His Revenge Seduction: The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage / The Konstantos Marriage Demand / For Revenge or Redemption?

Shyness gripped her but the sensual challenge was too tempting to ignore. She could feel him against her most sensitive point when she shifted slightly. It was like a match to a flame to feel him hard and thick against her, the friction so delicious she was gasping out loud as she rode him unashamedly. She came apart within seconds, her cries of ecstasy ringing in the silence, her breathing choppy and her heart rate uneven.

He used her last few contractions to bring himself to completion, his eyes now screwed shut, his face contorted with the exquisite pleasure he was feeling. Emelia felt him empty himself, each rocking pulse of his body triggering aftershocks in hers.

She slumped down over him, more out of shyness than exhaustion, although her limbs felt leaden after so much pleasure. She felt his fingers absently stroking over each knob of her spine, lingering over her lower vertebrae, his touch still lighting fires beneath her skin.

When he spoke his voice reverberated against her chest. ‘Did that trigger anything in your memory?’

Emelia opened her eyes and, raising her head, looked down at him. Her heart squeezed in her chest as if a hand were closing into a fist around it. His dark eyes were like liquid, melted by passion, warm and softer than she had ever seen them. A feeling rushed up from deep inside her, an overwhelming sense of rightness. It was like a door creaking open in her head. Memories started filing through, like soldiers called to action. It was blurry at first, but then it cleared as she put the pieces together in her mind.

She remembered their first meeting. She remembered the way he had met her gaze across the room and how her fingers had stumbled on the piece she was playing. She had quickly looked away, embarrassed, feeling gauche and unsophisticated as she continued playing through her repertoire. She had never before reacted like that to any man who had come in. It had been an almost visceral thing. His presence seemed to reach out across the space that divided them and touch her.

She remembered how he had come over to the piano when she was packing up and asked her to join him for a drink. An hour later he had offered to drive her home, an offer she politely declined. He came the next night and the next, sitting listening to her play, slowly sipping at his drink, watching her until she finished. And each night he would offer to drive her home. By the third night she agreed. She remembered how she fell in love with him after their first kiss. She remembered how it felt to feel his arms go around her and draw her close to his body, the way her body felt in response, the way her heart beat until it felt as if it was going to work its way out of her chest.

She remembered the first time they made love. It was a month after they had met. He had been so gentle and patient, schooling her into the delights of her own body and the heat and potency of his. She could feel herself blushing just thinking about where they had gone from there. How eager she had been to learn, how willing she had been to be everything he wanted in a partner and then as his wife.

In spite of her initial reservations, she had moulded herself into the role, trying so hard to fit into his lifestyle, fashioning herself into the sort of trophy wife she assumed he wanted: a rail-thin clothes horse, a glamour girl always with a glass of champagne in one hand and a brilliant smile pasted on her perfectly made-up face. She had ignored the doubts that kept lurking in the shadows of her mind. Doubts about the way he refused to discuss his feelings, doubts about his adamantine stance about not having children, doubts about having signed the prenuptial document he’d insisted she sign, doubts about the intimidation she felt when alone at the villa with just his staff for company when he was away on business, which he seemed to be so often.

She had begun to feel she didn’t really belong in his life and that the fiery attraction that had brought them together initially was not going to be enough to sustain them in the long term. She had always known he desired her; it was the one thing she could count on. He never seemed to tire of making love with her. It had thrilled her at first but after a while she had begun to crave more from him than sex. She had fooled herself she would be able to change him, to teach him how to love her the way she loved him.

And then, in spite of what she had told him, she had begun to dream of having a baby. She silently craved to build a family with him, to put down the roots that had been denied her throughout her childhood. But she had never been brave enough to bring up the subject. She had obediently taken her contraceptive pills and done her best to ignore the screeching clamour of her biological clock until that fateful day when she had finally had enough. Finding out about his father’s will, on top of the press photo of him with the Russian singer, had tipped her over the edge. She had left him in the hope he would come after her and beg her to return. She had hoped he would insist on changing the rules of their marriage so they could have a proper fulfilling life together.

But of course he hadn’t. A man as proud as Javier would not beg anyone to come back to him. Look at what had happened between him and his father. A decade had gone past and he hadn’t budged.

‘Emelia?’ Javier’s deep voice broke through her thoughts. ‘What’s going on?’

