More Than a Mistress

by Sandra Marton

  “And I don’t believe in—in rape fantasies.”

  His quick, dangerous smile turned her bones to jelly. “Neither do I.” His thumb rolled over her bottom lip. “I’m talking about a man, and a woman, and what both of them damn well know they want.”

  “No. Please, Travis, I beg you. If you’ve any decency at all—”

  “Hell, no,” he said roughly, “I don’t. You pretty much saw to that, last night.”

  He reached for her. She kicked out, bruised her bare toes on his shin, ducked under his arm and ran. But there was no way to escape him. He caught her halfway across the hall and spun her toward him.

  “There’s no running away this time, Ms. Thorpe.” His tone, and the curl of his fist into the high lace collar of her nightgown, made a mockery of the name. “You’re mine, Princess. Or I’m yours. Bought and paid for…”

  The fragile cotton tore under his hand. And then, oh then, she was in his arms.

  His rage vanished at the touch of her mouth against his. He groaned, threaded his hands into her hair and held her captive to his kiss, but she was a willing prisoner. All that chilly restraint, the memories of her disdain that had kept him pacing the floor most of the night, vanished in a heartbeat.

  She was wild in his arms, and what she’d given him last night was nothing compared to what she offered now.

  She caught his shirt in her fists, rose on her toes to reach his mouth. He gathered her close, his legs spread so she was cradled against his hardness, and lifted her to him. She moaned; her mouth opened to his and her surrender drove his blood so it thundered in his veins.

  She was warm and pliant as silk in his arms; she tasted of sunshine and of flowers. He knew he could take whatever he wanted and he took it all, without mercy. He wanted everything. Her kisses. Her body. Her need.

  He touched her. Her breasts. Her belly. The soft golden curls that nestled between her thighs, but none of it was enough. He needed to be inside her, deep inside her, and he couldn’t wait for the niceties of a bed or even a carpet. He’d been starving, and she was his feast.

  “Travis,” she sobbed, “Travis, please…”

  The plea, the hunger of it, finished him. He shoved her back against the wall, his hands hard, his need desperate.

  “Now,” he said, as he unzipped his fly and freed himself.

  “Yes. Oh, yes. Oh…”

  She cried out as he drove into her. He felt her convulse around him almost instantly, and she cried out, again, shattering herself, shattering him, and he knew that this was only the beginning.

  When he could draw breath again, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Then he lifted her into his arms and she clung to his neck, her open mouth pressed to his throat.

  He carried her up the wide staircase to a room where the drapes were drawn. And in the artificial twilight of the spring morning, Travis put Alex down in the center of a high, four-poster bed that smelled, as she did, of sunshine and flowers. He undressed and came down on the bed beside her.

  He told himself to go slowly this time, to touch her gently and learn all the places that brought her pleasure. He wanted to see her blue eyes turn dark, to watch her shudder with passion. But the sight of her lying beneath him, the tattered remains of her gown spread around her like the torn petals of a flower, her mouth swollen and rosy from his kisses, drove every rational thought from his head.

  “Tell me,” he demanded, taking her wrists in one hand and stretching her arms high over her head. “Tell me what you want, Princess. I need to hear the words.”

  He saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed and he knew that even now, after what had happened, she couldn’t make the simple admission.

  He bent his head and drew the pink tip of her breast into his mouth. She made a soft cry and writhed against him, but he was relentless.

  “Say it, Alex.”

  Her lashes fell to her cheeks. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Travis, please…”

  His free hand drifted down the length of her body and between her thighs.

  “Say it,” he said, and touched her.

  “You,” she sobbed, “you, Travis. I want—” A high, keening sound broke from her throat as he entered her. “Yes. Yes. Oh, yes…”

  He told himself, again, that he wanted to watch her. And he did, for a moment; he watched as her eyes turned black and bottomless, as her body bowed and arched to his. She lifted her hand and touched his face. It was a gesture that was feminine and strangely gentle in the midst of the whirlwind they rode.

