by Rebecca Heap
The details of the dream had come back to her surprisingly quickly when she’d concentrated enough but she struggled to decipher its message. Puzzling over it, she eventually sighed and threw her covers aside. She put it down to having Michael on her mind and seeing Robert. Last night had raised some ghosts, that was all. She refused to give it any further thought.
As was her habit on a Saturday morning, she stepped into her slippers and pulled her satin dressing gown around her. No point getting dressed yet, she thought, coffee called.
She was about to indulge in her first sip of the dark velvet liquid, when the door buzzer rang. She groaned. It was 8.30am on a Saturday! Who was interrupting her first caffeine fix so early in the morning? She was inclined to just ignore whoever it was.
However, the caller was not to be put off. The buzzer sounded again. Damn it! She put her cup down. Coffee sloshed over the rim, meandering its way to the edge of the table to drip insolently onto the floor. She’d failed to place it down carefully, which riled her even more. This better not be kids messing about again or she’d give them an earful.
She left her kitchen and strode over to the console. Pressing the return button she enquired tartly, “Who is it?”
The answer she received surprised her. “Delivery for Miss Pearson,” announced a gruff voice on the other end.
Maybe this was worth the interruption after all. She turned on the video, safety always uppermost in her mind. A huge bunch of flowers obscured the visitor but were sufficient to reassure her. “I’ll buzz you through,” she said, a bounce in her voice. Could the flowers be from Michael?
Tightly cinching her robe more securely around her waist, conscious of the fact she was wearing very little underneath, she made her way to the door of her apartment. When the knock came she opened the door but was careful to leave the chain engaged.
Squinting through the gap the first thing she saw were the flowers again. It was a beautiful bouquet, bright with sunflowers and blue irises. She sighed in delight but was still a little wary, asking “Can you show me some ID please?” In answer the delivery man simply lowered the bouquet and grinned. It was then she understood. They were from Michael, yes, but he had chosen to deliver them in person.
She gaped at him.
“Well, aren’t you going to let me in?” he enquired.
Flushing, she quickly collected herself. “Yes! Of course. One sec!”
Hastily shutting the door she was about to release the chain when the image of him standing there, very urbane and handsome in an immaculately tailored suit, struck her forcibly. It left her horribly conscious of her own state of undress. She couldn’t let him see her like this! God knows what she looked like. She’d not even consulted her mirror yet this morning. Leaving the chain in situ, she opened the door a fraction and asked, “Do you mind waiting while I make myself more presentable?”
“I’m afraid I can’t wait, no,” he responded unexpectedly. “I’ve got a plane to catch. One of the reasons I came to deliver these personally was to let you know I’m not going to be in the country for a while.” His words were rushed, as though he was anxious to get them said and make his escape.
She made a small exclamation of concerned surprise and, no longer worried by her appearance, she grappled again with the security mechanisms and flung the door wide.
“You’re leaving?” she challenged.
“Only for a short while,” he qualified. “I have to return to America. I have business there to take care of.”
She frowned, trying to adjust herself to this news.
“Can’t you at least stay for coffee? I’ve just made some.” She gestured towards the kitchen.
He shook his head. She dropped hers in disappointment and drew in an aggrieved sigh. He offered her the flowers, which she hadn’t yet taken. “I didn’t want to leave without apologising for my behaviour last night, hence the flowers.”
Kate pushed them back at him, no longer enchanted by them. “Are these really an apology Michael or just another attempt at goodbye?” she asked, her tone both irritated and sad.
He lifted her chin with his free hand, “You terrify me, but I promise you I’m not running away.”
“Terrify you?” she queried, puzzled by this turn of phrase.
He smiled. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life,” he admitted. “Why do you think I reacted the way I did last night? You make me feel like a reckless teenager again and that scares me.”
He placed her hand against his chest. “Feel my heart. Even now it’s pounding.” She could sense the strong, sonorous rhythm of his heart but it didn't sound fearful. It assuaged her own fear while conversely arousing a different kind of unrest. She had been worried that he was going to disappear from her life, like a fevered dream, a fleeting, wishful invention of her own imagination but the solidity and warmth of him under her fingers assured her of his reality. But it also made the heat rise to her face, the feel of him even through the cotton of his shirt causing pulses of nervous electricity to jitter through her in time with the beat of his heart.
She looked up at him, her eyes dusky with emotion and amazement. “I’m just as scared,” she whispered. She adopted his manoeuvre, turning his hand and inserting it through the opening of her robe and against her own chest. “See?”
Feeling not only her heart but the soft undulation of her breast as she breathed, Michael shivered. He withdrew his hand carefully. “I really must be going now,” he muttered hoarsely.
Kate stepped back in despondent resignation, tying the loosened silk robe more tightly around her. However, this act served to accentuate the slimness of her waist and to delineate her small nipples. Michael inhaled sharply. The heat of his gaze seemed to flicker like flames over her skin. Her own eyes met his and the tension between them increased like a flammable liquid building to flashpoint.
