Page 16 of A Nine-Month Deal With Her Husband

Nobody, least of all Ben, was stopping her from going ahead and making her arrangements to have a baby, but it didn’t feel...right. Yes, she knew it was silly, theirs was a business arrangement, but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

She could, she supposed, carry on with the baby-making process after they were legally separated, but the thought of falling pregnant by someone else—even if he was an anonymous someone!—while she was married to Ben didn’t sit well with her. It was silly, she didn’t have a relationship with the man, barely knew him, but she still felt as though she couldn’t take this next massive step until she’d cut ties with him.

She looked at Olivier. ‘And there’s no way around that?’ she asked, sounding a little desperate.

Olivier looked regretful. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s the law. I can submit the forms to get the ball rolling in the meantime. Would that be okay?’

What choice did she have? If she wanted to dissolve her marriage, then these were the hoops they needed to jump through. It was annoying, but none of it was Olivier’s fault. Or Ben’s. She was the one moving the goalposts so she couldn’t whine.

She pulled a smile on to her face. ‘Yes, please, I’d be grateful for your help.’

Olivier nodded, his dark eyes holding hers. ‘If you are dissolving your marriage, does that also mean that you intend to replace Ben as the person managing your trust? If that’s the case, then documents need to be filed with the authorities to remove him as a trustee.’

They’d done it before, but Millie had reinstated him a year later.

Ben stiffened. He looked as impenetrable as ever, but she sensed his tension. Locking her fingers together, she shrugged. ‘I don’t want to,’ she admitted. ‘Ben has done a marvellous job looking after my investments, but I feel bad asking him to spend time on my—’

‘It’s a few hours here and there,’ Ben interjected. ‘I told you, it’s not a big deal.’

But Millie couldn’t help thinking that if they were going to get divorced, then they should completely split and have nothing to do with each other any more. Divorcing him but still allowing him to run her trust’s investments didn’t make sense. It would be better if they were either in or out.

Millie told Olivier she’d let him know and, after a few more minutes, Ben disconnected the call. She stood and picked up the glass of red wine he had poured for her earlier and sipped. Holding the glass against her chest, she walked over to the large window and looked out, watching the wild wind bend the trees. A thick layer of snow covered the cars parked on the street and a young man staggered from his car to a house opposite. Millie was relieved when he managed to get his front door open and stumbled into his house.

She remembered days like this from her childhood, but they seemed softer, smudged somehow. There was nothing gentle about what was happening outside. The blizzard raged on, ferocious, elemental...primal. Snow hurtled to the ground, thick and fast, and the curtain of snow allowed only the occasional sighting of cars and trees, lampposts and street signs. The snowflakes were bigger than she’d ever seen before, twirling in the air and smashing into each other.

The wind howled as it whipped the snow and sent it swirling through the air in chaotic, random patterns, and seemed to grow louder and more ferocious by the minute. Ben’s street, now impassable—the snow was waist-high in some places—was completely deserted, as anyone with sense was inside, enjoying the warmth and safety of their homes.

Millie couldn’t remember when last she had felt so alive. There was something about the wild, uncontrollable aspect of nature, something about being here in Iceland, being with Ben, that made her feel more like the girl she used to be, more like young Millie than the staid Londoner she’d become.

Ben joined her at the window, his big hand wrapped around the bowl of his glass. After showing her where the guest suite was and telling her they were due to talk to Olivier in fifteen minutes, he’d left her to freshen up.

When she found him in his home office, she noticed he’d changed out of his designer suit into dark blue jeans and a bottle-green crew-neck jersey. The soft wool hugged his broad shoulders and showed the definition in his big arms. He looked relaxed and the thought of spending the night in his house, spending alone time with him, made her heart bang against her ribs and her stomach do back flips.

The thought of living with him, even for such a short time, terrified her. Mostly because she didn’t know how she was going to keep her clothes on. And her hands off him.

She wanted him, she really,reallywanted him. And wanting him, in this basic, biblical way, complicated her life in ways she’d never expected. She wasn’t supposed to feel desire for her husband, who was nothing much more than a stranger.

Then again, every aspect of her Icelandic trip had gone haywire, so why not this, too?

Their eyes connected. Ben lifted his big hand to hold her cheek and Millie kept her face tipped up, frozen in place. His hand was warm and his big body was now close to hers, radiating heat. She wanted to push her breasts into his chest, her stomach into his hips, she wanted proof he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She watched as smouldering desire morphed into a blazing wildfire. Any minute now, their clothes would start to fly. She hoped.

‘I’m sorry, but I need to kiss you. I can’t go another minute without having my mouth on yours, without knowing how you taste.’

There was zero chance of her saying no. Kissing Ben was what she most wanted to do.

He lowered his head and Millie watched his lips descend to hers, and her eyes closed when they touched hers. She lifted her hand to touch his jaw, her fingertips running through his three-day scruff. Her body sank against his as he lightly explored her mouth, his lips moving gently along hers, learning the shape of her lips.

It was a‘hey’kiss, and a‘so this is how you feel’kiss. Millie placed her hands flat against his chest and his hand landed on her lower back and he pulled her into him. He kissed her as if he’d finally found what he’d been looking for most of his life, as though she was the biggest, shiniest, loveliest present under the Christmas tree. It was heady stuff to be wanted so much, to feel as though he’d been waiting for months, years, to kiss her like this.

Smart Millie knew he was just a spectacular kisser—she was reading too much into the first meeting of their lips, but she didn’t care. It was magical, lovely, fairy footsteps dancing across her soul. Reality would slam into her soon enough. She was happy to take this moment and experience all the feels. Reality could wait.

He smelled of snow and wind, but his cologne reminded her of sunshine and the sea. His body was harder than she expected, more muscled than she’d imagined. He was strong and masculine and felt like a barrier between her and the world. For the first time since her mum died, she didn’t feel so utterly alone.

Millie’s tongue darted out to touch his lips and Ben stiffened. For a moment Millie thought she’d pushed the kiss too far and asked for too much, too quickly. But then his hand gripped the back of her head and he tugged on her hair, so very gently, silently asking her to tip her head back.

Then he took her mouth in a firestorm of want and need. His tongue slipped between her teeth to slide against hers and Millie, ridiculously, felt her knees melting and her muscles loosening. His hand on her back pulled her into his body and that connection was all that kept her from sinking to the floor.

---