Hate to Love You (4 page)

I couldn’t look at her. She’d be preening and blushing with pleasure and the sight would make me sick. I stared into James’s eyes instead, suddenly struck by the image of a summer blade of grass dipped in gold.

“Gold dust doesn’t stick,” I said, much to everybody’s bemusement. They could make of my words whatever they wanted, because I didn’t even know what I meant by that.

“Never mind Paisley, darling, we’re used to her tirades,” Caroline said.

The conversation turned to the wedding and I slumped back in my chair, my food cold and forgotten. James looked serene, the sanctimonious prat, whereas I felt anything but. I was seething, aroused by our exchange and wanting to fly across the table and take my convoluted emotions out on him.

What the hell was wrong with me?

James observed me so discreetly I doubted anybody else noticed. Every time our eyes met it was like swallowing hard liquor, a burning jolt that travelled straight to the pit of my stomach. When I saw his next glance I was ready.

<<
Hungry?
>>

His fist clenched around his glass. I concentrated on squeezing ketchup over my cold chips, just to do something to keep my eyes off him. When I looked up he was watching me again.

<<
Can’t stop staring
,
can you?
>>

His gaze went to my cheek. <<
You’ve got ketchup on your face.
>>

I wiped it off with a scowl and the corners of his lips lifted. When the meal was finished I got the cake I’d picked up and set it on the table. My top gaped open in front of James as I fumbled with the matches, taking my time to light my candle. Unmistakable desire flashed in his eyes before he caught himself and looked away.

Caroline’s voice floated around the kitchen, her vowels longer than the Queen’s. “Trisha and Sandy are travelling down next weekend for bridesmaid’s fittings with Veronica and Harriet. Afterwards we’ll be dining at La Piemontesa.”

I rolled my eyes. There was no such thing as plain old eating and drinking for Caroline. These days she “dined,” “took tea” or “enjoyed refreshments.” The more she talked about her plans, the more my serotonin levels dropped. I knew all about those from rehab. They rise sharply when you’re high and when they drop they take you with them. For some people that means a lot of whinging or crying; for me it means bad-tempered rudeness.

My madwoman might be stuck away in the attic but my inner bitch was free to roam.

“You mean I’m not a bridesmaid?” I interrupted, laying on a little false accent of my own. “I’m gut’ed.”

“You can help the best man,” Caroline said.

“I’d rather get off with him, thanks.”

My father banged his fist on the table. “Elizabeth Paisley Benton!”

Oh, crap, he was going to make me pay for that little remark. My mother reached a fluttering hand out, smiling nervously at James. Watching her attempt to control my father’s rage, it occurred to me that he couldn’t do anything in front of our posh guest.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hand on heart. “I’d rather fuck the best man’s brains out than have anything to do with the wedding. How’s
that
for honesty, James?”

I toasted my sister with the last of my juice, leaving my family to make excuses to the stuck-up lawyer who was going to marry her.
Him
I was glad to leave behind most of all.

* * *

I tried to drown my troubles in bathwater but my mind flitted between my unwanted pregnancy and my unwanted attraction to James. Pregnancy...James...baby...

Babe
.

Oh God, I couldn’t do anything about being pregnant but I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste another second thinking about my sister’s snooty fiancé. I wished I could have got him back for his insults though, especially the one about my lack of intelligence. That had to be the only reason he was still occupying my thoughts.

I pulled my bathrobe over my damp skin and walked out of the bathroom, coming to an abrupt halt when I saw James leaning against the opposite wall. His eyes swept over me, pausing briefly on my breasts before he averted his gaze. I swallowed nervously, my fingers clumsy as I finished tying my robe.

We stared at each other, swirling currents rippling in the air between us. With one stride he was in front of me.

“Excuse me,” he said stiffly, intending to brush past and go into the bathroom.

I didn’t budge. “Where is everybody?”

“Caroline took the Lamborghini to drop off your parents at the Radomskys’ for card games while I shower and change. We’re meeting up with her bridesmaids in town.”

