by Penny Jordan
She felt his chest expand as he drew in his breath and for a moment teetered on the brink of her old insecurities but then his hand was on hers, helping her complete her task, his voice raw and thick with pleasure as she touched the maleness of him.
Then he was pushing her back against the door, muttering hoarse words of pleasure and arousal against her mouth, one hand sliding into her hair, the other curling round her waist as she melted into him...greedy for him.
His mouth left hers, long enough for him to groan. ‘The bed...Sophy, we can’t...’ but he was moving away from her and that blotted out the meaning of his words, leaving behind only the sound and her fear that she was going to lose him, so she arched her body into his, winding her arms round him, grinding her hips into his in instinctive incitement.
‘Sophy...’ She could hear the grating protest in his voice, but could take no need of it. To lose him now would be to die. Her senses clamoured desperately for fulfilment, her body out of her control and obeying a far more primitive command than that of the mind. She wanted him...needed him. Not just against her but within her, deep inside her, at that place where her body pulsed and ached.
Moaning feverishly, she ran her hands over his torso, arching her back until her breasts were flattened against his chest, her hips writhing against him in a sensual rhythm they seemed to know by instinct.
‘Dear God, Sophy...’
She felt the shudder run through him and saw the sweat cling to his skin. She could feel his heart racing and knew with a deep thrill of triumph that he had as little control over his response to her as she had of hers to him...less perhaps, she realised as he kissed her fiercely, his tongue eagerly invading her mouth. She could feel the frantic throbbing of his body against her, his weight pressing her back against the door and then suddenly he wrenched his mouth from hers, a harsh, inarticulate sound emerging from his throat. She knew, even without feeling him tug off her briefs that his need could not wait any longer.
She felt him lift her, balancing her weight against him and without having to be told automatically wrapped her legs around him, her hands clinging to his shoulders as she felt the first longed for movement of his body against her own.
Each driving thrust made her shudder with pleasure, her body eager to accommodate him, her muscles supplely responsive to the maleness of him.
Her spine arched her body taut as a bow in mute response to the driving force of him within her, the harsh oddly coordinated sound of their breathing an erotic stimulation she hadn’t even realised existed.
It was over far too quickly, their bodies escaping the rationale of their minds, moving frantically together, meeting greedily as though they had starved for this frenetic physical union, Sophy thought, as her body trembled in the aftermath of the convulsive climax that had so recently racked her. She could still hear Jon’s harsh breathing. She could feel the tension in his locked muscles as he slowly released her, letting her slide her feet back down to the floor. Neither of them spoke... She didn’t honestly think either of them were capable of speaking. Jon arched his back, relieving her of his weight, his arms rigid, his hands against the door either side of her head. He leaned his forehead against his arm, and she could see that his hair at the front was soaked with sweat.
‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ His voice was slow as though he had difficulty in forming the words. He raised his head and looked at her. ‘Did I hurt you?’
She ached, it was true...and there had been an edge of violence in their lovemaking but it had been a shared, wanted violence...a need in both of them perhaps to work out physically the tensions Chris had caused.
‘Only in the nicest possible way,’ she told him honestly, checking as she felt him tense.
‘You shouldn’t say things like that to me. They have a disastrous effect on my self-control...’ He picked her up, completely surprising her, and carried her over to the bed.
‘You lied to me,’ he told her pleasantly, watching her eyes.
‘I...’ She was confused and apprehensive, but he didn’t give her time to say anything.
‘You told me I wouldn’t enjoy possessing you...that I would find you disappointing.’
Incredibly in the fierce urgency of their coming together she had completely forgotten her old fears, and now her mouth fell open slightly. All at once she felt oddly light-headed—free, she realised giddily—for the first time since she reached womanhood, she was truly free of all fear and inhibition.
They were both sitting on the bed, but Jon got up and pulled off his shirt. While she was completely nude he was still almost fully dressed and she blushed to realise she had been so impatient for him she hadn’t even paused to consider that fact before...
‘What are you doing?’
He paused to smile at her as he pulled off his trousers. ‘I’m getting ready to make love to my wife,’ he told her with a smile.
Sophy stared indignantly at him. ‘I thought you just did...’
The humour died out of his eyes, and suddenly his mouth was grim. ‘That wasn’t so much making love as satisfying an intense physical need. This is making love.’ He turned to her, touching her with gentle fingers, stroking the velvet smoothness of her skin, pushing her down onto the bed and lying beside her, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, until she sighed languorously her body awash with the most deliciously sensual awareness.
Now that the frantic need for haste was gone, she could touch him as she had been longing to do for so long. With her hands...and with her lips, delighting in his husky moans of pleasure as she discovered how best she could please him.
He had no need to make such discoveries. He already knew how to please her, she thought shiveringly, as his mouth caressed the hard peaks of her breasts, teasing and stimulating them until she cried out and arched against him.
It was only when his mouth touched the moist heart of her femininity that she tensed, trying desperately to wriggle away from him but his hands slid up under her, holding her hips, pinning her to the bed.
