The Gatecrasher by Sophie Kinsella Read Free Book Online Page A

first.” Richard looked at her anxiously. “But I promise you’ll enjoy it down there. We can go for long walks, and you can meet the rest of the family . . .”
    “And learn to play golf?”
    “If you’d like to.” He smiled. “It’s not compulsory.” He paused awkwardly. “And of course, you’d . . . you’d have your own room. I wouldn’t want you to . . . to . . .”
    “Wouldn’t you?” said Fleur softly. “I would.” She raised herself on tiptoe and gently kissed Richard on the lips. After a moment, she softly pushed her tongue inside his mouth. Immediately, his body stiffened. With shock? With desire? She casually ran a hand down the back of his neck and waited to find out.
    Richard stood completely still, with Fleur’s mouth open against his, her words echoing in his mind, trying to marshal his thoughts and yet completely unable to. He felt suddenly rigid, almost paralysed with excitement. After a few moments Fleur moved her lips softly to the corner of his mouth, and he felt his skin explode with delicious sensation. This was how it should have been with Emily, he thought dizzily, trying not to keel over with headiness. This was how it should have felt with his beloved wife. But Emily had never aroused him like this woman—this bewitching woman whom he’d only known for four weeks. He had never felt anticipation like this before. He’d never felt like . . . like
fucking
a woman before.
    “Let’s get a cab,” he said, in a blurred voice, pulling himself away from Fleur. “Let’s go back to the flat.” He could hardly bear to speak. Each word seemed to sully the moment; to spoil the conviction inside him that he was on the brink of a perfect experience. But one had to break the silence. One had somehow to get off the street.
    “What about Hyde Park?”
    Richard felt as though Fleur were torturing him.
    “Another day,” he managed. “Come on. Come on!”
    He hailed a taxi, bundled her inside, mumbled an address to the taxi driver and turned back to Fleur. And at the sight of her, his heart nearly stopped. As Fleur had leaned back on the black leather taxi seat, her dress had mysteriously hitched itself up until the top of one of her black stockings was just visible.
    “Oh God,” he said indistinctly, staring at the sheer black lace. Emily had never worn black lace stockings.
    And suddenly a cold flash of fear went through him. What was he about to do? What had happened to him? Images of Emily came flashing through his mind. Her sweet smile; the feeling of her hair between his fingers. Her slim legs; her neat little buttocks. Cosy, undemanding times; nights of fondness.
    “Richard,” said Fleur huskily, running a finger gently along his thigh. Richard flinched in panic. He felt terrified. What had seemed so clear on the pavement now seemed muddied by memories that would not leave his mind alone; by a guilt that rose up, choking his throat till he could hardly breathe. Suddenly he felt close to tears. He could not do this. He would not do it. And yet desire for Fleur still whirled tormentingly about his body.
    “Richard?” said Fleur again.
    “I’m still married,” he found himself saying. “I can’t do this. I’m still married to Emily.” He stared at her, waiting for some relief to his agony; some internal acknowledgement that he was doing the right thing. But there was none. He felt awash with conflicting emotions, with physical needs, with mental anguish. No direction seemed the right one.
    “You’re not really married to Emily any more,” said Fleur, in slow soft tones. “Are you?” She put up a hand and began to caress his cheek, but he jerked away.
    “I can’t!” Richard’s face was white with despair. He sat forward with taut cheeks and glittering eyes. “You don’t understand. Emily was my wife. Emily’s the only one . . .” His voice cracked and he looked away.
    Fleur thought for a moment, then quickly adjusted her dress. By the time Richard had gained