by Kim Lawrence
Luke rolled over on to his back, but his eyes remained on her face. ‘Natural perversity?’
‘You have your share of that.’
‘I take it we are to avoid any reference to last night.’ The guilelessness was replaced by a certain hard implacability.
‘My hand is feeling fine, thank you.’
Luke whistled silently through his teeth. ‘Emily…’ There was a warning in his voice.
‘I didn’t want to make too much of an isolated incident,’ she said cautiously.
‘One-night stands being a common occurrence for you, I take it,’ he said in the tone of someone with a deep, if academic interest.
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Idiot, she told herself miserably; he did notice!
‘I’ve never actually slept with a virgin before, but I can still recognise the fact.’ He rolled over, one arm thrown over her supine body, the other framing her face, his fingers pushed into the tumbled mass of her hair on the pillow.
Was she supposed to apologise? she wondered, feeling her stomach muscles tighten with the misery of rejection. ’sorry I didn’t match up to your standards,’ she said from between clenched teeth. How dared he be angry? Hadn’t she given him a gift? While it wasn’t one he required, he didn’t have to be so brutal about the fact.
‘Do you misinterpret everything I say deliberately, or is it a genetic flaw?’ he exploded with exasperation. ‘You are twenty, you were engaged, for God’s sake; I assumed you—’
‘Were reasonably competent,’ she interrupted bitterly.
Luke swore. ‘I could have hurt you.’ An expression she thought might have been regret flitted across his face as his quiet statement stilled her. ’there could have been better introductions, less savage, more controlled.’
She blinked, totally confused. ’the experience hasn’t scarred me emotionally or physically,’ she said gruffly, ’so you must have done something right.’
He looked at her, a glimmer of humour sliding into his eyes. ‘How kind of you to say so.’
‘I don’t think—’ she began as he threw one leg over her own, effectively pinning her beneath him. The texture of his hair-roughened skin was abrasive against her softer flesh, and the satisfactory, if elusive male scent of him made the words which were meant to bring distance atrophy in her throat.
‘A man has to be flattered to be the first, to sample the sweetness a woman can offer; but why did you wait? Why me, Emmy?’ His voice deep and sensual, like the curve of his mouth as he brushed her lips softly
She’d been waiting for Luke even if she hadn’t known it; some destiny had been pushing her in this unlikely direction. A contemplative smile played across her lips as her eyes flickered down the strong column of his throat to the deep muscles of his shoulders, and lower, over the lean, spare, elegant lines of him.
What am I doing? A deep spasm of fear and horror tensed each languor-filled muscle in her body. She was acting as if what she felt was a reciprocal thing, not a secret to be jealously guarded. She could be bemused by a few soft, suggestive words and a kiss, she realised in disgust, knowing how close she’d been to acting like a total fool.
‘I admit to a certain curiosity,’ she said, her voice cool, her lashes strategically lowered over her eyes— eyes filled with pain. ‘I can’t say I ever took a vow of celibacy deliberately; circumstances just conspired to make it that way. Gavin respected my wishes not to anticipate the marriage vows, though I now see there was a certain degree of hypocrisy involved in that assurance,’ she added drily, not actually feeling touched by her ex-fiancé’s infidelity any longer. ‘I decided my inexperience would be an obstacle rather than an attribute if I ever intended to have another relationship. And having seen your rather hysterical reaction I’d say I was correct.’ She gave a small laugh, her throat dry. ’to be honest, this has been the ideal opportunity. I mean, it’s not as if there can be any misunderstandings between us—we don’t have to pretend for convention’s sake that something deep and meaningful happened beyond the obvious.’ She subsided, breathless, awaiting his response.
‘I don’t recall you being so pragmatic and cool last night,’ he hit back. One supple motion brought her on to her side until they lay thigh to thigh, breast to breast. His face was filled with a black fury which she attributed miserably to wounded ego. She’d only said it before he had a chance to, hadn’t she? Or was that what he didn’t like?
