by Anne Mather
‘I don’t have to tell you anything,’ retorted Juliet, and Rafe was infuriated by the fact that, once again, she was making him act like a savage. But damn it all, he thought, seeing those paintings had brought out the worst in him. As the old lady had known they would, he guessed bitterly. But even she couldn’t have had this scenario in mind.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ he mocked now, ignoring the insistent voice inside him that kept warning him to end this, while he still could. ‘For someone who professes to be engaged to someone else, you’re very permissive. Tell me, were you thinking about Cary when I was kissing you, when I was pushing my tongue into your mouth—?’
‘Stop it!’
Juliet brought up her hands to push against his chest, but when her fingers spread against the fine fabric of his sweater all she was conscious of was the body beneath the cloth. She could feel his heart beating, a living, breathing force that seemed to surround her, and a trickle of moisture made its way down between her breasts.
‘What’s he like in bed?’ Rafe was relentless, the demon on his shoulder finding pleasure in her weak efforts to escape him. He defended his actions by assuring himself that his grandmother shouldn’t have provoked him, but he couldn’t help wondering if he was just playing into her hands. ‘Is he better or worse than your ex-husband?’ he jeered softly. ‘I guess he must be much better. Why else would you be marrying the poor sod?’
‘You have no right to criticise Cary,’ Juliet protested unsteadily. ‘At least he’s not having an affair with a married woman!’
‘I’m not having an affair with a married woman!’ Rafe shifted to catch her chin in a brutal grip, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He stared down at her with narrowed eyes. ‘If those sketches are still bugging you, I explained what I was doing. Why is it so hard to believe that Liv would come to me?’
‘Oh, I have no difficulty in believing that Liv comes to you,’ retorted Juliet contemptuously. ‘Where else would she go when she wants a younger man in her bed?’
‘You’re crazy!’ Rafe was incensed. ‘Liv loves her husband. Just because you got your knickers in a twist when you saw she was naked in those sketches, don’t imagine I feel the same.’
‘They don’t turn you on, then?’
‘Hell, no!’
‘Oh, please—’
‘I mean it.’ Rafe swore. ‘If I’d been turned on by every nude I’d seen, I’d be in a constant state of arousal.’
‘You’re disgusting!’
‘And you’re incredible,’ said Rafe harshly. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say Cary had dreamed the whole thing up to protect his own sorry ass.’ His lips twisted. ‘And you’re no better. You’re prepared to prostitute yourself to get a share of the old lady’s cash—’
His words were arrested by the simple fact of Juliet’s palm hitting his cheek. She’d pulled her hands free and her fingers stung from their violent contact with his face.
‘You—you—’ she choked, unable to find an epithet to suit the occasion, and saw the bitter smile that crossed his face.
‘Hey, call me a bastard, why don’t you?’ he taunted. ‘You wouldn’t be the first.’ He pushed her away from him so violently that she almost fell. ‘You’re just like the old lady, do you know that? You don’t like to hear the truth, even when it jumps up and hits you in the face!’
‘It’s not true!’
Juliet swallowed convulsively, aware that the little she’d eaten at dinner was in danger of making a return appearance. She’d known he had the ability to hurt her, but not how much, and with a muffled moan she turned and headed for the door.
He didn’t try to stop her, and upstairs, in her room, she made straight for the lavatory. Her stomach heaved on cue and, after a few exhausting minutes, she transferred to the hand basin.
She was struggling to clean her teeth, to get the unpleasant taste out of her mouth, when there was a knock at the outer door. She stiffened instinctively, but then, realising Rafe was unlikely to come after her, let alone know which room she was occupying, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and walked across the sitting room to the door.
‘Who is it?’ she called, but no one answered. Neither was the knock repeated, and, rueing the fact that the door didn’t have a peephole as hotel doors did, she reluctantly cracked it open.
Rafe was standing outside, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, a look of weary resignation on his dark face. She would have slammed the door again, but he put his foot in the opening, pressing it wider with one hand and easing his way inside.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply, her white face and bruised eyes telling it all. Reaching out, he grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him. ‘I’m such a fool,’ he said, burying his face in the hollow of her neck. ‘Please: tell me you forgive me.’
