by Penny Jordan
The euphoria created by the wine had faded, leaving her completely sober, but it was too late to go back now, Stephanie thought recklessly. At this moment in time she no longer cared that he loved Carla. He was here with her ... and in her arms, he was hers; he wanted her.
She cried out as his mouth tugged at her breast and she felt the sharp edge of his teeth.
Instantly he released her. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt or frighten you ... I was forgetting . . .'
'Paul never , . ,' She swallowed hard, missing the moist contact of his mouth against her skin. 'Paul never wanted to .. .to make love to me like this.'
She heard Gray say something under his breath and t hen he said, 'I shouldn't be doing this . .
'I want you to.' How easy it was to say. 'Neither of us is hurting anyone else by making love, Gray. I need you to make love to me to ...'
'To what? Free you from the past ? Show you that you really are a desirable woman?'
'Both those.' And much much more than he would never know, she tagged on silently. 'I need the memories tonight will give me, I need something to hold on to in the dark days ahead.'
He had turned slightly away from her and she sensed that he was having second thoughts. She shivered and instantly he reached out and touched her comfortingly.
'I.. .I can't promise that I won't hurt you.' His voice sounded oddly strained. 'I'll try not to ... but it's been a long time for me, too. Do you understand what I' trying to say?'
She did, and it shocked her. What did he mean by 'long time'? Surely he and Carla had been lovers some point; but now was hardly the time to remind hi that he loved another woman, nor to dwell on it herself.
'Paul hurt me because he liked hurting me. I was frightened of him, which made me . . . 'She felt herself flush as she tried to put into words what she felt. 'I'm not frightened of you, Gray. You won't hurt me.'
He made a thick, choking sound in his throat and suddenly she was back in his arms, his hands shaping and moulding her, pulling her hard against him so that she could feel his arousal through the thick folds of his robe.
She moved impatiently against him and felt his chest rise and fall at his quick, indrawn breath. Her fingers encountered the knot fastening his robe and she tugged on it.
'Stephanie, no.' His voice was thick and slurred. 'No . . . not yet. I want to give you all the pleasure you never had with Paul before. I , ..'
His words made her skin prickle with sensual heat, but she still cried out protestingly, 'Gray, I want to feel all of you against me. All of you.'
She felt him shudder just before he buried his mouth against her skin, tasting the smooth tenderness of her shoulder where it joined her neck. His hand stroked her body, cupping her breasts, spanning her waist and then caressing the feminine curve of her hip before moving to cover the soft swell of her stomach and stroke tantalisingly along the edge of her briefs.
She was torn between wanting to touch him with the
freedom with which he was caressing her, and giving herself up to the pleasure he was inciting. She ached for them both to be completely free of their clothes. The only covering she wanted was the heat of his body.
His hand covered her over the silky fineness of her briefs and she moved protestingly against him, lifting her hips and nipping frantically at the smooth flesh of his shoulder. His hands lifted her, moulded her, pulling her tightly against the hardness of his body, and she sobbed out loud as she twisted against him.
This time her anxious fingers managed to untie the towelling knot and she made a soft, feminine sound of triumph deep in her throat, a feline purring noise that accurately mirrored her feelings as she pushed the robe away and yielded to her need to feel all of him against her.
Only she had forgotten she was still wearing her own briefs. But as she made to remove them with a muted sound of self-disgust, Gray stopped her. 'No ... let me.'
She quivered expectantly, eager to be held against him, knowing from the arousal of his body that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but instead, Gray pushed her flat against the bed and arched over her as he eased the silky barrier away.
Impatiently she waited for him to join her, dreading reading in his hesitation that he had changed his mind; that he had remembered that she wasn't Carla.
Dreading feeling him move away from her, she cried out huskily, 'Gray, please I . . .
'Paul starved you,' he said softly, as though he hadn't heard her. 'He deprived you of love and pleasure. I can't make that up to you, but tonight I want to give you a banquet, the memory of which will stay with you for ever.'
He cupped her heel in the warmth of his palm as he spoke, rubbing it caressingly. Her skin started to tingle as his fingers stroked up her calf and his mouth explored the sensitive hollow behind her knee. His teeth nibbled gently at her inner thigh and she quivered dizzily, her finger-nails digging protestingly into his arm.
'No. . . no, you mustn't,' she cried out weakly, but he ignored her, stroking fingers that were supposed to soothe, but in reality only inflamed, over the taut swell of her stomach.
His hand cupped her and his mouth closed over the swollen areola of her breast, sucking erotically. Her body arched beneath the darts of fire engulfing her, her skin damp with a soft dew of sweat. His fingers stroked and aroused, and she felt herself moving helplessly against them, pierced with such a sweet pleasure that she couldn't help crying out against him.
She could hear Gray breathing, a harsh, laboured sound that betrayed his own arousal. His mouth left her breast and moved hotly over her skin, caressing her stomach, leaving it quivering with nerves, then moving on to her inner thigh.
