thought he was pretty good at reading people but not now. His disastrous and tragic relationship with his fiancée had taught him otherwise. And now this situation with Layla had only reinforced it.
He was rubbish at relationships. How could he hope to change that abysmal track record? Was there any point even trying?
* * *
The journey back to Scotland was painfully silent. Layla tried once or twice to engage Logan in conversation on the flight but he only answered in monosyllables and seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. He rarely touched her. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding all contact, even eye contact. Was he still regretting their lovemaking? He had been so tender and considerate afterwards that a hope had sprouted in her chest that maybe he would agree to deepening their relationship. Had he weighed up the potential consequences and decided it wasn’t worth it?
That she wasn’t worth it?
On the drive back to Bellbrae from Inverness airport, Logan drove with clenched hands and jaw, his forehead creased in a perpetual frown, which didn’t nurture her fledgling hope one little bit.
‘You know, we’re not going to be very convincing as a married couple if we don’t even exchange a few polite words now and again,’ Layla said.
He flicked her a glance. ‘Sorry. Did you say something?’
She gave a humourless laugh. ‘I’ve been trying to make conversation with you ever since we left Honolulu. You’ve barely spoken four or five words to me. I guess the honeymoon is definitely over, then?’
He flinched at the word ‘honeymoon’ and his hands tightened like clamps on the steering wheel. ‘I can’t tell you how much I regret what happened. I hate myself for hurting you.’
‘I wish you’d stop making such an enormous deal about it. So what if we had sex? Even perfect strangers have sex with each other. Besides, no harm has been done.’
His gaze swung her way again. ‘Hasn’t it?’
‘Of course not.’ Layla surreptitiously squeezed her legs together, secretly enjoying the pull of still tender muscles that his intimate presence had caused. She had relived their lovemaking numerous times, remembering each touch, each caress, each kiss that had set her flesh on fire and left it thrumming with pleasure. Her body ached to feel his presence again, to experience more of his magical lovemaking. To explore the sensuality that had erupted so naturally between them and shown her a world of heady and erotic delights she hadn’t known existed. She kept her hands planted on her lap but she longed to place her hand on his thigh like a lover would do.
The rest of the journey continued in mutual silence but just as they approached the long driveway leading to the Bellbrae estate, Logan let out a stiff curse, not quite under his breath.
‘What’s wrong?’ Layla asked.
‘That’s Robbie’s new car,’ he said, indicating the flashy red sports car ahead of them on the driveway. ‘God only knows how he’s paying for it. It’s worth five hundred thousand euros at least.’
Layla looked ahead to see the sports car’s wheels spinning over the gravel, spraying stones out to each side and it reminded her yet again of the stark differences between the two brothers. Logan was steady, reliable and cautious, someone who thought before he acted. Robbie, on the other hand, leapt before he looked, reacted rather than reflected, took risks and suffered little or no remorse for his reckless actions.
‘Have you spoken to him since we...got married?’ Layla asked. The word was still a novelty to her, even though she wore his ring on her left hand.
‘I sent an email. I gave up on the phone—he hardly ever gets back to me when I call or text.’ The weariness in Logan’s tone spoke of a long and frustrating history between him and his younger brother. ‘I told him we’d formed a relationship and decided to get married.’
Nerves in Layla’s stomach unfurled and fluttered their razor-sharp wings. It was going to be difficult to convince his brother their marriage was genuine when Logan was so determined to keep his distance from her. ‘But he would have seen the will, surely? Won’t he have already put two and two together?’
‘It’s immaterial what he thinks. It doesn’t change the fact our marriage is legal.’
Layla bit down on her lower lip. ‘I’ll try not to let you down.’
He flashed her the briefest of rueful smiles but it didn’t take the shadows out of his eyes. ‘That seems to be my job. Letting people down.’
* * *
Logan helped Layla out of the car a short time later, placing his arm around her waist as his brother sauntered over to them. She nestled against his side and he caught a whiff of the flowery fragrance of her hair, stirring his senses, making him long to bury his head in those silky chestnut tresses as he had when they had made love. He tried to block the images of that night but they flashed up in his mind, causing his blood to pound and thicken, dragging at his lower body with a tight primal ache.
Robbie swept his gaze over them with an elevation of his eyebrows. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here? Congratulations, Layla. You’ve landed yourself quite a catch. For a simple charwoman, that is.’
Logan felt Layla stiffen beside him and he wanted to thump his brother for being such a snobbish jerk. He drew her closer to his side and sent his brother a warning look. ‘If you don’t treat my wife with respect you won’t be welcome here, Robert. Got that?’
‘Your wife?’ Robbie threw his head back and laughed. ‘You expect me to believe you two are the real deal?’
‘We have the documentation to prove it,’ Logan said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us. Layla is tired from travelling and—’
‘I bet you put the old man up to it,’ Robbie said, addressing Layla with a curl of his lip. ‘You’ve always had the hots for my big brother. But he would never have looked at you without some serious arm twisting. And it doesn’t get more serious than his precious Bellbrae hanging in the balance.’
Logan was ashamed to hear his brother voice his own earlier thoughts over his grandfather’s changes to his will. And as to Layla’s interest in him, well, it was more than reciprocated. And if he were to be honest with himself, that spark of attraction had started way earlier than the afternoon in the north tower. Way, way earlier.
Billionaire's Wife On Paper (Conveniently Wed!) Page 11
