Stay Through the Night

by Anne Mather

  ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ he muttered, releasing himself abruptly and turning aside into the living room. Then, not facing her, he said, ‘You’re not going to be horrified if I take off my pants?’

  Rosa went after him then, sliding her arms around him from behind and pressing her face against the soft wool of his overcoat. ‘You flatter yourself,’ she whispered, trying to make light of what he’d said, but Liam only uttered a rude word.

  ‘You think you’ve seen the worst of it, but you haven’t,’ he said harshly. ‘You’ve had time to get over what you saw, but there are other scars—’

  ‘Shh!’ Rosa let go of him to come round and face him. ‘Stop talking like that.’ She paused. ‘If you’d given me a chance to speak that morning at the castle, I’d have told you then that I don’t horrify that easily.’

  ‘But you were shocked—’

  ‘Of course I was.’ Rosa was indignant. ‘For heaven’s sake, who wouldn’t have been in my position? I’d had no idea—’ She broke off, and then went on more steadily, ‘But I wasn’t—repelled, repulsed, whatever ugly ideas are buzzing around in that head of yours. I thought it was a shame, that’s all. That someone could have been evil enough to do that to you. If I felt anything, it was compassion—’

  ‘I don’t need your—’

  ‘But I guessed you’d probably had all the compassion you could stomach.’ She overrode him grimly. ‘Besides, you must know you have so much else going for you. But you didn’t give me a chance to say anything except goodbye.’

  Liam’s shoulders sagged. ‘I didn’t think there was anything else to say.’

  ‘I suppose that depends on what you’re going to do now,’ she replied, looking up into his troubled features. ‘Whether you’re going to storm off into the night or—take off your coat.’

  Liam gazed down at her. ‘You know, I want to believe you mean this.’

  ‘Then do it,’ she exclaimed fiercely. ‘Take off your coat.’ She stepped forward and slid her hands beneath his coat, slipping it off his shoulders. ‘You must be warm in here, with all these clothes on.’

  ‘I am warm—hot, actually,’ he muttered. ‘But it has hell all to do with what I’m wearing.’ He let the heavy overcoat fall to the floor. ‘Come here.’

  ‘No, you come here,’ she said, taking his hand and leading him across the room. Another door opened into a short corridor with two doors leading from it. One, he guessed, led to a bathroom. The other had to be Rosa’s bedroom.

  He was right. The room she led him into was small, but attractive, with honey-coloured walls and a creamy shag carpet underfoot. There was a bed—a single, he noticed, with a satisfied curl of his lip—a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. The curtains, which matched the pale green coverlet, were drawn, and Rosa bent to switch on a lamp beside the bed.

  ‘I know this is nothing like what you’re used to—’ she was beginning, but he swung her round to face him, taking her mouth again in a kiss that left them both hot and panting for breath.

  ‘I want to get used to you, not this room,’ Liam told her when he could speak again. ‘But could we lose the lamp? I don’t think I’m up to being inspected.’

  Rosa wanted to tell him not to be silly, but she respected his feelings and obediently turned the lamp off again. ‘Better?’ she asked huskily, his large frame just a silhouette now in the light that filtered through from the living room.

  ‘Much better,’ he agreed, moving towards her, and she sank down onto the side of the bed, trying to draw him with her.

  But Liam had other ideas. Ignoring the stiffness in his hip, he knelt in front of her, burying his face in the hollow between her breasts. ‘Do you know how much I’ve wanted this?’ he asked thickly, his hands slipping beneath the blouse at her waist. And then, more impatiently, ‘How the hell do you take this thing off?’

  ‘Let me,’ said Rosa shakily, crossing her arms and pulling the offending garment over her head. ‘It’s easy when you know how.’

  ‘Don’t I know it?’ said Liam, shoving his own jacket to the floor. His sweater followed it, but when he realised that only his shirt separated all her unblemished loveliness from his disfigured torso he paused. Then, in a strangled voice, he added, ‘Are you really sure about this?’

  ‘As sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life,’ Rosa assured him in a breathless voice. Her fingers started on the buttons of his shirt. ‘Can I?’

