Page 47 of Kyle
"I expect you to forget about me and move on. I certainly have. And this is certainly not the place and time."
"It doesn't matter that I still love you?"
"Am I interrupting?" His wife's smooth tone had him jolting.
"I think we are. How about you take an old man out on the dance floor my dear?" William's voice brooked no refusal.
"Darling, shall we?" Taking his hand, Ingrid led him out. They danced for a minute without either of them saying anything.
"Are you going to say something?" He asked after the silence had become unbearable.
"Are you in love with her?"
His gaze dropped to hers, molten green fire, designed to scorch. "After all we shared, how the hell can you ask me that?"
"I can ask you, because we've been together for less than two weeks and you were with her for months."
His fingers dug through the material to her flesh and made her wince.
He immediately loosened his grip, regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry. I would never hurt you." His voice softened, losing its earlier edge. "What happened between me and her is over. What I feel for you is real and it's now." He searched her face, willing her to believe him, as the music swelled around them and other couples floated by, oblivious to their quiet storm.
"And if you don't believe me, then..." He shrugged and left the rest unsaid.
"What I saw, what everyone in this bloody room saw was a man and a woman who had been previously involved having a heated discussion." She let out a breath. "And I sound like a frigging jealous and possessive wife. Which I am, dammit."
He could not let her know how psyched he was by that admission.
"And you can damn well wipe that smug expression off your face."
"All right." Before she realized what he was up to, his mouth had closed over hers.
Chapter 11
She woke slowly, stretching languidly and with her eyes still closed. She noted the ache between her thighs and the soreness of her nipples. Her husband had spent the entire night turning her into a melting mass of desperate desire throughout the night.
And she was feeling every bit of it. Her eyes flickered open to the sunlight streaming through the curtains. They really should get to the point of having people over to redesign the master suite. Monday, she decided. It was no sense skipping back and forth.
Her suite had her clothes still hanging in that closet. And the bed in her room was a hell of a lot bigger. Not that they needed a lot of space. They slept in each other's arms anyway.
The thought of that made her realize that he was not next to her. In the kitchen, making coffee. The man could do little else, but he made excellent coffee.
"You're awake." His deep voice had her jolting all the way conscious. Dragging herself up, she noticed he was dressed. The jogging pants and ash gray sweater, making him look dangerous and lethal.
His hair was still damp from the shower. She wondered fleetingly why he hadn't waited on her so they could take onetogether. It was then she noticed the frown on his brow. And that he was standing a few inches from the bed.
"I am. What's going on?"
"I've been waiting for you to open your eyes."
"And now they're open. What's going on?" She repeated.
"I know what you think of me."
She sent him a puzzled look. "Okay."
"You cannot deny it. I've heard it with my own mouth. You think I'm shallow, selfish and entitled."
"I--"
