A Passionate Proposition

by Susan Napier

  He held her beneath him, protecting her from his full weight by the strength of one arm, his initial urgency reining back to a lazy exploration of the tender crevices and most pleasure-sensitive areas of her face and throat. For a long time there was only the hush of whispered praise and the soft susurration of sighs and kisses, the rustle of clothes against skin.

  There was something fiendishly erotic about being pinned, fully dressed, to a bed by a naked male, and soon it was Anya who was frantically trying to hurry the pace, stroking her hands over his chest and back, drawing her nails up through the hair on his thighs and caressing his lean, muscled buttocks. Her mouth released from bondage to his, she squirmed down to taste the musky hot skin of his chest, but it wasn’t until her tongue brushed his bronzed nipple and her tentative touch fluttered against his satiny-hot manhood that Scott exploded into passionate action.

  He peeled off her tight lurex top, his eyes searing her with his approval as he traced the edge of her scarlet quarter-cup bra with his tongue and kissed and nipped his way over the soft mounds that swelled above the cups, paying special attention to the nipples that peeked at him over the indecently low-cut lace. ‘Tell me you were thinking of me when you put this on,’ he growled against her creamy flesh, hooking his finger into the underwire between the padded cups and dragging the fabric down so he could suckle at both cherry nipples unhindered.

  ‘I…yes…you…’ Anya struggled for coherency as he abraded the moist, glistening tips of her breasts with the light stubble on his jaw before unclipping the frothy concoction and tossing it away, the better to enjoy his delectable feast.

  ‘Oh, God…Scott…’

  ‘Aren’t I going slow enough for you?’ he taunted, and drew back to flip off her dainty black sandals, his hands sliding up under her skirt, groaning with pleasure as he discovered the silky bare skin at the top of her thighs. ‘Stay-ups!’ he sighed, running his fingers around the elastic top of her stocking. ‘Doncha just love ’em?’

  His mingling of passion and humour was as seductive as his sultry provocation and so obviously such a startling new concept to Anya in bed that he delighted in turning their love-making into a joyous romp that left her both breathless and quivering on the edge of completion as he stripped off the tiny, damp thong that barred his entrance to the moist haven of her desire and settled himself heavily between her slender, stockinged thighs.

  Then the laughter was swept away in the power and glory of his surging possession and Anya could only cling to the rock-solid shoulders, her fingers slipping in the sweat of his shuddering exertions as he thrust deep into her wet, creamy depths, establishing a driving rhythm that exploded into a mutual rapture of the senses, his mouth drinking in her helpless cries of ecstasy as he claimed her heart, soul and body for his own…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ANYA opened her eyes just as dawn began to filter in around the thick curtains that protected the penthouse suite from the importuning world. She lay on her back, her blonde hair spread out in a wild tangle on the pillow, the ends tickling at the chin of the naked man who lay sprawled on his stomach beside her, his arms cushioning the pillow under his head, his face relaxed in deep, satiated sleep.

  If she had been inclined to disbelieve the evidence of her eyes there was the evidence of her body to attest to the mind-blowing fact that Scott Tyler had spent the night in her bed…or, rather, she in his. She ached in the sweetest of ways in the wickedest of places. The crisply laundered white hotel sheets were wildly rumpled, draping low across their bodies, and, looking down, she could see the tiny bruises and abrasions of love on her breasts and stomach.

  Carefully easing over onto her side, she studied the sleeping man, blushing to note that he, too, had reddened marks on his shoulders and back, as if he had been attacked by a fierce small animal…as indeed he had! His hard mouth was relaxed and slightly swollen, throwing the small scar into prominence, and that, along with the break in his arrogant nose and the tousled hair and strong growth of his beard, made him look rakishly disreputable and utterly desirable.

