make it happen. One day.
He felt Frankie stirring, trailing hot little kisses over him and moaning with hot little sounds. She wriggled against him and he reacted instantly, his mouth seeking hers, his hands cupping her breasts and his knee shifting open her thighs. He positioned himself between her legs, so ready to slip inside her.
‘You owe me,’ she said as she rolled beneath him, ‘and I’m here to collect.’
He smiled as she slid her tongue into his mouth. He owed her, all right, and he was going to pay her what he could. But the guilt that was already unfurling from his stomach was telling him he was never going to give her what she really wanted.
He reached for another condom, turned Lodo’s picture face down and held her tight in his arms as he sheathed himself.
So if he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, what the hell kind of game was he playing? Because he knew that with every kiss, every stroke, every whispered word, while she might be calling it payback, he was storing up a whole load of brand-new trouble.
She slipped around him, climbed on top, and his body responded hard and fast again. He might have been able to hold back the tide in her farmhouse but as he slid himself into that gorgeous sweet place he’d been dreaming of for years he felt the world reconfigure.
Trouble?
Totally.
CHAPTER FIVE
H ER EYES WERE SUNKEN . Her chin was grazed. Her thighs were weak and sore. Frankie hung on to the porcelain sink and stared at the wreckage.
Making love could do this to a person? She’d thought she might be glowing, radiant—rosy cheeked at the very least. The shadows under her eyes looked like a sleep-deprived panda’s. Was there any product on earth that could work actual miracles? Not any that she had in her bag. Nothing that Evaña sold could even come close.
She stared round the ‘hers’ bathroom in this glorious suite. It was easily the prettiest she had ever encountered. Antique silver gilt mirrors dotted the shimmery grey marble walls. Sweet little glass jars held candles and oils, and there were feather-soft white folded towels. Lush palms and filmy drapes. A huge bath like a giant white egg cracked open was set on a platform atop four gilded feet. She pondered filling it, but surely it would take hours?
And how many hours were left in the day? Had she really been in bed for ten of them? A good, convent-educated girl like her? Though in the eyes of her father she was ‘just a whore’.
She shivered in the warm humid air at the memory of that slap, those words. The stinging ache on her cheekhad been nothing to the pain of Rocco’s walking away. And when he’d never come back, when all she’d been left with was a crushing sense of rejection, she’d had no fight left. Her father’s furious silence … Her mother’s hand-wringing despair … Going to the convent in Dublin had almost come as a relief. Almost.
Then finding out that her beautiful Ipanema had been sold …
Mark had come to tell her. She’d been sitting there in her hideous grey pinafore and scratchy-collared blouse in the deathly silent drawing room that was saved for visitors. The smell of outdoors had clung to Mark’s clothes—she’d buried her face in his shoulder, scenting what she could, storing it up like treasure.
He thought she’d be happy that the handsome Argentinian she’d been so sweet on—the one who was now scooping polo prize after prize—was Ipanema’s new owner. He’d known it would be upsetting, but she had always been going to be sold—surely she’d known that? She was their best, and they needed the money now that Danny had walked out on them and Frankie’s school fees were so high. It wasn’t as if she was home anymore, riding her every day after school. And Rocco Hermida was easily the best buyer they could hope to find—notoriously good with animals, and miles ahead in equine genetics. Soon there would be more Ipanemas. Wasn’t that great?
She’d painted on her smile
He felt Frankie stirring, trailing hot little kisses over him and moaning with hot little sounds. She wriggled against him and he reacted instantly, his mouth seeking hers, his hands cupping her breasts and his knee shifting open her thighs. He positioned himself between her legs, so ready to slip inside her.
‘You owe me,’ she said as she rolled beneath him, ‘and I’m here to collect.’
He smiled as she slid her tongue into his mouth. He owed her, all right, and he was going to pay her what he could. But the guilt that was already unfurling from his stomach was telling him he was never going to give her what she really wanted.
He reached for another condom, turned Lodo’s picture face down and held her tight in his arms as he sheathed himself.
So if he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, what the hell kind of game was he playing? Because he knew that with every kiss, every stroke, every whispered word, while she might be calling it payback, he was storing up a whole load of brand-new trouble.
She slipped around him, climbed on top, and his body responded hard and fast again. He might have been able to hold back the tide in her farmhouse but as he slid himself into that gorgeous sweet place he’d been dreaming of for years he felt the world reconfigure.
Trouble?
Totally.
CHAPTER FIVE
H ER EYES WERE SUNKEN . Her chin was grazed. Her thighs were weak and sore. Frankie hung on to the porcelain sink and stared at the wreckage.
Making love could do this to a person? She’d thought she might be glowing, radiant—rosy cheeked at the very least. The shadows under her eyes looked like a sleep-deprived panda’s. Was there any product on earth that could work actual miracles? Not any that she had in her bag. Nothing that Evaña sold could even come close.
She stared round the ‘hers’ bathroom in this glorious suite. It was easily the prettiest she had ever encountered. Antique silver gilt mirrors dotted the shimmery grey marble walls. Sweet little glass jars held candles and oils, and there were feather-soft white folded towels. Lush palms and filmy drapes. A huge bath like a giant white egg cracked open was set on a platform atop four gilded feet. She pondered filling it, but surely it would take hours?
And how many hours were left in the day? Had she really been in bed for ten of them? A good, convent-educated girl like her? Though in the eyes of her father she was ‘just a whore’.
She shivered in the warm humid air at the memory of that slap, those words. The stinging ache on her cheekhad been nothing to the pain of Rocco’s walking away. And when he’d never come back, when all she’d been left with was a crushing sense of rejection, she’d had no fight left. Her father’s furious silence … Her mother’s hand-wringing despair … Going to the convent in Dublin had almost come as a relief. Almost.
Then finding out that her beautiful Ipanema had been sold …
Mark had come to tell her. She’d been sitting there in her hideous grey pinafore and scratchy-collared blouse in the deathly silent drawing room that was saved for visitors. The smell of outdoors had clung to Mark’s clothes—she’d buried her face in his shoulder, scenting what she could, storing it up like treasure.
He thought she’d be happy that the handsome Argentinian she’d been so sweet on—the one who was now scooping polo prize after prize—was Ipanema’s new owner. He’d known it would be upsetting, but she had always been going to be sold—surely she’d known that? She was their best, and they needed the money now that Danny had walked out on them and Frankie’s school fees were so high. It wasn’t as if she was home anymore, riding her every day after school. And Rocco Hermida was easily the best buyer they could hope to find—notoriously good with animals, and miles ahead in equine genetics. Soon there would be more Ipanemas. Wasn’t that great?
She’d painted on her smile
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