My Shocking Monte Carlo Confession (Mills & Boon Modern) Read online

  Kiss—who was I kidding? That hadn’t been a kiss, it had been an explosion of need, desire and something else. Something I definitely did not want to name, let alone think about. But how could I not, when my balcony gave me an uninterrupted view of the pool—the place where I had lost myself once before?

  I wet my dry throat with a sip of the vintage Cognac I usually kept for special occasions. The liquor burned my throat as I swallowed. My skin felt tight and hot, my heart beating an erratic rhythm.

  When I’d received the results of the DNA test and discovered that the boy was mine, that Remy was not the father, my feelings had been mixed. First shock, then anger that I had been denied this knowledge for so long, but underneath it all had been a strange sense of joy which I could no more explain than my incendiary reaction to Belle’s touch this afternoon.

  I was not parent material, had never even considered becoming a father. But my feelings towards the boy, towards becoming a father so unexpectedly, were nowhere near as volatile as my feelings for his mother.

  Especially as I now knew the truth, not just about her virginity, but about Remy.

  Had I always known my brother was gay? I think I had. It sickened me to realise all the signs had been there. I had spent the last few hours—ever since Belle’s revelation—recalling the conversations I’d had with Remy about dating in the last few years of his life. The enquiries he’d avoided answering, the jokes he’d laughed at with a strained smile—even our final conversation when Remy had seemed so pleased about my one-night stand with his best friend which I had been determined to believe was a cover for some secret heartbreak.

  Remy had been showing me the truth all along and I had failed to see it.

  Was that the real reason I had been torn apart by guilt after his death—because I’d tried to blame Belle when the only person who had really betrayed Remy was me? Not by sleeping with his girl, but by refusing to see him as he really was. By avoiding that truth because it had been easier than having to deal with it—having to support him and defend him against our father’s prejudices.

  Maybe Belle had been a coward not to tell me about my son. But I had been an even bigger coward, not supporting Remy, not ensuring he knew he could be honest with me.

  I stared down at the pool, the lights giving the water a bright-blue glow, and the knots in my stomach released. I could almost hear Remy’s voice—laughing, cheeky, kind and optimistic—telling me to let go of the guilt.

  Belle was right. What the hell was the point of feeling guilty now about how I had let my brother down? I couldn’t go back and fix the mistakes I’d made.

  We knew.

  My stomach tensed again. I slugged back the rest of the Cognac.

  I was not going there, or I’d only feel more confused. More angry. More humiliated. I’d kidded myself that I was protecting my brother when all the time he—and Belle, with her silence about his sexuality—had been protecting me.

  I reached for the bottle to refill my glass. But then my hand paused.

  Not the answer, Alexi.

  Alcohol was never the answer. I, of all people, ought to know that.

  I slammed down the glass and glanced back at the pool. I’d gone down there that night to cool off because I’d been so mad at my father for turning to drink, first and foremost, and at my mother for abandoning Remy and me all those years ago. But right now a cold swim felt like a better solution than sulking in my room and getting drunk.

  The memories were going to haunt me anyway—there was no avoiding them. Heading down to the pool now and diving into that frigid water wasn’t going to make them any worse. And it might finally kill the heat that had been messing with my head ever since I’d turned and spotted Belle standing in my mother’s old parlour this afternoon—her eyes wary, intelligent and guarded.

  I’d brought her here to pay her off. To pay off my responsibilities to the child, to manage the fallout from that night long ago. I’d wanted to be angry with her for her deception, wanted to believe she was guilty of everything I’d ever accused her of in my grief, guilt and loneliness, even though I’d already known before she’d arrived most of it wasn’t true.

  I had read the report from the private investigator whom Etienne had hired on my behalf. I knew exactly how hard it had been for her financially, especially during the early years of our son’s life—after I had banished her and threatened her with arrest. I had been wrong, not just about her relationship with my brother, but about my desire for her. I had always tried to pretend it was nothing more than a one-night stand brought about by alcohol, loneliness and opportunity.