  She knew that she would never have any regrets about giving herself to him because he had given of himself so generously in return…He had made her feel more like a woman in one night than Alistair had in all the time she had known him. He had been fierce, dominating and passionate, but exquisitely gentle too, and when she had cried after the sheer intensity of that first time he hadn’t embarrassed her by asking her why, had just held her trembling body against his and kissed away the tears, and then shown her other ways for them to find pleasure in each other that were less unrestrained but no less satisfying, until she had once again been ready to fling herself into the lightning-storm of emotion that accompanied his tumultuous possession.

  It hadn’t taken him very long to recognise her lack of experience, and she felt a tingle of excitement prickle over her bare skin as she remembered how much he had enjoyed teaching her the different ways in which her body could accept him, excite him and bring them both to rapturous completion. He had liked to watch the shocked delight appear on her face each time he’d given her a new kind of caress, to coax her into using her hands, her hair, her mouth to make his body quicken and see her shyness melt away in a ravishing eagerness to torture and torment him until he was wildly out of control.

  Oh, no, she needn’t have worried that he would find her too ordinary in bed. He seemed to have no concept of the word. With Scott she had been made to feel supremely special, unique, exquisitely fashioned to satisfy his desires in a way that no other woman ever could, or would…

  A smile stole across her lips as she lovingly studied his sleeping face, resisting the temptation to brush the dark strands of hair off his brow and kiss the faintly pouting mouth. So wary and mistrustful when awake, he was determined not to let himself be vulnerable to love. His daughter had cracked the self-protective shell around his heart, but the small breach wasn’t wide enough to admit anyone else, had merely thickened the scars created by past betrayals.

  Scott had been extremely vocal in the throes of passion, but not a word had been permitted to pass his lips that Anya could mistake for a profession of love. The profound sense of completeness that she had experienced in his arms was a gift that she couldn’t acknowledge without jeopardising their relationship. Well, he might not be interested in her gift of love, but there were other things that she could give him that would bring him a joy that he was prepared to accept.

  She began to ease back towards the edge of the bed, sliding out from under the covers, taking care not to awaken the sleeping tiger. Her feet soundless on the thick carpet, she snagged his shirt from the chair as she passed and scampered into her room, where she had a quick shower and donned the items that she had secretly purchased while Petra had been choosing her dress. She cleaned her teeth and ran a brush through her hair and emerged from her bathroom intending to tiptoe back into Scott’s room, to find him sitting on the end of her bed dressed in a hotel bathrobe, a resolute expression that was distinctly unlover-like tautening his face.

  ‘For a moment I thought our night together had been a figment of my imagination,’ he said roughly. ‘Didn’t your good manners tell you that it’s not the done thing to flee your lover’s bed without at least the courtesy of a farewell?’

  Oh, God, was he remembering the way that Kate had taken off without a word? Did he see it as a rejection of everything that they had shared? Did he think Anya was ashamed of what they had done and was seeking to pretend it hadn’t happened?

  Suddenly his sweeping gaze took in her feet and he did a shocked double-take that would have made her giggle if she hadn’t been so unnerved by his brooding words. His widening eyes travelled with excruciating slowness up from the white ankle socks to his barely buttoned silk shirt veiling her delicate curves, the shadow of a triangle at the juncture of her thighs and dusky circles at the centre of her breasts making it obvious that she was wearing nothing at all under the tissue-fine fabric.

  ‘I wa
s just coming back to give you your wake-up call,’ she said huskily, emboldened by the flare of his nostrils and the nervous jump in his throat as he swallowed, his incredulousness turning into smouldering recognition. ‘But I wanted to get dressed first…as you can see.’ She extended a leg, wriggling her toes in the white sock, allowing the silk to flirt slyly between her thighs.

  She began slowly walking towards him, shaking back her long hair, causing a rolled-up sleeve to slide off one bare shoulder, revealing the paler skin of her breast.

  ‘Oh, God, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ he murmured thickly, but she hadn’t finished with him yet.

  ‘I think there’s still a price-sticker on my socks,’ she said sweetly, coming to a halt between his spread knees. ‘Would you mind peeling it off for me?’ She lifted her leg and placed her foot daintily in his lap, just below the loosely tied towelling belt, her heel parting the edges of the bathrobe as she leaned forward.

