Page 166 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

He worked the spot he knew would trigger her orgasm with ruthless efficiency, the ragged pants of their breathing the only sound.

The pleasure built, twisting, torturing, tormenting, dragging her up, and forcing her over.

She cried out, flying free at last, but as he sank into her arms, his big body shuddering through his own vicious climax, weighing her down into the mattress, she held onto him and struggled to stop her heart from shattering too.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SO MUCH FORstaying the hell away from her.

Rene gritted his teeth and eased out of Melody’s body, his senses reeling from the violent climax. And the rush of arousal when he had turned in the shower, while trying to masturbate away his obsession with her, only to find her staring at him with the same fierce desire darkening her eyes.

‘You’re rather bossy when you’re aroused, aren’t you?’ she murmured.

He choked out a laugh at the sanguine tone.

She lay beside him looking adorable and sated. But not exhausted, the way she had on the long plane ride to get here. The bruised shadows under her eyes the night they had arrived had disturbed him so much he’d decided to leave her alone. The intent expression on her face now, though, was equally unsettling.

He shouldn’t have jumped her—after promising himself he wouldn’t—but staying away from her had only increased the hunger. So maybe it made sense to keep her in his bed for the next seven days. It might help them both take their minds off everything else, because one thing was for sure—sex with Melody tended to make him forget everything, including his own name.

‘And you’re rather bossy the rest of the time, so I figure we’re even,’ he said easily. ‘Now, where were we…?’ He cradled her cheek and ran his thumb down the side of her neck, determined to keep things light and about the sex now. He swept her collarbone, before trailing a finger between her breasts and circling the plump nipple which had been begging for his touch ever since he’d got her naked.

She shuddered deliciously, already primed for another round, but as he leaned to capture the stiff peak in his lips, her hand covered herself, stopping him mid seduction.

He glanced up. ‘Problem?’ he asked, then wished he hadn’t when he registered the astute, searching look—and the sheen of emotion turning her eyes a misty blue.

‘I have a question…’ she said, her expression shadowed with something which looked weirdly like sympathy. ‘How did you get all those scars, Rene?’

‘What scars?’ he replied, as panic had the afterglow fading.

She’d asked about his scars once before, and he’d had no problem deflecting the question. But that was four years ago, when his defences had been bulletproof. Those defences weren’t bulletproof any more, the knowledge and determination in her face reminding him of the woman who had survived a snowstorm and nursed him through a fever. Who had stood up to him and the press and had refused to crumble even when she’d been exhausted.

How the hell did he defend himself against someone who he suspected had always been so much stronger than he was?

She touched his forehead, lifting the hair still damp from his aborted shower and traced the line very few people even knew was there.

‘You know which scars, Rene,’ she said carefully, the gentle tone making his panic increase.

How could she see so clearly the boy he had kept hidden for so long?

He drew away from her touch to stare down at her.

Heat pounded in his groin.

She was so artlessly seductive, the unruly mess of tawny blonde hair cascading over the pillows, her sun-burnished skin flushed with pleasure, her plump curves something he would happily have feasted on for hours. But he couldn’t do emotional intimacy, especially with a woman like her, who had always been able to see through the ploys he used to shield that boy from discovery.

‘I hope you realise you’re killing the vibe,’ he said, hating the defensiveness in his voice.

‘I just want to understand you better, that’s all,’ she said, the hurt in her eyes making him hate himself more.

‘What makes you think there’s anything more to understand?’ he replied, frustrated now, as well as wary.

This was why he didn’t do deep. Why he couldn’t let any woman mean too much to him. But when she reached for the sheet to wrap it round her breasts, as if she were protecting herself from the sharp tone, the yearning flared. And he knew it was too late. Because she already meant too much.

Why else would he have been so willing to announce an engagement? So determined to protect her from the fallout from those photos. So desperate to make her accompany him to Mermaid Cay. Why would he have woken up in a pool of sweat this morning, his body hard and ready for her, after dreaming about her round with his child? Especially when he had never even thought of becoming a father—and certainly never considered he would ever want to father a child, before now.

And why would he have been unable to touch another woman since her?

It should be funny—that someone so artless and frankly innocent had managed to ruin him for other women—but he had never felt less like laughing in his entire life.

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