by Robyn Donald
‘And I can feel yours,’ he said thickly. ‘You taste like some exotic aphrodisiac.’
He lowered her, his arms coming around her as he positioned her so that his mouth could reach the peak of one breast.
Sable held her breath, eyes closing in voluptuous pleasure at the gentle tug of his lips. She clutched him, her fingers slipping helplessly across the hot sleekness of his skin while raw excitement pulsed through her.
‘Kain,’ she whispered, barely able to articulate.
He lifted his head. ‘Yes.’
Just one word; a challenge?
No, she thought dazedly, the time for challenge was past; he’d made his answer a claim, decisive and masterful, a claim she accepted. Their eyes met and clashed—hers dark and questioning, his half-closed, fiercely demanding. She fought a brief, desperate battle for common sense, then with a rashness she’d never felt before, flung it away.
For tonight…
‘Last chance, Sable,’ he said between his teeth.
‘Yes,’ she said, a smile trembling on her mouth.
He held her gaze to the point of discomfort before surprising her with a long, almost tender kiss that turned abruptly fierce when he began to unfasten her jeans, pushing them down until she lay in his lap clad only in one brief garment.
Wordlessly, mouth open to the possession of his, she shuddered erotically at the touch of his fingers against her skin. Sensation roared through her—torrid, headstrong. He kissed her other breast before making it his own.
But when he’d reduced her to a shivering excitement he said against her skin, ‘Your turn, Sable.’
She looked blankly at him.
An odd smile quirked his mouth. He took her hand and put it on the front of his jeans. Colour blossomed across her face as she fumbled with the zip, wishing there was some easy way of doing this.
He waited until she’d dealt with the fastening, then ran his fingers through her hair, loosening it from the tie and letting it fall around her shoulders.
‘Like silk,’ he said, his voice deep and harsh, and twisted away to shuck off his last clothes.
Her breath stopped in her throat. He was glorious, a bronze god, she thought with aching hunger, the swift coil and flexing of his muscles beneath the skin erotic in itself, the shadow of hair across his chest arrowing suggestively down.
And he was big…
He said, ‘I need to get protection.’
‘No, it’s all right.’ She met his narrowed eyes defiantly. ‘There are other reasons for taking contraceptive pills than to prevent babies.’
He scanned her face, then said, ‘Nevertheless, just to make sure—’
Chilled, she watched him straighten, then squeaked when he stooped and picked her up, his arms closing around her with intensely stimulating strength. ‘Besides,’ he said, heading towards the door, ‘we’ll be more comfortable on a bed. Being oversize is a disadvantage sometimes.’
‘You’re not oversize,’ she protested, her voice soft and smoky. She ran a finger along his shoulder, watching from beneath half-lowered lashes as the muscles tightened. ‘You’re tall and…’ Her voice died away.
Perfect.
‘And?’ he prompted with a glint in his eye.
Hastily she said the first thing that came to mind. ‘Very masculine.’
He shouldered through a door and strode across the room. His room, she realised after he’d put her down on a huge bed.
Well, of course—that’s where he’d keep his contraceptives. Suddenly shy, she closed her eyes.
How many other women had he made love to in this great bed, in this room, shadowy now with approaching twilight?
The question pierced her, but when he came down beside her and she was again enfolded in his warmth, his special, subtle scent teasing her nostrils, his mouth on hers again, all thoughts fled and she was once more prisoner of her need.
Somehow he managed to remove her last garment with no fuss.
She braced herself for his body on top, startled when he settled in beside her and slid his hand down to the oversensitive, eager juncture of her legs. It took all of her willpower not to arch against the pressure, inviting a deeper, harder touch, an even more intimate invasion.
In an edged voice he said, ‘Look at me, Sable.’
A frown pulled her brows together and she kept her eyes firmly shut. She felt his kisses on her eyelids, fleeting and light, but his voice held a ring of command when he said, ‘Open your eyes.’