His hands held her prisoner, as helpless in their grip as she was in the grip of the need aching inside her. She felt his mouth on her body, caressing it with deliberate intimacy and, although she cried out in shock, she couldn't stop herself from responding to its insistent demand.
Ripples of sensation gathered and bunched tightly inside her. Her throat was rigid with tension, her body bathed in moist heat. She had never, ever experienced anything like this with Paul.
As her body began to explode in tiny shock waves of passion she felt Gray move and then lift her, fitting her to the taut hardness of his own.
She absorbed the shock of his first controlled thrust with a sense of awed disbelief, feeling her body soften and expand to welcome the powerful strength of him.
The pain she had known with Paul might never have existed. With each thrust of his body Gray was bringing her to fresh heights of pleasure; fresh knowledge about herself.
She arched eagerly against him, wrapping her arms and legs round him, crying out in spontaneous delight until he took the sound into his mouth, kissing her with an almost feverish intensity that was rapidly mirrored by the uncontrollable surge and demand of his body.
She felt as she had never felt in her life before— powerful, almost mysterious, and yet humble at the same time in the knowledge that she was the one who had aroused him to this pitch; that hers was the body in which he sought release. And then, as the circles of pleasure started to tighten again, she stopped thinking and gave herself over entirely to feeling.
She cried out his name as the world exploded around her, almost delirious with pleasure as she felt his body achieve fulfilment within her own.
It took her a long time to float back down to reality and when she eventually did, she discovered that Gray was fast asleep. She laughed weakly, tears of joy running out of her eyes. Paul had been wrong. She hadn't been frigid. Her heart overflowed with gratitude and love towards the man who had shown her the truth. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but she hesitated to disturb his sleep.
Besides, she was tired herself. She closed her eyes and let her tired body relax. They could talk in the morning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
only in the morning, when Stephanie woke up Gray had gone, and to judge from the coldness on his side of the bed he had been up for quite some time.
And in the cold light of day things seemed rather different. Stephanie's skin burned hotly as she remembered her abandoned response to him. Her response to him? She groaned out loud as she remembered begging him to make love to her.
How could she face him? What on earth could she say? How could she have risked prejudicing their friendship?
She dressed reluctantly and went downstairs.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee led her to the kitchen. Gray was sitting down at the table reading his paper. He looked up as she walked in, his expression cloaked and distant.
Stephanie bit her lip, gnawing at it. There was no easy or polite way round this.
'Do you still want me to stay after.. . after last night ?' she asked baldly.
For a moment she thought he wasn't going to reply and then, without looking at her, he said coolly, 'Why not? We both know it wasn't me you were making love with. We both know why you felt the need to physically exorcise Paul's ghost. It happened, and if anything, I'm the one to blame. You had been drinking—a notorious relaxer of inhibitions as any number of unfortunate young women will testify. I suggest we both put the entire incident behind us.'
To say that she was shocked was putting it mildly Whatever she had expected, it certainly hadn't been Gray's cool dismissal of the entire incident as though it was so unimportant as to be barely worthy of comment.
Was this the same man who last night had whispered so passionately to her that he wanted to give her a banquet of passion ? Was this the same man who had kissed and stroked every inch of her body, who had ... Her skin burned, and she shuddered tensely. Gray was right. If they were to continue as friends, she would have to pretend that nothing untoward had ever happened. That was, of course, if she could.
'Carla's been on the phone,' Gray continued casually. 'She wanted to remind us that we're expected there for dinner tonight.'
Stephanie went icy cold. So that was why he was trying to pretend nothing had happened between them! He had spoken to Carla, and hearing her voice had no doubt reminded him that she was the one he loved.
'Coffee's freshly made if you want some. I'm taking the yacht out again today.' He glanced at his watch. 'In fact I'll have to be on my way in a few minutes.'
'I... I'll follow you down to the yard later,' Stephanie told him, fighting hard not to let her voice tremble. This was dreadful, awful. . .impossible. But she mustn't let it be impossible, an inner voice warned her. She must somehow find the strength to follow Gray's lead, otherwise she would end up embarrassing them both.
Without looking at him, she went to pour herself a cup of coffee. As he watched the downbent vulnerability of her exposed neck, Gray slowly unclenched his lightly closed fist. Last night she had given herself to him so freely .. .so innocently . . .he dared not scare her away by telling her just how much it had meant to him. He had woken up this morning and ached to make love to her again, but he had let her sleep on. When she remembered what had happened between them, would she blame him ? She had been suffering from both shock and too much wine on an empty stomach. After the way Paul had treated her it was not surprising that she would want to prove her own sexuality. He didn't deceive himself that she felt any particular attraction for him. She trusted him. She looked on him as a friend, or at least she had done until last night. Maybe in time she might come to feel something more. He mustn't rush her, and yet when he remembered how she had felt in his arms, he ached to pick her up and take her back to bed, and keep her there until she moaned against his skin in the way she had done last night; frantic, passionate little moans of need.
Stephanie tensed as she heard Gray's chair scrape back. He didn't even look at her as he walked to the kitchen door. She ached to go after him, to . . .