  The minute she had touched my face, though, the minute she had looked into my eyes, I had seen her compassion, but also her desire, and my body’s response had made me acknowledge how much I had lied to myself.

  But I wasn’t the only one lying.

  I still wanted her—as much as, if not more than, I had five years ago—but she still wanted me. And now I needed to decide what I was going to do about that too.

  Etienne had told me an hour ago Belle had refused the financial package I was offering her. But I was determined my son—and by extension his mother—would be financially secure.

  Marching out of my bedroom suite, I headed down the stairs and walked out into the night. It was warm for May, the sultry breeze filling with the scent of wildflowers. But, as I crossed the villa’s terrazzo and took the steps winding down to the pool, the memories blindsided me again. I felt tense and edgy, my skin prickling with the unrequited desire I couldn’t seem to tame, but instead of struggling to hold the memories in, as I stripped off my clothes and dived into the pool, I let them flood through me again as I sunk beneath the crisp, cool water.

  ‘But I do want you, Alexi. I always have. And I don’t care about the consequences.’

  As I stood on the pool terrace, my mind tried to engage with what Belle was saying to me.

  Who was this girl? Because it wasn’t the tomboy whose thick braids made her hair look like a couple of hunks of vibrant red rope, the kid who had trailed around after my brother, Remy, for years and got into no end of trouble with him.

  I couldn’t ignore the evidence of my eyes any longer. She wore the same shimmering green dress she’d worn a month ago to the Galanti summer ball. I hadn’t recognised her at first that night, and after I had I’d tried to ignore her. But I’d known then I was already in big trouble. Because she didn’t look like a kid any more. She looked like a woman. A beautiful woman.

  And tonight she didn’t just look like a beautiful woman, she looked like a goddess, wild and untamed. Her vibrant red hair—no longer pinned up in a sophisticated concoction of curls, as it had been at the ball—caught the moonlight, creating a fiery halo around her head. Those slanting eyes were the colour of rough-cut emeralds, and her high breasts pressed against the tight bodice. Barefoot, brave and unashamed, she was like some Greek water nymph—beautiful, bold and devastating to my peace of mind.

  Heat throbbed and surged in my groin, stiffening my shaft and making me forget about the ache in my jaw where my father had lashed out to end our argument.

  With Belle I had always felt like a person instead of a shadow. But I felt like much more than just a person now. The sweet passion and approval in those emerald pools weren’t just soothing all the feelings of inadequacy which had haunted me since childhood. They were firing my soul.

  What was so wrong with wanting her for myself, just this once?

  Tonight I needed her so I could feel like part of the world. To take away the hollow ache in my soul that had always been there. Ever since the night my mother had left and my father had used his fists on me for the first time.

  I didn’t want to think about consequences, about the past or the future. I just wanted to live in the now.

  Reaching out of their own accord, my palms caressed the shimmering silk.

&nb
sp; Her breath gushed out against my lips, her arms reaching around me as her body bowed to mine.

  I tasted her for the first time. She was like nectar—both sweet and spicy, both refreshing and addictive. I knew I should take things slowly. Be careful with her, be kind. How much experience did she have? But then her fingers curled into my hair, her nails scraping across my scalp, and sensation arrowed into my sex, turning my erection to iron.

  Her tongue tangled with mine in fast, furious strokes as if she couldn’t get enough of my taste. I knew how she felt. The hunger was consuming me as I dragged her against the thick ridge in my pants and ground it against her soft curves so she would know how much I needed her.

  She didn’t flinch or squeal, she matched my hunger with hunger of her own. My mind, or what was left of it, rejoiced. This was not a woman without experience, or how could she know exactly how to touch and taste me to drive me insane?

  The last of my inhibitions died as I scooped her into my arms and carried her to a lounger. She lay panting, her eyes wild, her full breasts heaving against the floaty material. Material I’d wanted to rip off her the first time I’d seen her in the damn thing.

