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Chapter 60
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2022-01-08 15:56:34“Mr. Sancho,” I muttered. “I was just talking about you.” And I raised the phone that I still held in a white knuckled grip.
He just fucking kissed me.
Two years didn’t change him. He looked perhaps a little leaner, a little harder, the angles and planes of his incredible face perhaps more sharply defined. But basically, he was still the same.
But I am not the old Beatrice. I’ve moved on, and became wiser. I reminded myself.
He just kissed you. My brain keeps on saying this.
Preston is just standing in front of me waiting for his breathing to return to something approximating normal and watched me, fascinated to see denial this up close. Yeah, he may brand me as a denial queen. But I don’t mind, I’ll keep doing this is I want to.
I was just addressing my remarks to some point over his shoulder, and my attractive contralto voice had an audible edge of hysteria. Though, the open neck of my
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I wanted to slap his hand away. I wanted to tell him that I had no desire to know him. I wanted to tell him to stop looking at me like that. I never thought that his eyes could be this expressive, and it’s drowning me. “Stop looking—” As his mouth covered my own for a second time, my strength left my body in one whoosh. If his one hand had not curled like a supportive steel band around my ribcage, dragging my body up against his iron-hard thighs, I would have slid to the ground. His kisses always make me weak.&
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I turned my head. The woman standing there was tiny, barely an inch above five feet. The last time I had seen the petite brunette, the older woman had been wearing a ring; but today her hand was bare, but nothing else, it seemed, had changed. Roxanne Sancho was still the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Never a hair out of place, she looked like a porcelain ornament with big brown eyes, a rosebud mouth, and a delicate nose. She had this sort of delicate fragility that aroused the protective instinct in men. And she is Preston’s ex-wife. “I did call, but you were...” Roxanne raised her darkened brow and lifted her inquiring gaze to Preston as she teased “... occupied.&rdqu
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I was so angry with myself; I was a fool who fall for his trap again. I know he manipulated me to accept this ride—a two-year-old could have seen through his tactics—I maintained my tight-lipped, frigged silence until Preston had negotiated the congested traffic around the airport. “I think you owe me an apology.” “You do? For what exactly?” he said, and it seems I got his interest. “You kissed me,” I said, annoyingly. I could not say it without blushing. I just hoped he was too busy avoiding some suicidal cyclists to notice. Preston arched an eyebrow and flashed a quick wolfish
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I squashed the flash of sympathy I felt for him. It might explain why, but it did not begin to excuse the way he had used me. “It is in the cards, though uncertain as yet. You sound surprise to me?” “I am.” Not as surprised as I had been when I had learned that the couple who had seemed a perfect match on every level were breaking up. Until the moment that the divorce had been announced, I had expected a dramatic reconciliation, but the Sancho divorce, like the break-up. Had been low key and bizarrely amicable based on what they called a mutual decision. But had that mutual, civilized, still-good-friend
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A small silence was filled inside the car after her unemotional explanation as I considered a situation that I had been thinking about a lot of late. “So, if he fired you, he would lose that power?” I asked. Beatrice nodded, turning her head in my direction as she agreed with this analysis. “Exactly.” It wasn’t until my gaze flickered her way and she saw my expression then she realized what I was discussing and, more importantly, with whom! I looked away and focused only on the street. But, in the corner of my eyes, I see how her eyes shot saucer-wide as she gave me a dismayed croak. ‘Had sh
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I was drumming impatiently on the steering wheel, trying to suppress my anger. Beatrice noticed me. She keeps on glancing in my direction. The taut lines on my face are a clear sign that I wasn’t happy. The tension was waving at Beatrice, feeling it. “I hate driving in heavy traffic, too. You can’t wonder that road rage happens.” Her soft, contralto voice dragged me free of my dark reflections. I turned my head and felt something squeeze tight in my chest as I read the sympathy on her face and all my submerged protective instincts rose to the surface. “I do not feel rage towards the road.” Just every person who has ever hurt you. “But you still carry on work
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I lagged a little behind as I follow Preston into the building. We had crossed the foyer and entered an elevator before my preoccupied brain made a fairly obvious leap. “This is not a restaurant.” I blurted out. As I speak the glass door closed with a silent swish and the elevator rose silently. I am not fond of heights, so I didn’t take the opportunity to look down into the greenly filled atrium down below. “Smart and beautiful.” He murmured. I just rolled my eyeballs. I need to look away from him and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Am I really beautiful? I had a classic English-rose beauty
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I am not interested in him! My mind says, but my friend says differently. Jonathan arched a brow. “You have an interest in this guy, and you became judgmental, which isn’t like you.” “I’m not—” innately honest. I could not complete the sentence. “Well, Preston can be pretty judgmental himself.” And with an awful lot less cause! I recalled his lecture on the last occasion we had met, despite the fact that I had been the victim of an unwanted pass and he had treated me like some sort of tart. “Really? That sounds interesting.” “well, it wasn’t,”