  Liam’s breath caught in his throat. ‘If you want to.’

  ‘I want to,’ she whispered, and moments later he felt the cool draught of air across his heated skin.

  She leaned towards him, her lips finding the pattern of lines left by his injuries and tracing each one with her tongue. There was no revulsion, no aversion. Just tender contact with his skin.

  It was his cue to urge her back against the mattress, covering her with his body, loosening the clasp of her bra and freeing the incredible warmth of her breasts against his chest. He couldn’t resist taking one swollen nipple into his mouth, and she gave a little moan as he did so. He rolled the tight bud against his tongue and suckled greedily. Dear God, why had he stayed away so long?

  She shifted restlessly beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her body towards his. And, although Liam would have liked to prolong this, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to. Already his erection was threatening to burst out of his pants.

  It had to be almost twenty-five years since he’d been in such a state of arousal, he thought incredulously. Not since he was a teenager had he ever been in danger of losing control—not just of his body but of his mind, too. The blood was thundering through his veins in anticipation of what he was going to do to her. He actually came out in a sweat at the thought of burying his shaft in her hot sheath.

  He pushed his hand down between them and found the button at the waistband of her trousers. It opened easily, and with a shuddering breath he slipped his hand inside. Encountering lacy silk, he frowned, remembering how nervous she’d seemed earlier. The idea that she might have dressed for some other man caused his blood pressure to rise even more.

  But he refused to ruin the beauty of this moment by allowing his own jealousy to destroy the mood. Instead, his hands moved beneath the lace and cupped her mound.

  ‘That feels so good,’ he whispered, one finger penetrating the silky curls of hair to find the swollen nubbin trapped within her folds and rubbing gently. ‘I knew it would.’

  ‘For me, too,’ said Rosa hoarsely, her hands tangling with his as she struggled to loosen his trousers. ‘Please,’ she added brokenly. ‘I want you inside me when I come.’

  Liam’s breathing faltered. The image her words was creating caused him to quicken his efforts to free her from the rest of her clothes, and pretty soon her trousers and the lace thong joined her blouse on the floor.

  ‘Now you,’ Rosa urged huskily, and with only a momentary hesitation Liam loosened his pants and shoved them down his legs.

  Now Rosa could slip her hands into the waistband of his boxers, and she took full advantage. Her tantalising fingers shaped his butt, squeezing his cheeks, pressing his erection into the parted curve of her legs.

  ‘Take these off, too,’ she ordered him unsteadily, and, with her help, the boxers also found their way to the floor.

  But when she would have taken him into her hands he stopped her. ‘Give me a break,’ he groaned, his action as much a need to protect his self-restraint as a desire to hide his scarred flesh a little longer. ‘I’m only human.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ she said, her breath catching in her throat, and in spite of his efforts to prevent it she managed to wrap her soft fingers around him. If she noticed the hard ridge of skin that arrowed down into his groin she didn’t mention it, her soft caresses almost driving him over the edge. ‘Luther Killian can’t possibly be as sexy as you.’

  Liam swallowed convulsively. ‘What do you know about Luther Killian?’ he asked thickly.


  ‘Oh, I bought a book of yours in Scotland, and I’ve finally managed to read it.’

  ‘Finally?’

  Although he was aching to possess her, he forced himself to enjoy the foreplay, and she trembled beneath him. ‘Mmm,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I couldn’t read it when—when I was on the island. It reminded me too much of you. But when I’d finally decided I was never going to see you again I thought it was the closest to you I was going to get.’

  ‘Ah.’ Liam released the breath he’d hardly been aware he was holding. ‘And now?’

  ‘And now I just want to do it with you,’ she told him in a shaky voice. ‘Please.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LIAM REALISED he must have slept when he opened his eyes to find himself alone in the bed.

  He hadn’t been conscious of Rosa getting up. He hadn’t been conscious of anything, really, since the shuddering climax of their lovemaking. Which was why he felt so relaxed, he supposed, so sated with pleasure. For a few moments he was content to just lie there and relive every minute of it.