She met his concerned gaze. ‘I remember…’

He sat upright, tumbling her onto her back, his fingers grasping her by both arms. ‘What? Everything?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Bits and pieces. Like when and how we met. Some of our time together. Most of our time together.’

One of his hands moved in a slow stroking motion up and down her arm. ‘So I was right,’ he said. ‘Your body recognised me from the first. Your mind just had to catch up.’

She touched his lips with her fingers, tracing over their contours. ‘How could I have forgotten you? I can’t believe I didn’t remember you. Were you very angry about that?’

Javier captured one of her fingers with his mouth, sucking on it erotically, all the while holding her gaze. He released her finger and said, ‘I have to admit I was angry, especially when you hadn’t forgotten Marshall.’

Her eyes dropped from his, a frown pulling at her forehead. ‘I can’t explain that. I’m sorry.’

‘It is not important now,’ he said. ‘We have to move on.’

‘Javier?’ Her soft voice was like a feather brushing along his lower spine.

Javier looked down at her tussled hair and slim naked body. His groin tightened as he thought of having her back in his life permanently. His plans to divorce her seemed so ridiculous now. He had acted stupidly, blindly and in anger. His pride had taken a hit from what had been reported in the press about her and Marshall and he had let it block out his reason. He wanted her too much to let her go. He didn’t like admitting it. He would rather die than admit it. She was the one woman who had brought him to his knees. He had nearly gone out of his head when he found she had left him. He had not realised how much he wanted and needed her until she had gone.

A part of him blamed himself. He had been so preoccupied with the Moscow takeover. It was the deal of a lifetime. The negotiations had been tricky from the get-go but he had always believed he could pull it off. His goal had been to add that Russian bank to his empire and he had done it. It was the ultimate prize, the benchmark business deal. But he just hadn’t realised it would come at such a personal cost.

He brushed some damp tendrils of hair back off her face. ‘Tired, cariño?’

She shook her head, her grey-blue eyes like shimmering pools. ‘Not at all.’ She stretched her slim body against him just like a sinuous cat and smiled. ‘Not one little bit.’

His blood rocketed through his veins and he pressed her back down and covered her mouth with his, kissing her hungrily, delighting in the way she responded just as greedily. His tongue played with hers, stroking and sweeping until she succumbed with a whimpering sigh of pleasure. His hands moved over her breasts, the already erect nipples a dark cherry-red. He closed his mouth over each of them, flicking them with the point of his tongue, before sucking deeply. Her fingers scored through his hair, her body bucking under him as she opened for him.

He knew he was rushing things but he was aching and heavy with longing. She was already slick with his seed from before, hot, wet and wanting him just as much as he wanted her. It sounded prehistoric but he wanted to stake his claim again and again, to mark his territory in the most primal way of all. Her body wrapped around him tightly as he thrust into her, the walls of her inner core rippling against him. He had to fight to stay in control, each thrusting movement sending gushing waves of need right through him. She squirmed beneath him, searching for that extra friction to send her to paradise. He made her wait; he wanted to make her beg. It seemed fitting since he had suffered so much because of her leaving him, for putting him through such a tormented hell.

‘I want…’ she panted beneath him. ‘I want you to…Oh, please, Javier…’

He smiled over her mouth as he took it in another scorching kiss, his hands sliding between her thighs, teasing her with almost-there caresses.

She whimpered again and grasped at his hand, pushing it against her pearly need. ‘Please,’ she begged him passionately.

Javier flicked his fingers against her, just the way she liked. He knew her body like a maestro knew his instrument. She felt so silky and feminine, the scent of her driving him mad with the need to let go. He waited until she had started to orgasm, the spasms of her body gripping him until he had no choice but to explode. He pumped into her harder and harder, forcing the images of her alleged affair that had tortured him out of his head. He felt her flinch, he even felt her fingers grasping at his shoulders but he carried on relentlessly, until finally he spilled himself with a shout of triumph.

He rolled onto his back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He turned his head as he felt the mattress shift. Emelia had rolled away with her back to him, huddled into a ball. He reached out and stroked a finger down her spine. ‘Emelia?’

She flinched and moved further away from him, mumbling something he didn’t quite catch.

Javier sat upright and, taking her nearest shoulder, turned her onto her back. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

Her eyes flashed at him like lightning. ‘I think you know what’s wrong.’

‘I’m not a mind reader, Emelia. If you have something to say, then, for God’s sake, say it.’

