WIFE BY AGREEMENT Read online

  She recognised that she was fast approaching the point where she wouldn't care what his motivations were. The prospect of reaching a point of mindless acceptance was not entirely an unpleasant one—it was definitely a hotly exciting one.

  'This wasn't part of the deal.' She had to put up some sort of defence. It was scary to realise how much she hoped he'd dispose of her last feeble objections with his usual efficiency.

  'It wasn't something we excluded. Circumstances change, situations alter... If you're going to fall in love, it might as well be with me.'

  'I don't want to fall in love.' He couldn't know the irony of his words, or how much the humorous twist of his lips hurt. 'Has anyone ever told you you're a manip­ulative bastard?' she asked hoarsely.

  'Do you realise that you'd never have said that to me a couple of weeks ago?' He didn't seem to be put out by her forcibly expressed condemnation.

  'Probably not, but I might have thought it!'

  'I bet you did. Why do you think you're doing it now?'

  'Because we...you...we didn't talk then.'

  'Or fight, or argue, or kiss,' he added triumphantly.

  Meaning that something had altered. Was that some­thing him or her?

  'You knew exactly now attracted to you I was when we danced tonight. It wasn't something I could disguise.' He bent closer so the last words were murmured into her ear. 'You were excited,' he told her throatily. He took her face firmly between his hands. 'You liked it.'

  'Yes, yes...' she admitted, her eyes glistening with emotional tears as she met the challenge of his stare. His face was so close she could see the fine lines that radi­ated from the corners of his eyes, see the gold tips on the end of his dark eyelashes, and see the faint silvery line of a scar just below his left eye.

  'Our marriage has worked, hasn't it?' His thumb ran softly over the quivering outline of her slightly parted lips. 'Why shouldn't this?' He encountered no opposi­tion when he gently pressed against her breastbone and sent her back against the soft pillows. Supported on his elbow, his long body settled beside her. 'Your hormones are raging, and don't bother denying it. I recognise the symptoms—probably because mine are rioting too,' he added drily.

  Ethan with riotous hormones! The idea held a unique fascination for her. 'It makes things complicated.' The idea of placing her hand against the flat ridged muscles of his belly took root in her mind and swiftly became an obsessive thought.

  'We're not losing anything, Hannah,' he soothed her huskily. 'If anything, we're gaining something new— something that will strengthen what we have. Complicated is when we start looking outside this house for fulfilment. And you will,' he said, reading the denial in her eyes.

  The convenience factor reared its ugly head again, and it roused her sufficiently to fight against the inevitable. 'You make it sound as if I've no more choice than an animal on heat,' she protested, distressed by the mental parallel she drew.

  'We all try and deny it, but primitive instincts are never very far from the surface, no matter how sophis­ticated we like to think ourselves. Don't underestimate a primal need.'

  The rasp of his voice made her shudder. 'I can't imag­ine you losing control.' The idea sent ripples of delicious excitement through her body. 'You're so disciplined.'

  If she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his hair-roughened chest, would that be enough to make him lose control? Or would it take more...' Eyes half closed, she caught her full lower lip between her even white teeth and looked with hungry curiosity at his face. The fantasy in her head intensified until nothing else existed.

  'If you carry on looking at me like that you'll soon learn different,' he growled, his chest rising as he ex­haled deeply. 'You do want this to happen, don't you?'

  'Yes, yes...yes!' Her voice grew muffled as her face burrowed into his chest. An expression of fierce satis­faction flared on his taut face before his arms came auto­matically around her.

  'That's as good a place to start as any.' A strong shudder ran through his body as the tip of her tongue touched the warm skin of his chest.

  Feeling his shocked recoil, she stopped. 'Sorry,' she said, immediately raising her head. 'I'd been thinking about it and it just sort of...' She gazed at him guiltily. Her ignorance of the unwritten rules of sexual etiquette : was rather frustrating.

  Ethan didnt look too offended. In fact, beneath the heat of desire his eyes were filled with warmth and amusement. 'Perhaps we should start with the things you've been thinking about.' His sinfully sexy drawl fed the flames that were making her dizzy with desire.

  'I just wondered what you tasted like.'

  'And?'

  The corners of her mouth lifted as she recalled the salty tang of his skin. 'Nice.'

  'I like the taste part too.' Her mind was immediately invaded by a series of steamy, hair-curling pictures to match his provocative words. 'Only I think it might be an idea to start with the kissing stage and progress...'

  Kissing was all right—kissing was good, and at least she wasn't a total novice in the kissing stakes. I'm in your hands.'

  Her wicked little smile knocked him for six yet again. He kissed the smile off her lips. He drove every thought and preconceived idea out of her head with a bewilder­ing alternation between greedy, driving hunger and play­ful, soft torment.

  'Oh, I love your mouth,' she breathed fervently, when she was able to breathe once more. She tensed slightly as she realised his fingers were skilfully slipping the loops that held the bodice of her nightshirt together.

  His mouth nuzzled the slender column of her neck before he reached eye-level. 'What's wrong?'

  'I'm not very—I'm too thin.'