  His spine snapped back as the tender arch of her foot settled into his groin, cupping his rapidly growing arousal. He groaned and grabbed her ankle in a vice-like grip, his other hand stroking up over her smooth knee. ‘I don’t see any sticker,’ he growled.

  ‘You’re not looking in the right place.’

  He was staring at the tantalising shadow where the tail of his shirt draped over her hips. ‘I’m looking exactly where you intended me too, you little minx.’

  She felt deliciously wicked. ‘What an old-fashioned term. I thought you were a ruthlessly modern man,’ she teased, curling her toes against his thrusting resistance.

  ‘Hussy!’ he said, holding her foot securely in place, tilting his hips to increase the pressure on his engorged fullness as his other hand continued to creep up her thigh. ‘If you’re deliberately trying to drive me wild, you’d better be prepared to take the consequences.’

  She veiled her smug smile of satisfaction with coyly fluttering lashes. ‘How was I to know you were kinky for white socks?’

  ‘Because I told you what a turn-on they were,’ he purred. ‘And obviously not only for me…’ His fingertips had stirred through the fluff at the top of her thighs, finding the dewy feminine flower they were seeking, and he watched her eyes glaze over as he delicately stroked apart the moist petals and insinuated himself into her velvety sheath, his thumb playing lightly over the swollen bud bursting forth from its protective hood.

  Anya’s insides turned to hot syrup. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and her supporting leg began to tremble, her head suddenly too heavy for the slender column of her neck as sensation rioted through her body.

  ‘Not so sassy with me now, are you, darling?’ he murmured, deeply gratified by her extravagant response. He withdrew his glistening touch to pull her astride his powerful thighs and smothered her mewed protest with his hungry mouth, his hands wrenching open the buttons of the shirt and helping her to push aside his bathrobe so that he could crush her bare breasts against his hot chest. He fumbled in the pocket of his bathrobe and she had a dizzy moment to appreciate his forethought before he was ready for her, tilting his pelvis as he cupped her hips, teasing her with a few blunt nudges of his rigid shaft before forcing her slowly down onto his engorged length, merging them into one indivisible being.

  Anya moaned at the blissful stretching of her body, winding her arms around his strong neck, trying to burrow further into his kiss. He reefed his fingers through her hair to tilt her head, running his hands down her back to settle at the base of her spine. ‘It gets even better,’ he whispered. ‘Lean back for me…’ And when she did he feasted at her breasts, tugging wetly on the nipples as he timed his powerful thrusts to perfection, grunting as her fierce convulsions ignited his own orgasm and they peaked in a wild conflagration of the senses that would be burned into Anya’s memory for ever.

  ‘Mmm,’ he said lazily as they lay panting in exhaustion on the covers, still damply entwined, amongst a tangle of silk and towelling. He licked at a tiny bead of perspiration on the side of her desire-softened breast. ‘We’ve made love in the bed, the shower, the chair and on the floor in my room…so I suppose we should do the same here.’

  Anya’s stomach quivered. ‘We haven’t got time. Petra will probably be awake soon.’

  He propped his head on his hand. ‘The door is locked. And I can be quick as well as slow. You seem to like it either way.’ He chuckled as she pinkened.

  ‘I still think we should be careful. Your—Petra’s mother wouldn’t like it if she was exposed to—’

  He cut her off with a kiss on the mouth. ‘Petra’s a very intelligent and perceptive girl. She likes you and she’s already picked up that I’m attracted to you—or, rather, have the “hots” for you, as she so tactfully puts it. As long as we act naturally about it, she’s not going to be traumatised if she realises that our relationship has advanced to the level of being openly affectionate.’

  His mouth was being more than affectionate! ‘You said you were taking the hotel room so I’d be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for school today. At this rate I’ll be falling asleep in class,’ she chided him.

  ‘Ah, but I didn’t say that it was sleep that was going to brighten your eyes or fluff up your tail,’ he teased, riffling the cluster of curls below her flat abdomen with his knuckles.

