Did he know how turned on she was after the way he’d fondled her? Of course he knew! He was enjoying her reaction.
Setting her mouth, Imogen let go of the sheet and wriggled up into a sitting position, propping a second pillow behind her. Warm air caressed her breasts but it was the heat of Thierry’s gaze that she felt like a touch.
He wasn’t smiling now. He was focused on every sway and jiggle of her bare breasts with an intensity that almost stopped her breath.
Good! Served him right.
Casually, she reached for the sheet, drawing it slowly over her chest and tucking it tight under her arms.
She turned to him. ‘You’re ready to talk?’
‘Witch.’ But there was amusement in his eyes despite the tension in his features.
If she was, then it was because of him. Thierry Girard had turned a cautious mouse of a woman into one more than happy to flaunt herself before her lover. One with more confidence in her body than she’d had before. One ready to take on the challenge of living instead of dying.
Imogen felt an answering smile tug her mouth. She loved it when he was like this—charming, fun and oh-so-sexy. Far better than when he’d been politely distant. Or when he’d looked grim and implacable.
‘Thierry? We’ve got things to discuss.’
Slowly, he raised his gaze to hers and once more she felt that sensation of melding, of connection. It warmed her in places that had been too long cold.
‘Let’s eat first.’ He swung away and lifted a tray from the bedside table, busying himself ensuring it was stable.
In any other man those quick, restless movements would have made her wonder if he was nervous.
But this was Thierry, über-confident and competent, literally the lord of all he surveyed from his ancient château. What reason could he have to be nervous?
She was the outsider, the unwanted complication in his world.
Thick, dark hair fell across his brow, giving him a casual, boyish look that tugged at her heart.
Imogen’s breath caught as she remembered his grandmother’s words. Did she really look at him with love in her eyes? Was that why she was so desperate for more than his polite goodwill? Why she craved his smiles and this precious sense of them sharing not just their bodies, but some other intimate connection?
The idea made her simultaneously ecstatic and horrified. Trepidation and tentative hope danced along her nerves. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe it was true. It was far too dangerous a thought.
‘Fruit, quiche or trout?’
Imogen made herself focus on the lavish spread between them. Jeanne had done them proud. She could barely see the tray for the luscious food piled upon it.
Suddenly she realised she was ravenous. ‘Everything.’ She plucked a gleaming strawberry from a bowl. Her eyes closed as she bit into it. It tasted of sunlight and sweetness. She’d never known food to taste as good as here at Thierry’s château. Because it was locally grown and fresh, or because her new lease of life made her appreciate small delights even more?
When she opened her eyes it was to find Thierry staring at her mouth, his expression taut and hungry. She gulped down the rest of the fruit, her throat constricting.
They had so much to sort out, but at least on a purely physical level the connection was as strong as ever. The intensity of Thierry’s love-making earlier had given her hope and relief after these lonely days when he’d been away. Ever since her doctor’s appointment she’d felt strangely alone, even when he was with her. He’d withdrawn mentally.
Not even the fact her headaches were fading had made her feel better. The last one, the first night Thierry had been away climbing, had been a mere shadow of the previous piercing agony.
‘You’re sure you want to talk?’ His voice was pure temptation and the look in his eyes told her she’d enjoy every moment of not talking. But they needed to clear the air.
‘Why were you so angry earlier?’ Imogen had never seen him in a temper and riding that lashing storm had been shocking. Yet on some level she’d thrilled to the vibrancy in him, excited by it.
Because he cared enough to be angry?
That sounded masochistic and she wasn’t fool enough to want a man who took out his frustrations on her. Yet she sensed Thierry’s anger was rare. After all, he’d taken in his stride all the complications she’d presented him with, never once blaming her or losing his cool. It was more that his flash of temper had broken down the wall between them, the wall she hadn’t seen him build till it was too late.