Sweet Seduction Sacrifice (44 page)

"Shall I go first?" he asked, panting. "I love you, Genevieve Cain. You're my fucking world."

His pace picked up as though, admitting those words while he slid in and out of me was too much and had tipped him over the edge.

"Ah, Christ," he muttered and started thrusting in earnest now. One hand wrapped around my neck, his weight on his elbow at my side, his eyes holding mine inches from my face. The other hand lifting my leg up higher around his back, altering the angle, making him go deeper inside on each evermore urgent thrust.

I was close, so close. Every single pound he made pushing me closer to the edge and I knew when I got there it would be
big
. Because I was his world. Because he loved me. Because in the moment of intimacy, when he'd pushed for me to say the words, he'd bared his soul and said them first.

I felt it, it came at me like an uncontrollable force, it got closer and closer and better and better and bigger and bigger, and then in the final moment when I felt weightless as I crested that wave, I cried out, shifting my hips to take Dominic deeper, "I love you! Oh God, Dominic! I love you!"

"Yes," he breathed against me and then thrust deeper still, emitting a decidedly sexy groan, and then another deep thrust, still groaning, another slower, just as deep thrust. Still groaning. And then finally, one, two, three, four, slow, soft thrusts as his groan turned to a breathy grunt and his head collapsed in amongst my hair at the curve of my neck.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes as we came down from that perfect moment.

Then muffled, against the sweat-soaked skin of my neck, "Christ, sweetheart. You have no idea."

"I love you, Genevieve Cain. You're my fucking world."

Dominic's words woke me in the early hours of the morning. His head rested on my chest, his arm draped over my stomach, hand cupping my hip. My side lay flush against his chest and groin, our bodies fused down our entire lengths, one of his legs entangled in mine. And he snored, just lightly, softly. It was adorable and wasn't the reason I had woken at all.

"I love you, Genevieve Cain. You're my fucking world."

A smile curved my lips, my heart skipped a beat or two and I struggled to contain the thrill I felt at remembering his tone, his sexy, deep voice, as he said those glorious words.

"I love you, Genevieve Cain. You're my fucking world."

I thought I'd be scared. I thought this would be the moment I would pack my bags and run. But it wasn't there. That fright, that uncontrollable angst. In its place was pure delight, a sensation of completeness, of total and utter joy. Dominic Anscombe loved me.

And I loved him right back.

Sleeping again was going to be an impossibility, I was sure. I was too excited, like a child on Christmas morning, I couldn't keep the smile off my face, couldn't still my rapidly beating heart or slow my breaths at all. As much as I loved lying there feeling Dominic draped over me, as much as I loved watching him sleep in blissful, relaxed slumber, I was too excited to sit still. The urge to fidget too great, and I really didn't want to disturb him. He needed his rest after everything that we had been through. And I needed a cup of hot chocolate.

With extreme care I shifted out from under him, gently placing his head down on the pillow and his arm on the bed itself. I hadn't realised how much he weighed until I tried to move him off me. Strangely enough, when he had me trapped beneath him, wrapped up in his arms, he didn't feel heavy at all.

I stared down at him for several seconds, noting his firm jawline, his beautiful features soft in repose. He was gorgeous, no two ways about it. He
was
god-like and I knew without a doubt that I loved him. And I was sure that feeling would never grow old.

My heartbeat was still rocketing with joyful excitement, but my breathing had thankfully slowed, so I slipped out of the room and headed downstairs to the lounge. Hot chocolate would do the trick. I hoped Dominic had some in the cupboard, and with the way his housekeeper kept his shelves stocked, I was thinking I might be in luck.

My cellphone on the kitchen bench caught my eye, the red light flashing to indicate a voice-mail. With such exquisite excitement bubbling inside me, I didn't have it in me to see who had called, so headed straight for the pantry and my current goal. Eureka!
Cadbury's
Hot Chocolate sachets, just what the doctor ordered. Kettle boiled and steaming milky hot chocolate drink in hand, I scooped up my phone and made myself comfortable on an armchair over by the floor to ceiling windows, Rangitoto Island with the shipping channel marked with red and green lit buoys made up the night time scene.

Relaxing myself with half the mug of soothing creaminess, I flipped my phone open and dialled my voice-mail box.

The voice that greeted my ears was high pitched and warbled slightly, not from anger or fright, but more from a delicate, fragile disposition, I thought. I knew immediately it was a female's voice, not from the tone, but from some inner, gut feeling, that had me empathising with the caller, feeling her distress and heartache and angst, as though it was mine.

"Youuuuuuu," she breathed into the phone, lengthening the words in an effort to contain her pain. "He is not youuuuurs." My hot chocolate cup slid from my fingers, but thankfully landed upright, with a thud, on the table to my side. "He loves meeeeee. Not...not...not youuuuu." Oh dear God, it was her. It had to be her. Caroline. His Caro. But how could she phone me from the asylum? "He'll come back to meeeeee. You'll seeeeee. He always comes back to meeeeee. I'm waiting for hiiiiim. He'll leave you for meeeeeee. Then we'll see who is loved." Her voice suddenly sounded stronger; clearly, less insane - if I was honest. "You mean nothing to him. How can you? When you're not even his type."

The phone went dead.

The chill that had invaded my bones, seeped through my entire body until I was physically shaking, trembling with the ice cold sensation her message had created. I sat quaking in the chair, but a feeling of numbness had taken hold.

I played her words over and over again in my mind, waiting for the moment I told myself they were true. That I was not his type. That I meant nothing to him. That he didn't love me. But the moment didn't come. In its place was a sense of compassion, of heartfelt sadness for Caroline, who clearly was not healthy and needed all the help she could get.

I stood up from the armchair and headed towards the stairs and the task of waking Dominic up, from what was no doubt a beautiful post-coital sleep, and ruining the start of his day.

