Page 16 of The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

Joe’s hands framed her face, his breathing almost as hectic as hers. After long breathless moments he lifted his mouth off hers, gazing down at her for an infinitesimal pause before sealing her lips once more with a softly muttered curse, as if he too hated himself for his weakness where she was concerned.

One of his hands left her face and went to the small of her back, pressing her closer to the tantalising ridge of his male flesh. His other hand went to the nape of her neck, his long fingers splayed into the tingling roots of her hair. Shivers coursed up and down her back, her inner core hosting a welcome party, darts of pleasure shooting between her legs.

Joe lifted his mouth off hers and placed his hands on her hips, stepping back from her a fraction. ‘I think it might be time to stop.’ Something in his tone belied his words—the gruffness, the rueful note, the chord of longing so low she might have missed it if she hadn’t been feeling it herself.

Stop? Now?

When her body was screaming for the release it craved? And why the hell hadn’t she been the one to stop this madness? She felt hot shame flushing into her face and she shoved his hands off her hips and stepped further back, chest heaving as if she were an affronted heroine in a period drama. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, kissing me like that?’

One of his ink-black eyebrows rose in a sardonic arc. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

Juliette couldn’t hold his gaze and swung away. ‘I’m going to have a shower. It’ll soon be time to get up and get ready for the wedding anyway.’ She strode into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning back against it with a ragged sigh. Why had she allowed him to prove how weak she was? How vulnerable to his touch? How lacking in immunity?

How dangerously ambiguous her feelings...

* * *

The wedding was to be held in the morning on the beach. Somehow Juliette had managed to shower and dress without running into Joe. He had left the suite while she was in the shower, and because she was heading to Lucy’s room for a hair and make-up session with the other bridesmaids she didn’t expect to see him again until the ceremony.

Lucy handed Juliette a glass of champagne on arrival. ‘Get that into you. Now, tell me how last night went. Did you guys kiss and make up?’

Juliette took the champagne but decided against taking anything but a token sip. ‘Let’s talk about you, not me. Are you nervous?’

Lucy beamed. ‘Me? Nervous? I can’t wait to marry Damon.’ Her smile dimmed a little. ‘I just wish things were better between you and Joe. Are you sure there’s no hope of a reconciliation?’

‘It’s not what either of us wants.’

‘Are you sure about that? I saw the way he was watching you last night. He could barely take his eyes off you. And when you two were dancing, well, anyone would have thought you were—’

‘We’re not.’ Juliette’s tone was emphatic. She opened the long narrow box that contained Lucy’s hand-embroidered veil. ‘He slept on the sofa.’

‘Oh...’

Juliette turned to look at her friend. ‘I don’t want your wedding to be spoilt by my dramas with Joe.’ She painted a bright smile on her face. ‘Now, let’s get you ready to marry the man of your dreams. Your dress looks amazing, by the way.’

Lucy twirled this way and that in her voluminous tulle and satin dress. It made her mixed-race complexion look all the more stunning. ‘You don’t think I look too much like a meringue?’ There was a dancing light in her eyes. ‘It was a toss-up between this one and the figure-hugging one we looked at together in Mayfair but I’ve always wanted to be a princess for a day.’

‘You look exactly like a princess,’ Juliette said, trying to ignore a tiny jab of envy. ‘A princess in love.’

* * *

Joe stood next to Damon under the canopy of tropical flowers that had been set up on the beach. He was trying not to think of his own wedding, how different it was from this one. If he and Juliette had married in a more relaxed and informal setting, would it have helped? His goal had been to get married to her as soon as possible for the sake of the baby. The cold and austere village church where generations of her family had been christened, wed or buried would not have been his first choice. But he had wanted Juliette to feel supported by her family, given he had none to speak of.

Damon nudged him. ‘Here they come.’

Joe turned and saw Juliette leading the way up the flower-strewn red carpet that had been laid down on the sand. She was dressed in a deep blue satin dress the colour of the ocean that pulsed nearby. The dress clung to her body like a slinky glove, outlining the gentle swell of her hips, the narrow waist, the slight globes of her breasts. There was a garland of flowers in her hair, giving her an A Midsummer Night’s Dream, almost ethereal look. His chest tightened, his breath stalled, his guilt throbbed. He had failed her in so many ways. He had made promises to love and protect her but he had failed on both counts. Romantic love was something he had never committed to. He doubted it even existed except perhaps in rare cases.

It had certainly never existed for him.

But seeing Juliette walking towards him now, something shifted in his chest. A slippage. A softening. A tightly locked space slowly opening...

He snapped it shut. Bang. Bolted the door.

He was comforted by the all too familiar jolt of his emotions shutting down. It was safer not to feel too deeply. To leave stray feelings unexplored. To deny them access through the firewall of his control tower.

Juliette met his gaze and a tremulous smile formed on her lips. The soft lips he had kissed early that morning and only just managed to stop kissing before he lost control. Kissing her made him realise how dangerous it was to be around her. It made him want her. Need her. Crave her. But how could he hope for a rerun of their relationship? What right did he have to insist on a second chance? It would only cause more pain, more heartache. It was practically his brand—projecting pain, heartache and loss onto the people he cared about. It was better he didn’t care. It was better he didn’t want. It was better not to hope.

Her gaze moved away and a sense of disappointment sank in his stomach like a stone.

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