He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. ‘You taste like spun sugar.’
Poppy gave him an arch look. ‘I thought you didn’t have a sweet tooth?’
His dark eyes glinted as he pressed her back down on the bed. ‘I do now,’ he said and covered her mouth with his.
CHAPTER TWELVE
POPPY WOKE TO the sound of birdsong at dawn. She stretched her legs and winced when she felt the tug of her tender feminine muscles. Rafe had been incredibly gentle with her last night, which had made it so much harder for her to keep her emotions in check. She had lain in his arms, feeling satiated, yet strangely dissatisfied. They were so close physically—she seriously wondered if two people could be closer—and yet she felt as if a chasm of difference separated them.
His world was so disparate from hers. He had the money to buy whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He could travel the globe and not have to stop and count the pennies. He had casual affairs that left no lasting impression on him. He probably didn’t even remember their names after a few weeks or months had passed.
Would he remember her after this was over? How long before he forgot her name or what she looked like? How long before someone else took his fancy?
Poppy turned her head and looked at him lying beside her. He was lying on his back, one of his arms loosely around her shoulders, the other hanging over the edge of the bed. His breathing was deep and even, his body relaxed, yet there was a slight frown between his closed eyes, as if his mind was mulling over something complicated.
Before she was even aware she was doing it, she reached up with her fingertip and smoothed away the tiny three-pleat crease.
His eyes opened and met hers. ‘Hasn’t anyone told you before that you should let sleeping dogs lie?’
She moved her fingertip to his stubbly jaw, tracing a line from the side of his nose to the base of his chin. ‘I’m not the least bit scared of dogs, even big scary ones who look like they might bite if cornered.’
He took her finger into his mouth and gently nipped it with his teeth, his eyes holding hers in a sexy little lock down that made the base of Poppy’s spine tingle. ‘You’d better stop looking at me like that.’
‘How am I looking at you?’
‘Like you want me to pin you to the bed and make mad, passionate love to you.’
Poppy felt a frisson of delight pass over her skin. ‘Why shouldn’t I look at you like that?’
He rolled her onto her back and entangled his legs with hers. ‘Because I don’t want to make you sore.’
She looked into his espresso-black gaze and felt another shackle around her heart slip away. How could she not love this man? He was so thoughtful and gentle, yet so passionate and attentive. How was she supposed to resist the feelings that were burgeoning inside her?
He was everything she had ever wanted in a partner.
From the first moment his mouth had met hers, she had felt a seismic shift in her body. How would she ever be satisfied with anyone else? Wouldn’t she always compare them with him? His touch was like magic. His kisses were hypnotic, his gaze mesmerising and his possession captivating and cataclysmic. She would never be the same now she had shared this incredible intimacy with him. It wasn’t just that he was her first lover; he had touched on something deep inside her that spoke to her on a primal level.
Poppy touched his face again, smoothing away the frown that had appeared again between his brows. ‘When I met you for the first time when you came into the shop that day, I thought you were the most arrogant, unfeeling person I had ever met.’
‘And now?’
She gave him a little smile that had a hint of reproof about it. ‘You’re still arrogant.’
He shrugged self-deprecatingly. ‘It’s my middle name.’
‘I kind of figured that.’ She trailed her fingertip over his lower lip. ‘Are your brothers the same?’
‘Raoul less so, Remy more so,’ he said, looking at her mouth. ‘I guess I fall somewhere in between.’
Poppy felt the rise of his body against her belly. The roar of his blood incited her own to race frenetically through her veins. Her heart began to thump when she saw the glittering intention in his dark-as-night gaze. Her body gave an involuntary shiver as his mouth came down and covered hers in a kiss that awoke every feminine instinct in her. Her tongue met his in an urgent tangle of lust that made her pelvis throb for his possession. She shifted against him, urging him to complete the erotic dance he had started.
He eased his mouth off hers and went in search of her breasts, trailing his hot, moist tongue over their sensitive peaks in turn. Each roll and glide of his tongue against her flesh escalated her desire. She felt the pull of it between her legs, the pulse of longing that was like a fever building in her blood.
He moved down her body, his mouth a hot, searing trail that made her back arch in delight. He lingered over her belly button, dipping the tip of his tongue into its tiny cave before going lower to where she ached and pulsed with feverish want.
Poppy sucked in a sharp breath as she felt him stroke her apart. His breath was a warm caress, his touch on her most sensitive point triggering a maelstrom of feeling. He read her body so well, timing the strokes and the pressure until her body responded in a turbulent wave of release that rocketed through her. She clung to the bed with clawing fingers to anchor herself against the avalanche of sensations that shuddered through her body, leaving her spent once it was over.
He stroked his hand down the length of her thigh as he looked into her eyes. ‘You’re so beautifully responsive.’
Poppy gazed back at him, dazed. She felt stunned by the way he made her feel. Her body was tingling from head to foot, her nerves dancing in delight at what they had experienced under his touch. ‘I want to pleasure you,’ she said, shyly reaching for him.
