No. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear to be with her and then watch her slipping from him inch by inch over however long a torturous time.
It was better to end it now. He had to end it now. Despite the agony already ripping inside him.
Families always tore apart. Vows weren’t strong enough—they were only words that could be said and then denied or withdrawn.
Going deeper than a casual affair had never been part of his life plan. He’d never wanted children, never wanted to drag any more innocents through the mess he’d been through—and like the hundreds of faceless names that littered his files day in, day out in this office. And yet, knowing how close he’d come, he now felt a prickle of loss.
He turned away from it. Looked at his father and sighed. There was some responsibility he would always bear. ‘I’ll talk to Mum.’
He didn’t know what help he’d be. He’d never been any use—not when he’d listened to her crying in her room at night, as month after month she’d been disappointed. New husband—still no luck. Always she’d wanted more—another child and another if she could. No matter how hard Seb tried he couldn’t make her happy. He couldn’t fail Ana too. He refused.
He drove home, feeling as if flu symptoms were coming—headachy, heavy limbed. Reluctant. But he had to do it—free her so she could find some else, someone who would fulfil her. Because he couldn’t carry the burden of her happiness—not hers or anyone else’s—he knew he wasn’t up to the job. That was why he only ever went with short term. Kept them smiling for a few weeks of fun and then flew far away.
He only made it halfway to the kitchen when he saw her. He lurched to a stop. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘I told you I’d find a pair that would make me taller.’
All he could do was stare.
She walked up to him. Five-inch heels with a definite hint of the dominatrix about them. They took her height to his, yeah, maybe even a smidge taller. Her legs were incredible. And then he looked straight ahead. Straight into her eyes. And that was the moment the good intentions evaporated.
Because such beauty shone back at him. Such strength. Meeting him eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. And the confidence, the challenge was irresistible.
He moved fast. Arms encircling, pulling tighter. And anger rose too. At the mistakes he’d made, the misunderstandings, the frustration of the last year and the hopelessness of his future. But, damn it, he would be with her one more time.
He half lifted her the two steps it took to pin her back against the wall. He leaned in, loving the extra height the shoes gave her, because he could press his aching hard-on right against her pelvis.
‘What are you doing?’ She sounded angry.
‘I’m doing what you and I both want. What we’ve always wanted.’
Her eyes closed. ‘I don’t want to want this.’
‘But you do.’ He undid his trousers and lifted her skirt in record time.
But then he stopped. Ignored the burning in the pit of his stomach—the instinct screaming at him to just plunge and pump, fast and wild. And he ignored the plea in her now wide-open eyes—begging for the same.
Yes, that was what she wanted, didn’t she? Fast, furious, all-physical sex. The quick release and then the escape.
No more.
For while he had to have her this once more, it was going to be the last time. And, as it had been this morning, it would be a slow torment. He pinned her body with his, held her head in his hands so he could look deep into her soul again as inch by inch he surged into her—nearly losing it completely when he heard her sigh and felt her convulse around him. But he withdrew and then repeated the action—slower, harder, slower. Again and then again. And it drove him insane with bliss. Her cries in his ears, her lips begging beneath his, her body contracting—holding him in its hot, sweet home.
Long, long minutes later he pressed his hands to his forehead and faced facts. It wasn’t going to be once more, but one night more. He couldn’t resist. He swept her up into his arms and took her to his bed—unable to let her go. Not yet.
This time when he lifted her Ana appreciated his strength, appreciated the moment of feeling like some petite slip of femininity. Her body lax, she melted into him, letting him take her weight—frighteningly easily—and let him take her to his bed.
It shouldn’t have happened. Shouldn’t be happening again now. She’d meant to talk—to demand the divorce, to walk out. But he’d moved so fast. And always, as always, that need in her had risen.
She sat up when he placed her gently on the bed. ‘Seb—’