‘Why?’ she croaked.
‘Because I want you to see me.’
Dazed, almost frantic with longing and apprehension, she managed to lift her lashes enough to see him. He was looking down at her, and when she returned that look he smiled and said, ‘Sable.’
‘Kain,’ she replied without volition.
He kissed her again, and as her lashes drifted down she felt the movement of his fingers into her, and her whole body convulsed against his experienced, dangerously addictive caress.
It had never happened to her before, that desperate surrender to desire, and as the wonderful waves faded into a lazy, sated pleasure, she was stunned.
She was even more surprised when he held her against him for long moments before saying with a hint of irony, ‘Women have it over men there. Now, let’s see how we go.’
Sable expected him to take his own satisfaction, and it would all be over. Instead he began again, his lingering caresses and deep, deep kisses reawakening her appetite so that she began to tense and arch with the need he aroused.
And finally, when she was incoherent with hunger, he moved over her and into her, a slow, purposeful entry that made her moan. By then she was gripping his shoulders, feeling them wet beneath her fingers, the muscles knotting as he controlled his hunger.
With formidable patience Kain stoked their passion, each thrust taking her closer and closer to something—some tumultuous experience—something she’d never experienced, not even before in his arms when she’d thought she’d reached a peak…
She could hear herself sobbing his name and then pleading for an ending she couldn’t—quite—reach, the frantic words tumbling through her brain with no echo.
Kain said something in a low, guttural voice and began to move faster, forcing her further and further upwards, until the torrents of ecstasy overwhelmed her in a savagely rapturous fulfilment. Almost immediately Kain joined her, a harsh groan wrenched from him before he collapsed onto her.
Eventually he said, ‘I’m crushing you.’
‘No.’ Unconsciously she tightened her arms around his back.
But he turned onto the bed beside her, arms still locked around her. Sable realised that she was crying—not great huge gulps but slow tears that burned her eyes. Blinking ferociously, she concentrated on the rise and fall of his breathing against her…
Later she realised she must have slipped into sleep, because when she woke it was to find herself being carried again.
‘What—?’ she said, dazed and wondering where she was.
‘It’s all right. I’m just taking you to your own bed.’
He sounded distant, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. The sting of rejection was acutely painful, but salutary. Far better to wake up alone tomorrow morning than be forced to face him after spending the night with him—a much more intimate thing than the transient sharing of their bodies, however ecstatic that had been.
But once in her own bed she couldn’t sleep. Covered only by a sheet as the dull roar of the surf on the beach pounded through the room, she tried to find some sense in her tumbling thoughts and emotions.
Making love with Kain had been nothing like the hurried, unsatisfactory experiences she’d shared with Derek: a few kisses, a quick fumble and grope, then penetration, all over in a few minutes, leaving her embarrassed and wondering why on earth people made all that fuss over such a mundane thing.
At first Kain had been gentle, almost tender, as though he’d understood that this was all very new. He’d made her fe
el—cherished…
And then he’d made her feel wild and abandoned and desperate, so hungry for the sensations he roused in her that she’d lost all reserve. Her skin heated as she recalled her complete surrender to the smell and feel and taste of him, and then the powerful loss of herself in passion.
It had been heart-shaking, like a rebirth.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, she scoffed silently—all you did was make love. People do it all the time; it doesn’t really mean anything if it’s done without emotion.
And Kain certainly didn’t feel anything but contempt for her. For him it had probably been a cynical exercise in domination. Yes, he’d made sure she reached her peak first, waiting to take his own satisfaction until she convulsed in his arms, but Kain was cleverer than Derek and far more ruthless. Perhaps he wanted her to fall a little bit in love with him so that she’d be more amenable.
Or so she’d convince Brent that any hopes he had were doomed?
Yes, that made bitter sense.
Hot and restless, she twisted between the sheets, trying to evade her thoughts and the clamour deep in her body.
