Page 42 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Because something about being in his home, with that huge Christmas tree here, had made the bad memories all the more acute.

‘Oh, yeah.’ His gaze raked down her body, which suddenly felt naked despite the heavy robe.

It’s just sex.

The words echoed again, from that night, when she’d been scared... But not of him, she could see that now. What she had always been scared of was herself. And how much he could make her feel.

But what was she so terrified of? That this could mean more to her than it should? But why should it? When he had such a casual approach to physical intimacy? If it could be just sex for him, why couldn’t it be for her?

Maybe he was right, maybe this would be a good way to make their relationship less stressful, not more so. There was no shame in sleeping with her own husband. And enjoying it. Their union was legal, even if not strictly speaking authentic.

‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me,’ she explained, even as the riot of sensations was incinerating her self-control.

‘Tsk-tsk,’ he chastised her. ‘Not very queenly of you to take a dip in your panties.’

She released her arms from around her waist, allowing the robe to fall open again, aware of his gaze gliding over her exposed skin.

She gathered every ounce of courage she had to flirt back. ‘I thought you said you liked my swimwear.’

His gaze sharpened, even as the heat flared between them like a physical force, triggering an endorphin rush that felt as powerful as it was terrifying.

‘Maybe take off the robe, Belle,’ he mused. ‘So I can review it properly.’

Exhilaration combined with panic as she peeled off the robe. It slid down her body to drop onto the warm stone flooring.

Her nipples were so hard they hurt, her breasts swollen and heavy, and the throbbing in her sex catastrophic.

‘Come here,’ he said, the rough command freeing her from the last of her inhibitions.

Stepping out of the slippers, she walked across the room barefoot. But as she reached him, he took his hands off the sofa, and stumbled.

‘Damn it.’ He bent to grip his leg.

‘Travis, what’s wrong?’

But as she came round the sofa, she could see the bruised, swollen flesh around his knee. And gasped.

He braced his hand back on the sofa. ‘I just need some ice. It’s nothing.’

It didn’t look like nothing. But she stopped herself from saying as much because she could see the closed expression. Was he embarrassed at having shown a weakness in front of her?

‘Let me get it.’ All thoughts of seduction fled as she raced to the kitchen in her wet underwear.

By the time she had figured out how to work the refrigerator’s ice machine and filled a freezer bag then wrapped it in a cloth, he had settled himself on the sofa and placed his leg on a leather footrest.

She perched next to him and placed the ice bag gently on the sore knee.

He flinched. ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the bag and holding it on his knee.

‘How did you do this?’ she asked, horrified she had been thinking about sexual gratification while he must have been in agony. ‘Did you fall? You should have told me you had injured yourself. I would never have—’

‘It’s okay, Belle,’ he cut into the panic babble. ‘I’m not gonna die from a swollen cruciate ligament... It’s an old injury. The painkillers will kick in soon.’

So the swelling was a legacy of the accident that had destroyed his snowboarding career. Sympathy for him and the injury that had robbed him of so much engulfed her. But before she could offer him her condolences, he brushed the swollen peak pressing against the lace of her bra with his thumb.

She jolted, the dart of pleasure from the light touch immense.

‘The sexual frustration, on the other hand...’ he murmured, the erotic pull in his voice delving deep into her sex. As he played with her, skimming his thumb under her breast, and making her breathing accelerate, a sensual smile spread across his face. ‘Could definitely kill me.’

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