Juliet couldn’t speak. She was trembling so badly that she was amazed her legs continued to support her. She needed to sit down, she thought. Or lie down, another less virtuous voice insinuated. Which made her no better than Liv.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ One hand cupped her nape and her eyes closed as his mouth descended towards hers. Firm lips rubbed gently against hers, his tongue a tender caress now as he parted her mouth and pushed inside. Sensuously, sensually, he coaxed her tongue into a helpless participation and then, as his own needs sharpened, he deepened the kiss until any will she might have had to resist him was totally destroyed.
His kisses drugged her senses, bruised her lips, robbed her of the breath in her lungs. He had a hand at her back, sliding possessively over her bottom, urging her even closer against him until his erection pressed against her mound.
‘You knew I’d come to find you, didn’t you?’ he challenged when his mouth seared her cheek. His tongue found the erratic pulse that beat beneath her ear and which matched his own. He was struggling to hang on to his senses, but with her in his arms it was hard to keep his head.
‘N—no. No.’ Her response was husky, her voice losing definition as his fingers slid down to her thigh to lift her leg and wind it about his hip. ‘I—I didn’t even know you knew which room I was sleeping in.’
‘Oh, I knew,’ muttered Rafe, his hand slipping beneath the short hem of her dress to caress her. ‘The old lady told me. But I doubt if even she had anything like this in mind.’
Juliet sucked in a breath as his long fingers moved over the fine silk of her stockings and found smooth bare skin. Between her legs she knew she was wet and vulnerable, and his muffled groan of satisfaction proved he had discovered that, too.
‘You want me,’ he said, and his words were shaken, as if, in spite of everything, he hadn’t been entirely sure of himself, after all.
‘Don’t talk,’ she said, cupping his face in her hands, feeling his stubble against her palms. She brought his lips back to hers. ‘This is a much more satisfying use of your mouth.’
‘I can think of a better one,’ said Rafe harshly, but she noticed he didn’t refuse her invitation. Angling her face to his, he captured her lower lip between his teeth, biting the soft flesh with a fierceness that was as sexual as it was painful.
Juliet clung, fisting handfuls of his silk sweater, uncaring that she was pulling his chest hair out by its roots. Only when he stifled a gasp did she realise what she was doing, and, spreading her hands, she murmured ‘Sorry’ against his lips.
‘I forgive you,’ he muttered, one hand cupping her bottom, and there was a hungry, carnal urgency in his gaze.
Rafe knew he couldn’t wait much longer to be a part of her. His own feelings were getting dangerously out of control. He wanted to tear her clothes from her, to see the breasts that were pressing so provocatively against her bodice. Was she wearing a bra? He didn’t think so. And that suspicion alone made him say thickly, ‘Let’s find somewhere more comfortable, shall we?’
Juliet hesitated, drawing back a little when he would have drawn her closer, and his brows came together in a frown of disbelief. ‘You don’t want me to touch y
ou?’ he asked, allowing one hand to slide down her throat to trace the hollow of her cleavage. ‘I thought you did. Because that’s what I want, Juliet.’ His lips twisted. ‘You have no idea how much.’
‘I did. I do!’
Juliet spoke jerkily and he realised with some amazement that she was nervous. This woman, who’d been married for six years, was nervous. What had that bastard done to her? And he wasn’t sure if he was thinking of her ex-husband or Cary…but she definitely wasn’t confident about having sex with him.
Moving closer, he lifted her off her feet, and she was forced to put both legs about his waist. He was overwhelmingly aware of how it opened her to his arousal, of how it exposed her legs to her upper thighs and allowed the scent of her essence to rise seductively to his nose.
‘Let’s stop pretending, shall we?’ he said huskily. ‘You want me, and God knows, I want you. Am I right?’
‘Yes. Yes.’ She spoke breathily, a sexy sound that raised goose bumps on his skin. ‘But—well—I’m—’
‘Engaged,’ said Rafe harshly. ‘Yeah, I know that.’
