‘Because our deal is done,’ he growled, unable to keep the leash on his feelings he’d been so proud of only moments ago.
‘What do you mean? We aren’t married, the company—’
‘The company is a family matter and you are not family.’
He could see that his words had struck home and hard, exactly as intended, but it didn’t make the slash of guilt slicing into his heart any easier to bear. But bear it he would, because he was going to have earned it by the end of this night.
‘So they’re just going to change their minds?’ she asked, suspicion shining up from the dark depths of her brown eyes.
‘I’m done with being manipulated from beyond the grave by my own ancestors. Aren’t you?’
‘I don’t have much choice,’ Skye said, this time something unreadable passing across her gaze. He ignored it, he had to focus. ‘I—’
‘You have what you need. You have the map, so you can go.’
‘What if I want to stay? You might not be ready to hear it, but will yo
u let me show you?’ she asked. He knew what she wanted—wanted it himself—but he couldn’t let her touch him. He knew that if she did that he’d be lost. And he’d already lost too damn much.
‘I said that this part of our relationship was at an end.’
‘I know what you said, and I understand why you said it.’ Sympathy and desire warring in her eyes. ‘You were right when you accused me of running away, but not about the reason why,’ she said, standing up and stepping towards him. ‘And I think that you are also hiding from the very same thing, trying to control it, by denying this.’
She pressed a kiss against his lips—lips he refused to move, no matter how every single cell in his body rioted with the need to take her in his arms.
‘Because this is terrifying,’ she said, pressing yet another kiss against his lips, her hand coming up to claim his clean-shaven jaw. ‘Because it makes us both feel out of control,’ she stated, pressing her chest against his, firing need and desire deep within him. He feared that the internal tremors shaking him would be seen, the fierce battle between his desire for her and his need to reject what Skye was saying, reject what she was feeling, raging in his chest.
The softness of her lips met the firm, immovable line of his own. ‘But, with you, I find that I like it. I want it. And I want you. Because I...’
And then it was too much. He had to stop her before she said it again, before she could claim him as hers, as she had done at the dinner. Because he didn’t think he could survive it. He didn’t think he’d be able to let her go.
His lips opened to hers, cutting her off mid-sentence and, as if he’d opened the floodgates, she poured into him, his mouth, his lungs, his veins, all he could sense was her. It blocked out all thought, all of the chaos in an instant; all he knew was her touch, her scent...her.
His hand flew to the back of her neck, cradling her head at an angle where he could feast upon her. His fingers tightened in the silken strands of her hair as she moaned her desire into his mouth. Her hands went to his chest, pulling, pushing, grasping him to her as he was pulling her to him. Every thrust of her tongue met the demands of his, as if suddenly all the power they both contained was coming together in a clash of thunder and lightning.
It wasn’t enough. This kiss, this raw, feral thing within him, wasn’t easing, wasn’t satiated; it demanded more—he needed more. But more was absolutely impossible. He would ruin them both.
He broke the kiss and turned away, but not before he’d seen the shock and hurt across her painfully expressive eyes. It was something he would never forget for the rest of his life.
‘Repeating past mistakes, Skye? Making a gift of yourself? Thanking me for the map?’
She reared back as if she had been slapped. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t do that.’
But he couldn’t stop. The words were like ash on his tongue, the pain in her eyes burning his heart, but it was the only way he could make sure that he didn’t destroy her completely.
‘Then don’t belittle yourself by thinking that one night and one sexual awakening means you should beg to be with me.’
He watched her clench her jaw against the numerous terms of abuse she could throw at him, none more colourful or worse than what he was throwing at himself. But still she didn’t move. His gut twisted in a knot he thought would never come undone as he forced the words he knew would hurt the most to his lips.
‘It’s time for you to leave, Skye. I don’t need you any more.’
I don’t need you any more.
Three weeks, three days ago even, that would have scarred her, scraped at deep hurts that she’d hidden from herself for years. It would have devastated her, would definitely have her running for the hills, no doubt as Benoit intended.
Oh, it hurt. Very much. But not enough to make her leave. Because in the last few days he had opened a door within her. A door that should have been opened years ago. He had made her really look at herself. At what she wanted from life. Now and in the future. It wasn’t the dependence of her sisters, or approval from her father and his wife. It wasn’t the fairy-soft wistfulness of her mother’s acceptance either. But neither was it Benoit’s money, his Costa Rican holiday home or the vaguely intimidating wealth she saw here in France. It was what she saw in his eyes when he looked at her every time she embraced who she was a bit more. It was the encouragement, the pleasure she saw—knew—he got from her being even more of herself each and every day.
No one had ever cared for her like that before. And it was precisely that sense of empowerment that allowed her to see through the walls that Benoit had built up around his heart, causing her to say, ‘That’s a lie.’