"Honey," I whispered, as I sat down on my side of the bed and stroked a hand through his tumble of bed-messy dark hair.

"Mmm," he mumbled, a small smile curving his lips, but his eyes didn't open. My heart skipped a beat again, but this time for an entirely different reason. He was beautiful and so happy, and I didn't want to have to wipe that blissful look off his face. But he needed to know.

"Wake up, honey," I encouraged. "I have to show you something."

"Sweetheart," he mumbled, still half-asleep, "come closer and I'll gladly look at anything you have to show me." His arm snaked out and around my waist and suddenly I was hauled tight against his side.

"Oh!" I managed to get out before I was shifted again, in lightning speed, and felt his body settle on top of me, moulding down the length of mine. I guess he was more awake than I had thought.

"Now," he murmured softly, nuzzling the skin at the side of my neck, under my hair, "what delightful thing have you got to show me? Is it this?" His voice was light and so merry. He thought we were playing a game. His fingers pulled down my T-shirt exposing a naked breast. "This
is
a delight, I agree."

"Dominic," I said, squirming despite my efforts to bring gravity to the conversation.

"Shush!" he ordered. "I'm discovering your treasures."

His lips wrapped around my nipple, his tongue laying a wet circle along the edge of my areola, then his teeth nipped - receiving a yelp crossed with a moan from me - and he began to suck. For a second or two I forgot about the message, but the moment his erection made itself gloriously known against my stomach, Caroline's voice came crashing back in.

My cellphone was still in my hand, I'm not sure how it hadn't got discarded once Dominic started touching me, but I found myself bringing the phone up and somehow placing it between us. Then with a wiggle with my fingers, capturing Dominic's attention, I watched as a frown began to mar his perfect face and he slowly pulled back slightly to look at the phone and finally turn narrowing eyes on me.

"Don't tell me." His voice was gruff, I wasn't sure if that was from his heightened turned on state or from the knowledge that this was not going to be good news. "A message is what you wanted to show me?"

I bit my lip and let a breath of air out on a huff. "Sorry," I whispered, so desperately hating ruining the moment.

Dominic didn't move off me, he simply reached for the phone, pressed a few buttons, returned his eyes to mine and placed the speaker against his ear.

I watched in morbid fascination as first incredulity, then sadness, then outrage flashed across his face. His jaw tightened, his lips pressed flat, his brow furrowed and then he listened to the message again, pressing the necessary buttons to replay it, returning the device to his ear.

I held my breath and waited. It was clear to me he wasn't in the slightest bit pleased, in fact, I was certain killer-lawyer had entered the room, and when he slowly sat up and slid from the bed, iced-lawyer left a chill in his wake. I closed my eyes softly and concentrated on breathing for a few seconds, then I jumped when he spoke; shattering the tense silence in the room.

"This is Dominic Anscombe, I'd like an update on my charge: Ms Caroline Pembleton."

My eyes flicked open in time to catch him running a hand over his face in frustration, then his fingers grabbed some of his hair scrunching slightly, as though he wanted to pull it loose. I jumped up off the bed without thinking, and went straight to him. My hands reaching up and entwining my fingers with his. Blue-blue eyes met mine, and then I was pulled close, flush against his chest, and his lips found my temple, laying a soft caress there.

The movement meant more than words could ever convey. Even in a crisis, with his ex-girlfriend falling off the abyss of sanity and encroaching on his ordered and perfect world, he was able to reassure me with one touch. I wrapped my arms around him and held on as he waited for a reply on the phone.

"I see," he said ominously. "Have the police been informed?" Pause, then, "I suggest you do that now and have someone go over the security cameras." I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes and praying she was all right.

I didn't know Caroline personally, and quite frankly I didn't really want to, but I understood that depth of love. I felt it too. Where you would do anything for the man who held your heart. It was just that Caroline didn't realise she no longer - if she ever had at all - held his.

"No, I have a fair idea where she would have gone to. I'll check there first and let you know." Dominic's words broke through the fog of emotions swirling inside my mind. Of course he'd know where she would go, she'd done this many times before. And of course he'd be the one to check, he felt responsible for her. And if his words earlier,
my charge
, were any indication, he also had some legal connection to her, perhaps her Power of Attorney, I wasn't sure. All of that made complete sense. But still I felt the blow.

I pulled back, slipping out of his arms as he rang off the call.

"Christ!" he exclaimed harshly. Hand again running through his hair. "She's fucking impossible! She will not help herself, no matter what we do. And she's fucking beginning to piss me off!" He stormed over to the closet and began to get dressed.

I stood frozen for a second and then decided I needed to be dressed for this too, so started grabbing my clothes off the floor and slipping them on as well.

"Sweetheart," Dominic said, much more softly when he noticed me dressing, "go back to bed and catch up on some sleep. I'll deal with this."

I shook my head, but kept donning clothes. Dominic's hand came down firmly, but gently on my upper arm.

"Genevieve," -
that
voice - "you don't need to be involved."

"Yes I do," I shot back.

"She's not your problem," he replied, voice tightening slightly.

"And you're no longer alone. Stop trying to take on the world on your own."

"That's irrelevant and you know it," he replied, voice lowering, hand getting harder on my arm. I stopped dressing and turned to face him.

"I can see why you'd think that," I said slowly, looking him directly in the eye. "And I understand what you have to do to help Caroline has nothing to do with us." His face softened, his hold became a caress, but I wasn't finished. "But Caroline needs to see you've moved on. She needs to see me with you, words are not enough." He looked surprised at my suggestion, and then contemplative. I pushed on in the hopes I'd break through his iced-lawyer façade. "Words haven't done the trick so far, Dominic. So, she needs to see the truth. You and me together, even though it will hurt."