She opened the sitting room door and pulled up short when she encountered him standing totally naked in front of the sofa preparing to settle down for the night.
‘Did you want something?’ he asked with an air of nonchalance she assumed came from being viewed naked by legions of women.
‘I…’ She swallowed and forced her eyes north of the border with considerable difficulty. ‘No, I was just going to say…’
‘Is the bed not comfortable?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s…’ She clutched at the lifeline as a drowning person did a float. ‘Yes! That’s why I came down here. I’m allergic to that bed.’
‘Allergic?’ His dark brows rose in twin question marks on his forehead.
‘I…I sneezed.’
‘That hardly constitutes an allergy.’
‘Twice,’ she added hastily. ‘And my eyes are watering.’
‘They look fine to me.’
She stomped across the floor and stood right in front of him and pointed to her itching eyes.
‘See?’ She blinked a couple of times. ‘That’s what I’d call an allergic reaction.’
She opened her eyes to see him studying her features, as if seeing them for the very first time.
‘Nope.’ He shook his head. ‘I think you’re overreacting.’
‘Overreacting?’ she gasped. ‘I won’t sleep a wink tonight because of you!’
‘Ditto, so we’re square at least.’
It took her a moment to understand his meaning and when she did she blushed to the roots of her hair.
She swung away but in her haste her bare toes caught in the ragged edge of the worn carpet and she felt herself falling.
He caught her and pulled her upright against him, her back pressing into the wall of his chest and stomach, and what was just below…
‘You need to take a little more care, Jasmine,’ he said, his voice a soft rumble along her liquefying spine. ‘With all that alcohol on board you might find yourself doing things you might not normally do.’
She turned without thinking, still pressed far too close to him but beyond caring.
‘I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re implying.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’
‘You hinted at it.’
His expression was all innocence. ‘I did no such thing.’
‘You’re laughing at me again,’ she tried to growl at him but somehow her voice came out husky instead. ‘I told you not to laugh at me.’
‘Believe me, Jasmine—’ his tone was wry ‘—I’m not laughing.’
She felt the unmistakable heat against her stomach where her body was pressed up against his. Her legs went to jelly and her stomach clenched as she saw his physical reaction to her reflected in the dark, deep pools of his eyes.
It was hard to say who moved first. Jasmine assumed it had been him, but later, reflection caused her to wonder if it had been her mouth that had pressed itself against the firm line of his.
All she knew was his mouth was back on hers, his tongue seeking entry, and she gave it willingly, softening against his hardness, unfolding all her tight barriers in his commanding male presence.
She could feel the nectar of her need pooling between her thighs. Her body ached to be filled, its pulse of blood reminding her of a need she could no longer ignore—no matter the consequences. She couldn’t resist him any longer. She didn’t see the point. Surely it was inevitable that they would finally end up in each other’s arms, however short the interval. Once he discovered how unresponsive she was she knew he’d be back off to bachelordom without a backward glance.
He pressed her to the floor with a gentleness that surprised her considering the highly aroused state of his body. He took his time, peeling away her dress, deftly removing her plain bra, her breasts spilling into his waiting warm hands.
She felt his mouth take each nipple in turn, subjecting them to an exploration of his teeth and tongue until she was writhing with the sensations gathering inside her.
He slid down her body and she sucked in her breath as his long fingers began sliding away her panties, the glide of fabric down her thigh a delicious torture in her state of heightened awareness. She felt his warm breath on her intimately, and instantly tensed.
He placed a palm on the flat plane of her belly and its heat seemed to seep through to the very core of her, melting her momentary resistance.
‘Trust me, Jasmine.’ He breathed the words against her tender flesh.
She shut her eyes and let herself feel as he explored her pulsing need, taking his time acquainting himself with her delicate detail.
She drew in a ragged breath as he found what he was looking for.
‘Oh!’ She couldn’t stop the gasp in time. She clutched at his dark curls and held on as the spasm tightened her legs as it flew along her veins like a furious fire in search of fuel.
She clamped down on her lips to stop the cries coming out but it was no good. Her body was taking her on a journey she was unprepared for; there was nothing she could do to stop it.
He slid back up to anchor himself up on his elbows either side of her still gasping form. She felt his throbbing maleness so close she wanted to grasp at him but when she reached out a tentative hand his fingers closed over her arm, stalling her mission.
‘I have to protect you,’ he said and, rolling away, dug his fingers into his shaving bag by the sofa and retrieved a tiny foil packet. He took the edge of it in his straight white teeth and tore it, spitting the edge of it out of one side of his mouth in a bone-meltingly male fashion that made her almost mindless with lust.
She watched as he applied the protection with practised ease but this time she was beyond caring how many women had gone before. All she knew was that she was the one beneath his hard body now, and it was her desire he would be fulfilling.
He pressed her back down and gently slid into her warm feminine cocoon with a deep groan that surprised her. Somehow she’d imagined someone with his depth of experience would find her body very humdrum but he appeared to be deeply moved by the feel of her muscles tightening around him.