He looked just fine to me. The work tie had come off and a few of his shirt buttons were undone. His sleeves were rolled up and his face was slightly flushed from sitting in our stuffy kitchen. And his lips—

Stop slobbering!
my mind shouted.

“I’m sorry James,” I said hurriedly, bowing my head and mustering all the sincerity I could. “I was acting like an idiot before dinner but I was just teasing. Honest. I didn’t mean what I said about your job either. You showed me I’m being irresponsible and lazy and I didn’t like it.”

My eyes were level with his chest, counting the open buttons with a mind of their own. “I wish I had a brother like you, somebody to give me good advice.”

James’s expression changed from guarded to friendly and he relaxed. His eyes warmed and out came that devastating smile. My breath caught at his loveliness. An odd description for a man, I know, and I couldn’t even blame the upper.

I held out my hand and smiled tentatively. “Friends?”

When I felt his warm clasp, the same little contact buzz ricocheted between us but we didn’t let go. I don’t think James noticed he was still holding my hand until I tugged it free. I’d almost forgotten about getting him back for his insults. Almost.

My bottom lip trembled. “My rudeness forced me upstairs without even a kiss from Mum and Dad but never mind,” I said, sighing for good measure. “We’re rarely on good terms anyway and nobody even cares that it’s my birthday.”

I heaved a longer, heavier sigh and turned away, shoulders hunched and face averted. I didn’t have to pretend the sadness but had I laid it on too thick? Something in my voice must have got to James because he pulled me back like I hoped he would.

“Happy Birthday, Paisley.”

He bent his head and aimed a brotherly kiss at my cheek but I saw it coming and turned my lips to his at the last minute. My intention was to give him a quick peck to put him on the spot and embarrass him, but kissing James was like nothing I’d ever felt before. His mouth was warm and masculine, yes, but electric, sparking a jet of instant pleasure that spread from my lips to the rest of my body like one of those forest fires you hear about in California.

James gasped and pulled away. Without thinking I followed his upward move, clinging to his mouth. He froze and I took advantage, twining my tongue with his and stroking into him. He tasted of the expensive brandy he’d gifted my father. Heady and forbidden.

A long shudder went through him and then his tongue stroked me back and he pulled me roughly into his chest. My hands locked around the back of his neck and we tangled together, probing and pulling in a rising surge of desire, tasting each other like we couldn’t get enough.

He didn’t nibble at me or beat around the bush. He devoured my mouth as if he were starving. When he reached down to push me away, I held on to his neck like a leech. Hot hands landed on my bottom, rested and then cupped and squeezed me into his crotch. He was hard and getting harder. The sound in his throat was tortured. Full of lust. He tightened his grip to pull me into his erection and I emitted the same sort of sound.

My nipples were on fire, throbbing under my bathrobe as I tried to get closer. I wanted to fit my body to his until the sliver of space between us disappeared and all I could feel was James, all I could hear was the pounding of his heart. He covered my breast with his palm, digging in tightly to feel its heaviness through the threadbare cotton. It wasn’t enough for either of us. He yanked my robe open and clamped his hand over my naked breast, grinding into me with his hips.

I gasped at his thrust and my heart jumped as five kinds of alive touched my bare skin. His fingers were scorching, circling my aching nipple, confident and sure. I’d never felt anything like it. Exhilarating. Excruciating. I bit his bottom lip and he returned the favour.

It was as if James was consumed by the force of his attraction to me, as if he wanted to absorb me completely, delete the effect I had on him and wipe me out of his system. And I wanted to do the same, sink myself through his every layer and tear out whatever it was that triggered my overwhelming response to him.

Lost in a current of conflicting emotions, we took it out on each other. I raked my nails across the corded muscles of his neck and drew blood. James’s revenge—the instant, demanding prod of his granite hard-on—heated me to boiling. Everywhere his hands touched my body responded, wanting more. He obliged, his tongue delving deeper, punishing me with his exploration. Tasting every particle of my desire and owning me completely.

He was no longer fighting his attraction to me; he was branding me his, singeing my skin with his possession.

