One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

sank in the pool, and she clung to him. The kiss deepened, breathing life into her.

      He was her anchor and her damnation. As before, his kiss was unlike any she’d experienced. Deep, wild, intoxicating, dragging her through hell to glimpse heaven.

      Each glide of skin against skin sent shockwaves of need vibrating through her, crumbling the walls of restraint she’d hastily erected. Just like that and she capitulated to him.

      There was no reason to continue fighting when he’d won this battle. She wanted him, and she hated herself for being so weak around him, hated this intense need that coursed in her for him.

      With just a kiss he’d reduced her world to her and him and the child in her womb, nestled between them. But he didn’t know that, or realize her concern at holding her breath too long.

      He pushed off the bottom of the pool and propelled them upward. Toward air.

      And another confrontation with André.

      He held majority shares in her hotel as tightly as he held her life in his hands. She should fear him. But she believed that he’d protect her, even though her intuition warned she’d come out the loser in any personal war with him. Even knowing the danger ahead of her, she let him woo her heart without effort.

      They broke the surface, each dragging in air—another form of torture, for her breasts rubbed his chest with each indrawn breath, teasing the nipples into aching peaks. And lower his sex pressed against her belly, separated only by her swimsuit.

      A languid heat coiled in her at knowing he was naked. Knowing that it would be so simple to reach down and stroke his exquisite length, to guide him where she ached for him.

      “You’re an expert swimmer,” he said, forcing her mind from sex—a blessing that part of her cursed.

      “It’s good exercise.” No longer a passion.

      Her dream to compete in watersports had died long ago, derailed by an injury, then later crushed beneath Edouard’s plans for her.

      She’d not relinquish another dream to please a man, no matter how much she ached for his touch, his possession. Yet even as the thought crossed her mind she admitted that was a lie. She ached to have a family. To be wanted. Loved.

      He moved, lifting her to nuzzle her breasts through the thin Spandex of her swimsuit. Fire shot through her. She dug her fingers into his strong wet shoulders, trembling and arching her back to press her bosom closer to his mouth.

      “I want you,” he said, his teeth grazing one sensitized nipple before moving to the other. “You want me.”

      She moaned, awash in need, refusing to fight what they both wanted. “That’s obvious.”

      He scowled, as if angered by her admission. “I won’t take you now.”

      Had she heard him wrong? No, even as he spoke with biting conviction he pulled away from her, putting her at arm’s length, slamming the door on the hot emotions she’d seen flickering in his eyes.

      “Then why the foreplay?” she asked, disgusted that her face was flushed and her body trembled with desire.

      “I was ravenous for an appetizer.” He left her standing in the water and strode to the edge. “We will indulge in the sensual entrée later.”

      He hoisted himself from the pool, water sluicing down his naked and aroused body. He was tanned all over, though a slightly lighter hue banded his groin and his firm, sexy behind, indicating he wore a brief swimsuit on occasion.

      The sight of his magnificent body intensified the ache in her. “I won’t have sex with you.”

      “Oui, you will. But tonight I need rest and I need food.” His gaze slid over her with a hunger that made her breath catch. “When we make love it will be leisurely and very thorough.”

      She trembled at the promise, at a loss as to what to say that wouldn’t betray her wants, her needs.

      “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes,” he said. “We’ll dine casually tonight.”

      He stepped into his cutoff jean shorts, but left them unbuttoned, clinging to him like she longed to do. Then he walked away, his long strides taking him further from her. Just like that he could shut off his need for her, while she still quivered with want.

      Damn him!

      Kira slapped both palms on the calm water as anger danced up her limbs. He didn’t look back once, didn’t pause. He stepped onto the terrace and into the house.

      Frustrated beyond words, she launched into a breaststroke that took her the length of the pool and back. Yet even though her muscles screamed for rest as she climbed from the water, a part of her was still ravenous for André’s touch.

      She had to gain control of her emotions and her libido. For if she wasn’t very careful her weakness for him would be the downfall from which she’d never recover.

      After a quick shower, Kira donned a simple sundress patterned in aqua and a rich brown the color of André’s eyes. That she could make the comparison confirmed she was still on dangerous ground around him. It didn’t help that her emotions swung wildly due to her pregnancy.

      One moment she hated him, the next she craved his touch, his kiss. She’d even pondered engaging him in a debate, but quelled the urge. Their first and last verbal clash had led them straight to the bedroom.

      Considering how she’d melted in his arms in the pool, she dreaded sitting across from him at the dinner table. But her fears were for naught. Soon after they’d sat down to dine and their meal had been served, André was called away—an urgent conference call he must take.

      Alarm bubbled in her. Her first fear was he’d made good on his threat to destroy her hotel. “If this concerns the Chateau—”

      “It doesn’t.” He drained his glass of wine, his features remote. “Enjoy your meal, Miss Montgomery.”

      Without a backward glance, he strode from the room. His plate remained untouched.

      Worry nipped along Kira’s nerves, leaving her edgy. She didn’t trust André to tell her the truth, for he was convinced that she was in league with Peter Bellamy.

      He swore he had proof. So what did he have that condemned her? Or was it a bluff?

      She speared a wedge of orange and trailed it through her serving of chicken, tomato and pepper and into a bed of wild rice. The subtle aroma of garlic and citrus that had appealed earlier deserted her. Yet she knew that she must eat something for the baby’s sake.

      She forced herself to eat and let her mind roam. What electronic proof could he have that tied her to Peter Bellamy?

      It couldn’t be genuine. So who’d manufactured this proof?

      There were those at the Chateau who disliked her. Since she’d taken over things had gone awry. Items she’d needed hadn’t been ordered. Reservations were often jumbled.

      But even if one of them took their dislike of her beyond reasonable in an attempt to ruin her, nobody there had the power to sell Edouard Bellamy’s shares.

      No one except Peter. Edouard’s son. He’d been made executor of Edouard’s will. He’d inherited his father’s corporation. Had he set out to strip her of her inheritance?

      She dropped her fork on her plate and rubbed her aching temples. It was very possible that he’d discovered the role she’d played in Edouard’s life. That Peter resented her with a towering hatred—just as Edouard had predicted would happen should the truth ever come out.

      Everything had been a jumble since the accident. Edouard had clung to life while his mistress had lost hers. The dissolution of her stock had been swift and secretive, with André buying those shares in the Chateau.

      That was what had sent Kira here to confer with André. A meeting André swore he’d never