Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife. Sabrina Philips
start.’
Libby drew in a ragged breath, forcing her eyes open and blinking under the bright artificial lights of the corridor outside his office, remembering the twin feelings of both heartbreak and release as she’d walked away. She couldn’t have gone on living that way. She had needed time to find herself, to take control of her life.
But now she had. And he was implying that he had too.
What was more, though it seemed so much had changed, her physical reaction to him most definitely hadn’t. She breathed out deeply, listening to the sound of her heart, still racing. In a way that shocked her most of all, and to her shame it was undoubtedly the hardest thing to fight. Because she’d been convinced she’d never felt anything like it in the intervening years for the simple reason that she was no longer a young girl in the throes of her first love affair. The reality, it seemed, was that there was just no other man on earth who could make her whole body go into meltdown quite the same way that he did. Just by looking at her.
And, whilst she knew that instructing a solicitor to proceed with the divorce the hard way was the logical thing to do, she couldn’t help it—her body longed for her to say yes. And so did her heart, because, no, they didn’t know each other now, but what if they got to know one another and rediscovered what they’d once had before all that? Then divorcing him would be a huge mistake. So shouldn’t she seize the chance to find out whether they could recapture it, even if the odds were minuscule and—?
Suddenly the ground gave way from under her, and she felt herself stumble backwards into hard, compacted muscle. As her mind played catch-up amongst the shock of lost footing and the treacherous thrill of arousal, she realised that to her enormous embarrassment Rion had just opened his office door. The one she’d been leaning against, with all of her weight. She leapt out of his arms, cheeks burning.
‘I was just…’ Libby exhaled, her mind completely blank. But then what excuse was there for being so utterly stupid as to remain leaning up against his door?
‘Oh, no need to explain,’ he said, his mouth quirking into a smile as he walked past her, his hands briefly brushing her sides as if to steady her. ‘Happens all the time.’
He hit the button for the lift and the doors opened immediately. He gestured for her to join him, but she shook her head frantically.
‘Until tomorrow, then,’ he said with a grin.
And before Libby had time to protest that she still had twenty-four hours in which to decide, and that taking a breather before going downstairs didn’t mean anything, the doors of the lift had already closed.
Which wouldn’t have been half so frustrating if they hadn’t both known he was right.
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