‘Am I hurting you?’ His voice was just a whisper against her mouth.
‘No,’ she breathed back against his lips.
He increased his pace just a notch, gently at first; then as she welcomed him with increasing confidence he drove a fraction harder and deeper. She could hardly believe what she was feeling; it was so different from her first time. That time she had been embarrassed at her ineptness at insufficiently arousing a young man who on record had bedded most of her year as well as a considerable portion of the year above. This was nothing like it. Connor had drawn from her a response she hadn’t known she’d been capable of. Great waves of feeling washed over her, rolling her over and over in their intensity. She heard her keening cries as he took her once more to the pinnacle with every deep surge of his body in hers. She went willingly, with abandon, with relish, with joy.
She was still coming back down to earth when his release sounded in her ear in a deep groan of expelled breath. She listened to the sounds of his pleasure—his faster than normal breathing, the tenseness of his muscles and then the swift descent into relaxation afterwards, his large body collapsing against hers, spent in pleasure.
She wasn’t game enough to move. She hardly breathed in case she disturbed the moment, frightened he would spoil it by mocking her inexperience, shaming her the way she’d been shamed before.
Sudden doubt assailed her.
Connor felt her tense beneath him. He rolled off and, leaning on one elbow, surveyed the complex emotions flickering over her features as he slowly trailed an idle finger down between her breasts.
He heard her swift intake of breath as his finger came up to circle one rosy nipple.
‘You like that?’ His eyes burned down into hers.
She didn’t respond in words but his question had been answered all the same. He moved to the other breast and repeated the movement, wat
ching as she struggled to disguise her reaction to him.
She intrigued him. The way she fought him at every turn, her defiance the biggest turn on he’d ever experienced. He’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her on the day of his stepbrother’s engagement party. She’d glared at him from time to time, which had only served to inflame him even more. And now he had her in his arms where he wanted her to stay—permanently. He couldn’t help smiling at how much he’d changed. Who would recognise the play hard playboy now?
‘I need the bathroom.’ The prosaic tone of Jasmine’s voice was a little unnerving under the circumstances of their recent intimacy but he knew she was keen to put some distance between them.
‘Be my guest.’ He released her from his light hold, watching her as she fought with herself about whether to get up and reveal her nakedness to him as she left the room.
He heard her breath of resignation as she got to her feet and, snatching up her discarded dress, clutched it to her chest.
What did one say in this sort of situation, Jasmine wondered? Thank you for the lesson in sensuality. I’m sure it will come in very handy in the future?
She bit her lip.
Connor got to his feet and reached for his bathrobe, which was draped across the back of the sofa.
‘Here.’ He handed it to her. ‘It’s cold in the bathroom. You’d better wear this.’
She could smell his body’s exclusive scent as she wrapped herself in his robe. The soft folds of fabric almost covered her, consuming her just as he had done a few minutes ago.
She felt a combination of gratitude at his sensitivity and shame at herself for needing it so badly. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just enjoy the moment for what it was—a pleasant interlude of passion and unrestrained lust? Why ask for anything else? What more could he give other than the heat of his body and the temporary comfort of his arms?
She stepped over his long, outstretched legs and left the room, but she felt his dark eyes on her all the way to the door and even when she closed it softly behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JASMINE took her time in the bathroom. The ancient plumbing surprised her in allowing her to shower in relative comfort although, as Connor had warned, the old bathroom was a little cold.
She stared at her reflection in the speckled mirror, hardly recognising herself. Her eyes were different, pupils wide and extended as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep. Her mouth was still slightly swollen from Connor’s deep kisses, and when she pressed her thighs together she could feel the intimate place where he’d so recently been.
It felt strange to feel him on her skin. She could smell his presence even after her shower. It felt as if he’d indelibly marked her as his. She was sure no one else could ever make her feel the way he did. The only trouble was, she was just one of many to him. There was no future in a relationship that had come about the way theirs had.
She’d fought her feelings for him from the moment she’d met him; it was as if she’d innately sensed he was danger personified. But it hadn’t done her any good because, in spite of her determination to keep him at arm’s length, her heart had already capitulated to his disarming version of humour and charm. A deadly concoction that she was fiercely tempted to keep sipping for as long as she possibly could…
When she went back to the sitting room he had stoked the fire and was standing before its warm glow, the strong flanks of his muscled thighs cast in gold. He looked over his shoulder at her as she came in, a small smile lurking about the corners of his mouth.
He was still naked, she noted, with a sweep of her gaze that this time lingered a little more than she’d allowed previously.
‘Pleased to see me?’ It was her first attempt at flirting with him and it gave her a heady feeling.
His eyes meshed with hers. ‘What do you think?’
Her eyes lowered and she felt a trickle of excitement pool in her stomach at his extended arousal.
‘On the evidence at hand I’d say that was a yes.’
He moved towards her. Her breath locked in her throat as he reached out a hand and captured a strand of long chestnut hair. He coiled it around his finger again and again until she could feel herself being pulled ever so gently and inexorably closer and closer into the waiting heat of his body.