He drew in a breath when she curled her hand around his length. She saw the flash of pleasure in his eyes, felt too the rising tension in him as she moved her hand in a rhythmic motion up and down his shaft. She ran her thumb over his moist tip and watched as he fought to control his response. It spurred her on to be even more adventurous. She gave him a sultry look and slithered down his body, breathing over him first, tantalising him with what was to come.
He gripped the sides of her head with his hands. ‘If you’re not comfortable with doing that...’ He let out a short sharp expletive as her tongue found him. ‘At least let me put on a condom.’
Poppy pulled back as he fished out a condom. She took the little packet off him and set about putting it on him. He drew in another harsh-sounding breath, his abdomen contracting as she smoothed it over his length. His raw male beauty took her breath away. He was so thick with desire. She could feel the thunder of his blood against her fingers.
She lowered her head to him again, licking him at first, letting him feel the warmth of her tongue through the thin barrier of the condom. She became bolder as her confidence grew, taking him into her mouth, sucking on him with varying degrees of pressure to see what he preferred. He gave her all the encouragement she needed with deep, growly groans of pleasure as the tension built inside him.
It was much more pleasurable than Poppy had been expecting. She had always imagined the act to be a very one-sided affair, and to some degree subservient, perhaps even slightly demeaning.
But it was nothing like that.
The feminine power she had over him thrilled her and excited her. Her lips and mouth registered every subtle change as he hurtled towards the final moment of release. The tension in him rose to a crescendo, his breathing becoming more rapid and uneven, his hands clutching at her head with a desperation that made the blood fizz and sing with delight in her veins. She felt that final cataclysmic explosion; it made the fine hairs on the back of her neck lift up to sense the monumental power of his response to
her.
He pulled away from her and dealt with the condom, his breathing sounding ragged in the silence.
‘Was that...OK?’ Poppy asked.
He cupped one of her cheeks in his hand, his look tender. ‘You were wonderful. Perfect.’
‘I have a lot of catching up to do,’ she said, tracing a fingertip over his collarbone. ‘Chloe told me I’d have to have heaps of sex to catch up with other girls my age.’
The smile went out of his eyes and his hand fell away from her face as he got off the bed. ‘It’s not a competition, Poppy.’ He stepped into his trousers and zipped them up almost savagely. ‘There’s no prize for the person who’s bedded the most partners.’
Poppy watched as he shrugged himself back into his shirt. His movements seemed tense, angry almost. ‘Do you know how many lovers you’ve had?’
His frown carved deep into his forehead. ‘I stopped counting a long time ago.’
‘Have there been any stand-outs?’
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Stand-outs?’
‘You know...women who’ve left a lasting impression on you.’
He let out a breath and began to hunt for his shoes. ‘No one that springs immediately to mind.’
Not even me? Poppy’s heart sank like a stone. She wanted him to see her differently. She didn’t want to be just another nameless notch on his bedpost. She wanted to matter to him.
To have him love her.
Was it foolish of her to hope he would fall in love with her in spite of the very real differences in their backgrounds? Their physical compatibility was unquestionable, even given her limited experience. She sensed a much deeper connection, one that he might not be ready to admit to, but it was there all the same. Hadn’t it been there right from the start? That clock-stopping moment when their eyes had met for the first time when he’d stepped over the threshold of her tearoom. That single moment in time had changed everything. She had thought she was sparring with her worst enemy but instead he had turned into the love of her life.
Their first kiss, the way their mouths had communicated a need that was unlike anything she had felt before; once his mouth had met hers she knew she would never be the same. How could she be? He had unlocked sensations and responses she had not even known she possessed.
Their first time joined together as lovers had felt much more than a physical union. She had felt as if he had reached deep inside her and touched her soul. She would never be able to look back on their time together as just a casual fling. It wouldn’t matter how many times she made love with other partners, she would never forget Rafe’s tender touch and mind-blowing passion.
Would he come to think of her the same way?
Poppy swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as her tender inner muscles protested at the movement.
Rafe was beside her in an instant with a frown tugging at his brow. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
He slid a gentle hand down the length of her bare arm, encircling her wrist with his fingers.
Poppy looked up into his concerned gaze, her love for him feeling like a clamp around her heart. How was she supposed to navigate her way through an affair with him? She wanted the whole package. She would never be satisfied with a few weeks with him.
She wanted for ever.
She lowered her gaze in case he saw the desperate longing there. ‘I’ll be fine...’
He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. ‘When was the last time you took a break from work?’
‘It’s been a while...’ She frowned as she thought about it for a moment. ‘Not since I came back to look after my gran.’
‘Can Chloe hold the fort for a few days?’
She met his gaze again. ‘How many days?’
He stroked the underside of her chin with a lazy finger. ‘Four or five, maybe we could stretch it to a week. I’d have to check my diary.’
‘Where are you thinking of going?’
‘Paris.’
Poppy’s heart swelled in hope. The city of love...
‘I have a meeting there early next week,’ he said. ‘But afterwards I thought we could spend a few days doing touristy things. By the time we get back, your house should be fixed.’