  He felt weak, thinking about what had happened. He’d known Rosa was responsive, but she’d completely overwhelmed him. She been so hot, so downright sexy, that he’d abandoned every inhibition he’d ever had.

  He’d even forgotten why he’d been so apprehensive of making love with her. And if she’d been aware of any faults in his appearance she hadn’t shown it. She’d actually made him believe in himself again, believe that he’d found a woman who saw the man and not the flaws.

  He recalled the moment when he’d felt his erection tight against her vagina. Pushing into her that first time, he’d been half out of his mind with pleasure. She’d assured him there was no need for him to wear a condom, and the sensation of skin against skin had been a potent stimulant.

  He’d been aware of Rosa holding her breath as he’d possessed her. ‘Are you all right?’ he’d asked roughly, hoping she wasn’t about to bail on him, and Rosa had expelled a little sigh.

  ‘I was just thinking how big you are,’ she’d confessed, a catch in her voice.

  ‘And that’s a problem?’

  ‘Not to me,’ she’d responded at once. ‘Maybe to you.’

  ‘Oh, baby!’ Liam’s voice had revealed an uneven thread of humour. ‘That’s no problem. You’re so hot, I feel as if I’m burning up!’

  ‘And that’s good?’

  ‘That’s very good,’ he’d assured her fervently. ‘Just don’t expect me to wait too long.’

  But when he’d finally penetrated her fully, he’d found he’d wanted to prolong it. With her tight around him, and her breasts crushed against his chest, he’d wanted it to last and last. It had felt so good to be a part of her, cradled deep within her. He’d usually found the anticipation so much better than the realisation, and he hadn’t wanted anything to spoil something so beautiful.

  But then Rosa had wound a slim leg about his, and caressed his calf with the sole of her foot. It had been such a simple thing—a sensual abrasion, that was all—but it had almost blown his mind. Every movement she’d made had aroused him further, and the urge to fulfil all the fantasies he’d had about her had instantly focussed on the heavy shaft in its tender sheath.

  He’d begun to move then, slowly at first, testing the slick muscles that had expanded around him. There’d been a wilful pleasure in pulling back from her, almost to the point of withdrawal, and then thrusting in again, feeling the cravings he had build and build.

  He couldn’t remember when the mindless excitement of what he’d been doing had taken over. He just knew he’d quickened his pace to try and calm the feverish beating of his heart.

  And Rosa had responded, moving with him, so that he’d felt the gathering momentum of her orgasm almost before she’d been aware of it herself.

  Of course the sounds she’d made and the ripples of her climax had totally stoned him. His own release had followed close behind, and what had begun as a gentle supplication had quickly accelerated into a glorious abandonment to sensuality.

  His own orgasm had seemed to last for ever. Long after he’d been sure he must have drained himself into her, he’d still been shaking in her arms. He’d never had an experience like it. All the doubts he’d had coming here, the tension he’d felt when he’d seen Rosa again, had all melted away. He knew he’d done the right thing by taking the detour, and he was fairly sure she felt the same.

  But where was she? Easing himself up on one elbow, Liam tried to see his watch. What time was it? It was still dark outside, so it obviously wasn’t morning. But how long had he slept?

  The sound of a man’s raised voice jarred him out of any sense of complacency. It came from the living room, and he realised he’d been hearing the buzz of voices for some time. He reached for the lamp and turned it on, pulling the sheet over his lower limbs as he did so. Just after 9:00 p.m. he saw with a frown. What the hell was it? Had Rosa got up and turned the television on?

  He thought about calling her, but that seemed too presumptuous. He decided to wait until she came back before asking what was going on. And he knew she would, sooner or later. What they’d shared was not going to go away.

  And then the man used Rosa’s name.

  ‘For God’s sake, Rosa,’ he exclaimed, his voice raised as before. ‘I thought we were going to talk about this.’

  Liam didn’t hear Rosa’s answer. She spoke in a much lower tone, and he wondered if that was because she was considering him. Or was it just that she didn’t want him to hear what she was saying? Or know that she had another visitor? Maybe the one she’d dressed up for, he thought, with an uncontrollable spurt of jealousy.