To what? she asked herself derisively. To tell him that I love him? Hadn't she already laid enough burdens on him?
The day dragged, and it didn't help that she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. The very last thing she wanted was to have to share Gray with anyone at all this evening, least of all with the woman he loved.
She couldn't even frame the words within her mind without them hurting her, but she made herself do it. There was no point in hiding from the truth. Gray loved Carla. Oh, he loved her, too . . ,as a friend.
At four o'clock there was a sudden flurry of telephone calls and enquiries, and it was almost six before she was fee to leave the yard.
The yacht was already tied up at the jetty, signalling that Gray was back. He must have returned while she was busy in the back office, and it hurt that he had gone straight back to the cottage without stopping off to see her.
He was on the telephone when she walked into the cottage, and he replaced the receiver as she came in. With a twist of pain in her heart Stephanie recognised the constraint between them. She wondered if he had been talking to Carla; if he felt guilty about last night because he felt he had betrayed the woman he loved.
As she was beginning to discover, no one act or incident could be taken in isolation; everything in life interlocked or reflected on everything else. She had wanted to keep her memories of last night shining and untarnished, but already she was recognising that to do so would be next to impossible.
'You look pale, are you feeling all right?' Gray frowned as he looked at her. 'You know you don't have to come tonight, if you'd rather not .,
She read in his eyes the message that he would rather she did not come, and instantly she was on fire with jealousy.
Her voice burned with acid as she responded angrily, 'Surely that would defeat the whole purpose of either of us going? Unless, of course, Carla has had a change of heart and is now prepared to leave Alex for you ?'
'No, she won't leave him.'
Shrugging, Stephanie countered curtly, 'Then it would be better if I were there, wouldn't it? You don't want Alex getting suspicious at this stage, with the Fastnet so close.'
She thought she saw a flicker of shame darken Gray's eyes, and for a moment she longed to reach out and comfort him, but her hand fell away even as she raised it, her pale face flushing as she realised how open to misinterpretation any gesture of affection on her part might be now.
'We're due there at seven,' she said instead. 'I'd better go up and change. How formal an occasion will it be ?'
'As formal as any dinner party you might attend in London,' Gray advised her coolly, almost as though they were enemies and not friends.
The dress she chose was black, underlining her mood as well as the pallor of her skin. It made a striking contrast to her rich chestnut hair, and with it she wore silk stockings and high-heeled shoes. The dress was a Jean Muir in heavy silk jersey, cut to mould and flatter her shape. She was too tired and depressed to do anything with her hair other than catch it back with tortoiseshell combs. Large, pearl costume-jewellery earrings edged with diamante added a subtle touch of glitter. Blusher, eyeshadow and lip gloss warmed the too-pale translucence of her skin, and then she was ready.
Her dress had long sleeves and the evening was warm enough for her not to need a jacket.
Gray was waiting for her downstairs and her heart lurched as she studied him surreptitiously. He looked as much at ease in his dinner suit as he did in his jeans. He glanced at his watch and she caught the discreet flash of gold cuff-links at his wrists. He looked up and saw her, and his eyes seemed to darken and burn. She ached to fling herself into his arms and be held close against his body, but she forced herself to smile carelessly and take her time about joining him.
They drove to the Farlows' house in silence. For the first time that she could remember she had to suppress the nervous inclination to make small talk to cover the silence between them.
The Farlows lived in an attractive Georgian house several miles outside the village. It had its own drive, illuminated with traditionally styled lights that revealed the beginnings of a smooth sweep of immaculate lawn. Ivy covered the end wall of the house, giving it a settled, comfortable air.
Before Gray stopped the car
she caught a glimpse of an attractive conservatory and was momentarily pierced with envy for Carla. She already had so much, and now Gray's love as well. She told herself she was being bitchy for guessing that Carla would be reluctant to give up such a beautiful home, but when Carla opened the door to them and welcomed them both with equal warmth and enthusiasm, Stephanie told herself that her bitchiness was well justified.
A woman who could greet her lover in the presence of her husband, so free of guilt and self-consciousness, had to have a core of heartlessness. But as she led them into their comfortable drawing-room and Alex served them with drinks, Carla was so pleasant and natural with them both that Stephanie found it impossible not to warm to her. She dared not look at Gray when Carla voluntarily produced studio portraits of their two children.
'I miss them dreadfully,' she confided to Stephanie, 'but we haven't lived here very long, and I agree with Alex that it would have been wrong to disrupt their schooling. Hopefully, now that we're settled here, next year I'll be able to find them both good day schools locally.'
The two men had drawn away and from the snatches of conversation Stephanie caught were deep in a discussion about the boat.
Something of her feelings must have shown in her expression because Carla touched her arm lightly, and said quietly, 'I know how you must feel, but try not to worry. Gray isn't the sort of man to take unnecessary risks.'
For a moment Stephanie bristled; longing to tell Carla that there was nothing she could tell her about Gray, and then the ambiguity of the other woman's statement struck her and she longed to demand to know how a man who did not take unnecessary risks had managed to fall in love with his partner's wife.