The Petrelli Heir Read Online Free Page B

around—even sitting next to her?
    Who had been sitting next to her?
    Roman, who was famed for his powers of observation, scrunched his brow in concentration as he tried to recall, but came up empty. He could remember the nape of her neck pretty well and the fall of the wisps of her hair around her face. The truth was he hadn’t been thinking straight in the church and he’d needed the fresh air and distance to get his brain back in gear and his hormones on a leash.
    Was she concerned he would not be discreet?
    If so she needn’t have worried. The only thing that Roman was interested in was having her in his bed again, not advertising the fact. Would the reality live up to his dreams or would he be disappointed? The anticipationof having his sexual curiosity satisfied on this point sent his level of arousal up another painful notch.
    Roman continued his vigil of the guests from under the canopy of a leafy oak tree a safe distance away from his fellow guests clustered now in laughing groups around the newly married couple. His new vantage point gave him a clear view of the stragglers emerging from the church.
    His tension and frustration grew with each passing moment, until Roman began to think somehow she had escaped him again. But then he saw her emerge.
    Lust slammed through his body with the force of a sledgehammer. Watching her with the intensity of a hawk observing its prey, Roman felt his anger surge along with his appetite for her as he recalled the morning after their night together …
    He had been so eager to get back into bed with her after his quick trip to the coffee shop that he had left his discarded clothes in a trail from the front door to the bedroom, only to find the bed empty and the sheets still warm—he had just missed her!
    No woman had ever rejected him and now twice within the space of twenty-four hours a woman had walked out on him. Literally speaking he’d done the walking on the first occasion, and bizarrely it had been this second act of rejection that had got to him more. It had propelled him out into a city of millions of people to find her, which was either a measure of the sexual spell this woman had cast over him or a measure of his emotional stability at the time.
    But he hadn’t been insane when he’d walked into the crowded bar that night and the last thing he had been looking for was sex. His hand slid to his leg ashe again thought back to the events of that night. He’d been licking his wounds and feeling pathetically sorry for himself.
    Oh, God, yes, he had been pretty mad at the world, life and women as he’d sat at that table with a drink in front of him. He’d lost count of how many drinks had gone before it, when she had walked in.
    He had sworn off women, but he’d noticed her, as had half the men in the room. He had drunk too much, but hadn’t been drunk enough not to appreciate the shapely length of her slim toned thighs and the lush curves of her pert bottom in the dark pencil skirt she had worn. As he’d watched her move across the room he’d tugged the tie around his neck loose and thought,
One door closes and another opens
. Love had no longer been an integral part of his plan for the future, but he’d realised there was still sex.
    It had been a cheering thought, one that might make a man get out of bed in the morning. For the months of his illness and subsequent chemo his libido had lain dormant, he hadn’t even thought about sex, but things had woken up dramatically—he had wanted her from the moment he saw her.
    She had great legs and a great body—slim and supple; that much he could tell even though she’d had more clothes on than ninety per cent of the women in the room. The skirt she had worn reached her knee and her elegant cream silk blouse had been more office wear than nightclub, yet she had exuded some innate sensuality—he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
    Their night together had been incredible and the fact that he had