  Her hair lay around her and I imagined that mermaid in the cartoon she used to love watching when she’d first come to live with us.

  The thought should have had a sobering effect. But remembering her as a kid only seemed to make me more aware of how much older she was now.

  Not a girl, a woman. A seductress in full charge of her sexuality.

  I wanted to tear the sheer fabric, but forced myself to control the urge.

  ‘I want you so damn much,’ I admitted.

  Her skin flushed, the sight breathtaking as her lips spread into a smile that consumed her whole face and left me feeling a little dazed, a lot dazzled.

  ‘Me too,’ she said on a breathless whisper so full of longing, I was surprised my head didn’t explode.

  I lay down beside her, forced myself to go slow. She might know what she did to me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to cherish this moment. I couldn’t offer her permanence. This would be a one-time deal. But it would be the best deal she’d ever had.

  I brushed my thumb over the rigid nipple visible through her dress. The violent shiver which racked her body at the light caress made me chuckle.

  ‘Dio, when did you grow into such a beautiful woman?’ I said, because it still puzzled me. One minute she had been tagging around with my kid brother, climbing trees, causing trouble, and then a month ago everything had changed. She’d walked into the summer ball on Remy’s arm, her curves spotlighted by the dress, her eyes connecting with mine, and all I’d wanted to do was ditch the woman on my own arm and fall to my knees in front of her.

  Remy had been teasing me about my reaction ever since.

  ‘Years ago,’ she whispered.

  ‘What about Remy?’ I asked as I trailed my thumb over the pulse point in her neck—but the truth was I was finding it hard to care about my brother’s claim on her. If Remy cared about her, why wasn’t he here instead of heading out for the evening in Nice with a group of his friends? ‘I thought you were his girl.’

  She blinked and something crossed her face, but then she said, ‘I’m nobody’s girl. I’m a woman, and I make my own decisions.’

  Blood pounded in my groin and I gave up trying to think coherently as I scooped a handful of her hair into my fist and tugged her lips back to mine. I’d always tried to protect Remy, not just from our father’s anger but also our mother’s neglect. But I wanted to take this one thing for myself. How could it be wrong when I needed her so much? Remy had always joked about their relationship, never staked a claim to her. Why should I care, if he didn’t?

  I sunk into the fragrant mass, which smelled of flowers and sea, as my mouth captured hers. She bowed back, her breasts rubbing against my chest like a cat desperate to be stroked.

  I cupped the warm flesh, slipped my hand beneath the bodice. My hunger roared as I found naked flesh and her nipple swelled against my palm.

  Dio! She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  All the fantasies I’d had about her in the last month, fantasies I had tried so hard to tame, flooded through my brain and had every last molecule of reason plummeting into my pants.

  Her palm cradled me, gauging the size and weight of my erection.

  I jolted. Her touch was like lightning. My palm glided up her thigh under the floaty fabric to trace the sensitive seam of flesh at the top of her leg. She shuddered and moaned, the raw thirst like a flare to my libido.

  I pressed the heel of my hand against her vulva, felt the damp heat of her panties then slipped my finger inside the gusset to find the plump lips of her sex swollen and ready for me.

  Grasping handfuls of the dress, I tugged it up.

  ‘Sit up,’ I ordered, and she obeyed, allowing me to drag the garment over her head. I threw it away then helped her to wriggle out of her panties.

  Her naked body glowed in the moonlight, the sprinkle of freckles across her collarbone like a trail of stars leading me home.

  I captured the stiff peak between hungry lips. I flicked and nuzzled the pebbled tip until she was panting with need, while my fingers explored the slick seam of her sex and found the swollen nub.

  As if she had been primed and ready for me, she choked off a sob.

  ‘Come for me, bella notte,’ I demanded, frantic to see her shatter.

