Page 93 of The Betrothal

My laugh was hollow. “You sound exactly like Seb.”

“Ahhh,” she sighed. “I see… Well, if he can’t convince you then I never will. That man is impossible to say no to, I don’t know how you’ve brushed him off.”

A truer smile pulled at my mouth.

“It doesn’t mean you’re not wrong though,” she concluded.

She wasn’t mistaken. “You’re exactly the fucking same as him.”

She snorted, lifting her hips to press gently against my ever-present erection, at least when she was around. The blue-balls I’d picked up over the last few weeks had me insatiable, if once turned into ten times, I’d still be hard for her again instantly.

“So, you get this way for Seb too then? If we are so similar?” Her legs locked around my back and she rubbed herself against me.

“He wishes, but I draw the line at fucking my brother’s boyfriend.” I laid a kiss over her heart.

“But apparently not his extremely temporary girlfriend?” She made light of the situation.

It didn’t sit well but I wouldn’t argue with her, not when we were so peaceful.

“Who said I was going to fuck you?” I growled against her skin and she laughed again, but it wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t going to fuck her, not here, not like this, not without her choosing it in the light of day, or the clarity of the cottage.

So, I simply teased her legs free and growled at her, keeping my blue-balls for a little while longer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ISABELLE

Iwoke up wrapped in Alex’s embrace. His body was huge, warm and heavy. It grounded me.

Instead of feeling crushed or claustrophobic, I felt safe.

The sun was glowing around the curtains, the time to leave was already here but it was taking a while to bring myself to move him.

Ultimately, the need to be back at the cottage was too great to ignore.

“Alex,” I whispered.

He didn’t move.

“Alex.” I shook him and he groaned.

“A few more minutes,” he mumbled into my chest.

“Nope, up. Now.” I bucked my body and his weight shifted off me.

Rising to stand I threw back the covers and flung open the heavy curtains. The glowing morning sunlight streamed in and Alex rolled over murmuring unhappily.

“Good, you’re up.” I dragged the covers away from his mostly naked body and paused to take him in. Thick rippling muscles covered every inch of him, tanned skin and dark hair dusted along his legs. The way his hands held the pillow over his head made his shoulders flex, biceps too.

“Move!” I called out. As much to jolt him as me.

Snatching my handful of clothes and stalking from the room and through the house, I stuffed my feet into my boots, grabbing bowls for breakfast and making the hastiest of coffees.

Both were thrust into his hands the second he entered the room. Within minutes I was snatching the now empty dishes from him and running them under the taps, drying them and stacking them back in the single cupboard of cooking and plate-ware.

I’d already packed the rest away, it had only been two nights and we’d all but run out of actual food, but anything else that was lying around which didn’t seem at home in the sparse kitchen was shoved – unceremoniously – into the cool bag, which I slung over my shoulder as I marched through the house.

It really was a beautiful property. The restoration work Alex was undertaking evident in the new panels and stripped floors. I’d noticed the new wiring and hidden sockets peppered around the few rooms we had used, even though I had nothing to charge. Every single detail was considered and neatly executed.