“Cruel? It’s not me moving in with somebody and denying them sex.”
“I’m not saying never…”
“You are out of your depth, Lydia. If you love me, be my lover. If you don’t, go home.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair? When am I fair?”
It was a valid point. He stood up and stalked around the table, crouching over her shoulder, taking the fork from her hand, putting it down. She shut her eyes, weakened by his hot breath next to her ear.
“If you stay in this house, you stay in my bed,” he whispered. “Those are my terms.”
“The trustees,” she said, clutching at her bargaining chip, but feeling it slip from her fingers with each moment he stood close to her.
“You don’t want to tell them. I know you don’t. You don’t want to hurt me.”
He put his hand on her neck and she knew she’d lost the battle.
But the war could still be won—the larger struggle of getting Milan to stop drinking and start functioning as a human being again.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted. “And you know I still love you. But I don’t think it’s right…”
“I don’t think it’s right, I don’t think it’s right,” he mimicked, sliding his hands down her front, clasping them under her breasts, leaning right into her and kissing the side of her face. “What’s not right? The way I touch you?”
“No… You know what I mean…” She breathed more heavily, feeling herself cutting adrift from her common sense and resolve.
“What’s not right? Two people who love each other, giving each other pleasure?” His fingers curved under the hem of her top, brushing the soft skin of her stomach.
“Milan…”
“I’ll stop drinking for you. Come back to me. That’s all I want.”
&
nbsp; Her heart flipped and all her resistance dissolved.
“All right,” she said.
He pulled off her top and cupped her breasts, kissing her neck with ravishing skill.
More sex, less drink, thought Lydia hazily. It could be a good thing.
She let him help her out of the chair and move her, his hands on her shoulders, to the bedroom.
“I’ll play for you,” he promised, “but not until I’ve played with you first.”
He pushed her down on the bed on her back, kneeling astride her, kissing her hard while their jeans buttons clicked and snagged together at their waists.
Once again, Lydia had to ask herself how she had ever lived without this, when the feel of his lips on hers was the only thing she could ever want in the world. She surrendered to the moment, pushing her fingers eagerly into his hair. She detected the traces of alcohol behind the fresh toothpaste and salad dressing, but it was faint enough now not to taint his breath.
His bare chest pressed down on hers, and her nipples hardened and pushed into him. Mid-kiss, he took off her bra and dropped it off the side of the bed. They rolled over and over, pressing denim-clad crotches together until the jeans had to go. Unbuttoned and discarded in a fever, they lay on the floor while their owners enjoyed free-limbed, naked embraces under Milan’s ceiling mirror.
His erection pushed insistently at the soft skin of her inner thigh. She took his face in her hands and kissed it all over, amazed to be doing this when she had feared she might never get the chance again. Please don’t play games with my heart was her silent prayer. He flipped her onto her back and buried his mouth in her neck, nipping and sucking. His cock had reached her pussy now and it ground against the thin barrier of her knickers, his intent unmistakably clear.
She arched her back to push the knickers down and expose the truth she could no longer hide—her wetness, her heat, her readiness for him.
“You couldn’t live without this,” said Milan hotly in her ear. “You would have come back to me, sooner or later.”