  Her cry echoed in the night and drifted away on the sea breeze. Ecstasy surged through me. I wasn’t a shadow, I was a man. I wasn’t a nobody, I was somebody. At least, to Belle—whatever my father shouted at me.

  Her emerald eyes stared at me, unfocused and dazed, her sweet skin flushed a beautiful pink.

  Suddenly I was frantically releasing myself from my trousers, positioning her hips. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had no protection with me. I’d never taken a woman without protection in my life, but I promised myself I would pull out before it was too late.

  She wrapped her fingers around my shaft, her thumb trailing across the head, and I had to bite off a sob of my own. But I forced myself to slow down, to ask, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her confidence and certainty humbling me.

  Notching my erection to her entrance, I pressed in slowly. I forced myself not to thrust too hard. She was tight, incredibly tight, but she didn’t flinch or turn away. She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around my waist. Welcoming me home as she clung to me, her nails dug into my shoulders, only increasing the sensory overload.

  At last I was lodged deep. Our ragged breathing sounded loud in the quiet night. I felt conquered and all-conquering.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked. Had I ever felt this incredible inside a woman before? I didn’t think so. ‘You’re very tight.’

  She nodded. ‘It feels wonderful.’ She sighed. I shifted and her voice broke on a raw gasp. I had found her G-spot.

  I rocked my hips, out and back, digging into that tender spot—euphoria licking at my spine and turning my limbs to jelly as she reacted like a wild thing.

  I wanted to last, wanted to make this as magnificent for her as it was for me, but I could feel the orgasm crashing towards me. I held on, held back, kept pushing, kept thrusting, kept digging. Each sweet sigh, each staggered sob, added to the frenzy working through me.

  At last her muscles clamped around me, massaging my length, and my climax roared through me.

  I collapsed on top of her, hollowed out, spent, but as soon as the afterglow began to fade and my breathing evened out I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.

  I saw Remy’s face—open, joking, laughing, uncomplicated and so loyal—and disgust ripped through me. The shadows returned in a rush, chilling my body as I withdrew and felt her flinch.

  Doing up my trousers, I got off the lounger and passed her the dress.

&
nbsp; ‘Is everything okay, Alexi?’ she asked, suddenly sounding like a little girl again, wary and unsure.

  ‘I didn’t use a condom,’ I said, turning my back so she could get dressed.

  I dragged unsteady fingers through my hair, appalled at my actions.

  ‘I... I’m sorry... I think it’s okay, though. I’ve only just finished my period.’ Her voice sounded small, hesitant, embarrassed. And the shame engulfed me.

  ‘Don’t be sorry,’ I said. ‘Just let me know if there’s a problem.’

  I turned back. Thank God she had donned the dress and her panties. But she still looked... Heat pulsed. I needed to leave, to get out of here, before I took her again.

  ‘Okay?’ I said, more sharply than I had intended.

  She nodded, her eyes wide. ‘Yes, Alexi.’

  ‘Are you going to the track tomorrow?’ I asked, sickened with myself when she nodded.

  Of course she would be there, to see Remy test the new car. He would want her there because she was his girl, not mine.

  ‘Don’t tell Remy what happened between us. It was a mistake, okay?’ I said.

  She looked down, her fingers clutched together, the knuckles white. Her shoulders trembled imperceptibly and I felt like a bastard. The bastard my father had always accused me of being. Was she going to cry? Damn it.

  Capturing her chin, I lifted her face to mine.

  ‘Do you understand, Belle? It was a mistake. It’s not going to happen again, we’re not dating,’ I said, keeping my voice cool even though the heat was still thrumming through my system like a ballistic missile.

  She nodded again.

  ‘Say it,’ I demanded.

  ‘I understand, Alexi. We’re not dating. It was a mistake.’

  I wanted to kiss her, to apologise—she looked so forlorn—but I resisted the urge and let go of her chin. Those deep pools of green were filled with sadness, but I forced the prickle of anger to the fore. I wasn’t the only one who had cheated on my brother. She had cheated on him too.