Page 41 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
She relaxed against the pressure of his hand there. She arched back in a gesture that was gratifyingly and seductively submissive. Submission wasn’t something she did and her unconscious desire to yield to him was a massive turn-on.
The swell of her stomach was a massive turn-on as well.
He nudged into her gently, levering himself in just the perfect position to appreciate her. He moved slowly and firmly, taking his time and gritting his teeth because he wanted to do just the opposite, but, God, he wanted to make this last. It felt as if it had been a long time coming.
Violet succumbed to the surge of indescribable pleasure as one gentle thrust almost took her over the edge. She clung to him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Like this, in the heat of the moment, she could sneak a glance at his face. His eyes were glazed with desire as he pushed into her. He wasn’t registering her and, for a few seconds, she could luxuriate in looking at him with absolute love.
Forbidden love. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as sensation spiralled, wiping out frustrating thoughts. He was moving faster now, his thrusts deeper and, oh, so satisfying. It had been a long time. It felt like years.
She came with an intensity that shocked her, her body trembling as wave upon wave of pure sensation rocked her with the force of a tsunami.
She clasped his muscled back, her fingers digging into his bronzed skin. She doubted he was aware of anything, though. He was arched up, his eyes closed, nostrils slightly flared as he found his own powerful release, swearing aloud as he orgasmed inside her. She could feel his fluid rush into her body, and for a few seconds she thought of the baby they had created when they had made love that first time without any protection.
The love she felt for him was so strong, her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to pull him close to her but then, almost immediately, she acknowledged the foolishness of her feelings because she, of all the people in the world, should know him for the man that he was. She had dispatched enough farewell bouquets of flowers on his behalf! Heck, she had the local Knightsbridge florist he used on speed dial!
She’d just never really worked out how how deep his cynicism ran. Now she knew.
They curved towards one another and he smiled, hand on her stomach.
‘I never thought I’d enjoy saying this to a woman, but let’s make plans.’
‘Okay.’ She paused. They were a couple and this was as good as it got with him. There had to be a certain businesslike approach to the situation or else it would run away with her and she didn’t want that. ‘But first, there’s something we should get straight between us.’
‘What’s that?’
‘This has to be a...monogamous relationship. If we’re a couple, then no fooling around.’
Matt propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her with interest. ‘I thought that monogamy was reserved for faithfully married couples,’ he murmured. ‘Love, cherish, honour, et cetera, et cetera...’
‘But we’re missing those qualities, aren’t we?’ Violet quipped, lowering her eyes to shield the hurt she was certain he would be able to glimpse, even though it was dark in the bedroom and he would have needed bionic vision to read what she was thinking.
‘I’m a one-woman man, Violet,’ he gently reprimanded her.
‘Even though we’re not a faithfully married couple?’
‘You could always rectify that.’
Temptation loomed. What was the big difference between living together and being married? Violet knew that it should have been a case of, in for a penny, in for a pound, but somehow marriage felt like a huge step. She would be accepting, without hope of retraction, a situation that she knew was barely acceptable. She would be signing away her future because a little of this man was better than nothing at all. Except what if, one day, she began to think otherwise? Then what? She couldn’t think of the hassle and hopelessness of divorce without her blood running cold.
At least, living together, she could cling to the illusion that there was a way out if things became truly unbearable.
‘It’s more sensible for us to see how things work out between us.’ She dug her heels in and stared at the bronzed, flat planes of his chest. She felt him shrug, then he lay back and stared up at the ceiling.
‘Sensible,’ he murmured under his breath. ‘It’s what I’ve always admired about you. When everyone’s losing their heads...’
That stung. Was that still what he thought of her deep down? That she was his practical, sensible secretary who could be relied upon to steer a steady ship when the rest of the world seemed to be going mad? Hadn’t he got past that by now? If he hadn’t, then it really was for the best that they weren’t about to tie any knots any time soon, because the joys of a common-sense wife would wear very thin very fast.
But without a ring on her finger...without the status ofwife...would his loyalty be something she could ever take for granted?
Violet realised that if she gave house room to all those niggling doubts at the back of her mind, then she would never be free of them, and if she were to stick to her word and really give this relationship a chance, at least to see whether she could actually take the crumbs and forfeit the loaf of bread, then she would have to forge past misgivings.
She rested her hand on his stomach. ‘The sensible thing, right now, would be to discuss what happens next. I mean, the nuts and bolts of it. My dad seems to be coming round to the idea of returning here to live. I think he’s energised by the thought of having a grandchild. Anyway, he’s talking about using the music school he started in Melbourne as a template for doing something similar over here. Not in London. I think he’s learned to appreciate a slower lane, living out there.’
‘I’m not sure I’m in the mood for talking about sensible things just at the moment,’ Matt drawled, flattening his hand over hers and then directing it to where his libido was, once more, making itself felt. ‘Let’s make up for lost time and throw sensible to the winds...just for tonight.’
Everything, over the next two months, seemed to move at a very slow pace. Matt would not let her do anything he felt might be a set back to her health, even though she had long since been given the all-clear by the obstetrician she had been assigned by the private hospital he’d insisted on. Having rapidly decided that a move out of London was essential, and having discussed in record time where that somewheremight be—ideally allowing a commute into London without sacrificing the country lifestyle they both agreed would be a good choice for a family—it was frustrating that house viewings were confined to when Matt was free, because he flatly refused to let Violet get wrapped up in the stress of house hunting on her own.
She could look at brochures, he told her as they idly lay in bed one Sunday morning, flicking through houses online. Looking at brochures would be good for her blood pressure. She reminded him that her blood pressure was fine, but lying there naked, her leg loosely over his, she had never been happier.
