Once Touched, Never Forgotten - By Natasha Tate Page 0,56

to her bare shoulders and back. “Would you?”

She submitted to his careful ministration until the butler left them to their privacy. Her breath hitched when Stephen finished her back and then circled her lounger, beckoning for her to sit back against its striped cushion so he could apply lotion to her chest and throat. “I can do the rest,” she protested.

“I know you can,” he said with a smile, his blue eyes crinkling as he nudged the sunblock out of her reach and then held up his glistening fingers. “But I was here first.”

Dressed in a pair of blue and white swimming trunks, he looked like an Irish angel gone bad. The long, powerful sweep of his biceps, broad shoulders, and the stretch of tight, rippled muscles over his abdomen drew her gaze and sent a sharp jolt of love spiking through her heart. “Heaven forbid I bump you out of your spot in the queue,” she said. Only a slight tremble in her voice betrayed her.

He heard it and, misinterpreting its cause, smiled wickedly. “I knew you’d see reason.” His strong hands resumed their lovely massage of her skin, rubbing sunblock into hidden areas that had never even felt the kiss of the sun.

“You move those fingers any lower and I’m going to forget all about sunbathing,” she murmured in a breathless attempt to keep things light. Superficial and safe.

His unrepentant grin deepened, though his fingers abandoned her breasts to make a warm sweep down her shoulders and arms. “Am I supposed to think that’s a bad thing?”

Her eyes drifted to half mast as his strong hands seduced her away from worries about the future. “I can’t decide,” she hummed. “You did promise me some food.”

A small huff of laughter filled the air between them. “I’ll give you a respite,” he teased. “For now. At least until we’re done eating.”

She lolled her head to the side to find him staring at her with amusement in his eyes.

“Or we could postpone lunch?” he asked hopefully.

Smiling, she stared back into his beautiful face. “Not a chance. I’m starving.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” he teased as he shifted his attention to the task at hand, his broad palms spreading warmed lotion down her thighs and over her knees. “I’m coming off of a five-year drought and need to make up for lost time.”

Suspecting he lied simply to flatter her, she slanted him a look from beneath the brim of her hat. “A five-year drought?

You?”

“Oh, I did my best to bury your rejection of me in the arms of faceless women, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped.” His eyes remained trained on his hands, his tone as light and teasing as before. “I’m afraid you’ve ruined me for all other women, sweet.”

A sudden swell of emotion pitched in her stomach. Though she knew Stephen didn’t love her, the thought that he might have missed her as much as she’d missed him filled her with a queer, unnerving dizziness. She had no doubt that he’d try to make their marriage work for Emma’s benefit, but it had never occurred to her that he might want to make it work for her benefit as well.

When his hands stilled and he lifted his eyes to hers, she realized she’d waited too long to respond. Flustered, she grappled to regain her equilibrium as her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked, his warm gaze gauging her reaction.

“I—I don’t even compare to those other women and you know it,” she stammered. “They’re beautiful, they’re wealthy, and they are far more suitable for your world than I could ever hope to be.”

“You’re beautiful. And, trust me, I’d rather have you in my bed than any one of those rich, spoiled socialites.”

She blinked, grateful for the shading brim of her hat. “You don’t have to fake it for my benefit,” she said, pushing the words past her dry throat. “You don’t have to pretend I’m the wife you would have chosen had you been given the choice.”

“I did have a choice. And I chose you.” “Yes, but …” she started to say. “You only chose me because—”

“I chose you because I wanted you,” he said flatly. “Providing a good mother for my daughter factored into it, yes, but I’d have wanted you whether we had Emma or not.”

“Why? Why would you want me when you don’t even love me?” she asked, hating herself for asking but unable to stop the words from