Wife by Agreement

Hannah, who was feeling equally frustrated, tugged the chain on the bath plug with unwanted viciousness. 'What do you expect when you marry the nanny?'

Ethan didn't look too happy at being reminded about this. 'You're not the nanny now—don't you ever have any free time?'

'Nannies have free time, Ethan; I'm the wife. We don't have a nanny,' She wrapped a fleecy towel around Tom, who, giggling, ran into the nursery.

'My wife.' The words emerged with a proprietorial vigour that stopped him short. Dear God, if he went on like this he'd be acting as if he was jealous of his own son. The idea of such pitiable behaviour made his nostrils flare in distaste.

Hannah saw his expression and immediately misinterpreted it.

'A fact that seems to make you ecstatic,' she flashed sarcastically. There was a real danger here that she would forget the simple fact of the situation. Ethan didn't love her.

'Last night...' he began.

'Oh, last night,' she said bitterly. 'I might be flavour of the month right now, but how long is that likely to last?' She voiced the fear mat lurked uppermost in her mind.

'I can see you have high expectations.'

'Realistic expectations,' she returned, folding a discarded towel. She began to rise, but Ethan's fingers closed around her upper arm to prevent her.

'You expect boredom to set in?' he suggested, his jaw clenched in a fixed, humourless smile.

Hannah refused to meet his eyes. Of course he was going to get bored with her—it hurt, but she had to face facts and be practical. 'It's possible,' she muttered morosely.

'I think you'll find my imagination is up to the task of holding your attention for the foreseeable future,' he predicted arrogantly.

She let out a tiny startled shriek as she found herself suddenly flat on her back with Ethan kneeling over her. He thinks I'm saying I'm likely to be bored with him!

In a less tense situation this might have made her laugh, but laughter wasn't really appropriate.

As his arms slowly slid further away from her head his body dropped lower—so low that his chest almost touched the upthrust of her breasts, which rose in harmony with her erratic breaths.

'What are you doing, Ethan?' The sensual lethargy that was insidiously robbing her limbs of power had reduced her voice to a throaty whisper.

'Your comments seem to imply you have a low boredom threshold. I'm just trying my humble best to vary my technique.' His features were taut with barely repressed emotion.

"There's no need to take it personally,' she murmured, as he applied his mouth to the extended length of her throat. Her damp flesh where his tongue had touched burned and tingled. A reckless light blazed in the depths of his eyes and, hypnotised by the glow, Hannah couldn't look away. How had she missed the lethal, insolent sensuality in this man she'd married?

"Then I'm sure you won't take this personally, will you?' he drawled, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. 'Or this?' This time he caught her chin. 'As for this...'

As his teeth nipped her full lips Hannah's mouth opened, and he took immediate advantage of the fact, plunging deeper into the warm, moist sweetness within. All Hannah was conscious of in that moment was the skilful thrust of his tongue and the hard pressure of his lips; nothing else existed. Her fingers sank into the lush thickness of his dark hair and she moaned softly as her body stirred restlessly.

'I can vary it, and I do detached and objective as well as impersonal.'

Hannah blinked, unable quite to bring his face into focus. 'No, thank you. I think you've proved your point. Will you let me up? I have to go to Tom.'

She felt somewhat ambivalent when he immediately rolled away from her and stretched out beside her on the floor. 'I know, but do you want to?'

With trembling fingers, Hannah refastened the two top buttons of her shirt. 'I want...' she said, sitting up and looking down at his prone body. 'I want to...' Tongue caught between her teeth, she placed her palm flat on his chest. 'I want to carry on kissing you.'

What reckless, self-destructive impulse had induced her to say anything so stupid? She didn't wait around to see what Ethan made of this confession—she scrambled hurriedly to her feet and fled into the nursery.

When, a few minutes later, Ethan followed her, he just stood silently watching her dress the squirming youngster.

'Aren't you neglecting your guests?' she asked, when his silent presence had stretched her nerves to breaking-point.

'I didn't invite them,' he reminded her caustically.

"That's no excuse for bad manners,' she snapped, as he dropped in her lap a sock Tom had flung across the room.

'Not trying to get rid of me, are you?'

'Whatever gave you that idea?'

She gave a sigh of relief and buried her head in Tom's hair when Ethan decided quite unexpectedly to leave. What had she started? she wondered with apprehension. And, more importantly, where was it going to lead?