  “Travis,” she whispered, and touched his face. “Travis…”

  Her voice broke, and he was lost. To sensation. To desire.

  To Alexandra.

  * * *

  Alex came awake slowly and thought, at first, she was deep in her dream.

  The hard, warm body pressed against hers. The powerful arm encircling her. The shoulder beneath her cheek…

  And then Travis stirred, and murmured something in his sleep, and panic shot through her like an arrow.

  What had she done?

  Slept with a stranger, Alex, a voice inside said coldly, that’s what you’ve done.

  She held her breath, afraid that the slightest sound, the faintest motion, would wake him. Carefully, slowly, she eased from the bed.

  Her nightgown—what was left of it—lay on the carpet. She burned with embarrassment as she remembered the way he’d torn it in half. The way he’d taken her, against the wall. The way she’d let him take her, let him carry her upstairs and take her again…

  Let him, Alex? the voice said slyly.

  Images flashed before her eyes. She saw herself wrapping her arms around Travis’s neck. Kissing his mouth. Reaching for him, lifting her hips to him as he entered her. Begging him to take her, pleading with him…

  A sound trembled in the back of her throat and she whirled around, her fist against her mouth, flew into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

  Shaken, she stood at the sink, head bowed, her hands curled over the white porcelain rim.

  The truth was that Travis had taken only what she had been eager to give. She’d wanted him to make love to her, to do everything he’d done. She’d wanted to know what a man like him could make a woman feel…

  Could make her feel.

  Slowly, very slowly, Alex lifted her head and looked into the mirror over the sink.

  The sight almost took her breath away.

  The woman staring back at her was—was a wanton. It was an old-fashioned word but there wasn’t any other way to describe her reflected self. The mass of golden hair, in a mad tangle over her naked shoulders. The eyes, shadowed and deep. The faint blue bruises on her throat and breast. The mouth that was red and—and swollen? Alex touched a fingertip to her lips. Swollen, yes. And tender, from Travis’s kisses.

  Those kisses. The heat of them. The way he’d parted her lips, entered her mouth with his tongue.

  The memory made her tremble. Made her breasts ache. Made her feel hot, and wet.

  She swallowed convulsively. What she’d wanted had happened. She wondered now why she’d wanted it. What did it prove, that she could excite a man, or that she could have an orgasm? That she could—color flooded her face—that she could have one with a stranger. With an arrogant, overbearing, dangerous stranger…

  “Princess?”

  She sprang away from the sink. The doorknob jiggled, and she stared at it as if it were a rattlesnake that had come crawling up from the canyon floor.

  “Yes?” Good. Her voice was cool and self-assured. It didn’t match the face of the stranger in the mirror, but Travis didn’t have to know that. “I, uh, I’m going to shower. There’s another bathroom next door that you can—”

  The door swung open.

  “Showering alone can be dangerous, Alex.”

  He smiled into her eyes as he clasped her shoulders and looked at her, his gaze slow and steamy as it moved the length of her body. Carl had never looked at her like thi
s. His eyes had never darkened with desire; just watching his face had never made her weak with longing.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, while heat rose in her cheeks.

  “Don’t what? Look at you?” Travis’s eyes met hers. “I want to look at you, Princess. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “No.” She put her arms over her breasts. “Travis. I’m—I’m—”

  Embarrassed. She was embarrassed. The realization stunned him but he knew he was right. It was a long time since he’d seen a woman do anything but preen under a man’s admiring gaze but he was seeing embarrassment now. Alex was blushing, and looking down at her toes.

  “Princess.” Gently, he put his hand under her chin, tilting her face up to his. “You’re beautiful. And I’m the luckiest man in the world, to be able to see you like this.”

  Her smile trembled. “Really?”

  Was her world full of bozos? Or was she searching for compliments? A woman this lovely had to know it.

  “Yes. Really.”

  She smiled again; the shadows seemed to fade from her eyes but there was still a hint of vulnerability in the soft curve of her mouth. Suddenly, he remembered how she’d reacted to some of his kisses and caresses, how she’d cried not only with pleasure but with what might have been surprise at the things he’d done.