He raised his head and demanded rawly, ‘Let me, Sophy. I want to pleasure you. I want to give you all that he never did. Trust me...’
She tried to relax, quivering under the slow assault of his tongue, gasping in shock at the sudden surge of pleasure invading her, her restraint completely swept away as Jon took advantage of her involuntary relaxation, his mouth moving delicately against the tender nub of flesh he had so unerringly found, ignoring her frantic protests for him to stop.
Then suddenly she was no longer capable of any form of protests; incapable of anything other than submitting to the waves of pleasure convulsing her body.
Some time later...she wasn’t capable of working out how much, she felt him move to take her in his arms and gently lick away her tears of pleasure. He took her hand and placed it on his body and under his guidance she felt the full male power of him.
It seemed impossible that her body should ache for him already but it did, as though simply by feeling his arousal she herself immediately shared it.
‘See,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘That’s what loving you does to me, Sophy.’
She shivered, immeasurably affected by the knowledge that he desired her; that she was capable of arousing such desire within him.
This time there was no urgency...no haste...and the slow, almost languorous way he filled her, made her sigh and murmur with delight, her body moving effortlessly to the rhythm he set.
She fell asleep in his arms, conscious of an overwhelming sense of well-being...of inner peace and a joy so intense, she felt it must radiate from her in a physical aura. She loved him...and she was already asleep before she remembered that he did not love her.
* * *
‘GOOD, I’M GLAD YOU’RE awake. Uncle Jon said we weren’t to wake you.’ Sophy opened her eyes slowly. What was she doing in Jon’s b
ed? And then she remembered.
To cover her embarrassment she asked Alex, ‘What time is it?’
‘Supper time,’ David told her gloomily. ‘I’m starving, and all Uncle Jon can cook is beans on toast.’
‘That’s a lie,’ Alex retorted hotly, immediately defending her idol. ‘He can do lots of things.’
‘Such as?’
Sophy let them argue, closing her eyes and slowly trying to come to terms with what had happened. She and Jon had made love. She shivered lightly and felt tiny beads of sweat spring up on her skin as she remembered exactly how they had made love.
The children’s quarreling suddenly pierced her thoughts and she sat up, clinging to the duvet as she realised that she was still naked.
‘Stop it, both of you,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll get up and come down and make your supper.’
‘See what you’ve done now,’ Alex accused her brother, ‘Uncle Jon said—’
‘What Uncle Jon said was that neither of you were to come in here and wake Sophy up,’ that gentleman said drily from the doorway.
None of them had seen him come in. Sophy felt herself flush a brilliant scarlet as he looked at her. Alex, who was looking at her uncle rather guiltily, missed Sophy’s reaction but David did not. A little to her surprise he got up off the bed, and taking hold of Alex’s hand, said firmly to his sister. ‘Come on...we’re going downstairs.’
Sophy didn’t want them to leave. She didn’t want to be alone with Jon... She felt both embarrassed and apprehensive. What must he think of her? Had he guessed that she loved him?
‘David, it seems, is growing up,’ he murmured lightly as he took the place his nephew had vacated beside her on the bed, elucidating when she looked puzzled. ‘He obviously thought we wanted to be alone.’
He bent his head, so that she couldn’t see his expression and said slowly, ‘Sophy, we have to talk.’
He had said that before but this time the flare of panic inside her was far greater. ‘Not now, Jon.’ There was a note of pleading in her voice that made him look at her. ‘I feel so muzzy,’ she told him, fibbing a little. ‘Chris, the shock...’
‘Of course.’ His voice was completely even but she was conscious of a sudden coolness in his manner, a faint withdrawal from her which, because she was so acutely aware of everything about him, she recognised immediately and which defeated her tenuous self-control. This afternoon both of them had been acting out of character. She couldn’t blame him if now he was wishing none of it had ever happened, but at least nothing could ever take from her her memories of him as her lover...and as her lover he had been both demanding and tender. She had memories she would cherish for the rest of her life. But memories would not keep her warm at night when Jon was not there...
‘We’ll talk another time, then.’ He was getting up, and soon he would be gone.
She forced a brief smile.
‘I’ll be down shortly.’ She saw that he was about to protest and added, ‘I won’t sleep if I stay in bed...and besides I’d have to go back to my own room.’
She held her breath as she waited for him to contradict her statement and to tell her that she was sleeping with him from now on, but he didn’t, and at last she had to expel it and listen with an aching heart as he said mildly, ‘As you wish.’
No doubt he was relieved that she was going back to her own room, she thought bitterly as she showered and then dressed. After all, by making that statement she had saved him the embarrassment of asking her to go back.
* * *
WE MUST TALK, Jon had said, but they didn’t seem to get the opportunity to do so. It was now almost twenty-four hours since he had returned from London, and he had spent almost all of the morning shut in his study.
Sophy had gone in once with a cup of coffee. Jon had been on the phone, the conversation he was having abruptly cut short as she walked in, almost as though he did not want her to overhear what he was saying. After that she didn’t go in again.