  'Who said so?' he asked with tolerant amusement.

  'You,' she reminded him bluntly.

  'What a time to start taking any notice of what I say. I want to see your body. I want to feel it against me. I want to taste it. I want to see if that blush of yours goes all over. I've given the subject a lot of thought just lately.'

  'You have?'

  He nodded firmly. 'Take it off for me,' he instructed huskily, unable to resist the opportunity to fulfil part of a recurrent dream he'd had—a dream that went back further than the last week.

  On her knees now, Hannah pulled the nightshirt over her head and let it slip silently to the floor. Half of her wanted to look away, but the other half knew she'd see his real reaction in that split second. She was right—in that split second his face was naked and strangely def­enceless. The intensity of the passion in his eyes had an odd, unfocused blindness. Under her amazed eyes she saw him fight and overcome the strong passions that drove him.

  She could now believe and wonder at his hoarse, 'My God, you're so lovely.' And when he said, 'Come here,' she did so willingly. Physically the distance was small, but emotionally it was a leap of faith.

  His back was propped up against the bed-head, and she was kneeling, straddling him. His hands glided smoothly over the graceful line of her spine, curving possessively over the firm contours of her bottom. Raising his knee slightly, he touched the sensitive, ach­ing apex between her legs and drew a low moan from her dry throat.

  His eyes never strayed from her flushed, aroused face as he changed the angle of the raised leg and sent her sliding downwards until the damp, tangled patch be­tween her thighs was forced against his hip and her breasts were flattened against his chest. The silk boxers he wore were darkened where the dampness of his skin made them cling to his body, and they could barely con­tain the evidence of his growing desire.

  Whilst his lips tugged and sucked at hers, his capable hands slid under her knees, and suddenly she was sitting astride him with her flexed legs pressed up and along either side of his body. He ran his hands down the back of her thighs and used the space between them to ma­noeuvre himself close enough to claim the twin pleasures of her aching breasts.

  All thoughts of inadequacy vanished from her head as he teased the ruched peaks. She felt womanly and irre­sistible as
his teeth and tongue made her breasts tingle and burn.

  'When you touch me here,' she said shyly, bringing one finger up to indicate one erect nipple, 'I can feel it here.' She moved her hand to indicate her lower belly, where the muscle spasms clenched her womb in a series of deeply pleasurable contortions. Was this what it was like to be a woman? she wondered with awe. 'I wish I'd known,' she said, turning her sleepily sexy stare on him.

  Her actions seemed to stir him to action—surging, vi­olent action. Suddenly she was flat on her back and he was over her. She could see the gleam of sweat glisten­ing on the muscle-packed contours of his shoulders and chest.

  With one finger he drew a line from the pulse spot in the hollow at the base of her throat, between the valley of her breasts, over her flat belly.

  'Here?' he asked hoarsely. 'And here?' He slipped his fingers between her legs and sucked in air noisily as she gasped, her body bucking. The slick heat that greeted his touch made a red haze dance before his eyes. He wanted to plunge into the heat and warmth of her wel­coming body. His jaw clenched as he fought for control.

  'That's for me?'

  'Always,' she agreed fervently, her back arching as he came over her. She tensed her body, half expecting to feel the thrust of him within her. The tantalising brush of his silky hardness against her soft belly made her cry out in exquisite frustration. She couldn't bear this any more; she needed him—she needed all of him!

  This had to be special, careful; he had to stay in con­trol. She was so delicate and small, yet the supple strength in her body was a revelation to him. To resist the impatient, erotic undulations of the body beneath him took every ounce of his will-power.

  When his lips moved over the silky inner aspect of her parted thighs it was only his hands anchoring her hips that stopped her twisting away from him.

  'Ethan, please!' she begged, unable to articulate the elemental needs his erotic caresses were building up. He ignored her soft cries and continued the relentless tor­ment of her senses. The heat pooling in her lower body spread to her limbs, which felt so heavy she didn't think she could move them from the bed.

  When he eventually pulled himself up the bed until they lay shoulder to shoulder she was half panting, half sobbing. His own features were taut and strained; his cheekbones seemed to be jutting sharply through the tightly stretched skin and beads of sweat stood out across his brow.

  'I needed to taste you.' Apology, confession, chal­lenge, it was all three.

  Sensing he needed reassurance, she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. 'I just need you—right now!' she added, her voice low and urgent.

  Her back instinctively arched as she rose to meet the thrust of his body. Eyes tight closed, she waited, and when he did move she gave a shuddering sigh of relief as, by slow, sensual inches, he let her absorb all of him.

  'Perfect, perfect, perfect,' she said as she pressed her open mouth against the damp skin of his corded neck. Her fingers kneaded the flesh of his shoulders as her body twisted experimentally.

  "The rhythm was slow, slick and smooth; it fed the fire inside along with the frustration. Her hoarse, urgent appeals had a rather dramatic affect. One second he was careful, measured co-ordination and the next he was rampant, elemental urgency.

  'You waited for me,' she said, some time later.