  He told himself that it was ridiculous to imagine Alexandra Thorpe had found something new in his arms. He’d come into the bathroom wanting her with a hunger their hours of lovemaking had not diminished, imagining what it would be like to take her in the shower, with the water streaming over them.

  And he would do that…but not now. Now, something else seemed far more important.

  “Travis?” Alex said, as he swung her into his arms.

  He silenced her with a kiss.

  “Let me show you how beautiful you truly are, Princess,” he murmured, and he carried her back to bed, where he kissed her everywhere, savored each sigh and moan. Where he made slow, tender love to her until, at last, she wept with happiness, in his arms.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HAPPINESS was fleeting.

  Alex had known that all her life. But it had never vanished as swiftly as it did now, in the aftermath of Travis’s lovemaking.

  Her heartbeat slowed. Joy was replaced by despair, and despair by disgust.

  She’d just shared endless acts of incredible intimacy with a man she didn’t know. What was there to be happy about?

  Yes, Travis had made her feel things. His touch had been—it had been everything she’d ever let herself dream a lover’s touch might be. Passionate yet tender. Demanding as well as giving. Exciting. Oh, yes, above all else, exciting.

  But the man in whose arms she lay wasn’t her lover. He was someone she’d bought. There was no getting around that ugly truth.

  How? Alex thought, while self-loathing became panic, how could she have done this? She knew she was an anomaly in this age of sexual awareness. She’d gone to her marriage bed a virgin, eager to experience the passion she’d read about. Instead, she’d found sex with her husband was something to be endured. Not painful, not necessarily unpleasant…it was just that she’d expected ecstasy and experienced nothing.

  Sometimes—and she’d always felt the guilt of it—sometimes, even as Carl rose above her, she’d found herself thinking about the next day’s chores.

  Alex bit back a moan of dismay. And yet, she’d cried out in Travis’s arms. Her mind had emptied of everything except awareness of what he was doing, of the feel of his hands and mouth, the hardness of his body, the slow, drugging heat of his kisses.

  The kisses of a stranger. Of a man she’d bought.

  How? she thought frantically. How could this have happened? Had she gone out of her mind? She was a fastidious woman. She prided herself on her self-control. She never acted impulsively or foolishly about anything—especially men. And yet she’d gone to that auction, bought a stranger and let him—let him…

  It was unbelievable. Her friends teased her mercilessly about the way she acted when they tried to fix her up with blind dates.

  “For heaven’s sake, Alex,” they’d say, “it’s just a date, not a lifetime commitment.”

  And she’d smile and say yes, she knew…and then she’d ask what the man was like? What were his interests, his hobbies? Who were his friends? Where did he live? How did he earn his living? By the time she finally sat down to dinner with the man, he was as familiar to her as an old acquaintance.

  The man lying beside her now, in this bed of tangled sheets that smelled of sex, was no old friend. He was an enigma. She had no idea who his friends were, or what he did for fun. He could be anything from a used car salesman to a doctor. Maybe he really was a cowboy. There was that accent that came and went at will, or so it seemed. And those boots. And that don’t-tread-on-me attitude.

  The only certainty was that he was handsome. But his looks didn’t justify what she’d spent the day letting him do to her.

  Who was she trying to fool? She hadn’t “let” him do those things. She’d wanted him to do them. She’d done things, too. Done things, felt things…

  At least she knew she wasn’t a frigid little rich bitch.

  She was a tramp.

  She was someone she didn’t recognize. A woman without morals, but that was impossible. She was a decent person. She supported good causes. She didn’t lie, cheat or steal; she never even asked her accountant to fudge on her income taxes.

  No, she thought, biting back a hysterical laugh, no, she was an honorable, decent person. All she’d done was buy herself a hunk to sleep with. Except, that wasn’t accurate. A flush rose in Alex’s cheeks. What she’d been doing with Travis hadn’t a damned thing to do with sleeping…

  “Princess?”