And yet she couldn’t forget Kain’s unexpected consideration, the way he’d held her after she’d shattered in his arms, the smoothing of her tangled hair back from her brow…
God, she’d go mad. Sable turned onto her back and stared at the unseen ceiling. Perhaps the strange wildness in her blood had come from this primeval place. No, that was a stupid, overdramatic notion, trying to blame her behaviour on the landscape!
Driven by restlessness, she got out of bed, acutely aware of sundry pleasant aches in her body, and walked across to the wall of glass, holding the curtains back so she could see the white lines of breakers in their ceaseless formations. No moon lit the sky, almost bare of clouds now although a dark line just above the horizon to the north indicated that more were on the way. Endless stars dazzled against the black sky, lending earth and sea a luminous sheen.
A breeze ruffled the leaves of the great trees that sheltered the house, turning them so the felted undersides shimmered in silver flecks against their sombre darkness.
She stayed there a while, searching for some peace, some resolution, and finding nothing but more questions to ask, until she saw a movement on the beach.
Kain, she knew instantly, her heart quickening. She narrowed her eyes, hungrily picking out the straight carriage, the lithe gait, the powerful silhouette of his big body against the star-gleam on the sea.
So he couldn’t sleep either.
Hastily she let the curtain fall and crept back to her bed, waiting for him to come into the house. At last she heard slight sounds, and as though his mere presence fulfilled some deep-seated primal need she fell asleep.
But when she woke the next morning she knew that she couldn’t afford to allow any more lovemaking. It was far too dangerous.
She got into a pair of white jeans and a cotton shirt with sleeves down to her wrists because the air had cooled since the previous day.
No, she admitted, because she felt more in control with as much skin covered as possible. After making the bed and fussing around—putting off the moment as long as possible—she took a long controlled breath and went out of the room.
It didn’t help when she found the clothes she’d worn the night before neatly folded in a heap outside her bedroom door. Flushing, she picked them up and took them into her room, standing with them in her hands as she looked blankly around.
She was not going to put them out to be washed! After a moment’s blankness she grabbed a plastic bag and stuffed them into it.
She stood for a minute or so with her hands clenched at her sides, taking more even breaths, before she regained enough composure to walk out and face Kain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE seductive scent of bacon greeted Sable when she opened the door into the huge room that served as both living and dining room. Until then she hadn’t realised that she’d been swept into Kain’s arms before dinner, but in an instant she was ravenously hungry.
Kain turned as she entered. Handsome features hard-honed in the cloudy morning light, his mouth a straight slash and pale eyes uncomfortably piercing, he said from behind the breakfast bar, ‘Good morning. I hope you like bacon and eggs.’
‘Very much, thank you.’ Yes, her voice was fine—level, a little reserved, far removed from the breathless, broken tones that had so startled her the previous night. Intrigued and wary, she watched him moving with complete confidence around the kitchen.
‘Good. Would you rather eat in here or on the deck?’
‘The deck,’ she told him without hesitation. She needed space. ‘Tell me where stuff is and I’ll set the table.’
Thank heavens for the ordinary chores of daily life, and the necessary small talk that accompanied them and filled up charged silences!
By the time she’d set two places, asked him where the salt and pepper were kept, chosen three vibrantly gold hibiscus flowers from the bush at the end of the deck, and used the juicer to produce a concoction of passionfruit, feijoa and pineapple juice, she’d regained some composure.
Except for the moments when her memory taunted her with flashbacks of what she’d felt the previous night, churning up wild emotions and sensations she wished she could banish.
It was no solace that he was completely self-possessed, but no doubt he’d done this hundreds of times before. After all, he’d had several serious relationships, so breakfasting with a woman would be no novelty.
Whereas she’d never even spent the night with a man; Derek had always left after they’d made love.
Kain said, ‘You must be starving.’
‘I am hungry,’ she admitted.
He was a good cook. The bacon was perfect, the poached eggs round and unbroken, grilled tomatoes just at the right stage of squishiness.
