He bent down and fondled Millie’s ears. An action which sent the cat into feline ecstasy.
‘Must be your natural masculine charm,’ Rebekah accorded with wry humour.
Jace straightened and one eyebrow slanted in mocking cynicism. ‘Why don’t you sit down and relax?’
Relax, with you here? she demanded silently. Fat chance. ‘Thanks for bringing me home.’
‘But please leave?’
‘Yes.’
‘Think again.’
Her eyes flew wide. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Independence is a fine thing,’ he opined quietly. ‘In this instance, there’s no way you’re staying anywhere alone.’
Anger flared, and it showed in her eyes, the tightening of her mouth. ‘Now, look—’
‘We’ve done that,’ Jace said in a deceptively mild voice. ‘We’re not going to do it again.’
‘Just who gave you permission to take charge of my life?’
‘The decision is mine.’
‘Well, you can absolve yourself from any misguided responsibility and go leave me alone.’
‘No.’
She was angry before, now she was steaming. ‘Brad is unlikely to do anything while he’s out on bail. Even his mother’s lawyer would have a hard job extricating him from jail if he did.’
His gaze focused on her features, noting the tilt of her chin and the proud determination in those deep sapphire-blue eyes. ‘I’m not prepared to risk a repeat of last night.’
She wanted to lash out at him, hurt as she’d been hurt. Yet this was the wrong man, and her mind was spiralling in a way that made no sense at all. ‘Next you’ll tell me you intend staying here all day.’
He was silent for a few long seconds, then he ventured silkily, ‘That’s the plan.’
It was then she noticed the laptop in his hand. ‘You’ve brought work with you?’ Her voice seemed to have acquired a higher pitch, and she met his steady gaze with something akin to disbelief.
‘I can work anywhere. Why not here?’
The anger bubbled over. ‘You’ve appointed yourself babysitter? I don’t believe this…any of it!’
His eyes hardened fractionally. ‘Believe it’s not open to negotiation.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
REBEKAH reacted without thought and the palm of her hand connected with his cheekbone in a stinging slap.
An entire gamut of emotions chased fleetingly across her expressive features, and Jace divined each and every one of them.
Dear lord in heaven, she’d actually hit him! In her eyes it made her no better than Brad. ‘I’m sorry.’
The words were huskily voiced so as to be barely audible.
The air seemed filled with electric tension, and she was hardly conscious of breathing.
‘Feel better?’ he drawled with deceptive mildness.
Innate honesty came to the fore. ‘No.’
She missed the faint gleam of humour lurking in the depths of his eyes.
‘I picked up some filled bagels on my way to the shop. Why don’t we have lunch?’ he suggested quietly. ‘Afterwards you can rest while I put in a few hours on the laptop.’
‘I’m not an invalid,’ she protested at once, wanting the afternoon done with so she could be alone. His presence in the apartment unsettled her. He unsettled her.
He shot her a level look, then he moved through to the kitchen, set the bagels on plates and placed them on the dining-room table.
They ate in relative silence, and washed the food down with hot, sweet tea, then Rebekah curled up on the sofa with a magazine while Jace settled himself at the escritoire on the far side of the room.
She must have slipped into a fitful doze, for she woke feeling refreshed, albeit stiff and sore. A quick glance at her watch revealed it was almost five, and she experienced shock to think she’d slept for so long.
Jace glanced up from the computer screen at her first sign of movement, his appraisal swift and encompassing as she straightened and stood to her feet.
He caught the careful way she moved, and contained a renewed surge of anger against the man who’d caused her such pain.
‘Feeling rested?’
She looked better, her pale features had acquired a healthy colour, although her eyes were still too dark.
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ He turned back to the screen and re-immersed himself in scrolling through data.
Rebekah felt the need to freshen up, and she took her time, declining the use of lipstick as she changed into jeans and a cotton-knit top.
As soon as Jace left she’d fill the hot tub, then after a long, leisurely soak she’d grab a bite to eat and crawl into bed with a book.
Millie followed her out into the lounge, then padded towards the kitchen and waited to be fed. Jace barely glanced up from the screen as she passed through.
A slight frown creased her brow as she crossed into the laundry and extracted clothes from the drier, folded and put them away.
‘I’ve ordered in,’ Jace informed minutes later. ‘I hope you like Chinese.’
She turned towards him slowly. ‘I thought you’d return to the hotel.’
‘You thought wrong.’
A sudden suspicion occurred. ‘I’m fine, if you’d prefer to leave.’
He made two more keystrokes, then closed down the program. ‘No.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I have no intention of leaving you here alone.’
She felt her stomach execute a few painful somersaults. ‘We already had this argument.’
‘Then we’ll have it again.’
‘I don’t need to go out from the apartment before tomorrow.’ She gestured in the direction of the apartment entrance. ‘There’s no way anyone can get in unless I open that door.’
‘It doesn’t change a thing.’
‘You can’t stay here!’
‘Why not? You have a spare bedroom.’
And she could sleep easily in her bed knowing he occupied the room directly across the hall?
