A Husband's Vendetta

It did terrible things to her. It reached parts she’d thought would never feel anything again. She could touch him if she chose to, perhaps run her finger along his mouth and trace the impossibly sultry outline of his lips. Her own mouth became soft and pouting at the thought.

And then she remembered why they were both here—to sever all links. That was why he looked as though he were pleading with her. To say ‘Shame it all happened, let’s call it quits, let me make a life of my own with Miss Right and Gemma’.

Ellen flinched. Caught like a helpless animal in the path of his monstrous aura, she forced herself to lean back in her chair, cutting off the invisible strings which had been drawing them together.

When he continued to study her with narrowed eyes, she floundered around for something to say. All she could come up with was a banality.

‘You’re better dressed than I remember. Otherwise you’ve hardly altered at all,’ she trotted out brightly, pretending to make an indifferent and cursory examination.

But everything she’d seen had been etched indelibly on her mind, and she wished he’d changed beyond all recognition too. He showed the same striking masculinity which had attracted her instantly. That identical terrifying chemistry which had bonded them together, in an instant, fatal attraction. An unchanging, awesome energy emanating from every pore of his body.