‘No.’ Juliet cradled his face in his hands. ‘I just wanted to warn you, I’m not—very good at this.’
Rafe blinked. ‘Cary said that?’
Juliet allowed a breath to escape on a sob. ‘No, David.’
‘Your ex-husband.’
He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. ‘And Cary?’
‘I haven’t slept with Cary,’ she admitted honestly, and Rafe wanted to howl with delight. She hesitated, and then added uncertainly, ‘I don’t even know if this is the right thing to do.’
‘Trust me, it’s the only thing to do,’ said Rafe, carrying her across the sitting room and into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, a single lamp providing the only illumination. ‘Believe me, this has gone much too far now for either of us to have second thoughts.’
‘Well, yes.’ Juliet gazed up at him as he stood looking down at her. ‘I—I’m not having second thoughts, but—’
‘No buts,’ he said, putting one knee on the bed beside her and allowing his hand to trail softly over her cheek. His thumb found the pulse that was racing below her ear and pressed urgently against it. ‘Relax, baby. I’m not going to hurt you.’
It was incredibly difficult to take it slowly. Lying there, unconsciously seductive, she made him ache to possess her. All he really wanted to do was take off her clothes and bury his hot flesh between her legs.
Without taking his eyes from hers, he shucked off his jacket and dropped it carelessly onto the floor. He wasn’t wearing a tie—which was just as well, he thought gratefully. At least the sweater allowed him to breathe.
Easing down onto one hip, he allowed his hand to move from her ear to the provocative neckline of her bodice. Tracing a line around the rim, he allowed his finger to dip beneath the cloth, discovering, as he’d anticipated, she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Fortunately, there was a row of small buttons running from the neckline to her waist. His fingers fumbled, but he succeeded in opening four of the buttons, parting the lace-covered satin to reveal breasts that were full and round and already swollen with need.
‘Juliet,’ he said hoarsely, bending towards her. He took one ripe nipple between his teeth and heard her take a convulsive gulp of air. His tongue circled the tip, and he tasted its sweetness. Then he massaged the soft flesh with an urgency that was almost painful, before giving up and sucking the areola into his mouth.
Juliet dug her nails into the quilted coverlet, conscious that what he was doing was causing a tightening in her stomach and a throbbing awareness between her thighs. Her breasts ached and she wanted to spread her legs, and have him touch her there, too. But she couldn’t tell him that, could she? She wasn’t that kind of a girl.
Or was she?
Rafe lifted his head. His eyes were dark and sensual, and she shivered in anticipation of what he might do next. ‘Help me,’ he said, indicating the tiny buttons, and, although her fingers were slippery with perspiration, she didn’t think of saying no.
The buttons opened and she lifted her hands, but instead of trying to cool her hot cheeks she caught his face between her palms and brought his mouth to hers. Her head swam as he kissed her, long, drugging kisses that made her body weak and languid with desire. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way with anyone, particularly David, and she shifted against him restlessly, trying to show him how she felt.
Rafe drew back at last, and she groaned in protest. But all he did was lay a tempting finger across her parted lips. ‘We’re wearing too many clothes,’ he said, stroking her thigh where her dress had been pushed up in her agitation. ‘Tell me, how in hell do I take this off?’
‘Let me,’ she said, too aroused to be reticent. Sitting up, she lifted the hem of the dress over her head. There was something liberating about not being ashamed for him to see her body, and the raw hunger in his eyes made her glad she’d shed her inhibitions.
Nevertheless, when his eyes dropped to the lacy thong that was all she was now wearing, it wasn’t easy to prevent the instinctive need to cover herself. At another time, and in another place, she wouldn’t have dared to be so shameless. But with Rafe’s eyes upon her, she allowed herself to enjoy his admiring gaze.
However, when he hooked a finger into the waistband of the thong and tugged it lower, she couldn’t deny a panicky intake of breath. And when that same finger slid down into the curls that hid her womanhood, it took every bit of control to remain where she was without crossing her legs.