‘Is that why you’re looking so harried?’ he enquired smoothly as he sat down opposite her.
Her appetite fled. ‘I simply don’t know the protocol involved after sleeping with a man who not only actively dislikes me but suspects me of being a criminal.’ She bit out the final words. ‘Forgive me if I seem clumsy and socially inept.’
That inquisitorial brow lifted. ‘Second thoughts, Sable?’
And third and fourth and fifth ones. ‘I can’t help thinking that last night was one of the more stupid things I’ve done in my life.’
‘And you’ve done some very foolish things.’ His tone was judicial. ‘One of them was not denying that your supposed crime was fraud.’
‘Stupid of me,’ she said, hiding a stab of pain with a tight smile. ‘But forcing me into this whole situation makes you just as evil as you think I am.’
‘I did not blackmail you into my bed.’
Every nerve in her body jerked into full flight-or-fight response. He’d spoken quietly, but his hooded, dangerous look told her she’d hit home with her accusation.
Reluctantly she said, ‘Agreed.’
‘And if you’re preparing to tell me that you don’t want to make love again, that’s a decision I’d already made,’ he told her, his expression unyielding. ‘Toast?’
‘Thank you.’ Saved by the ordinary conventions of life again. But a residual crackle of tension in the atmosphere warned her not to push things. She said inanely, ‘This is delicious. Where did you learn to cook?’
‘My aunt felt that every man should learn to cook a roast dinner and a full breakfast as well as make an excellent salad.’
‘Wise woman.’ Would that be Brent’s mother? But Brent seemed to live on hamburgers with an occasional foray into orgies of bananas.
Kain gave a hard smile. ‘And as I lived with her and Brent after my parents were killed, she had the opportunity to make sure I learned to do it all to her exacting standards.’
Startled, she looked up. ‘I see.’ No doubt that was why he felt so protective towards his cousin, more like a big brother.
His face didn’t give anything aw
ay. ‘A car crash,’ he said succinctly, guessing the question she didn’t like to ask.
Horrified, she blurted, ‘Were you there?’
‘In the back seat—with a seat belt on, so I came through it without anything more than scratches. They were arguing and my mother was making one of her grand gestures—she accidentally hit the steering wheel with her outflung hand. The car careered onto the other side of the road and over the edge.’
Kain stopped abruptly, wondering how the hell that had emerged. He’d never told anyone—not his aunt, nor the investigators who’d tried to find out what had caused the crash.
Yet here he was spilling his guts to a woman he had every reason to dislike and distrust. And although he’d decided during a mostly sleepless night that he wasn’t going to make love to her again, for some unusual—and suspicious—reason he’d had to control a violent surge of anger when it had become obvious she’d arrived at the same decision.
Her calm acceptance should have reinforced his distrust. So it was ironic that all he could recall was her fiery passion, the sweet recklessness of her complete surrender.
It was impossible to read her thoughts; her provocative face hid every emotion. Grimly he focused on the diamond ring she’d pocketed from Brent even though she’d told his cousin she wasn’t in love with him. And then there was her cold-hearted betrayal of an old man who’d given her a job when no one else would.
If that had really happened…
The query slid into his mind seductively. His head of security hadn’t been able to track Derek Frensham down. But there was the woman who’d been blackmailed—a Gwenneth Popham. She’d left the district soon after and she’d been old then, so she was probably dead, but he’d ordered his man to keep digging.
Quietly, her voice sympathetic, she said, ‘That must be a dreadful last memory to have of your parents.’
Dismissing the momentary flash of weakness that had him wanting to prove her innocent, he shrugged. ‘I have plenty of happy ones. My mother had a quick temper, but she would have died for my father and me.’
‘I never knew my mother.’ She put down her knife and fork and looked past him towards the dunes behind the beach. In a remote little voice she said, ‘Apparently the pregnancy was a bad mistake; she didn’t want to have me. My father talked her into keeping me, but as soon as I was born she left.’