  Thrusting the covers aside, he swung his legs to the floor. Then, rescuing his boxers from where he’d tossed them, he pulled them on over his ankles before standing up. Thankfully, although his leg still ached, the rest had restored some strength to his muscles. If he had to walk back to his car tonight, he reckoned he could just about do it.

  By the time he’d put on his jeans and shirt, the voices were barely audible. He pulled his sweater over his head and shouldered into the leather jacket, thinking that if he had to meet Rosa’s visitor, whoever he was, he was going to be prepared.

  The lamp gave off little illumination, so he took a chance and opened the door of the room across the hall. As he’d hoped, it was a bathroom, and he turned on the light and quickly ran a comb thorough his unruly hair.

  He was hungry, he thought, coming out of the bathroom again. Bloody hungry. He’d forgotten good sex could do that for you: first the senses, then the stomach. Perhaps they could send out for a pizza, he thought, his mouth already watering at the prospect of melted mozzarella. Then—well, then the possibilities were endless.

  He was about to enter the living room when the man’s voice rose again.

  ‘I don’t give a tinker’s cuss who this bloke is,’ he declared angrily. ‘He doesn’t have any rights where you’re concerned. For Pete’s sake, Rosa, I’m your husband—’

  ‘Ex-husband,’ Liam thought she interjected, but the man continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

  ‘Don’t I deserve some consideration? I thought we’d agreed to try and start again.’

  Liam didn’t hear Rosa’s answer. Instead of going in search of the voices, he was now standing motionless, his shoulders pressed against the wall of the hall. So he’d been right, he thought. She had been expecting another visitor. Her ex-husband, no less. His jaw clamped savagely. What kind of game was she playing? The poor guy sounded as if she’d fed him the same line she’d fed Liam.

  He wanted out of here! And fast. He felt as if he’d been taken for a fool. What had she been doing? Using him to make the other guy jealous? Well, she’d succeeded on two counts. He was as sick as a parrot, too.

  The voices seemed too far away to be in the living room. And he didn’t kid himself that Rosa had taken the argument into the hall outside. He frowned. They had to be in the kitchen—the kitchen where he’d kissed her earli
er. His stomach clenched, but he ignored it. If that was so, maybe he could grab his coat and get out before either of them was any the wiser.

  He chanced a look into the room and saw he was right. Someone—Rosa, probably—had picked his coat off the floor and deposited it on a chair. The chair nearest the door, he saw with some irony. Was it her way of indicating that he had already been on his way out?

  The floor creaked as he crossed it, but Rosa and her husband—ex-husband, what a joke!—were too engrossed in their discussion to pay any attention. Then they were silent, but although Liam tensed nothing happened. God, he wondered sickly, was he kissing her? Even though he told himself he didn’t care, he still wanted to go in there and shove his fist down the other man’s throat.

  But common sense deterred him. Besides, as the guy had said, what right did he have to interfere in Rosa’s life? He meant nothing to her and, whatever he’d imagined, she could mean nothing to him. Not really. She’d done him a favour, actually. She’d shown him that not all women were like Kayla Stevens, and that was good.

  He carried his coat instead of trying to put it on, leaving the door of the apartment unlocked because to close it completely would have made too much noise.

  Then, treading carefully, he made his way downstairs and out of the building. He’d made it, he thought with some relief as he stepped onto the street. Then, pulling on his overcoat, he walked away without looking back.

  ‘What was that?’

  Rosa thought she’d heard something, and, pushing Colin aside, she went into the living room. But there was no one there. The room was empty, as before. She must have imagined it, she thought. Colin being here was making her as edgy as a cat.

  ‘So where is he, this bloke you’ve shacked up with?’ demanded Colin unpleasantly. ‘Oh, I get it.’ He viewed the towelling robe she’d hastily pulled on when he knocked at the door with a scornful eye. ‘I got you out of bed, didn’t I? So—what? Is he keeping out of my way because he’s scared I might deck him?’ He sneered as he strode past her. ‘Let’s see who’s been screwing my wife, shall we?’