‘Unless, of course, you invite me to share your bed?’
The element of mockery evident brought her to flashpoint. ‘As if that’s going to happen!’
The apartment intercom buzzer was an insistent, intrusive sound, and after a moment’s hesitation she crossed to pick up the receiver, only to have Jace lift it from her hand.
Minutes later he collected their Chinese take-out, paid the delivery boy, then he unpacked the bag onto the table.
Not long after they’d eaten she gathered clean sheets from the linen cupboard and handed them to him.
‘The spare room is down the hallway on the left. Feel free to watch television. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.’
She turned and walked towards her room, closed the door, then she took a shower, slid into bed and snapped off the light.
She was running, but she didn’t seem to be gaining distance in her attempt to reach a safe place. And it was dark, very dark, with only brief prisms of light.
Where was she? Nothing was familiar. Only an awareness of being outdoors, damp grass, tall trees, then there was dense undergrowth that caught on her clothes, gnarled tree roots, and the dank smell associated with the cyclic rebirth, growth and decay of plant life.
Thunder rolled across the sky, followed by forked lightning, and behind her she could hear the echo of her own frantic passage towards safety.
Except it was foe, not friend, and a mental image of Brad in the role of her attacker flooded her brain.
She tripped over an exposed tree root, and she cried out as she went down. There was an imperviousness to pain as she scrambled to her feet and staggered into a running gait, fleeing as he gained on her.
Then, miraculously, the undergrowth cleared, the trees disappeared, and there was smooth lawn, a house with all its lights blazing. A beacon offering her sanctuary.
She picked up speed and ran towards it, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t close the distance and the hou
se remained out of her reach.
Just as she began to despair she drew close, and she was at the front door, her hand on the knob, praying it would open and not be locked.
Her relief was palpable as it swung open to her touch, and as she turned to close it Brad was there, wrenching the door from her grasp.
She screamed, pushing all her weight against it in an attempt to prevent his entry. Except it was hopeless, her strength no match for his as he forced it open.
Then she turned and ran, blindly seeking the stairs in the hope of reaching a bedroom where she could close and lock herself in.
Only to have him catch her just as she reached the landing, and she cried out as his hands closed over her arms. Screamed as they moved to her shoulders.
She heard him swear, then his voice calling her name…
The scene began to change and fade, and she was no longer on the floor, she was in her bed in the apartment, the voice repeating her name bore an American accent, and the man grasping her shoulders wasn’t Brad.
This man’s features portrayed concern, his facial muscles reassembling over broad-sculptured bone as concern was replaced with relief. Chillingly bleak eyes riveted hers, trapping her in his gaze for seemingly long seconds before the bleakness faded.
‘Jace?’ What was he doing here? It was late, she was in bed, the bedside lamp was switched on…and then she remembered.
He caught each fleeting emotion and gauged every one. ‘You were having a nightmare.’
Rebekah shivered, still partly caught up in it. All she’d need to do was close her eyes and she’d become immersed in the darkness again.
‘Would you like a drink?’
She became aware of the man sitting on the edge of her bed, his jeans, the unbuttoned shirt, the slightly tousled hair.
This close she was suddenly conscious of her own attire, the thin cotton nightshirt, the rumpled bedcovers.
There was a sense of intimacy apparent, something exigent beneath the surface that would ignite and flare at the slightest touch, the faintest move.
Rebekah unconsciously held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from his. She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. ‘Please.’ Anything to have him shift away.
Yet when he did she felt a strange sense of loss, which was crazy. There was a compulsive need to straighten the bedcovers, and she finger-combed her hair, then winced as bruised muscles made themselves felt.
Jace returned with a glass part-filled with chilled water, and she took it from him, had several sips before placing the glass onto the bedside pedestal.
‘Thanks.’ Please, just go, she begged silently. She felt acutely vulnerable, and way too disturbed by his presence.
‘Want to talk about it?’ His dark eyes seared hers, lingered, then trailed to her mouth.
‘Not particularly.’
He lifted a hand and brushed the tips of his fingers to a large bruise on her arm, and she quivered beneath his touch.
‘How often did he do this to you?’
She wanted to protest it was none of his business, except the words never left her lips. An admission would raise the query as to why she’d stayed after the first attack. Brad’s tears, his apparent horror and remorse at his actions, together with his fervent promise it would never happen again had influenced her to forgive him. Until the next time.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes.’ There was steel beneath the silkiness, an expression she couldn’t define in those dark eyes.
His hand moved to cup her jaw, and his thumb caressed the tender flesh Brad had slapped with a hard palm, then he threaded his fingers through her hair.
Rebekah felt as if they were enmeshed in some elusive sensual spell. ‘I think you’d better leave,’ she voiced shakily.
Yet the words were at variance with her emotions.
There was a part of her that ached to invite this man’s touch, to reach out and seek the comfort he could provide.
Oh, dear lord, just to be held close and feel the press of his lips against her temple, the beat of his heart against her own. To feel safe and protected.
Except it was more than that, much more.
