Free The Proud Wife by Kate Walker

as a pair. But if we hadn’t been pushed into things because of my pregnancy we would both have seen that what we had—all we had—was a white-hot fling. A wild, sexual affair. The flames were inevitably going to burn out between us, and sooner rather than later. One or both of us was bound to get tired of things.’
    â€˜As you did.’
    The look she flung him was dark with bitterness, empty of all warmth. Did he really have to ask? those expressive eyes said. Wasn’t it so blatantly obvious?
    Of course she’d got tired of things—of him. It was what she’d said in the letter she’d finally sent him two weeks after she’d walked out—that she was tired of the whole thing and wanted her freedom back. That she had already been regretting their rush to marriage before the loss of their baby.
    When she had lost the baby early into that marriage, he had been devastated at the loss of the future he had thought was ahead of him. Unable to hide that feeling, and concerned that showing it would make Marina feel that he was disappointed in her, he had buried himself in work. Work that had turned out to be his salvation when, with every day that passed, she had withdrawn from him further, eventually shutting him out altogether. He had moved out of their bedroom on the doctor’s advice to give her space during her recovery time. She had never shown any sign of wanting him to move back.
    He’d tried to talk her round—or rather, he’d kissed her round. Seduced all the fight out of her and transferred allthat fire and energy to their bed. In spite of himself, he couldn’t hold back a smile at the memory. She hadn’t—she couldn’t have been faking that.
    It had just been a temporary truce in the slow disintegration of their relationship. He’d thought they were on their way to a similar ceasefire a few moments before. She’d melted when he’d kissed her, softening in his arms and kissing him right back. And just for a few seconds it had been as if the break-up had never happened. If only Matteo hadn’t decided to come knocking at the damn door…
    â€˜You didn’t give me time to think then,’ Marina persisted. ‘But I really don’t need time to think now. Or, rather, I’ve done all the thinking I want to do about this—about you, about our marriage. I want out once and for all, and nothing you can do is going to make me change my mind.’
    â€˜Maybe you should wait until you know what’s on offer before you start saying you don’t want anything.’
    â€˜I told you I don’t want anything. Nothing that’s over there…’
    A rather wild, dramatic gesture—by the hand with her wedding ring on—indicated the scattered documents on the table.
    â€˜And that goes for your money—and your damn kisses.’
    One lousy kiss…
    She even wiped the back of her hand across her mouth as if she wanted to erase the feel of his kiss, the taste of his mouth. She must still be able to taste him because he could still sense the traces of her kisses on his own lips. Hell, if he slicked his tongue across his bottom lip it would feel as if she had kissed him all over again.
    And she had responded, damn her. She hadn’t—she couldn’t have—been faking that.
    One lousy kiss…
    If Matteo hadn’t interrupted things, she could have been his by now. Right here, right now on the thick red carpet—or up against that wall if need be. It had been all there between them once again: the fire, the heat, the hunger. She had wanted him and he had craved her so much that he was still aching for her. His body was still in a tumult of need, one that he had barely managed to get under control.
    No matter what had happened between them, he still wanted her as much as the day he had first taken her to bed. More so because of the almost two years of separation—twenty long, empty