‘That, Luke, was then. Same place, different time.’ she responded coolly. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d let me go; I want a bath.’ He was stroking her flank with long, sweeping movements and it was hard to sound unaffected when her insides were dissolving into a golden mist of desire.
‘All in good time. I’ll fill the bath and even soap your back.’ One hand threw back the covers and his eyes strolled unapologetically over her pale body. ‘And possibly other parts,’ he purred.
She closed her eyes. ’this is ridiculous, Luke. You can’t propose to rape me.’ She opened her eyes; his were cynical and gleaming. He never would need to. He might have said it, but he didn’t need to; it was in the triumphant gleam in his eyes and the feverish desperation in her own. The moment of empathy passed and she was aware of the anger in him. ‘I don’t want…’ she began. ‘Not while you’re angry.’
‘Angry at being told I’m a convenient body?’
‘Isn’t that what women are to you?’ she hit back.
‘Just because you are as incapable as the rest of your clan of sustaining a relationship, don’t assume I am similarly handicapped. The women I sleep with happen to have been fully rounded—and I don’t just mean physically,’ he snarled, his derision biting. ‘Intellectually and emotionally stimulating is what I’m talking about. Not lifetime partners, but not one-night stands either.’
‘Why me, then, if I’m neither, and emotionally retarded into the bargain?’ she demanded, her struggles to free herself only succeeding in trapping her arms against his chest. She glared at him defiantly, her breath coming in short, laboured gasps. ‘And, most importantly, I’m a Stapely.’ And this was his revenge for a lifetime of slights…and one unforgiveable sin.
The laugh was a fragmented sound, seeming to be torn from somewhere deep in his chest. ‘Believe it or not, that fact isn’t uppermost in my mind at this instant; and I’ve been asking myself why you, why Emily with the eyes that can be seductive and innocent, innocent eyes and erotic mouth…You taste so sweet,’ he said with bitterness, his voice thick. She scarcely noticed, her senses were so choked with the aching awareness of him. His mouth was impossible to evade even had she felt the desire any longer to do so. His tongue moved in sensual pantonine of the movement of his hips against her belly. She moaned in his mouth, growing limp and pliant, surrendering with some relief to the inevitability.
‘I want to hear you say it.’ His voice was slurred, his eyes glittering with the sexual fever that held him in its relentless grip. Her head thrashed on the pillow as his voice, as exacting as his body, continued in her ear. ‘I waited a long time, Emily; I want to hear you tell me again.’
She felt boneless with supplication. ‘I want you, Luke.’ Did he need complete capitulation? She wondered bleakly, hearing her own voice respond to his demands just as her body shifted to accommodate his every unspoken desire. ‘I want to feel your hands on me…taste you,’ she murmured, the words emerging from between a series of small guttural moans.
Her determination never to let this happen again was forgotten as he touched not just her body but an invisible part of herself too long ignored; now it craved the warmth, the passion that he gave her. His hand had been touching the silken flesh of her inner thigh with feather-like, sensitive motions that made her delirious with anticipation, but he had been still too long.
A question in her feverish eyes, she looked into his face.
‘After last night I thought you might be sore,’ he said with a bluntness which starkly highlighted the new and frightening intimacy between them. Frightening becaus
e the longer it went on, the harder it would be for her when he returned to his world and she was no longer useful.
‘Would you care?’
‘Still playing unwilling victim, Emmy?’
She shook her head, suddenly ashamed of the hasty riposte. He had been nothing if not generous and sensitive as a lover, erotic and passionate. ‘I’m not too sore,’ she responded huskily. ‘If said I was, what would you do?’ she added curiously. His control would have to be of the iron variety if he could switch off at this point.
‘Shall I show you, my curious, sleek little cat?’ he asked as he firmly parted her thighs. Emily’s reply was all that he could have wished.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHOULD she wear the green dress or was it too formal? With a sigh of despair Emily threw it on top of several other discarded outfits on the bed. The bed she had shared with Luke for the past three weeks. His London flat occupied the entire floor of a converted warehouse; it was elegantly uncluttered, with a gleaming wooden floor scattered with vibrant oriental rugs and a tasteful mixture of antique and modern furniture. It was remarkably well-organised, if you discounted the books which overflowed on to most available surfaces.