But her, ‘For God’s sake, Rafe,’ wouldn’t be silenced, and Rafe slanted a look that was defined by a speculative brow.
‘What?’ he asked, though he knew very well why she was agitated. ‘Am I doing something wrong? Perhaps you ought to show me what you like.’
‘I like it all,’ she confessed chokingly, closing her eyes against the hint of smugness in his face. ‘Please, Rafe,’ she went on, not entirely sure what she was asking for, and with a smothered oath Rafe bent forward again and buried his face between her legs.
She smelled delicious, and tasted better. The temptation was to slide his tongue into her sheath and feel her come against his mouth. But the ache between his legs forbore such generosity. He couldn’t be sure he could wait so long to find his own release.
Forcing himself to be patient, he sat up and hauled off his sweater. Then, he unbuckled his belt and unfastened the button at his waist. He didn’t open his zip, aware that if he did so he wouldn’t be able to control his erection. He wanted her so badly and there was only so much he could take in his present state.
Juliet felt the draught as he discarded his sweater. She opened her eyes to the sight of his lean brown torso with its distinctive triangle of hair. She saw that the hair arrowed down past his flat navel, disappearing into his waistband, tempting her to discover where it had gone.
Rafe’s tugging away her thong caused her to reconsider. She wasn’t used to any man undressing her, had never shared the pleasure to be found in participating in her own seduction. David had expected her to take her own clothes off, even when they were on their honeymoon. And then his lovemaking had lacked any kind of foreplay. He’d taken her with as little care as he’d done everything else.
In those days Juliet had found the experience downright unpleasant, not to say painful. And later on, she supposed she’d been stiff and unresponsive whenever he’d wanted sex. She’d even wondered if that was why David had tired of her, always ready to blame herself for his mistakes.
Now, however, she knew it hadn’t been all her fault. When Rafe peeled off her stockings and bestowed a trail of kisses from her instep to her inner thigh, her anticipation became intense. She could hardly wait for him to remove the other stocking and repeat the experience. She spread her legs intuitively, her palms between her thighs, holding them apart.
Rafe groaned, her innocent enticement causing an actual pain between his legs. She was so responsive, so ready for him, it
was incredible. Had she any idea of what it was doing to him?
Holding her eyes with his, he quickly divested himself of his trousers and boxer shorts. Then, aware of her watching him, too, he stretched his length between her legs. ‘You’re very big, aren’t you?’ she breathed, and Rafe gave a muffled groan.
‘Size isn’t everything,’ he whispered, trying to hang on to his sanity. But when she reached for him, he could feel his control slipping away.
Juliet was instantly aware when the smooth, rounded head of his erection probed her vagina. And, although she’d been totally relaxed a few moments before, suddenly what she was about to do didn’t seem so easy, after all. Perhaps she was frigid, she thought in panic, just as David had insisted. Foreplay was one thing, but actually letting a man possess her was definitely something else.
Rafe sensed the moment when her response turned to rejection. God, he thought again, what had her ex-husband done to make her so afraid to give in? ‘It’s OK,’ he said, putting his hand between them and finding the swollen nub that he’d tasted earlier. Massaging it gently, he felt her body relax and he took the opportunity to ease inside her. She stiffened again, but then her muscles seemed to act without her volition, expanding and enfolding him within her slick sheath.
Juliet let out a shuddering sigh as he filled her. Apprehension was giving way to anticipation and the excitement she’d felt earlier started to build once more. This wasn’t David, she reminded herself, as if any reminder were necessary. This was Rafe and—God help her!—she wanted to share this pleasure with him.
‘Dear God,’ she moaned, giving in to her emotions. She clutched his shoulders, gazing up at him with wide, appealing eyes. ‘Just—do it, hmm? Please, Rafe, I need you now.’
As if he had any choice, thought Rafe wryly. But he’d never had sex with a woman yet without giving her as much pleasure as she was giving him. ‘If you’re ready,’ he breathed, aware that he was trembling. ‘Take it easy, baby. I want to show you how good it can be.’