It shocked her when his hand reached out and turned off the taps. Her fingers didn’t have the strength to resist when the glass was taken from them and placed on the draining rack. Her mind was completely seized up, incapable of directing any action. Her body could have been that of a rag doll’s as Luc turned her towards him, wrapping her in a supportive embrace, holding her, pressing her head onto his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against her hair with a tenderness that broke open the floodgates to the tears she’d tried so hard to contain.
The storm of weeping was draining, reducing her to such a helpless state, she couldn’t find the pride that might have dragged her away from him. His broad shoulder was there to lean on. His warmth and strength was like a blanket of comfort. And it had been a long, long time since anyone had held her, emitting a sense of caring.
That it was Luc didn’t seem to matter. In fact, the familiarity of past intimacy between them somehow made it easy to sag against his body. It didn’t feel strange or wrong. There was a sense of belonging that she simply didn’t have the will to fight, however false it might be.
Eventually the tears dried up, leaving her aching from the emotional upheaval and limp from all the energy spent. She became conscious of Luc’s fingers gently raking through her hair and realised he must have removed the clip at the back of her neck, releasing and loosening the long flow of it—a liberty—but she didn’t mind. It felt good.
‘Skye—’ her name gravelled from his throat as though scraping over painful barriers ‘—I’m not trying to win Matt from you. Please believe that.’
She closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath, needing to fill her lungs with air, ease the ache in her chest. She felt too tired to speak. Her mind didn’t want to take up the fight over trust. It was too hard.
‘You’re his mother,’ Luc went on, a deeper, strong throb in his voice—a throb that somehow moved into her sluggish bloodstream and revived all the maternal feelings in her heart.
‘You’ve done a wonderful job of bringing up our son. You can be very proud of the boy he is…the boy you’ve shaped him to be…’
The warmth of his approval flooded through her.
‘I don’t know how to thank you…doing it all alone. He’s amazing. A happy child, well-mannered, eager to have a go at everything, and reading at his young age…’
He sounded so awed, a smile tugged at the corners of Skye’s mouth. She was proud of Matt. Justly proud. And she was glad Luc felt she had done a good job of bringing up their son.
‘If you’ve been thinking I might take him away from you, I swear to you I won’t, Skye. That was never my intention. And seeing how he is today…why would I want to? Matt couldn’t have a better mother. So please…don’t be afraid of me.’
She didn’t want to be. But even if he truly meant what he said now…she stirred herself to raise her head, open her eyes, look straight at him, speak her fears. ‘Today…Matt was a novelty to you and you were a novelty to Matt. It won’t stay that way. You won’t want to give him so much quality time and if Matt feels let down by you…’
‘I’ll do my best not to let him down.’
‘Things change, Luc. Other people can interfere…’
‘Not this time.’ The resolute gleam in his eyes suddenly burned into something else entirely. ‘And some things don’t change.’
Her heart kicked in alarm as he whipped his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs slowly fanning the line of her lower lip, making it tingle. ‘Remember how it was, Skye?’
Raw desire was blazing at her, furring his voice, stunning her into mesmerised passivity. Her hands were pressed against his chest but she didn’t think to push away. Some magnetic force kept them glued there. She didn’t think to move her head aside, either, though his was bending closer and closer, his intention unmistakable. She was conscious only of a thundering need to let it happen…to know, to feel, to match the memory.
His mouth covered hers, instantly triggering an electric sensitivity. She hadn’t been kissed since he had last kissed her and her mind filled with wonder that it could be so fascinating, so seductive, the soft sensuality of having her lips tasted, the exciting slick of his tongue opening them further, teasing and tantalising as it slid into her mouth to entice hers into play.
The temptation to respond was irresistible. The desire to feel again what she’d once felt with him surged out of the sense of having been cheated of it, cut off as though she was dead, through no fault of her own.
But she wasn’t dead. It was as if every cell in her body was springing into vibrant life, screaming out for what had been lost. She wanted it back—the all-consuming passion they’d shared. He owed it to her. He owed her so much…
A torrent of feelings pumped through her, driving her out of passivity, long-buried needs rising, demanding at least some satisfaction. Her tongue sprang into an erotic tango with his. Her hands clawed their way up his chest, over his shoulders, fingers thrusting through the thick matt of his hair, curling around his head, fiercely denying any end to the kiss which turned into a wild battleground for possession—invasion, assault, frenzied passion, no retreat, ragged pauses only to regather breath enough to engage again.
He no longer held her face. His hands clutched her bottom, fingers digging into the soft rounded flesh as he dragged her closer, lifting her into more intimate contact with him, and a mad exultation fizzed through her brain as she felt his arousal. She rubbed against it, wantonly provocative, deliberately stirring the desire he’d turned his back on, building the heat he had doused with ice, not believing it had only been for him.
No ice now.
He wrenched his mouth from hers, scooped her off her feet, and carried her out of the kitchen, down the central hallway, into her bedroom at the front of the house, his chest heaving but there was not one falter in the long, strong strides that were driven by the compulsion to get her to a bed.
Skye didn’t protest, didn’t struggle to assert herself in any way. It was wildly exhilarating to be swept off by Luc, knowing he wasn’t thinking of anything but having her—the woman he’d cast out of his life. He wasn’t about to walk away now. Oh, no! And Skye’s whole body tingled with a sense of power—a deep, primitive power that clamoured to be used, claiming this man as hers, so completely hers all the more suitable women would never get a chance with him.