Free Wedding Night with a Stranger by Anna Cleary

marry her, how hard would it be to persuade her?
    ‘Nothing else for me, thank you. Sebastian?’ She turned enquiringly to him. ‘Cognac?’
    He pulled himself together and waved away the menu, asking for the bill, only part of his mind engaged.
    The rest of it was imagining how it might be to have Ariadne Giorgias as his wife. To meet those luminous blue eyes, that luscious mouth across his breakfast table. To bury his face in the silken mass of her hair and fan it across his pillow. To plunge himself into the slick heat of her gorgeous body and possess her utterly, until she cried out in ecstasy, night after night after long, hot night.
    He drew a long breath and smiled. ‘Do you feel like stretching your legs?’
    Ariadne looked up, met his darkly handsome face and her heart skittered. Was this where he made his pitch? She hesitated. She could excuse herself, say goodnight, goodbye, and flee to her room. It flashed in on her then though, that once she was alone in her room, she’d have to face the cold reality that this would be her last night’s sleep in safety and comfort. All she’d have to look forward to when she lay her head on the pillow would be the morning—homeless, and on her own resources in a strange country.
    That morning was racing towards her like a black horror. Shefelt a deep dread, like an offender staring prison in the face for the first time. With a little shiver, she rose from the table.
    The terrace hugged the hotel like the deck of an ocean liner, the sea lapping at its sides. In one direction Circular Quay was a blaze of activity, while far and wide lights twinkled all around the foreshore. As she gazed across at the opera house, its luminous pale shells rendered magical by moonlight, Ariadne could almost have believed she was on one of her uncle’s cruise ships, heading for some romantic destination.
    Perhaps she wouldn’t mind living here, once she’d settled with a job and a place to live. Once she got over the hurt.
    They moved out of the spill of light from the restaurant, and she felt grateful for the shadows, not having to keep her smile on.
    She could sense a tension in Sebastian, too. The intensity of the mood had ratcheted up to a higher gear, as if the looming goodbye had brought her uncle’s deal back to scream silently between them. The suspense that he was about to ask her to reconsider marrying him kept her nerves jangling.
    As they strolled the terrace, though, chatting about tastes in books and music, he didn’t mention it, or touch her. Maybe she was being super-sensitive, but it seemed to her he tried extra hard not to let his hand or any part of his clothing brush hers.
    Like Demetri, only not like Demetri. With Demetri, she’d never had this taut, smouldering awareness. Never felt so feminine and desirable.
    Sebastian eyed her profile and wondered what devil had tempted him to suggest strolling out here in the dark. As soon as he had her away from the crowd, it was hard not to think about her breasts, and how long it had been since he’d kissed a woman.
    It must have been the power of suggestion. If it had never been suggested to him that she could be his, he probably wouldn’t need to keep looking at her. He wouldn’t be itching to smooth his hand over her shoulder, or be so achingly aware of the creamyrises swelling the black fabric of the dress. And there was the explosive fact lurking in the nether regions of his mind that she had a room upstairs, and a bed.
    His loins stirred and he willed his flesh not to react to his luscious imaginings any further. She was so slender and petite, he had to wonder if she’d be large enough to take him.
    He sighed. As if she’d read his mind she sent him a quick, searching glance, and he made a resolute attempt to keep the conversation on the straight and narrow.
    ‘Do you remember much about Australia?’ he said.
    She looked up. ‘I have some images of our house, and the school I went to. Children I played with. When