  Ethan stroked her damp hair as she lay curled up, her face nestled on his chest. 'You noticed.'

  'It wasn't the sort of thing a person misses,' she said with a sleepy yawn. 'You know, I've never woken up with someone in the morning. I wonder what it's like?' she mused.

  'I'd imagine it rather depends on who you went to sleep with the night before,' he responded drily. 'Are you glad about this, Hannah?' His stroking hand hovered above her head as he waited tensely for her reply. The silence stretched, punctuated by the soft sound of her regular breathing. 'Are you asleep, Hannah?' he said sharply.

  'I think so,' came the distinct response.

  Ethan began to laugh softly.

  'What's wrong?' She half raised her head but he pushed her back down.

  'Nothing. Go to sleep,' he urged.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  'ISN'T this cosy?' Faith Kemp spooned some more sugar into her tea and looked around the table with warm ap­proval.

  Ethan, too experienced in his mother's brand of dry humour to be misled by the artless innocence of her comment, frowned.

  '"Cosy" isn't a term I'd have thought appropriate for this room, Mother.'

  A small frown pleated Hannah's smooth brow at his words; they carried a definite hint of wry criticism. Mrs Turner, on finding they had guests, had moved breakfast to the formal dining room. It was a charming room, and, with the French windows flung open onto the south-facing lawn, a person would have been hard-pressed to find a more elegant spot in which to dine, but Ethan was right: cosy it was not.

  'I see your influence hasn't extended this far, Hannah,' Faith agreed. Her eyes went to the vases crammed with wallflowers on either end of the mantel­piece and she regarded her daughter-in-law with a shrewd expression that reminded Hannah uncomfortably of her son.

  'You can't improve on perfection,' Hannah said qui­etly. And I can't compete with it or Catherine.

  There was no doubt that Catherine had had perfect taste. Perfect taste, perfect body, perfect husband, and she, Hannah, was a visitor. It was a feeling she couldn't get rid of—she was a visitor in her own home. 'Is that why you haven't changed the decor? I was wondering—it was the first thing Catherine did when she ousted me.' Faith smiled at Drew and patted his hand familiarly. Hannah could see Ethan's knuckles grow white as he lifted his coffee cup. 'Personally I've never seen what's so tasteful about employing someone else to decide how your home should look. I always had a more hands-on approach myself. Could you be an angel, Drew, and pass me some of that honey?'

  'You chose to go,' Ethan reminded her stiffly. 'And Hannah knows perfectly well she can do anything she wants to the house.'

  From the expression on her face I'd say she might have felt more comfortable if you had told her that, Ethan.'

  Hannah didn't have time to alter her expression before Ethan switched his attention to her. She breathed a sigh of relief when Emma's voice diverted him.

  'Will you take me to Louise's party today, Daddy?'

  "That might be managed.'

  'Louise has a nice house,' she mused, playing with a plastic cartoon figure she'd extracted messily from the bottom of a cereal packet. 'It's not as big as ours. Is that why her mummy and daddy sleep in the same bed?'

  "The stunned silence seemed to go on for ever.

  Every one's a gem! Hannah swallowed a bubble of pure hysteria. She couldn't look at anyone, least of all Ethan. I’ll just go and bath Tom,' she babbled, unstrap­ping the toddler from his high chair.

  As she whisked him out of the room she heard Faith say with great panache, 'I'm sure Louise's daddy doesn't snore like yours does, Emma. Tell me, are grannies in­vited to this party of yours?'

  Today, for the first time, Emma's words hadn't been strictly true. The timing was ironic—the very morning after the night before! If only the childish curiosity had voiced itself when they'd been alone, or at least not in front of what had felt like half the county. Drew already thought they had a very weird relationship. Hannah gave a sudden laugh—they did have a very weird relation­ship!

  Hannah sighed and trailed her fingers in the bubbly water of Tom's bath and smiled at his grave expression as he experimented with eating the bubbles.

  'I could always have asked you to be my witness, couldn't I, champ?' she said, rubbing a sponge down Tom's back. After all, Tom had been in a perfect posi­tion to verify her sleeping arrangements when he'd slipped between their sleeping bodies that morning. He'd been surprised, but not displeased to find his father oc­cupying the bed.

  Ethan had glanced at the clock and groaned as he'd awoken with a toddler on his chest. 'Does he do this often?' he enquired, having coaxed his s
on under the blankets.

  'Most mornings.'

  'Good God!' Tom, unable to stay still for more than thirty seconds, bouncing on the bottom of the bed. 'We'll have to do something about this young man's body clock. This wasn't the way I'd intended starting the day.'

  The quick glance from his eyes didn't speak of two-mile runs or aerobics. It spoke of things much more in­timate and leisurely. Her skin began to tingle as heat surged through her body. For once they seemed to be on the same wavelength. Since she'd woken an hour or so earlier her imagination had been running rampant.

  Even with her eyes tightly closed she'd been able to feel the heat from his body, even though he'd shifted to the opposite side of the bed. The muscles of her belly had gone into spasm as she'd breathed in the musky, masculine scent of his skin.