Page 20 of A Nine-Month Deal With Her Husband

‘We’re trying to dissolve our...arrangement,’ he pointed out. ‘But our attraction to each other has nothing to do with the deal we struck, the dissolution of that deal. It’s a separate issue.’

Was it? To her, everything was jumbled up. She felt as though she was in an industrial washing machine, being tumbled this way and that. Sex, baby, their marriage, being business partners...they all bled into each other.

Ben didn’t move from his indolent position, but every muscle in his body was on high alert. He was waiting for her to say the word and he would take control. She was so close to saying yes and words likeplease love me...take me to bedandI want youhovered on her tongue, desperate to be verbalised.

‘We can get the divorce you want and I’ll stay on as your trustee if that’s what you want. Your wanting a child doesn’t, so you’ve said, c-c-concern me—’

She’d caught his sporadic, barely-there stutter and found the small imperfection charming. And reassuring because Ben sometimes seemed too together, too polished. His infrequent stammer made him seem a little fallible.

‘But, more than anything else, I want to take you to bed,’ he continued.

Millie hesitated and Ben caught it. He sat up, his expression serious. ‘This will only become complicated if we let it, Millie. This has nothing to do with our arrangement or our divorce.’

‘It’s about the way we feel when we look at each other,’ Millie murmured. She’d never had a man look at her with such intensity, as though she was all he needed for him to keep breathing, and existing.

To be desired by someone so much was a heady experience and it was something Millie doubted she’d feel again. Ben was such aman, masculine and hot, and to know that someone so sexy wanted her flooded her with a confidence she couldn’t remember feeling.

She was done with thinking, finished with denying herself what she really wanted. Ben was right—this didn’t need to be complicated.

‘This is about sex, a fling, a step out of time,’ Millie quietly stated. ‘It can’t mean anything.’

Ben nodded. ‘So...can I kiss you now?’

Millie looked temptation in the eye, nodded her agreement and followed it over to the dark side. She wanted him, he wanted her, this was going to happen...

Millie dropped her knees and moved to straddle Ben’s lap. His hands came up to hold her hips and surprise, then delight, flashed in his eyes. Millie pulled up his black cashmere sweater and placed her hands on the bare skin of his stomach, felt his muscles tighten beneath her fingertips.

She lowered her mouth to kiss him, but Ben’s whisper stopped her before she could make contact. ‘Are you sure you want this, Millie? Because once we start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.’

Of course he would, of that she had no doubt. Ben was a man who exuded control, over his actions and words. She absolutely knew he would stop if she asked him to. But she had no intention of stopping before he gave her an earth-moving orgasm. Or two or three. She wanted to know what making love to this amazing man felt like. ‘I’m sure, Ben.’

She remembered him saying that she needed to ask him to kiss her, to make love to her, so she decided to say the words, to leave him in no doubt. ‘Will you take me to bed, Ben? Will you love me?’

He lifted his hand and, with one finger, traced the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. ‘Does it have to be in my bed?’ he asked. ‘This couch and the carpet in front of the fireplace are incredibly comfortable and I can’t wait that long.’

She smiled, her lips curving as her hands skimmed over his pectorals. ‘We can start here and make our way upstairs as the night progresses.’

‘That,’ Ben said, between kissing her lips, ‘sounds like a very good plan.’

They were doing this. He closed his eyes as Millie’s hands danced over his ribs and he shivered. All he could do was echo her actions, so he pushed his hands under the hem of her long-sleeved silk T-shirt. His fingers moved slowly up her ribcage and flirted with the sides of her full breasts. He ran his thumb over her nipple, rasping over the lace cup of her bra. She felt so incredibly good... Amazing, feminine and completely delightful.

He banded an arm around her waist, lifted her up and off him and slowly, so slowly, lowered her to the cushions of the couch. He smiled at the combination of excitement and desire on her face and her grape-green eyes seemed lighter and brighter than they normally were. She wanted him...she’daskedhim.

He lowered his mouth to hers, sucking on her bottom lip, then sliding his tongue into her mouth. Her hands skimmed his sides and she dug her fingers into his butt, her hands sliding as far down the back of his thighs as she could reach. Lifting her hands, she placed them on either side of his face and the combination of that sexy, tender gesture nearly undid him. Millie pulled her mouth off his and ran her tongue over his jaw, down his neck and, after pulling the neck of his T-shirt away, dragged her teeth over his collarbone.

‘You feel amazing...you’re so sexy,’ she murmured.

Ben couldn’t remember when last he was complimented, in bed or out. He tugged on the hem of her T-shirt, a silent plea to remove the barriers of clothing between them. Millie did as he asked and tossed the shirt over the back of the couch. Ben took a minute to take in creamy breasts nestled in a deep purple bra.

Millie arched her back and he knew she was quietly begging him to touch her, to pay attention to her nipples. Ben was happy to oblige. He dropped his head and sucked one into his mouth, lace and all, and she released a deep, appreciative groan. Her fingers tunnelled into his hair, gripping his head to keep him in place.

She was what he’d craved since the moment he saw her yesterday, the reason why he couldn’t sleep. When he did drift off, making love to her was what he dreamed of—he’d wanted these moments—he craved the ebb and tide of hot, delicious sex. Ben needed to touch her everywhere and he wanted her to know him, to explore him in the same way he intended to explore her.

She would be returning to the UK soon and when she next returned to Iceland, he’d be in St Barth’s. He didn’t know when, or if, he’d see her next. If this was the only time they had, if this night was all they got, he wanted to know her inside out, what made her sigh and what made her scream. And he wanted her to know him, to remember him...

He wanted to be her only memory when sex slid into her mind...

But as he touched her, as his mouth moved down her body to explore her belly button, to drag his warm, open mouth over her mound, he knew he could, if he wasn’t careful, become addicted to her, to this. She could become something he couldn’t get enough of.

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