She swayed towards him, as though hypnotised. “Leave me with something to remember you by, then,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his mouth, inviting a kiss.
He backed up. “The flowers aren’t enough?” he offered, endeavouring to use humour as a shield against her advance.
“Not nearly,” she responded, grabbing his tie and pulling him to her, planting her mouth firmly on his. He dropped the flowers.
Kissing her would be fatal. He’d known it and tried to avoid it. As their lips met, the mere taste of her injected him like a potent elixir. She released his tie to link her hands around his neck and take the kiss even deeper. He shuddered beneath the intoxicating pleasure of her tongue melding greedily with his.
Kate was equally overcome and shocked at the longing that ignited in her with so little contact. She wanted more from this man; she wanted to join as one with him in the most intimate way possible. She had denied herself for too long, had lived in desert and could not be expected to turn away from the water of their mutual desire, the water that gave new life to her scorched heart.
The press of her body only served to apprise him that she was naked beneath her robe. In a valiant effort to stem the flow of fever firing in his blood, he broke off the kiss. Didn't she know that he could not give her the emotional investment she needed, couldn't give her anything but a temporary release from the physical hunger they aroused in each other?
Unintentionally his withdrawal simply allowed her hands the freedom to tug at his shirt and her mouth the ability to assault the sensitive skin of his throat and ear. He groaned as she explored the contours of his stomach with her fingertips and her questing hand ventured lower. He grabbed her wrist to try and stop her. “I can't give you what you want,” he insisted.
Kate glared at him, the heat of passion in her eyes shot through with lighter sparks of fury. She shook her hand free of his in frustration and pulled back a little.
“This is what I want,” she countered.
He lowered his head but not before she’d seen the same thwarted desire in his eyes. She edged tentatively back towards him. At her approach his golden eyes
narrowed and then flashed with dangerous fire and he cursed savagely. Instead of the further rejection she’d feared she was unexpectedly thrust against him, the raging evidence of his ardour throbbing against her. He re-captured her mouth with an energy born of furiously unleashed need and simply took. The explanation came to her as she felt her robe voluntarily leave her shoulders and slip to the floor. It must have fallen open when they’d separated.
The animal lust that had been restrained for too long within him shrieked its victorious release and his last coherent thought was one of cynical self- justification: he would do this and get her out of his system, once and for all.
He pushed her inside and slammed the door behind him with the heel of his foot. She matched his appetite, tearing at his clothes and revelling in the feel of him, as her hands found steely muscle under silken skin. His hands deftly shrugged off her briefs, found her pert bottom and gripped it possessively. His hot mouth raced frenziedly over her skin, sucking and devouring as it landed upon each inviting nipple. She moaned with a pleasure deeper than she’d ever known, the rasp of his beard against her sensitive skin stimulating a flood of sensation.
As she raced to divest him of his belt and trousers, he lifted her and carried her through to the kitchen. Laying her on the table, he scattered anything that had the audacity to get in their way. Aroused to the point of insanity by her shaking, naked splendour, he penetrated her quickly and without warning. She gasped with the shock and the satisfaction of it. Unrepentant, he withdrew only to fully thrust himself into her again, glorying in the surrender and exaltation exploding in her eyes.
She met each plunge with a cry of fulfilment, grinding her fingers into his skin and propelling her body upwards in urgent rhythm with his, stoking the incinerating flames higher and catapulting them both into a state of delirium. As the razor teeth of pleasure sharpened to a degree that was almost unbearable, she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to finish it. He took her then with a savagery that consumed them both, reaching climax at almost the same moment, Michael shouting out as he erupted inside her with a release so violent it was almost painful.
As he lay spent, the gravity of what he’d done started to steal though his fogged brain. He’d never meant this to happen. He should have had more restraint. It had been so barbaric, so furious. She deserved more. He’d had no regard for her, simply indulging his own disgraceful desires.
He buried his face in her hair, shame coiling in his belly, and whispered, “My God, what have I done? I’m so sorry Kate.”
Kate began to shift and lift her body, so he raised his face to look at her. “You’re sorry? Don’t be. That was incredible,” she said, still breathless and trembling.
He laughed ruefully, “It was hardly the seduction of the century.”
She touched his cheek, almost reverently. She wanted to tell him she had never felt like this before, she wanted to tell him that she loved him. She was crazy for him. But something in his face prevented her.
He gripped her hand and kissed her fingers. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“Well, I’m glad it did,” she said, impatient with him.
He removed himself and dropped to the floor. Finding his discarded boxers and trousers, he stepped into them. “I’ve got to get going. I really do,” he said.
“Really?” she queried, a laugh colouring her voice, “I thought you didn’t even have time for coffee.” He couldn’t help a reciprocal smile at this.
She sat up, inspiration striking her. “Hey, why don’t I come with you?”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he demurred, continuing to get dressed.
She persisted. “I don’t have anything I can’t leave, I can pack…” she paused mid-sentence, in recognition of the vigorous shaking of his lowered head.
