A Week to be Wild by JC Harroway

Author:JC Harroway [Harroway, JC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2018-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

LIBBY’S HEAD ROSE and sank with the movement of Alex’s chest as his breaths slowed. His warm fingers traced small circles on her back, his legs entwined with hers, and his heartbeat thumped under her cheek, which was glued to his sweat-damp skin.

It was way too intimate, but her heavy limbs refused to move—as if they’d run a marathon and gone on strike. And in a way they had. This week was a whirlwind of life in the fast lane so far.

‘I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly today.’

His sleepy voice rumbled in his broad chest, his chest hairs tickling her nose.

‘I understand. Is your mother okay?’

He drew in a breath that seemed unending, the gust of his prolonged exhalation blowing strands of her now wild hair onto her face. His fingers swooped in, pushing the hair back from her forehead and rectifying the situation.

‘She drinks sometimes. Too much. She’s never really got over losing Jenny.’

The weight of his confession pressed Libby even further into the mattress and her breath stalled. Should she pry? He wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t want to talk, right?

‘What happened to your sister?’ She held her breath.

His fingers returned to the small of her back, their tips gliding round and round in a hypnotic pattern. ‘She had epilepsy.’

Libby waited, still and quiet, so as not to break the confessional spell.

‘Around six hundred people per year die of sudden unexpected death in epilepsy. It’s called SUDEP for short.’ His fingers on her back stilled. ‘She was eighteen.’

His matter of fact tone contrasted with the increase in his breathing and the renewed thud of his heart.

‘I’m sorry that happened to your family. It must have been a terrible time.’

‘For my parents, yes. It essentially destroyed their marriage. The blame game. The what ifs. Although theirs had been a rocky marriage for years prior to my sister’s death.’

His hand resumed its stroking.

‘Do you like weddings?’

The change of subject was so abrupt Libby lifted her head to stare at him, her neck muscles jarring. What could she say? He’d opened up to her this evening—not that it was part of their deal—but she wasn’t ready to do the same. What was the point? This was temporary. A holiday away from reality. Less than a fling—a business merger, brokered and negotiated. Just sex.

She trained her features to stay neutral, swallowing back the acid in her throat. ‘Who doesn’t?’

She shifted, untangling herself from his warmth and his long, muscular limbs. She sat on the bed with her back to him, reaching for a robe and shrugging it on. A shield.

‘Do you want to go to one? My cousin Isabel is marrying in France this weekend. We should have met her brother, Jack, today. The architect I told you about.’

Libby swallowed. That itchy, impatient feeling was back, making her restless. ‘You can’t invite a stranger to a family wedding.’

‘Why not?’

His fingers continued to work their magic, circling lazily on the curve of her hip. Even through the cotton his touch carried a potency that made her weak.

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