Did that mean their affair would be over when they got back? Was this his way of indulging his desire for her without letting her take too permanent a place in his life?
As far as she knew he had never lived with a lover before. But then, strictly speaking, she wasn’t living with him. He had offered her a roof over her head until hers was repaired. He wasn’t going to make the manor his home. It was a profit-making exercise, a money-spinner that held no sentimental value to him at all.
Poppy rolled her lips together uncertainly. Could she do it? Could she step outside of her normal, rather mundane life and spend a few days in his exotic world of untold riches and privilege? ‘I’d have to check with Chloe first.’
‘Let me know tonight.’ He brushed her mouth with a brief kiss. ‘I’ve got to dash. There’s a landscaper coming to see me this morning about the gardens. I want to sketch out a few more plans before he gets here.’
Poppy frowned. ‘What sort of plans do you have in mind?’
‘I want to get rid of the wild garden,’ he said. ‘It’s too rambling and chaotic. I want more structure and formality. It will better suit the overall feel for the hotel I have in mind.’
‘But the wild garden is one of the most beautiful features of Dalrymple Manor,’ she said. ‘How can you possibly think of changing it?’
He gave her the sort of look a parent gives to a child who hasn’t quite grasped right from wrong. ‘How can you possibly think of leaving it the way it is? It’s full of weeds and nondescript plants.’
‘Those weeds and nondescript plants have been there for hundreds of years,’ she said. ‘You can’t just waltz in and rip them all out.’
‘I can and I will,’ he said with a challenging glint of determination in his gaze. ‘It’s called possession and progress.’
Poppy clenched her jaw and her hands. ‘It’s called desecration and bad taste.’
His mouth tilted. ‘You think I’ve got bad taste?’
‘You have appalling taste.’
He arched a brow. ‘In women?’
She gave her head a little toss. ‘I definitely think you could lift your standards a bit. That last mistress you had was clearly after money and notoriety. It was pretty obvious she didn’t like you as a person; she just liked your money.’
He gave an indifferent shrug. ‘She was just another woman who came along.’
‘Just like me?’
His gaze held hers for a beat. ‘I’ve not made any promises to you, Poppy.’
‘No,’ she said, flashing him a defiant look. ‘And I’m not making any to you.’
He took that on board with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Let me know what you decide about Paris. I’ll get my secretary to make the arrangements.’
Poppy let out a jagged breath once he had left. Would she be making the biggest mistake of her life by going with him to Paris? Or would it be an even bigger one to deny herself a precious few days with him before he called an end to their affair?
* * *
Rafe tried to give the landscaper his full attention but his mind kept drifting back to Poppy. She had looked so gorgeously tousled this morning after spending the night in his arms. He had watched her sleep for a couple of hours after they had made love. She had curled up against him like a little cat, her soft skin warm and sensual against his.
His stomach gave a little free fall every time he thought of how tender she was after his possession. When he’d disposed of the first condom, he had seen a smear of blood on it. He hadn’t thought he wou
ld be so moved by the experience of sharing her first time with her. He had thought himself far too modern and progressive to consider a woman’s virginity as some sort of prize to gloat over. But the intimacy he had shared with Poppy had made him realise how mundane and predictable his sex life had become over the years. His encounters were little more than physical transactions of mutual pleasure. There was no sentiment attached, no feeling that life would never be the same if that person were never to return to his bed...
‘And over here we could do a fountain or water feature.’ The landscape designer pointed to the middle of the wild garden. ‘We could pave it with sandstone.’
Rafe gave himself a mental shake. ‘Right... I’ll have a think about it and get back to you.’
‘I’ve had a look at the maze,’ the designer said. ‘It’s going to be a big job to restore it. It’s been neglected for years, by the look of it. And that storm the other day didn’t help things. It needs replanting in a couple of places.’
‘I don’t care about the expense,’ Rafe said. ‘Do what needs to be done.’
‘Cute dogs.’ The landscape designer crouched down and made ‘come here’ noises to Chutney, Pickles and Relish who had been following Rafe like devoted slaves since he had walked out of the manor that morning. ‘My wife has a couple of Maltese poodly things. Never thought I’d be one to go gaga over a fluffy mutt, but there you go. They worm their way into your heart, don’t they?’
‘They’re not mine,’ Rafe said. ‘Watch out for the grey and white one. He’ll nip at you if you come too close.’
Pickles immediately took shelter behind Rafe’s left leg, peering out with his beady gaze. The man straightened after ruffling Chutney and Relish’s ears. ‘I’ll get back to you with a quote on the development and the maze in a day or two,’ he said. ‘Say hi to Poppy for me.’
Rafe frowned. ‘You know her?’
‘My mother and her gran were best friends. She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she? Got a heart of gold. Does a lot for the village—in the background, like. When my wife had a caesarean with our twins, Poppy came by every day with a hot meal prepared. Even took home the washing and brought it back all neatly folded and ironed.’ He gave Rafe a man-to-man wink. ‘She’ll make some lucky guy a fabulous wife one day.’
Never Say No to a Caffarelli Page 13