She continued to glare at him but then her eyes began to swim with tears. ‘Don’t ever make love to me as if I was your mistress,’ she said, her voice cracking over the words. ‘I am your wife.’

Javier felt a knife of guilt go between his ribs. ‘I got carried away,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. You said you liked it like that in the past.’

She gave him a cutting look. ‘Did you ever think I might have been saying that just to please you?’

He sent his fingers through his hair before he reluctantly faced her. ‘I am not sure of what you want any more, Emelia,’ he said. ‘It’s like I have a different wife from the one I had only a month or so ago. It’s going to take some time to adjust.’

She looked at him through watery eyes. ‘Was our relationship about anything but sex?’ she asked.

He got off the bed as if she had pushed him. ‘Now that some of your memory has returned you should know how much I detest these sorts of discussions,’ he said with a harsh note of annoyance. ‘I laid out the terms of our marriage and you agreed to them. Now you want to change things.’

She pulled the bedcovers over her. ‘Why don’t you just answer the question? Did you ever feel anything for me other than desire? Did you love me, even just a little?’

Javier tried to stare her down but she held firm. He let out a savage breath. ‘My father told me he loved me but it didn’t mean a thing. It was conditional, if anything. He wanted me to be a puppet. As soon as I wanted to choose my own path, his love was cut off.’

‘That was wrong of him,’ she said. ‘Parents should never withhold their love, not for any reason.’

He made a scoffing sound in his throat. ‘My father loved his wives, all four of them, and they apparently loved him back, but look where that ended—an early death and two, almost three, very expensive divorces.’

Her brow wrinkled with a frown. ‘So what you’re saying is you don’t believe love can ever last?’

‘It’s not a reliable emotion, Emelia. It changes all the time.’

‘I’m not sure what you’re saying in relation to us…’

‘The things that make a relationship work are common ground and chemistry,’ Javier said. ‘A bit of mutual respect doesn’t go amiss either.’

Her expression was crestfallen and he felt every kind of heel as a result. Was he incapable of loving or just resistant to being that vulnerable to another person? He couldn’t answer with any certainty.

‘Don’t push me on this, Emelia,’ he said into the silence. ‘Our relationship has been through so much of late. This is not the time to be saying things neither of us are certain is true.’

‘But I know I love you,’ she said. ‘I know it with absolute certainty. I loved you from the first moment I met you. I didn’t tell you because I knew you didn’t want to hear it. But I need to tell you now. I can’t hold it in any longer.’

He pinned her with his gaze. ‘You speak of loving me and yet you were leaving me, Emelia, or have you not remembered that part? You had given up on our relationship. You wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t been injured and lost your memory. You would be back in Australia. You were in that car with Marshall because he was driving you to the airport.’

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip until it went white.

‘Why don’t we wait until all the pieces are in place before you start planning the future?’ he said when she didn’t speak. ‘Unless we deal with the past, we might not even have a future.’

‘You…you want a divorce?’ Her voice sounded like a wounded child’s.

‘I don’t believe we should stay shackled together if one or both of us is unhappy,’ he said. ‘We’ll give it a month or two and reassess. It is early days. You’ve only just come out of hospital after a near-fatal accident. You’re damned lucky to be alive.’

Her mouth went into a pout. ‘No doubt it would have been much better for you if I had been killed.’

Javier ground his teeth as he thought about that moment when Aldana had informed him there was a call from the police in London. His heart had nearly stopped until he had been assured she hadn’t been fatally wounded. ‘My mother died when she was three years younger than you are,’ he said. ‘She didn’t see my first day at school. She didn’t hear the first words I learned to read. I didn’t get the chance to tell her how much I loved her or if I did I was too young to remember doing it. Don’t you dare tell me I would rather have you dead and buried. No one deserves to have their life cut short through the stupidity of other’s actions.’

She sent him a defiant glare. ‘Maybe it suits you to have me alive so you can pay me back for daring to leave you. I bet I’m the first woman who ever has.’

Javier drew in a sharp breath. ‘You’re the one who moved the goalposts, not me.’

‘I can’t be the sort of wife you want,’ she said, her eyes shining with tears. ‘I can’t do it any more. I’m not that sort of person, Javier. I want more from life than money and sex and endless hours in the gym or the beauty salon. I want to be loved for who I am, not for what I look like.’

He snatched up his trousers and zipped himself into them. ‘I care about you, Emelia. Believe me, you would not be here now if I didn’t.’

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