‘Shouldn’t you have a shower?’
She didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. ‘Is that your way of telling me I smell?’ she said calmly, although as always her metabolic rate kicked into a higher gear because of his presence.
‘You smell of me,’ he said, coming behind her and taking the weight of her breasts in his hands, his thumbs touching the sensitised nubs through her thin robe. She turned her head to meet his contemplative stare.
She didn’t need any reminder to recall the afternoon they’d spent. She shivered as the erotic, sensuous pictures played in her head, and her hands came up to grip his forearms which encircled her. A slow smile curved her lips as her eyes fell on the tumbled bedclothes. He bent his head and his mouth moved over her nape.
The weeks they had been together had made her aware of a sensual side of her nature that was both shocking and delightful. She greedily relished her role as eager pupil—all she had withheld was the verbal confirmation of her love. The restraint was painful but necessary. Whatever happened in the future, she had her memories, and she hugged them to herself, determined not to be robbed.
‘Are you nervous?’ he asked.
‘What do you care?’ she flung at him. He didn’t try to stop her pulling away. She stared at him with darkeyed resentment; his words had spoilt the sweetness of the moment.
‘You have to see them some time.’
‘Of course I do; that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?’ she accused bitterly. As if she needed reminding. ‘At least it’s on neutral territory. I should be glad, in the circumstances, for any small mercy. I don’t suppose even you and Dad can brawl in public.’ Tonight was the first time she had seen her family since Luke had informed them of the engagement. No matter what went on in private, the recriminations and bitterness, in public at least the Stapelys would simulate acceptance of the situation.
‘I’ve not noticed you complaining,’ he observed, his sensuous mouth betraying the cruelty she knew he was capable of.
‘Perhaps I’m making the best of what is, after all, a temporary arrangement,’ she responded coolly. ’someone like you is all right for short-term passion, but you’re hardly equipped for anything more intense. Not with your gypsy blood.’ Her teeth gouged a groove in her full lower lip to stop it trembling.
‘You mean my uncertain parentage,’ he said, his voice hardening. ‘I’ve always enjoyed the latitude that allowed me. I didn’t have to be saddled with a pompous, pretentious, narrow-minded, avaricious bastard.’ He shot her a look of dark dislike. ‘What is it with you? You seem more comfortable when we’re flinging insults at one another.’
She took a deep breath. She hadn’t meant anything of the sort, but his casual vitriol was sincere. ‘I’ve heard you described in equally glowing terms,’ she said drily. ‘And it’s what we do best, isn’t it, fling insults?’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he said throatily. The smoky purr made her knees grow weak. ‘Did you defend my honour?’ he wondered drily.
‘Why should I?’ she retorted, holding on to the dressing-table to steady herself. ’they are my family; you’re…’
‘The poor relation to be displayed on suitable occasions to illustrate the open-hearted generosity of the glorious Stapelys.’
‘You always seemed well able to take care of yourself,’ she muttered mutinously. Had she fared so much better? She had a brother with whom she had nothing in common, a sister who stole her fiancé—as it happened a favour—and parents who had never hidden the fact that she was a major disappointment. Parents to whom her wishes, her desires had never been anything other than an inconvenience. ‘Families aren’t all they are cracked up to be. Maybe I envied you. I think you’re just twisted by self-pity; the great laidback Lucas Hunt is consumed by mean, petty selfinterest.’
The leap of emotional response in his eyes made a frisson of unease crawl the length of her spine. ’maybe you are the loser,’ he agreed surprisingly. ‘I doubt if you were ever on the receiving end of any genuine emotion. I had my mother for at least part of my childhood and, although by your standards we were poor, at least I learnt how to give and receive affection.’ He gave a shrug, his lip curling. ‘You, on the other hand, never had the lessons, and they do say if you’ve never had love you’re never able to function fully. I mean, it gives pause for thought when a woman is still a virgin at twenty.’