He looked up at her when she stopped talking. Seeing her so vulnerable and exposed, in more ways than one, his heart tugged at him in rebuke. He moved back towards her and took her hand again. “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to have you with me, but it’s purely a business trip Kate,” he explained. “Man to man.”
She searched his face, seeking to test the veracity of his words in his demeanour. He saw her doubts and kissed her softly on the mouth. “I’ll see you as soon as I’m back,” he murmured against her lips, knowing he could promise her no such thing but wanting to convince her, wanting to spare her any pain.
She gently pulled away and held his eyes for a moment. Then, seeming to be satisfied with what she saw, she smiled and tugging lightly on his beard, she said, “Well, I hope you have a miserable time without me!” and then laughed to lessen the censure in her words.
She descended from the table, trying to remain nonchalant. Recovering her robe, she saw him to the door.
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, a strange disquiet in his gaze. Concerned by this, Kate grasped his hand before he could go and said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I..” she hesitated, but then continued. “I care for you Michael. A great deal. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”
This didn’t seem to comfort him and his countenance clouded. He cupped her face, as if he was trying to imprint it on his memory. “I’ll miss you too, honey, but please don’t waste your feelings on me.”
He left her then, trying to persuade himself that, now he’d appeased his craving for her, he could start to focus on the important business at hand. He shook off the unbidden and disturbing thought that, in reality, he was now more heavily infected with her than ever.
Minutes later, as she was arranging the flowers, frantic knocking at the door caused her heart to leap. Had he changed his mind? She bounded across the room, pulling the door open without thinking, only to find herself shoved roughly aside by the entrance of not Michael, but the dark heaving form of Sebastian. Before she could react, he had stormed through the apartment to her bedroom.
She followed him, exclaiming “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” But he simply ignored her, investigating every inch of the place until satisfied no-one was there.
He then turned to her demanding “Where is he? I saw his car. Where the hell is he? “
Pointing to the door, pink with fury, she responded “Get out! Get the hell out of my apartment! Just because you know the entry code does not give you the right to invade my privacy!”
He approached her then, his face contorted in anger.
“Get away from me.” When this failed to have any effect, she warned “I’ll call my father!”
He paused then but only to spit on the floor. “Always calling on Daddy, what a brave girl you are,” he sneered in disgust. “It’s your father who tried to keep this from me. Your fling with the American.”
Kate lapsed into silence, knowing a denial would be futile. He walked up to her then and gripped her chin. “Do you really appreciate the debt you owe me?”
She shook her head free and turning it aside she admonished, “That doesn’t make you my keeper.”
He whispered tauntingly into her ear. “You will be mine, Kate. That’s a promise. That American. He’s only after one thing. I hope you didn’t give it to him or that’s the last you’ll see of him.” With that he left.
Kate collapsed to the floor, tears blooming. He couldn’t have chosen a more effective way to wound her.
CHAPTER 19
His Honour, Judge Dominic Williamson, replaced the receiver and leaned back into the leather comfort of the captains armchair as he dwelt on the conversation that had just occurred. He drummed his fingers contemplatively on the chair arm. He was due to announce his retirement and, yes, he did have plans to write a semi-autobiographical book of life on the bench but how had the journalist he had just spoken with known this? Lucky guess, he supposed, or investigative intuition? It was no secret, after all, that he was gradually cutting back on his hours. Anyway, he had agreed to meet with him in the privacy of his own home. He felt slightly uneasy, as he’d been persuaded to concede to this request by his own vanit
y, and the clever dick had relied on this.
He shrugged and moved his chair forcefully back towards his desk, buzzing his clerk to send the lawyers back in. Time to get back at it. He’d already made his mind up about this case but it never failed to please him to see advocates fall over themselves in their attempts to sway his decision making. The thrill of the unique power he exercised surged through him. He recognised this was one thing he would greatly miss when he retired. However, there were greater thrills, and greater power, to be had elsewhere.
He smiled as he remembered the secret pleasures that were already his. He quickly replaced the smile with a stern countenance, as the parties entered, but internally he continued chuckling to himself.
*
“He’s expecting me,” said Sean Murphy, as he lifted his visor, placed one foot off his motorbike, propped it and quickly showed his journalist’s ID to the goon manning the gatehouse. The sentry squinted at the card and eyed him suspiciously, clearly finding offence with his cavalier biker garb. Then he motioned tersely with his hands, indicating that he wanted him to remove his helmet. Sean willingly obliged, but swiftly replaced it, as soon as the man had satisfied himself as to his identity. Picking up a phone, he rang up to the house to give notice of Sean’s request for entry. It came as no surprise to Sean that Williamson had the security usually associated with an A-list celebrity. Williamson wasn’t well liked and had much to feel protective about.
The gates swung silently open, aided by electric motors, once the guard obtained authority to allow him access. As soon as sufficient space appeared, Sean pumped the accelerator and surged forwards through the gap, much to the indignation of the guard, who shouted after him to no effect.