‘It’s a very definite yes,’ he said just above her mouth.
His mouth came down to hers and time ceased to exist once more. He sucked on her bottom lip, drawing it into the heat of his mouth. His slow-moving tongue unfolded and dipped into the recesses of her mouth, leaving her breathless with mindless need.
She pressed against him with female instinct, the softness of her body seeking the all conquering male strength of his. He lowered her to the floor and held her down with the weight of his frame, his arrant maleness slipping between her thighs like an arrow from a quiver. She gasped at his sudden entry, caught up in the wave of his urgent desire, wondering why it had taken until this very moment to realise she loved him. But then how could she not? His gentleness had been her undoing; he’d unravelled her just like a strand of yarn from a tightly wound ball. Even if she tried she knew she’d never be able to tighten her defences again. He’d slipped through and there was no going back.
She didn’t want to remind herself of the temporary arrangement of their marriage, a marriage conducted solely to keep the baying hounds of the press and the more repressed members of both their families off their backs. It couldn’t last, she knew that, but for the first time in her life she wanted to live in the moment only, take a risk, live out a dream, even though it would very likely end in a nightmare of hurt and rejection.
Connor felt the increasing urgency of her mouth and hands as she explored him, her small fingers running over the muscles of his back and shoulders, lingering in his hair, sending shivers of need up along his spine. He was losing control but it didn’t matter as she was with him all the way, her body rising to greet his every deepening thrust.
There wasn’t time for thinking; this was all about feeling and finding the fulfilment they both craved. He felt her slip over the edge, her slender body tightening around him, drawing him in and sucking on his heat as if within it was the breath which she needed to breathe.
It was an almost savage release for him, a violent burst of feeling that filled his head with a kaleidoscope of fragmenting colours cascading around his brain. Her ragged breathing filled his ears, her chest rising and falling in time with his, her breasts crushed between his pectoral muscles, their rounded mounds spilling upwards as if seeking his mouth.
Jasmine opened her eyes and found him looking at her, his body still encased in hers but relaxed now.
‘You have such beautiful breasts,’ he said.
She didn’t know what to say. Thank you seemed so formal and polite, especially after the intimacy they’d just shared.
‘Why the act?’ he asked when she didn’t speak.
‘Act?’ She looked at him blankly.
He coiled a strand of her hair around his finger once more, leaving her no choice but to hold his look.
‘The look-at-me-I’m-an-outrageous-tart act.’ A little smile accompanied his words.
She swallowed. ‘You could tell?’
He nodded.
‘Was I…so bad?’ Doubt seeped into her tone, her cheeks already growing hot at the thought of her failure to please him.
His mouth lifted in a sexy smile.
‘You ask that after what we just shared?’
She pressed her lips together and tasted him.
‘I…I’m not an expert on these situations,’ she said. ‘As you no doubt can tell.’
‘You’re a very sexy young woman, Jasmine.’ His pupils widened as his gaze swept over her full breasts again. ‘You make me lose control. No one has done that in years.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He threw back his head and laughed and she felt it in her stomach as his abdomen rippled along hers.
/>
‘You’re also one of the most amusing women I’ve ever met,’ he added, still smiling down at her. ‘And that’s the biggest turn-on in the world.’
‘It is?’ She sneaked her tongue out to moisten the dryness of her lips. He followed the movement with his eyes, his own mouth coming closer and closer until it was barely a millimetre away.
‘You bet it is,’ he said and covered her mouth with his.
It was a long and languorous coupling, slow and sensuous, bringing Jasmine bit by bit towards a higher level of physical consciousness. Her body seemed to be melting in the heat and passion of his, her softness swallowed by his hardness. She felt a sort of completeness in his arms that went further than simply the appeasement of fleshly desires.
When the storm of passion had receded, Connor kissed the tip of her nose before getting to his feet with the sort of agility she privately envied. Her body felt as if someone had loosened all its joints, leaving her boneless, too relaxed to move.
She watched him as he scooped up the cushions off the sofa and laid them on the floor next to her in front of the glowing fire. He picked up the throw rug and, once she was settled on the cushions, gathered it around them both. She felt cocooned in sensual warmth, the scent of their spent desire filling the air around them.
They lay in a silence broken only by the occasional spitting of a log as it released some sap into the fire. Jasmine had never realised before how deeply erotic a fire could be—the heat of glowing embers, the leap of flames as more fuel was laid down, the hiss and spit of released juices as the wood was consumed.
She felt Connor shift his arm from under her neck, turning slightly so he could look at her in the incandescent glow of the fire.
‘Where are you in your cycle?’
The question seemed to come from nowhere and it took her a while to grasp the context.
‘I’m due any time,’ she found herself saying.
His relief was almost palpable.
‘I didn’t wear a condom after the first time, sorry.’ A brief frown of contrition flicked across his forehead. ‘I got carried away and put you at risk.’
The Australian's Marriage Demand Page 11