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I squashed the flash of sympathy I felt for him. It might explain why, but it did not begin to excuse the way he had used me. “It is in the cards, though uncertain as yet. You sound surprise to me?” “I am.” Not as surprised as I had been when I had learned that the couple who had seemed a perfect match on every level were breaking up. Until the moment that the divorce had been announced, I had expected a dramatic reconciliation, but the Sancho divorce, like the break-up. Had been low key and bizarrely amicable based on what they called a mutual decision. But had that mutual, civilized, still-good-friend
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Preston’s I am not following this instinct that had taken an enormous chunk of my willpower, but the effort had faded into irrelevance beside the will power I had needed to tap into just to stop myself from taking Beatrice in my arms to comfort her. Just the sight of her standing there, white-faced and shaking, looking so vulnerable and fragile, had awoken every protective instinct I had and some new ones. While she had struggled not to cry, I had struggled to keep my distance. I hadn’t allowed myself to even touch her. I just couldn’t. if I had known it wouldn’t have stopped at comforting her. I
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My brows lifted. “What are you talking about now? Cheated…?” I asked irritably. “You are not making any sense.” Her face scrunched in an effort to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She lifted her chin and blinked hard. “Well, so sorry,” she drawled, “if I’ve lost my edge of clinical objectively, but I’ve never been in this situation before.” “And you think I have?” “Yes, I get it. You don’t need to spell it out.” She had been slow, but the penny had finally dropped. She knew why I was acting this way. “You th
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“Was I drunk?” My simmering hostility in my manner as much as abrupt question made Beatrice blink numerous times. “What?” My eyes flashed. “Was I forcing myself on you? Por Dios, no, I was not!” “But, I never—” “So, at what point did I become a bad guy?” I demanded, cutting across her. “I never—” “The fact is, you were lucky enough that I was there, but you are too stubborn to admit it! You ar
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But having it spelled out to me by Brian was a different matter. “I will never tie my hair back again,” I declared, striving for ironic mockery and delivering instead something a lot closer to frenzied panic, possibly because of the husky addition of, “because I live to please you,” and that statement was uncomfortably close to the truth. “Are you going to tell me now what I’ve done to upset you?” The quiet words sent a fresh flash of anger through me. “Let me think…” I said, adopting a mystified expression as I pressed a finger to the suggestion of a cleft in my firm, rounded chin. “Could it be something to do with the fact I don’t much like being used? How do you think would I feel having my br
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Preston’s I had just filled the second champagne flute and was preparing to carry them into the bathroom with me when I heard the door open. I turned, glasses in hand, as Beatrice walked into the room, phone pressed to her ear. I noticed that she was not smiling. A man did not have to be particularly intuitive to see that Beatrice was not happy. I wondered what had occurred in the few minutes that we had been apart to account for her change of mood, but only in passing—my attention was focused on admiring how sinfully sexy she looked in a pink bra and a minuscule pair of matching silk sorts trimmed with lace. My throat was dry, my body hardened in lustful appreciation. I watched her advance. Each angry step makes her breast jiggle gently u
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If this is just a dream, I am going to stay dreaming. “I am quite hungry,” I admitted. A sweet smile plastered on my face. “I love watching you eat,” he said when I was allowing myself to be tempted by another piece of cheese. “You do it with such…relish.” “You mean I am greedy.” “So am I every time I look at you.” “I feel so guilty.” I saw the flash of annoyance cross his face and added quickly, “Not about the food or the sex, but it’s a weekday and I haven’t done a scrap of work. It&r
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My brows lifted. “What are you talking about now? Cheated…?” I asked irritably. “You are not making any sense.” Her face scrunched in an effort to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She lifted her chin and blinked hard. “Well, so sorry,” she drawled, “if I’ve lost my edge of clinical objectively, but I’ve never been in this situation before.” “And you think I have?” “Yes, I get it. You don’t need to spell it out.” She had been slow, but the penny had finally dropped. She knew why I was acting this way. “You th
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His stare make me shiver and then I cried out loud when without a warning he pressed his face against my breast, my back arched as his tongue began to whip slowly across the peaks of my breasts, that still painfully sensitive from our recent intense lovemaking. When he loosed my hands to cup one quivering peak I tangled my fingers in his dark hair, pushing through the ebony strands still damp from our recent exertions to cradle his skull and hold him against me. My hands stayed in his hair when he lifted his head and grinned down at me. "Also there is no point trying to hide from me in a bed this small." The bed was vast but I let it pass. "I wasn't trying to hide," I protested. He arched an ironic brow, making my eyes slide guilty from his. "I was cold." "Cold?" Preston laid his hand possessively on the soft feminine curve