<<
Mine.
>>

My eyes were shut but his thought rippled through me as if he’d spoken out loud. We were connected, mentally and physically wired together. He pulled me upward and hoisted me around his hips, spreading my thighs and fitting my legs around his waist. When my back slammed into the wall I had a moment of clarity, remembering that my parents and Caroline could be home any minute. The thought was fleeting, gone with the next shove of his hips. We were melded together in a desperate, carnal rhythm and I completely forgot they existed.

All I could think of was James’s rampant sword.

Hold on a minute, where in the
fuck
had that come from? All I could think of was his
cock
pressing into me, damn it. He moaned when I unzipped his trousers and found him, hot and thick and heavy. I whispered my approval against his mouth. I’m not one of these shrinking virgin types like Caroline. I liked his package and I told him so.

A huge reality check, as it turned out.

“Shit!” James grabbed my hand and pulled it off him. The supportive hold on my bottom dropped and my knees buckled. I slumped against the wall, dazed, and he jumped back with another hoarse curse. The sudden absence of his body left me feeling bereft. Incomplete. As if I’d given up my favourite drug cold turkey. I wanted to launch myself at him and feel his arms around me once more.

Oddly, I also wanted to cry.

Recovering enough to readjust my robe, I glanced at James’s face and read his desire for me. Self-loathing was fast overtaking it though, and I suspected the loathing would be directed at me next. Yes, there it was. I dropped my eyes. What the fuck had I just done? My petty revenge for his irritating judgements had turned into the most intensely passionate experience of my life. That it had been with James was the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. Hell, I didn’t even
like
the man. In fact, I hated people like him, snooty and patronising. Not only that, he was Caroline’s soon-to-be husband, forever and ever, amen.

How could I have thrown myself at him?

I wanted to escape to my bedroom but the disgust on James’s face kept me prisoner. It also triggered my pride, spurring me to taunt him before he saw how much he had affected me.

“It looks like the little head does the thinking after all,” I mocked.

He looked away, infuriated at his participation in our mano a mano. “You’re a nasty piece of work, Paisley Benton.”

He was right, but I wanted to slap him all the same. “I think you like it nasty,” I sneered, staring pointedly at his crotch. “I think you’re tired of boring and tasteless. You’re starving for flavour and thirsty for my personal favourite—a long, hard screw up against the wall.”

James’s pitying look made me want to graduate my slap to a jaw-breaking punch.

“Throwing yourself at unavailable men only says you’re desperate and have no class.”

I looked away. Kissing him had proved that I was indeed the slutty little sister. I didn’t want his opinion of me to hurt but it did. Then the hurt turned into anger. Who did James think he was to judge me? He had participated just as much I had, hadn’t he? Kissed me like he couldn’t get enough and rubbed against me like he meant business. So what did that make him?

I jutted my chin. “I wouldn’t say it’s classy to feel up your fiancée’s sister.”

He cursed, advanced a step then drew back. “What you—what
we
did was despicable.”

I imitated his expression and shot it back at him. Not for the first time I thanked my bizarre gift. Oh, he meant what he said, all righty—most of it. Paisley Benton repulsed him.

But he wanted her anyway.

“And that really bothers you, doesn’t it?” I said derisively. “That somebody like me can make you hot around your expensive Italian collar. Who’s the hypocrite now? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.”

“Don’t push me.”

“Or you’ll push
into
me right? Want to put it to the test?”

I grabbed my robe and considered flashing him to prove my point. Quick as a panther, he lunged. I yelped in surprised pain as his fingers dug into my arms. My body leapt in response and I wanted...I wanted... Well, I didn’t know what I wanted but I knew I wanted him to give it to me.

He lowered his mouth to my ear, his lips parting to shape themselves around calm, controlled words. “Maybe one day you’ll find a man who doesn’t mind settling for what you offer, but even if I didn’t love Caroline you wouldn’t meet my standards, regardless of how long it’s been since I’ve had a screw up against the wall.”

I recoiled, struck by the truth in his eyes. He released me, setting me aside and shutting the bathroom door in my face with a dismissive click. I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the chipped paint before I ran to my bedroom and flung myself on the bed, trembling with a mixture of fury, shame and unfulfilled desire.