Page 10 of Bound by a One-Night Vow

There was a long silence.

Andrea leaned forward again and slid open the glass panel. ‘Driver. Change of plans.’

CHAPTER FOUR

ANDREA WAITED IN Izzy’s sitting room while she changed her outfit. He tried not to think about their kiss at the ceremony—the kiss that had almost got out of his control. For years he’d thought about kissing her and he hadn’t been one bit disappointed. Her mouth was as soft and yielding and as passionate as he’d dreamed. More so. It had been like tasting delicious nectar, finding his tastes so attuned to its sweetness he couldn’t stop the desperate craving for more.

Even now he could still taste her. He could still recall the pillowy softness of her lips moving under his. Could still feel the darting flickers of her tongue and her beautiful breasts crushed against his chest. His body was aching with need—a need she had stirred in his flesh, making him feel like a horny teenager. He’d prided himself on his control and yet one press of those soft lips against his and he’d been tempted to change the terms of their agreement.

Sorely tempted.

Dangerously tempted.

Why was it Izzy who made him feel so close to the edge of his control? During that kiss he’d all but forgotten they were in a registry office in front of witnesses. His senses had been so tuned in to her, every thought had flown from his head other than how much he’d wanted her. His blood had pounded with it.

Damn it, it was still pounding.

He needed more than a cold shower. He needed an ice bath. He needed to stay in control. He wanted her, wanted her desperately, but it didn’t mean he would act on it. Acting on it would complicate things. Make their relationship even trickier than it already was.

Andrea swept his gaze around the room, wondering how a young woman from such a wealthy background could live in such a cramped space. The furniture looked second-hand and, while it was shabby chic, it seemed strange she hadn’t decorated in the manner to which she had been born. She had stubbornly refused to live in the Hampstead flat her father bought her for her twenty-first birthday. It was now part of her inheritance, having been rented out for the last four years.

Had this been her way to snub her father? To live like an impoverished student? But then his gaze went to a stack of textbooks on a table next to the sofa. A laptop was perched nearby. He looked at the social work titles and frowned. Did the books belong to her flatmate or was Izzy studying online? Perhaps the impoverished student atmosphere of the flat was a reality. But she’d enrolled in courses before and spectacularly failed.

Andrea had always struggled to understand her attitude to her father. While he had never considered Benedict Byrne to be a perfect father, he still didn’t think Benedict had deserved how Izzy had behaved towards him. Her rebellious streak had caused her father so much shame and heartache. Her behaviour throughout her teens and early adulthood had been outrageous at times. Underage drinking, hard partying, mixing with the wrong people—all of it orchestrated to draw as much negative attention to herself as possible. Andrea found it hard to have any sympathy for her because the only father figure he’d known had been a cruel sadistic bastard of a stepfather who had beaten his mother, and when Andrea had tried to defend her he’d been kicked out on the streets.

He’d been fourteen years old.

Andrea hated thinking about his past. He was no longer that terrified boy who had no roof over his head. The boy who had been sick-to-his-guts worried about his mother, but when he came back the next day to help her escape, to his shock and despair, she had asked him to go away. Told him she didn’t want him any more. His mother had chosen to stay with her violent partner rather than have Andrea help her get away. He had bled for days from the wound on his face from the backhand from his stepfather and to this day carried the scar. It was a permanent reminder of how ugly relationships could get, and how even people who you thought loved you most in the world could still turn against you when you least expected it.

If it hadn’t been for Izzy’s father crossing paths with Andrea a few months later, who knew what would have become of him? He had gone from begging for food outside hotels and restaurants to owning some of the most luxurious hotels in Europe. With Benedict’s help he had chosen a different path, a different life, a different future.

And for the next six months that future included Izzy as his temporary wife.

Izzy came out dressed in a navy blue knee-length dress with three-quarter sleeves with velvet-covered heels to match. The colour of her outfit intensified the blue of her eyes, but a shutter had come up in her gaze, reminding him of unreachable galaxies in a midnight sky. Her mouth was shiny with lip gloss and he couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt beneath his own. How she tasted. How she responded. The fire in her had struck a match to the simmering coals of his desire.

Her gaze moved out of reach of his. ‘I’m ready.’

He pointed to the books and the laptop. ‘Are these yours?’

Her chin came up. ‘Yes. What of it?’

‘You’re studying for a degree?’

Her eyes moved away from his. ‘What if I am?’

‘Isabella.’ Andrea touched the back of her hand and she raised her gaze to meet his. He knew he should try not to touch her so much but the temptation, the need was always there. She was like a potent drug he couldn’t summon the willpower to resist. And now he’d fed the desire to touch her by kissing her and holding her in his arms, he was going to have to work a lot harder to keep his desire under control.

She pulled her hand away as if his touch disturbed her. ‘Yes?’ Her voice had a coating of frost around the edges.

‘It’s great that you’re studying. Really great.’ He opened and closed his fingers to stop them from tingling from her touch. ‘You’re doing a Social Work degree?’

‘I had to do some extra night classes to get in but I’m scraping through so far.’

‘I’m sure you’re doing much more than scraping through,’ Andrea said, wondering if she had failed in the past by choice rather than lack of academic ability. ‘We need to talk about our living arrangements. Or, more to the point, yours.’

Her eyes widened to pools of startled blue ink. ‘Pardon?’

‘We will be expected to live under the same roof now that we’re—’

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