Page 112 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

She nodded. ‘I was never going to be swept off my feet. I’m too cautious for that. But I always imagined I’d find a partner and have children one day.’ Benedikt looked as if he were about to say something but she’d had enough of this subject. ‘You said there were reasons, plural, why you didn’t touch me today. What was the other?’

Light danced in his eyes and the flat line of his mouth curved into a smile that made her pulse quicken. ‘I was afraid if I touched you I wouldn’t want to stop. And we had places to be, your grandmother to see.’

Her heart was doing a polka, or maybe following the rhythm of a sensual dance like a samba or tango. Because Benedikt wanted her, had wanted her all along. Her lips curved into an answering smile. ‘Keeping your distance seems a bit extreme.’

‘You think so?’ His nostrils flared and his expression grew hungry. ‘Do you have any idea how tough it’s been, holding back? Making polite conversation with your grandmother and local dignitaries, meeting people in towns along the way. And all the time you’ve been beside me, close enough that I can smell your perfume and feel the warmth of your skin. But I haven’t been able to take you in my arms.’

Annalena had told herself she wouldn’t fall into those arms again, not easily. Because she’d yearned for his warmth from the moment she’d woken and he’d denied her that. As if what they’d shared last night was easily put aside.

Discovering his reasons broke down the wall she’d spent all day rebuilding.

Because you want him. You want the passion you discovered last night.

It was true, but she wanted more too. His tenderness and the sense of belonging she’d never expected but which had blown her away.

For a moment she felt that old caution rise. The fear of committing to something over which she had no control. But it was too late. She’d gone too far. She knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to deny herself because of some nebulous fear.

Anyway, what was the worst that could happen? They were committed to this marriage. It made sense to find what pleasure she could in it.

Annalena held his gaze as she unclipped her seat belt and reached for the door. ‘Well, we’ve done our duty for the day. There’s no reason to hold back any longer.’

Benedikt drew the cork from the bottle. The wine was pale gold like Annalena’s hair as he poured it into an etched goblet.

With her bare feet curled beneath her on the sofa and a faint smile on her lips, she was entrancing. Every minute the housekeeper had spent giving them a tour of the place, Benedikt had chafed at the need for restraint.

He wanted Annalena. His need was tangible, a torsion in his body heavier and harder than anything he’d known.

Now the housekeeper was gone they were alone in the chalet. Yet he needed to maintain the veneer of a civilised man. He was mindful of Annalena’s inexperience. She could be tender after last night. He turned away to pour the second glass.

‘Benedikt.’ Her voice came from just behind him. ‘Put the wine down.’

He swung around, meeting sparkling green eyes less than an arm’s length away. In the time it had taken to pour the glass she’d let her hair down. It rippled like a sunlit river over her shoulders and around her breasts.

He heard the chink of glass on silver as he put the bottle down, then he was drawing her close, an impossible mixture of relief and urgency sighing through his body as he pulled her flush against him.

Last night he’d told himself his celibacy over the last six months had made intimacy with Annalena seem unique. Or her virginity. Or his guilt. Even the fact it had been such a stressful time. Maybe they were all factors but here it was again, the sense that he’d found something both fragile and powerful. Something precious and new. Sexual desire on steroids but more too.

Dipping his head, he pulled her up and fused his mouth with hers.

Annalena wrapped her arms around his neck, grabbing his hair as she surged against him. He kissed her hard, delving between soft lips, one hand on her buttocks, pulling her to his pelvis. Fire streaked through him as she ground herself against his erection, making him buck hard.

Go slow. Go slow.

Reluctantly he lifted his head, dragging in air, lungs on fire.

Slumbrous eyes met his and something broke free inside. ‘Benedikt, what is it?’

‘I’m trying to pace myself. Not ravish you where you stand.’ His facial muscles ached as he attempted a smile. ‘I’m trying to be considerate.’

She lifted herself on tiptoe, in the process sliding up his aroused length and making him shudder. ‘Can’t you ravish me then pace yourself next time? I’ve waited so long.’

Annalena hadn’t finished talking when he put both hands to her backside and hoisted her high. So good, so incredibly good. Especially when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Benedikt stilled, poised on the brink of losing himself though they were fully clothed. No woman had ever affected him like this.

A minute later they were on the sofa, she sitting astride him, arms around his neck, and they were kissing with a desperation that made him feel bizarrely as if he’d never done this before.

‘Annalena,’ he mumbled against her lips, stunned by how desperate he was. How much he needed her.

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