Free Hate to Love You by Elise Alden Page A

to our enjoyment. When I hit the point of no return, he rocked into my orgasm, covering my mouth with his and breathing in my cries. He wasn’t able to silence the low growl he released when his own pleasure ripped through him. His teeth grazed my neck with every convulsive thrust of his hips.
    We didn’t even notice that my parents had gone until our breathing evened out. Hell, they could have been bashing us with a Bible for all the attention we ended up giving it. I should have been pissing myself, quaking in fear at discovery. After all, if they opened the door James would find out that I was his lover. He would condemn me for a deceitful slut and my parents would burn me at the stake. Caroline would rant and wail, and make sure I bled for sleeping with James. But I didn’t care.
    James was bad for my sense of self-preservation.
    The bed creaked loudly, making him chuckle in the dark. I lay with my head on his chest and my hand on the part of him I couldn’t bear to let go of, even now. Soft words in Italian, low and intense, floated in the darkness as he ran his hands through my sweat-soaked hair. I couldn’t understand but it was beautiful, evocative of things I could only ever dream of having.
    I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew James was whispering his goodbyes in my ear, telling me it was just past five. A sliver of yellowish light from the corridor penetrated the darkness and I knew a moment of panic. I needn’t have worried because James was running late. He had to catch his flight to Sydney and would Skype me once he was settled at his hotel. He kissed me on the lips before sucking on a nipple and grasping my bottom for good measure, growling in my ear he’d have a hard-on until he saw me again.
    “That was the best night of my life,” he said. “I can’t wait until the wedding.”
    I stared into the darkness, listening to the low purr of the Lamborghini as he drove away from the house. Unable to stay in bed, I rolled up the blackout blinds and looked out at the dawn. It was different shades of grey, as usual, bathing the street in opaque haziness. The new family in 110 had seven kids between them and their bin had overflowed again, strewing smelly nappies and empty pizza boxes all over the pavement. The old Pakistani guy next door was in his pyjamas, praying towards the wall like he did every morning. I sighed and leaned against the window frame.
    Nothing had changed.
    Shit, who was I kidding? I had changed. I was marked, changed by shallow probes and deep, penetrating thrusts.
    A woman .
    So what if the rubbish stank up the street? I hugged myself, smiling at the slight soreness in my breasts. I had felt James’s heart beat in the palm of my hand; felt it pulse inside my body. His scent permeated me to the exclusion of anything else and now I felt—
    Oh God, this had to stop. I slapped a hand to my forehead. I wasn’t going to get deep and meaningful just because I’d had sex, was I? And come to think of it I refused to feel guilty for not telling James who I was. There I was, minding my own business, innocently asleep. Well, naked and innocently asleep in Caroline’s bed, but that didn’t make a difference, did it? James should have known I wasn’t her. I would know him anywhere, in blackout darkness or blinding sunshine.
    But would Caroline? Did her body respond or her mind connect to his the way mine did? She said she loved him and yet she’d allowed him to leave the country without even saying goodbye. What kind of love was that?
    The callous and bitchy kind , my mind sneered.
    It would serve her right if James called the wedding off. I pictured Caroline’s tearful face when she discovered that her posh fiancé had spent the night with her vulgar little sister. I wanted to enjoy the image but my mouth refused to curve into a smile. Little darts of guilt punctured my conscience despite my efforts to ignore them. James’s loving words during the night were like shots of