‘Was!’ she yelled, incredibly wounded by the denouncement of her character. It was her ability to love that was inflicting such torment at that precise moment.
‘I stand corrected,’ he drawled.
‘I’d hardly equate an afternoon of sex with you as an emotional high,’ she yelled.
‘Is that a fact?’ he said with narrow-eyed interest. ‘What exactly would you call it?’ he enquired silkily.
‘A technical learning experience,’ she shot back.
He dived for her, his features a dark, angry blue. ‘You really can be a prize little bitch.’
‘Blame the genetic pool,’ she said with flippancy born of a sense of extreme loss. ‘It seems to be a fixation of yours.’ She twisted to free herself from his grasp. Luke despised her so much that every time she began to think they could at least be friends his prejudices swirled to the surface like oil on a pool.
‘I blame you, you vindictive little wretch,’ he snarled. ‘Why am I letting you do this to me?’ The words were wrenched from him. She could hardly believe the throb of uncharacteristic frustration. It made her stare at him in wide-eyed confusion. What was she doing to him? What did he mean? She saw no answer in his face, only anger that before her eyes transformed into sensual desire. ‘You’re a sensual little witch.’ He made the throaty observation an accusation.
She shivered in swift surrender as he pulled her roughly against him, and accepted the deep, bruising kiss that was both urgent and angry. When her eyes, heavy-lidded, flickered open he was watching her with raw, hot passion glittering feverishly in his blue eyes.
‘Technically, how did that rate?’ he enquired, his voice slightly slurred and the sharp angle of his high cheekbones highlighted by a faint flush. He smiled with grim satisfaction as she gave a small moan in reply to his hand reaching beneath her shirt to locate unerringly the sensitised peak of one full breast. ‘On a scale of one to ten, that is,’ he continued casually, not pausing in his delicate exploration of her yielding body.
‘Ask me again when I’ve more room for comparison,’ she spat back, outrage at his callous ability to arouse her mingling with a compelling swell of sensuality.
His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Curtail this urge to experiment until I’ve finished with you,’ he advised grimly.
It wasn’t the arrogance of his words that made her grow still, it was the reminder of how impermanent his need for her was. He had virtually sa
id he had every intention of discarding her; the marriage licence carrying tomorrow’s date would only be legally bonding until the divorce. I already knew that, she reminded herself. Don’t let it hurt…don’t let him see.
‘I think you’ll find, Luke, I have something to say on the matter.’ She’d escape before he tired of her, she swore silently to herself.
‘What do you have to say then, Emmy?’ he enquired with open contempt. Arms around her waist, he bodily hoisted her upwards until their hips were level, leaning forward until her back was against the wall.
Her head fell backwards as his teeth drew blood from the tender flesh of her lips. The feeling of surrender was washing over her in great tidal waves. In this position it was impossible to ignore the arousal of his body, and the slight friction between them was enough to make her feel weak with desire. Speak? She didn’t feel she could breathe! Her lungs felt depleted of oxygen and her head was spinning. Did he have to illustrate so cruelly just how easily he could make her retract her impulsive words…how in charge he was while she was being whisked along, a victim of blind, relentless passion?
‘Luke, the door,’ Emily gasped as her brain registered the repeated, the strident peal.
‘To hell with them,’ he said huskily.
‘I need to get dressed,’ she reminded him, pulling away and catching the lapels of her robe together. The blue eyes, dark with smouldering passion, snapped with frustration.
‘Wear the blue,’ he threw over his shoulder as he padded barefoot into the open-plan living area. She instantly chose the green.
‘My dear Luke, it’s very naughty of you not to let me know you were here.’ The silence combined with the voice made Emily tighten the sash around her waist and stalk into the living-room.
She paused, her mouth agape, to see an elegant blonde. Her long hair was sleekly drawn back to reveal a swan-like neck, and she had her arms around Luke. The clothes proclaimed their owner’s financial and social status very clearly—a designer combination of classical tailoring and innovative, jewel-bright fabrics.