  ‘You’re a very conniving man,’ she said, pushing away his hand.

  His blue eyes crinkled. ‘But would you call me selfish, rude…indifferent to a woman’s needs?’ he asked slyly.

  ‘Extremely rude,’ Anya told him, her lips trembling into a smile that made her muted grey eyes glow. He knew very well that she couldn’t criticise his performance on the other counts.

  ‘But not offensively so,’ he said, startling her with a hint of seriousness. ‘I didn’t hurt you in any way, did I? I wasn’t too rough?’

  She couldn’t account the damage done to her heart. ‘Of course not—’

  ‘It’s just that you’re rather little, and I can see I bruised you,’ he brooded, touching a tiny dark shadow on the upper curve of her breast with a gentle finger.

  ‘You didn’t exactly come out unscathed yourself,’ she said lightly. ‘You don’t need to feel inhibited because of my size—’

  ‘Inhibited?’ That sparked a smile. ‘I thought it was my lack of inhibition which might have been a problem.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t. I may be little but I’m not brittle.’

  ‘No, you’re as pliant as a young willow,’ he agreed. ‘Quite astonishingly flexible.’

  ‘Don’t you ever think of anything but sex?’

  ‘Not when I’m lying on a bed next to a beautiful naked woman—’

  ‘I’m not entirely naked,’ she pointed out mischievously. ‘I still have my tiny little white socks on.’

  He groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’

  ‘And you don’t have to pretend that I’m beautiful, either,’ she told him gravely. ‘I’m happy with who I am.’

  ‘So am I,’ he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Because who you are is a lovely, complex young woman full of grace, candour and wit, and with an inner strength and intrinsic goodness of heart that makes me feel guilty for taking advantage of her…’

  Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Is that what you’re doing?’

  ‘I wanted Petra to see the concert but my primary reason for inviting you along was to give me the opportunity to seduce you,’ he said flatly, almost as if he wanted her to recoil in disgust.

  Anya widened her eyes in droll surprise. ‘No, really? And here I was thinking that you were the kind of man who always carried that many condoms around with you!’

  He scowled. ‘If you were expecting sweet-talk and romance from me, you certainly didn’t get it.’

  She actually thought he had been extremely honey-tongued, but she knew what his words were intended to convey. He was warning her against seeing him as love’s young dream.

  ‘You must be confusing me with someone who cares about those things,’ she s
aid steadily. ‘Someone who prefers glamorous trappings to the real thing.’

  He reacted with defensive speed. ‘If you’re talking about Kate, you’re wrong. I told you, I could never confuse you—you’re as different as day and night. I knew that if you heard about the affair that it would taint your whole attitude towards me—’

  ‘Is that the main reason you kept quiet about it? Because it might have made me suspicious of your motives for seducing me?’

  His scowl darkened, his blue eyes sullen. ‘You might have thought I wanted to revenge myself on her by taking you to bed,’ he admitted reluctantly.

  Anya’s brow wrinkled, as if the idea had never occurred to her. ‘I don’t see quite how that would work. I’d think that she’d be more likely to pity you for trying to replace her spectacular self with her drab little cousin—’

  He jerked up to brace himself over her body on bunched arms. ‘Dammit, stop running yourself down like that! I hope you’re not one of those people who excuse any behaviour on the grounds of genius. However brilliant and famous Petra becomes I would still expect her to be considerate of other people’s feelings. Can’t you see you’re a thousand times better than that selfish bitch, Kate?’

  ‘Well, I can…but I thought you might be a little hazy on the exact figures,’ she murmured, secretly stunned by the genuineness of his anger.

  He blinked, his temper stopped in its tracks by her gentle ribbing. A brief expression of uncertainty flitted across his face and her glowing smile widened.

  ‘I don’t expect real life to meet the standards of a romantic ideal, Scott,’ she said, reaching up to touch his firm mouth. ‘Besides, romance means vastly different things to different people…especially men and women.’