A Convenient Bridegroom. HELEN BIANCHIN

her to sit astride him.

      Excitement spiralled through her body as he arched his hips and sent her tumbling down against his chest.

      One hand slid to her nape as he angled her head to his, then his mouth was on hers, all heat and passion as he took possession.

      The kiss seared her heart, branding her in a way that made her his … totally. Mind, body, and soul. She had no thought for anything but the man and the storm raging within.

      It made anything she’d shared before seem less. Dear Lord, she’d ached for his passion. But this … this was raw, primitive. Mesmeric. Ravaging.

      She met and matched his movements, driven by a hunger so intense she had no recollection of time or place.

      Aysha wasn’t even aware when he reversed positions, and it was the gentling of his touch, the gradual loss of intensity that intruded on her conscious mind and brought with it a slow return to sanity.

      There was a sense of exquisite wonderment, a sensation of wanting desperately to hold onto the moment in case it might fracture and fragment.

      She didn’t feel the soft warmth of tears as they slid slowly down her cheeks. Nor was she aware of the sexual heat emanating from her skin, or the slight trembling of her body as Carlo used his hands, his lips to bring her down.

      He absorbed the dampness on one cheek, then pressed his lips against one closed eyelid, before moving to effect a similar supplication on the other. His hands shifted as he gently rolled onto his back, carrying her with him so she lay cradled against the length of his body.

      Slight tremors shook her slim form, and he brought her mouth to his in a soft, evocative joining. His fingers trailed the shape of her, gently exploring the slim supple curves, the slender waist, the soft curve of her buttocks.

      It was Carlo who broke contact long minutes later, and she trailed a hand down the edge of his cheek.

      ‘I get first take on the shower. You make the coffee,’ she whispered.

      His slow smile caused havoc with her pulse-rate. ‘We share the shower, then I’ll organise coffee while you cook breakfast.’

      ‘Chauvinist,’ Aysha commented with musing tolerance.

      His lips caressed her breast, and desire arrowed through her body, hot, needy, and wildly wanton. ‘We can always miss breakfast and focus on the shower.’

      His arousal was a potent force, and her eyes danced with mischief as she contemplated the option. ‘As much as the offer attracts me, I need food to charge my energy levels.’ She placed the tip of a finger over his lips, then gave a mild yelp as he nipped it with his teeth. ‘That calls for revenge.’

      Carlo’s hands spanned her waist and he shifted her to one side, then he leaned over her. ‘Try it.’

      She rose to the challenge at once, although the balance of power soon became uneven, and then it hardly seemed to matter any more who won or lost.

      Afterwards she had the quickest shower on record, then she dressed, swept her hair into a twist at her nape, added blusher, eye colour and mascara.

      She looked, Carlo noted with respect, as if she’d spent thirty minutes on her grooming instead of the five it had taken her.

      ‘Sit down and eat,’ he commanded as he slid an omelette onto a plate. ‘Coffee’s ready.’

      ‘You’re a gem among men,’ Aysha complimented as she sipped the coffee. Pure nectar on the palate, and the omelette was perfection.

      ‘From chauvinist to gem in the passage of twenty minutes,’ he drawled with unruffled ease, and she spared him a wicked grin in between mouthfuls.

      ‘Don’t get a swelled head.’

      She watched as he poured himself some coffee then joined her at the table. The dark navy towelling robe accented his breadth of shoulder, and dark curling hair showed at the vee of the lapels. Her eyes slid down to the belt tied at his waist, and lingered.

      ‘You don’t have time to find out,’ he mocked lazily, and she offered a stunning smile.

      ‘It’s my last day at work.’ She rose to her feet and gulped the last mouthful of coffee. ‘But as of tomorrow …’

      ‘Promises,’ Carlo taunted, and she reached up to brush her lips to his cheek, except he moved his head and they touched his mouth instead.

      ‘Got to rush,’ she said with genuine regret. ‘See you tonight.’

      Her job was important to her, and she loved the concept of using colour and design to make a house a home. The right furnishings, furniture, fittings, so that it all added up to a beautiful whole that was both eye-catching and comfortable. She’d earned a reputation for going that extra mile for a client, exploring every avenue in the search to get it right.

      However, there were days when phone calls didn’t produce the results she wanted, and today was one of them. Added to which she had to run a final check over all the orders that were due to come in while she was away. An awesome task, just on its own.

      Then there was lunch with some of her fellow staff, and the presentation of a wedding gift … an exquisite crystal platter. The afternoon seemed to fly on wings, and it was after six when she rode the lift to Carlo’s penthouse.

      ‘Ten minutes,’ she promised him as she entered the lounge, and she stepped out of heeled pumps en route to the shower.

      Aysha was ready in nine, and he snagged her arm as she raced towards the door.

      ‘Slow down,’ he directed, and she threw him an urgent glance.

      ‘We’re late. We should have left already.’ She tugged her hand and made no impression. ‘They’ll be waiting for us.’

      He pulled her close, and lowered his head down to hers. ‘So they’ll wait a little longer.’

      His mouth touched hers with such incredible gentleness her insides began to melt, and she gave a faint despairing groan as her lips parted beneath the pressure of his.

      Minutes later he lifted his head and surveyed the languid expression softening those beautiful smoky grey eyes. Better, he noted silently. Some of the tension had ebbed away, and she looked slightly more relaxed.

      ‘OK, let’s go.’

      ‘That was deliberate,’ Aysha said a trifle ruefully as they rode the lift down to the underground car park, and caught his musing smile.

      ‘Guilty.’

      He’d slowed her galloping pace down to a relaxed trot, and she offered a smile in silent thanks as they left the lift and crossed to the Mercedes.

      ‘How was your day?’ she queried as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened her belt.

      ‘Assembling quotes, checking computer print-outs, checking a building site. Numerous phone calls.’

      ‘All hands-on stuff, huh?’

      The large car sprang into instant life the moment he turned the key, and he spared her a wry smile as they gained street level.

      ‘That about encapsulates it.’

      The church was a beautiful old stone building set back from the road among well-tended lawns and gardens. Symmetrically planted trees and their spreading branches added to the portrayed seclusion.

      There was an air of peace and grace apparent, meshing with the mystique of blessed holy ground.

      Aysha drew a deep breath as she saw the several cars lining the curved driveway. Everyone was here.

      Attending someone else’s wedding, watching the ceremony on film or television, was a bit different from participating in one’s own, albeit this was merely a rehearsal of the real thing.

      ‘I want to carry the basket,’ Emily, the youngest