She wanted, needed the touch of his hands, his lips on her body. She wanted him.
She didn’t want to analyse the why of it. To agonise whether she should or shouldn’t, or what might come after.
There was no room for wisdom, just innate need.
Her eyes ached with it, and tears rose to the surface to shimmer in the lamp-light.
He leant forward and brushed his lips to hers in a kiss that was gently evocative, and her mouth trembled slightly as she sought control over her wayward emotions.
Her lashes fluttered down in a desperate bid to close out the sight of him. It didn’t work, nothing worked, for she still did battle with her sensory perception of him…his clean male scent, the warmth and the passion. Especially the passion, there but held in tight control.
She felt his mouth shift to the bruise on her shoulder, then slip to caress another, and something deep inside slowly unfurled and began to melt.
Were some of the carefully erected barriers coming down? Her skin was silk, and scented with a delicate perfume he failed to recognise. He wanted to obliterate the taint of Brad’s touch, replace it with his own and show her how the loving could be. The intense pleasure, the acute ecstasy experienced by two people in complete accord.
The words could come later. For now there was only the tactile sensation of touch, the silent communication of want and need in the slight tremor of her body, the fast-beating pulse at the edge of her throat, and heat…hers, his, as he trailed his lips up to fasten on her own in a kiss that dispensed with any inhibitions and encouraged her response.
It was everything she craved for, evocative, erotic, with an edge of hunger that tugged at her soul. A sigh rose and died in her throat as she angled her mouth to his and deepened the kiss.
The only part of him touching her was his mouth, and he used it to devastating effect, sweeping her to a place where there was only the moment and the electrifying sensual chemistry they shared.
Rebekah cupped his face and kept his mouth on hers until he gently removed her hands as he trailed kisses down her throat and edged to the soft swell of her breast.
He eased the edges of her nightshirt aside and savoured the rounded contours before laving a tender peak.
Sensation arrowed through her body and she arched against him, only to groan out loud as he shamelessly suckled there.
With care he freed the remaining buttons on her nightshirt and the breath hissed between his teeth as he caught sight of the bruised swelling on her ribcage.
Rebekah closed her eyes against the dark anger evident, only to have them open in stunned surprise as he pressed his lips to each and every bruise in turn.
Jace trailed a hand to the curve of her waist, then rested over her hip before slipping low to tangle in the soft hair at the apex of her thighs.
It was almost too much as his lips traced a similar path, and she cried out loud as he bestowed the most intimate kiss of all.
He sensed her shocked disbelief, the sudden stillness, and felt something twist in his gut at the instinctive knowledge her ex-husband had never gifted her this form of oral pleasure. A man who was selfishly insensitive to consider his own satisfaction without thought for his partner?
Her climax when it came took her unawares, for she hadn’t imagined there could be more, much more than she’d already experienced, and she gasped as he took her high again and again until she reached for him.
His skin was smooth as thick-textured satin, and she exulted in the feel of hard sinew and muscle as she freed him of his shirt.
Dear heaven, he was built with well-developed musculature, a taut waist, and washboard midriff.
It was easy to unsnap his jeans and slide the zip down, then pull them off with his help. His briefs followed, and she had a bad moment wondering if she could accommodate
him.
There was an elemental quality apparent, a base, primitive need she was unable to ignore as she became caught up in the sexual thrall of him.
His hands skimmed the surface of her skin, shaping her body as he explored all the pleasure spots with the sureness of a man who knew where and how to touch to drive a woman wild.
He took her to the brink of sexual anticipation, and held her there until she begged for release, then he entered her with exquisite care, moving slowly as she stretched to fit him.
It was like nothing she’d experienced before as she absorbed his length, and she cried out as he began to withdraw, only to ease forward in a slow rhythm as old as time, lengthening each stroke and increasing its pace until she accepted and matched it.
Together they moved in unison towards a climactic explosion that shattered all of her preconceived beliefs.
Her whole body was like a finely tuned instrument beneath a master’s touch, responding as it never had before. As she’d never imagined it could, she decided hazily as every nerve sang with elated pleasure.
This…this was how it was supposed to be. Two people together, sharing a sensual feast that culminated in the ultimate pleasure.
Not the quick slaking of lust that Brad had subjected her to in the name of love before he rolled off her and fell asleep.
Jace was still joined with her, his lips intent on trailing a lingering path to her breasts, where they caressed and teased, then suckled there.
Tiny darts of sensation arrowed through her body, and she traced the length of his spine with her fingertips, exploring each indentation until she reached his buttocks.
She felt them clench beneath her touch, and her lips parted in a secret smile, only to gasp out loud as he began to move, slowly stroking deep within until she caught the rhythm and joined him in the ride.
Afterwards he kissed her, taking her mouth in a gentle imitation of the sexual act itself, then he gathered her in close against him and held her until she slipped into an exhausted sleep.
It was in the early dawn hours that she stirred, and, half-asleep, began to move a little, unconsciously changing position…hazily aware something was preventing her. Someone, she determined seconds later.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 160