No. He was over her. She no longer haunted his nights. He’d miscalculated how much he’d miss her. The first year of their separation, he’d had to fight every primal instinct not to go after her and drag her home. He knew if he waited, she’d come home. He just hadn’t realized how long he’d have to wait.
And worse, she had not come home for him, but for his money.
Abby had completely deceived him. He’d thought her naïveté would make her easy to manage. He’d quickly learned that Abby had more backbone than any woman he’d ever met. Her readiness to challenge him seemed to add to her allure. Now, again, here she was asserting her wishes, taking command…
Abby licked her lips. “I don’t owe you anything. And, aswe’re divorcing, I’m the last woman you should have a child with. Besides, I don’t care what you do in your personal life.”
She lied. Her arms were folded across her stomach as if she were warding off a blow.
“You care. You know I could always read your body as well as a blind man reads braille.”
Abby shook her head, the emphatic movement flinging her thick blond hair over one shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. “Can you read what I’m thinking now?”
He searched Abby’s drawn face, recognizing the marks of strain in the bluish shadows beneath her eyes and the set of her delicate jaw. She had the strength of fine bone china, and the fragility.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking.” He tilted his head and tapped his chin with a finger. After a theatrical pause he spoke deliberately. “You wish you’d waited until the morning to meet with me. You’re angry with yourself for still wanting me, and you’re wondering whether one kiss from my lips can still make you come.”
He felt rather than saw her body tremble across the room, and heard her soft gasp.
“Of all the arrogant, conceited…”
“Most of all, you’re remembering the first night you were in this room, how you let me seduce you, how I made love to you into the small hours of the morning.”
The hazel of her eyes glittered almost golden as he watched her fight tears. He tried to keep his heart unresponsive, but the beauty of her pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, and above all her stricken look of profound loss assailed his protective barrier.
“You want a favor from me. I want a favor—or two—from you. I’d call it a mutually beneficial business proposition. I know you need money and I’m happy to help. For a price. You are my wife, this is where you belong.” A traitorous pulse flickered fast just below her collarbone, calling attention to thedelicate skin of her throat. His body shuddered into life, with total recall of the addictive taste of her skin.
She quivered as his eyes roamed her small frame. Every detail screamed at him—the dark of her dilated pupils, the flush on her cheeks, the moist pink of her parted lips. She wanted him and though she shook with the effort, she couldn’t hide the giveaway signals. Cursing inwardly, he felt his body respond to the recalled pleasure of their days and nights of intimacy.
“But I’m not yours. Not anymore.”
“Legally you are still mine!”
“I am not a possession, Dante. As I said four years ago, I’m a flesh-and-blood woman with feelings and desires.”
“Come here.” He patted the couch beside him. “I’ll satisfy those feelings and desires.”
“Stop it. I’m not nineteen anymore.”
Dante rose from the couch. “A challenge. I always rise to a challenge.” He took a step toward her. “Shall we put your words to the test?”
She held her ground. A flicker of unease passed over his skin—this was not the malleable girl he had married.
“Over the last few years, I’ve had plenty of practice at fending off unwanted attention.” Her smile held a dangerous glint. “And plenty of practice at accepting.”
His fists clenched at his sides and he felt his jaw tighten until he feared his teeth would break. She had changed. His Abby would never have knowingly hurt anyone, least of all him. The thought of her with another man made his stomach clench.
“How many?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.
Her smile died on her lips. “How many what?”
In two strides he reached her, pulling her hard against him. She struggled a little, then froze helplessly. “How many have you slept with?” He knew he had no rightto ask. He was gripping her arms too tightly, but the savage jealousy swept him beyond reason or control.
She did not struggle in his grip, but raised her hand to his chest, covering his pounding heart. He saw his answer in her eyes and almost sagged in relief. She’d slept with no other man. He couldn’t help his response. He took her lips in a kiss meant to make her remember everything that had been good between them.
At the first touch, she held herself stiff and unyielding. Then on a sigh she softened and melted into his arms. Her lips parted, and as he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, she gave a moan of ecstatic surrender. This was how he remembered her—hot, soft, vibrant, and welcoming. His to taste, to take, and to pleasure.
He pulled her closer, reveling in the scent that was uniquely hers. Her mouth tasted of memories, delicious and intoxicating. Her tongue dueled with his, not willing to let him have everything his way. How he’d missed her.