  His voice was soft and husky, tinged with that slow, sexy drawl. She didn’t want to open her eyes and look at him. If she didn’t—if she didn’t, maybe he’d disappear. Just get up, get dressed and go away. Then she could pretend this was just a bad dream.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. He laced his fingers into her hair, turned her face up to his and kissed her. She offered no response. He brushed her mouth with his again, ran his hand down the length of her body, just as if he had the right to do it.

  “Princess, are you all right?”

  There was no getting around it. She had to open her eyes, look at Travis—at this stranger in her bed. She had to pretend she wasn’t ashamed of herself, pretend she was the kind of woman who had sex with men she picked up all the time.

  “Alex?”

  She took a mental breath and lifted her lashes. Travis was leaning over her, green eyes still dark with what had just happened between them.

  “Hey,” he said softly, and smiled. “Hello, there, Princess.”

  “Hello,” seemed the wrong thing to say in response. “I, uh, I have to get up,” she said, and gave him a forced smile.

  “Uh-huh. In a minute. Let me look at you, first.”

  “Travis—”

  “You truly are a beautiful woman, darlin’. Haven’t I convinced you of that?”

  She didn’t want the words to mean anything but there was something in the tone of his voice, in the way he was looking at her, that made her resolve slip, if only for a second. Then she thought of how often a man like this would murmur such words to a woman. A hundred times a month, probably, to a hundred different women, and the momentary glow she’d felt faded and became just another reason to dislike him and despise herself all the more.

  “Thank you,” she said politely.

  “Thank you?” He grinned. Before she could stop him, he rolled her beneath him again and framed her face in his hands. “Such formality, Princess.”

  “Travis, really. I’d like to—”

  “Get up. I know.” He smoothed her hair back from her flushed face. “I’m glad I opened those drapes, Princess. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to see just how blue those eyes of yours really are.” He
drew back a little, just enough so he could see her more clearly. “You’re really beautiful, Alexandra.”

  His voice was husky, his eyes dark. She’d seen him look at her this way often enough now to suspect what he was thinking but it wasn’t possible. Not after he’d already made love to her so many times.

  He moved. Her breath caught. It was possible. He wanted her again. And she—heaven help her, she wanted him, too. Her brain was shrieking “no” but her body was already softening and warming in anticipation of the moment he’d slip deep inside her.

  He kissed her throat as he cupped her breast. His teeth closed gently on her flesh as his fingers stroked across her nipple. She could feel it happening, feel herself drifting away.

  “Travis…”

  “What?”

  He moved again and she couldn’t help it, she gave a soft moan and lifted her hands, lay them lightly on his narrow hips.

  “Travis,” she said again, but the word was barely a sigh.

  “Yes, darlin’. I hear you. Tell me what you want, Princess. Just say it.”

  Alex’s eyes flew open. That little self-satisfied smile was curling over his lips again. Her heart hardened. He knew exactly the effect he had on her and he was determined to make sure she knew it, too.

  Her body went rigid.

  “Get up,” she said.

  She knew her voice was icy. He knew it, too. She could see it in the way that smile dropped from his mouth.

  “Darlin’, what’s the matter?”

  “Get—up!” she said, and batted her hands against his shoulders.

  His eyes narrowed. Her heartbeat stuttered. She thought, once again, how little she knew about this man, how isolated this house was…

  He became still. Then he smiled, a quick show of teeth, and rolled away.

  “With pleasure, Ms. Thorpe. Far be it from me to keep a lady in bed when she doesn’t want to be there.”

  If he’d wanted to embarrass her, addressing her so formally when she lay naked beside him, he’d succeeded. She wanted to cringe, grab for the sheet and cover herself from head to toe, but she’d sooner have walked through fire than give him that satisfaction. Instead, she swung her legs to the floor, rose to her feet and strolled across the room as if she walked around naked in front of strange men all the time. She picked up her robe from where it lay, shook it out, slipped it on and tied the sash.