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Stranded: A Mountain Man Romance by Piper Sullivan (65)

Amber

I took the elevator to the thirteenth floor, as instructed.

What was this about? Finn had called me from his office, that morning. He said that he needed to talk to me, and could I come to the office after I had dropped Lilah at kindergarten. It was mystifying.

It had been a week since Lilah’s birthday party at Luna Park, and I had barely seen Finn since. I knew he was busy at work; it was tax time, one of the busiest times of the year in the finance sector. He was also preparing for a business trip to Sydney. But still. It was unusual, to say the least, for me to go to his office. I had never been requested to, before.

This was all getting so hard. Playing the part of the loving fiancée at Lilah’s birthday party had almost undid me.

I had chatted and smiled and laughed, all on cue. I had answered a million and one questions about Finn and me. And the whole time, I could see him watching me. Assessing me: was I performing well enough? Would his parents, and Erin’s parents, accept me?

He had obviously decided, once and for all, that there was nothing personal between us. He had taken my virginity, and run a mile. I tried very hard not to feel hurt. I knew that I was in love with him. But it was impossible.

How could I continue to pretend to be the fiancée of a man I was actually in love with? It was like a paradox, or a puzzle. One with no answer, or an answer so complex you just couldn’t decipher it.

I remembered the feel of him, and how he had made me fall into a puddle of desire at his feet. Even now, I grew warm thinking of it. But he obviously didn’t feel the same way about me. I had been a challenge, nothing more.

I took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I heard him call out. I opened the door.

He was behind his desk, frowning into his computer. He looked up, and stopped what he was doing.

“Amber,” he said.

“Yes?” My voice came out a bit wobbly. “You wanted to see me?”

He stood up, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“I needed to tell you,” he said. “I have to fly to Sydney, tonight. The trip’s been put ahead.”

“Right,” I said. “Why couldn’t you have told me that on the phone?”

He looked at me. I could see his eyes slowly looking me up and down, and then that familiar glow came into them. I knew he found me sexy.

But not sexy enough, obviously.

“I wanted to see you,” he said. “Before I left.” He stopped, then continued. “Amber, this is difficult for me.”

“How so?” I wasn’t about to make it any easier.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said. “The way that I behaved, after Portsea…well, it wasn’t good enough. You deserve more.”

“I deserve more, do I?” I looked at him, not smiling. “In what way?”

“You are making this difficult,” he said.

I stood up. “Really? Well how about I make it simple, then.” I walked towards the door, anger coursing through me. “I’ll leave.”

He was up like a shot, striding toward me. He grabbed my arm, closing the door I had just opened. I looked up at him. He was breathing heavily, frowning.

And then he was kissing me. It was crazy. He grabbed me to him, pushing me up against his desk, leaning me over it. Papers and pens fell onto the floor, but we were both oblivious to it.

He pulled my legs apart, making me wind them around him. He trailed kisses down my neck. I arched my back towards him, which made him clutch me tighter. Pools of desire were coursing through me. I could feel the sudden wetness spill out of me. I wanted him so badly I could barely think straight.

He feverishly ripped my panties off, hitching my skirt up. And then, he was inside me. Thrusting and straining, grinding my butt into the desk.

It felt so good, like he was made to be inside me. I arched my hips up into him, making him thrust harder, and deeper. I could feel myself building, slowly, slowly. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel the rhythm increasing. I could tell that it wouldn’t be much longer for him.

And then, it happened. He started moaning, and I could feel the contractions enveloping me. It was so exquisite I cried out, making soft groans. We rode out the final spasms together, both collapsing onto the desk, his head on my chest.

The afterglow was intense. I closed my eyes, trying to return my breathing to normal. He moved off me, straightening his clothes. I sat up, pulling my skirt down.

What now?

“That was amazing,” he breathed.

“Was it?” I didn’t know what came over me. Maybe a desire to wound, before I would be wounded. Reject him, before he rejected me.

“Amber, what’s wrong?” He frowned, reaching for my hand. I stepped back.

“Well, nothing at all!” I found my panties, putting them on quickly. I pointed to the papers and pens on the floor. “You should pick up all of that stuff, Finn. Your secretary might walk in and surprise you.”

I ran a hand through my hair. My heart was thumping, uncomfortably.

“Have a great trip,” I said, picking up my handbag and walking to the door.

“Wait.” He looked at me, as if he couldn’t believe what I was doing. “You’re leaving? Like this?”

“Like what, Finn?” I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. “Like a fake fiancée should? Or someone you occasionally have sex with? Or as the nanny? I just can’t keep it straight in my own head, all the different roles you want me to play.” I smiled, widely. “See you when you get back.”

I slammed the door on his stunned face, running to the stairs. I would rather run down thirteen flights of stairs than have him follow me to the elevator. The tears came as I ran, blinding me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How had I made the same mistake, again? It was like my body had a will of its own, around him. Like I couldn’t control it. How many times must I learn the lesson?

He wasn’t interested in having a real relationship with me. He just wanted a woman who would pretend to be his fiancée, and who would also have sex with him now and again. Oh, and take care of his child. It was as simple as that.

But I just couldn’t do it, anymore. It was hurting too much. He would never love me. And I realised now that I couldn’t accept anything else. Better to be alone, than only have a part of him. Better to be on my own, than continue this charade a second longer.

I never knew love could hurt so badly.