What had happened to that easy friendship that once had existed between them? Did love automatically kill friendship, or was it that friendship was quite simply no longer enough?
She was just about to make lunch when Jon walked into the kitchen and announced that he was going out.
‘I’m meeting Harry in Cambridge,’ he told her, ‘I shan’t be very long.’
She offered to drive him in, but he shook his head. ‘It’s okay, I’ve already booked a taxi.’
Sophy turned away, hoping he would not see the hurt pain she knew was in her eyes, and she thought she had succeeded until she heard him say raggedly, ‘Sophy, I...’ She turned round and saw the hand he had extended towards her as though he wanted to touch her, fall back to his side, his expression grimly unreadable, as he left his sentence unfinished.
There was such an air of constraint about him that even a complete stranger must have been aware of it, Sophy thought miserably as she watched his taxi drive away. What was causing it? Her? Their relationship?
She had some work to do for Jon—bills to send out and correspondence to attend to, but although her fingers moved deftly enough over the keys of her typewriter, her mind was not really on what she was doing.
When the doorbell rang she started up in surprise, her heart thudding nervously. She was not expecting anyone and after Chris’s visit yesterday she felt acutely nervous, her mouth dry and her palms sticky. The bell rang again and she forced herself to get to her feet and walk to the front door.
Keeping the safety catch on, she opened it fractionally.
A tall, dark-haired woman stood there, her back to the door, one high-heeled, sandalled foot tapping imperiously, scarlet nails drumming impatiently against a cream leather shoulder bag.
Water-straight black hair fell to her shoulders in a satin sheet, her arms and legs were deeply tanned and the perfection of her slim body was provocatively revealed in a vibrant red cotton sheath dress that clung to her curves.
As Sophy opened the door she turned her head, slanting faintly almond-shaped, brown eyes surveying Sophy with arrogant disdain. Her face was as beautifully tanned as her body, her mouth painted the same rich scarlet as her dress. The car she had arrived in was parked across the drive, as though it had been stopped in a hurry.
‘You are Jon’s wife?’
Sophy felt her heart sink as she caught the challenging ring in the American-accented voice.
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘Good. We have to talk.’ She stepped closer to the door, and Sophy automatically released the chain, stepping back.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know you...’ she began, fascinated as well as slightly repelled by the sneering curl of the full mouth as the other woman mocked.
‘I cannot believe that. I’m sure Jon must have mentioned me to you. I am Lillian Banks. Jon and I are lovers.’
Sophy recognised the name immediately but distantly, all her powers of concentration focused on her visitor’s final statement.
This was the woman whose pool Jon had used when he was in Nassau. The woman Mary-Beth had described to her as rather unbalanced...as almost obsessive about Jon.
‘Lovers?’ Her tongue felt thick and clumsy, making it difficult for her to form the words. ‘I...’
‘You are shocked. I can see.’ Slim shoulders shrugged. ‘I knew how it would be, but I told Jon it was better that you knew. He is a gentle man and would not wish to cause anyone pain.’ She shrugged again. ‘He has married you because of his responsibilities of course but from the moment we met both of us knew—’
‘You’re lying.’
The scarlet mouth smiled.
‘Why don’t we sit down comfortably and discuss this as adults?’
Sophy could not understand how Mary-Beth could ever have thought of this woman as being anything other than complete
ly self-possessed and in control. Like a robot she found herself leading the way to the sitting room, doing what she was instructed to do.
‘I know this must be a shock to you but these things do happen. Jon and I knew the moment we met. We have so much in common. His work...our feelings about so many things. You may not believe this—’ she looked sideways at Sophy and then smiled secretively, the almond eyes veiled by thick dark lashes as though she were gloating over something very special and private ‘—but it was several days before Jon and I even went to bed together. We had so much to talk about.’ She laughed, and then looked at Sophy again, adding softly, ‘Of course when we did go to bed, I knew immediately how it would be.’ She moistened her lips with her tongue, and Sophy felt acutely sick, imagining that full mouth clinging to Jon’s, touching his body.
‘But I love him.’ She hadn’t realised she had said the painful words out loud until she realised that Lillian was looking directly at her, the almond eyes narrowed and almost feral in their hatred.
‘Maybe,’ Lillian said flatly, ‘but Jon does not love you. He loves me. Oh, yes, it is true,’ she continued before Sophy could interrupt. ‘Why else would he invite me to come to England? Why else would he meet my plane...book us both into the same hotel?’ She smiled again, the cold cruelty in her smile making Sophy feel as though those scarlet nails had just been raked across her heart, inflicting wounds that would never heal.
‘Oh, it is quite true,’ Lillian said softly. ‘You may check if you wish. We were booked into separate rooms of course. Here, I have the number of the hotel.’ She opened her bag and gave Sophy a brochure.
‘Well...are you going to ring them?’
What was the point? Sophy knew she couldn’t be lying. Everything was so clear now. No wonder Jon had been so off-hand with her...so strained before he went to London. But he had come back. He had made love to her...