teeth and he was becoming lost in the rhythm and a slow torturous build of need seeped through his body as he felt her urge him on.
Moving aside the slip of silk, he ran his finger into her folds, stroking and playing with her swollen bud. Gradually, he eased his finger into the wet slickness and entered her.
Shivering in delight, she arched against him and pushed at his finger, lifting her hips off the floor. “Ma Belle,” he muttered breathlessly against her nipple. “You’re so beautiful."
A car honked its horn and he was startled back into the present. Swerving the car to miss the one honking, he hit the steering wheel.
Damn her!
The day he signed that wedding certificate would be the same day he closed the door on Annabelle Summers and the past. He needed order in his life, not a distraction.
****
Annabelle looked around furtively as she crossed the village road. After seeing Tristan in the shop yesterday the last thing she needed was for him to realise that she still lived in the village, and even more detrimental would be him finding out that she had a daughter and then doing the maths!
Panic at him discovering her big fat ten year old lie was causing her to be on edge. There was some guilt there too and ugly questions had been tapping her on the shoulder since she saw him again. Should she have kept them apart? Would he try to take April away if he found out about her? Would he be mad at her? That last question was a foregone conclusion. Tristan oozed power, so ‘mad’ was possibly very tame to what he would be.
It had been a long day knowing he was at Katie’s art exhibition and constantly thinking about what might be happening was driving her mad! Had Katie taken down April’s pictures? Had she said anything? Had Tristan said anything about her? On and on went the questions until she decided to close up the shop and go home early.
During her drive home she’d formulated a plan. Just in case he recognised her car from being parked outside the shop - and she wouldn’t put it past him not to notice - she would hide it in the garage, walk to her mother’s to pick up April and be on the look-out for the black limo. The advantage of being able to see far down the village road meant that if it did come into view she would just leap into the nearest garden until it passed.
Pleased with her scheming, the oncoming blue Saab went unnoticed until it was too late. It pulled up to the curb next to her and Tristan glared at her through the open window.
“Get in!” he commanded.
Anxiously, she turned to look at her mother’s house a few doors down. If she ran, she could make it.
“I said get in!”
Standing with her hands on her hips she looked boldly at him. “Actually, I’ll pass, but thanks anyway.”
Clicking off his seatbelt he went to open the door. “Annabelle, get in the car willingly, or I will pick you up and throw you in myself. Which would you prefer?”
“You’re so infuriating!” She knew without a doubt that Tristan would follow through on his words. Deliberately, she took her time to walk around the car whilst he impatiently pressed on the horn. “What is your problem?” she hissed at him through clenched teeth as she yanked open the door and clumsily got in.
Still hot and riled from re-living the past, Tristan held her gaze before roaming his eyes to feast over her curves. “You, you’re my problem.”
They silently drove a mile out of the village before he pulled over near a meadow and switched off the engine.
“What is this about Tristan? I thought we were clear about our roles in the shop yesterday morning. You’re the fiancé and I’m the wedding planner, capiche?” She smoothed back her hair with her hands and checked the collar on her white shirt before folding her hands in her lap, she was nervous. The air in the car hung with expectation and his sexual potency radiated in waves over her. Crossing her legs, she looked at him anxiously.
Silence filled
Moving aside the slip of silk, he ran his finger into her folds, stroking and playing with her swollen bud. Gradually, he eased his finger into the wet slickness and entered her.
Shivering in delight, she arched against him and pushed at his finger, lifting her hips off the floor. “Ma Belle,” he muttered breathlessly against her nipple. “You’re so beautiful."
A car honked its horn and he was startled back into the present. Swerving the car to miss the one honking, he hit the steering wheel.
Damn her!
The day he signed that wedding certificate would be the same day he closed the door on Annabelle Summers and the past. He needed order in his life, not a distraction.
****
Annabelle looked around furtively as she crossed the village road. After seeing Tristan in the shop yesterday the last thing she needed was for him to realise that she still lived in the village, and even more detrimental would be him finding out that she had a daughter and then doing the maths!
Panic at him discovering her big fat ten year old lie was causing her to be on edge. There was some guilt there too and ugly questions had been tapping her on the shoulder since she saw him again. Should she have kept them apart? Would he try to take April away if he found out about her? Would he be mad at her? That last question was a foregone conclusion. Tristan oozed power, so ‘mad’ was possibly very tame to what he would be.
It had been a long day knowing he was at Katie’s art exhibition and constantly thinking about what might be happening was driving her mad! Had Katie taken down April’s pictures? Had she said anything? Had Tristan said anything about her? On and on went the questions until she decided to close up the shop and go home early.
During her drive home she’d formulated a plan. Just in case he recognised her car from being parked outside the shop - and she wouldn’t put it past him not to notice - she would hide it in the garage, walk to her mother’s to pick up April and be on the look-out for the black limo. The advantage of being able to see far down the village road meant that if it did come into view she would just leap into the nearest garden until it passed.
Pleased with her scheming, the oncoming blue Saab went unnoticed until it was too late. It pulled up to the curb next to her and Tristan glared at her through the open window.
“Get in!” he commanded.
Anxiously, she turned to look at her mother’s house a few doors down. If she ran, she could make it.
“I said get in!”
Standing with her hands on her hips she looked boldly at him. “Actually, I’ll pass, but thanks anyway.”
Clicking off his seatbelt he went to open the door. “Annabelle, get in the car willingly, or I will pick you up and throw you in myself. Which would you prefer?”
“You’re so infuriating!” She knew without a doubt that Tristan would follow through on his words. Deliberately, she took her time to walk around the car whilst he impatiently pressed on the horn. “What is your problem?” she hissed at him through clenched teeth as she yanked open the door and clumsily got in.
Still hot and riled from re-living the past, Tristan held her gaze before roaming his eyes to feast over her curves. “You, you’re my problem.”
They silently drove a mile out of the village before he pulled over near a meadow and switched off the engine.
“What is this about Tristan? I thought we were clear about our roles in the shop yesterday morning. You’re the fiancé and I’m the wedding planner, capiche?” She smoothed back her hair with her hands and checked the collar on her white shirt before folding her hands in her lap, she was nervous. The air in the car hung with expectation and his sexual potency radiated in waves over her. Crossing her legs, she looked at him anxiously.
Silence filled
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