The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит

a blaze of something like admiration for her presence, her self-possession. Then he pushed that feeling away, hardened his heart—if that was indeed the organ that was being so wayward—and said coolly, ‘I certainly didn’t.’ She stood a few feet away from him and he beckoned her forward. ‘Come here.’

      ‘Is that a command?’

      ‘A request.’

      She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Rather ungraciously made, Leo.’ Yet she moved towards him, head held high, her eyes flashing with spirit.

      Leo made no reply, because in truth he didn’t know what to say, how to act. He didn’t want sex between them to be romantic. He didn’t want either of them engaging their emotions. Ever.

      He wanted it to be nothing more than a necessary—and, albeit physically, pleasurable—transaction, yet he was already afraid it couldn’t be. Already be realised that his feelings for Alyse had changed too much for this to be simple—or sordid.

      With the tiniest, trembling smile on her lips, she took another step towards him. Leo watched her hips sway under the silky fabric of her evening dress, a halter-top style in ivory that hugged every slender curve. ‘Why don’t you take that off?’ he said, his voice already thickening with desire.

      ‘Oh, Leo.’ She let out a soft laugh. ‘Why don’t you take it off me?’ And, despite the sorrow in that laugh, he heard a hint of a challenge in her voice and he knew she wasn’t going to make this easy for either of them. ‘Just because this is necessary doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the experience,’ she continued quietly. ‘You desire me, Leo, and I desire you. That’s something.’

      He didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. Somehow his throat had thickened; his blood pounded and his fingers itched to touch her. He’d thought at first she’d make it awkward by resisting, or at least not responding to his touch—a show of defiance.

      Compliance, he realised then, was far more dangerous. Still he tried to keep himself emotionally distant, if physically close, knowing how difficult a task it was that he’d set himself.

      Wordlessly he reached behind her and undid the halter tie of her dress. The garment slithered off her shoulders, and with one sinuous shrug it slid from her body and pooled at her feet. She gazed at him steadily, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks pink even as she kept her head held high.

      She was magnificent. He’d seen her naked before but tonight it was different; tonight it was more. She wore a strapless lacy bra and matching pants, both skimpy items highlighting the lithe perfection of her body.

      ‘I don’t think I’m the only one who’s meant to be naked,’ Alyse said, and he heard both a smile and a tremble in her voice. She reached for the buttons on his shirt and, mesmerised, Leo watched as she undid them, her fingers long and elegant. Her hands smoothed over the already heated skin of his chest and shoulders as she pulled the tie and then the shirt off him.

      She’d undressed him last night, had unbuttoned his shirt just like this and, while it had inflamed him then, it moved him now. Touched him in ways he wasn’t prepared for, didn’t want.

      He pushed the emotion away and reached for her, needing to obliterate his thoughts—his feelings—with the purely physical. And at first the taste and touch of her lips against his was enough to accomplish his goal. He plundered her mouth, slid his hands through the luxuriant softness of her hair, brought her nearly naked body in achingly exquisite contact with his. All of it was enough to stop the unwanted feeling, the impossible emotion.

      Almost.

      Her response undid him. She wasn’t just unresisting, she was more than compliant. She answered him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, and he could feel the surrender in her supple body, the giving of herself. The offering.

      With Alyse sex would never be a soulless transaction. Already it was something else, something he couldn’t want and yet desperately needed. He deepened the kiss.

      Alyse matched him, her body molding and melting into his, her head tilted back as she emitted a low moan from deep in her throat, the sound swallowed by his own mouth. Desire consumed him in a white-hot flame; thoughts and feelings blurred and coalesced into one.

      He was barely aware of unhooking her bra, sliding off her pants; distantly he felt her hands fumble boldly at his zip and then his trousers sliding down his legs. He kicked them off in one abrupt, impatient movement and, sweeping her up in his arms, her skin silken against his, he brought her to the bed.

      Even now he fought against all he was feeling. She lay back on the pillows, arms spread, thighs splayed, everything about her open and giving. She gazed up at him without embarrassment or fear; even her gaze was open to him, open and trusting. Kneeling before her, his own body naked and vulnerable, his desire on obvious and proud display, Leo felt humbled.

      Humbled and ashamed that he had been attempting something he now knew was impossible: emotionless sex with Alyse. With his wife.

      She held out her arms to him. ‘Make love to me, Leo,’ she said softly, and he let out a sound that was something between a near-sob and a laugh. How had this woman reached him—reached him and felled him—so easily? His jaded cynicism fell away and his cold, hard heart warmed and softened into pliant yielding as he came to her, enfolded her body into his and buried his face in the warm, silken curve of her neck.

      In response she curled around him, arching her body into his, giving him everything she had. Leo took it as his mouth claimed hers and his hands explored her warm, supple curves; then his body found hers as he slid inside and they joined as one—one flesh, one person. It felt holy and sacred, infinitely pleasurable, and so much more than he’d ever expected or thought he wanted.

      His last cold reserve broke on the sweetness of her response as he drove into her again and again, losing himself, blending into her until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. And, even more amazingly and importantly, such a distinction no longer mattered.

      * * *

      Alyse lay back on the pillows, her whole body thrumming with pleasure. Leo had rolled onto his back next to her, one arm thrown over his face. As her heart rate began to slow from a thud she felt the perspiration cooling on her skin, the slight chill of the night air from the open windows...and the fact that she couldn’t see Leo’s expression. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling at all.

      Just moments ago when he’d been touching her—been inside her—she’d felt so close to him, in such glorious union that all of her fears and doubts had been blown away, scattered like so much cold ash.

      Now they returned, settling inside her, unwelcome embers fanning into painful flame.

      She’d given everything to Leo in that moment, everything she had in her to give... But perhaps even now he’d turn away from her, slide off the bed and stalk to the bathroom, as coldly indifferent as ever. Even as she braced herself for it she knew she couldn’t keep herself from being hurt, or even devastated. She might not love him—yet—but she’d still given more to this man than to any other.

      She felt Leo stir next to her and still she was afraid to say anything, to break whatever delicate bond held them together in this moment, the remnants of their love-making. Words would, she feared, sound like challenges to Leo, perhaps accusations or even ultimatums. For once she wanted simply to let this moment be whatever it was, and not demand or yearn for more.

      Slowly he moved his arm from covering his face and swung up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor, his back to her.

      ‘I’ll get us something to drink,’ he said and, slipping on his boxer shorts, he went to the en suite dressing room.

      Alyse lay there for a moment, increasingly conscious with every cooling second of her own nakedness, yet she was loath to cover herself, to leave the intimacy of what had just happened behind—or, worse, pretend it had never happened... Just as Leo, perhaps, was pretending.

      Or maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe, for him, it had been just sex and she was the one, as always,