Ginny licked her lips, an act that drew his gaze and made her breath hitch in her throat. ‘I’m sorry about that, because I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t made up my mind.’
‘It’s interesting to know you can be as typically female as the next woman, but you pick a hell of a time to do it,’ Roarke responded wryly.
‘Unintentionally. I’m not a tease.’ She wouldn’t want him to think that. He didn’t, because he smiled ruefully.
‘I know you’re not, Ginny. It’s not in your nature.’
His certainty confused her. How could he be so sure? ‘I’ve been accused of it before.’
‘Only by people who don’t know you as well as I do.’ He dismissed the statement easily.
‘You’ve scarcely known me longer yourself,’ she felt compelled to point out, but he merely shook his head.
‘Time has nothing to do with it. You can know a person your whole life and not know them at all. Then you can know somebody for twenty-four hours, and know them better than you know yourself. I feel I’ve come to know you very well, Ginny Harte, in the last couple of days.’
As she had come to know him. He had turned into a man she couldn’t help being attracted to. Not for his good looks, although there was no denying that, but for the man he was. He had awakened her dormant sensuality without even trying, and she was beginning to realise she had been denying a vital part of herself for too long. Wanting Roarke was making her feel alive in a way she hadn’t been for years. And it felt good. Maybe something was telling her it was time to kick over the traces and start living again. Dared she?
‘Have I grown another head?’ Roarke asked, reminding her she was staring, and her lips twitched.
‘No, the one you’ve got is quite handsome enough.’
His brows rose. ‘Sounds interesting. Tell me more,’ he urged, with a rakish glint in his eye that taunted her to do something that would surprise him.
She knew what she wanted to do, and why shouldn’t she? There was nothing stopping her but herself. Once upon a time nothing would have stopped her following her instincts. She had liked that person, and she could be her again—if she had the courage.
Just do it, Ginny, a small but insistent voice urged her, and suddenly she found herself taking one step and then another. Several more and she was standing in front of him. Her hand went to his neck, and for a moment their eyes met, his showing mild surprise. Then, a smile curving her lips, her gaze dropped to his. Rising on to her toes at the same time as her hand exerted just enough pressure to urge his head down, she set her mouth on his. Her tongue traced a silken caress over his lips, and they parted, allowing her entrance. With his hands full, there was nothing Roarke could do save surrender, and it gave Ginny a heady sense of power to take the initiative this way. She explored his mouth at leisure, her tongue seeking his and joining in a duel that set her pulse hammering and caused Roarke to moan low in his throat.
That was her cue to move away, and she did so with a certain amount of reluctance, stepping back from him. She looked at him steadily, seeing an arrested look in his eyes.
‘What was that for?’
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ she answered simply.
He shook his head and laughed huskily. ‘Sweetheart, you did more than that. You’ve made it virtually impossible for me to sleep tonight.’
She was instantly contrite. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ He waved that away. ‘I could do with a few more surprises like that. Right now, though, I need that nightcap. How about you?’
‘I’m going to go up and shower,’ she refused.
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about using all the hot water. I’ll be taking a cold shower later,’ Roarke returned drolly.
Laughing softly, Ginny left him there and went upstairs to their room. She wasn’t sorry she had kissed Roarke like that. It had felt good to follow her instincts again and act on impulse. He had taken it well, but she had known he would. She was getting to know him very well.
In their room, she found the maid had already been in to turn down the bed. Collecting her nightdress, she kicked off her shoes and padded into the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped under the shower and let the warm water send down its soothing spray over her. She did a lot of her thinking in the shower, and tonight was no different. She had a lot to think about.
Her eyes had been well and truly opened by her response to Roarke, showing her in no uncertain terms that it was time she stopped fooling herself and started being true to herself. She was not the cold-blooded type. She had cut herself off from feeling, for fear of being hurt. At eighteen, in her inexperience, she had allowed passion to cloud her judgement, because she had so wanted to be loved. She had been an easy mark but she was no longer that girl. She was a woman in control of her life, who shouldn’t be afraid to go with her instincts. By ignoring them she had almost made a serious mistake again. She would break the news to Daniel as soon as she returned home.
That decision brought with it an amazing sense of freedom. She felt as if she could breathe again. Now she had to leave the past behind, look forward and see what came. There was nothing stopping her from doing anything she wanted to do. If getting involved with Roarke, even for a brief moment, was a mistake, then it was hers to make. As he said, they would be hurting nobody.
Taking a deep breath, she turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a luxuriously fluffy towel and wrapping it around her. It was time to stop thinking and act. She dried herself, slipped into her nightdress and towelled her hair dry, finger-combing it into place.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, Roarke was coming out of his dressing room. He was barefoot, wearing only his trousers. He had already taken the pillow and cover from the bed and laid them out on the couch as he had last night. It pleased her that he had taken nothing for granted, but at the same time it piqued her that he had assumed the decision was made. As she had told him, she hadn’t made up her mind.
‘Feel better?’ he asked casually, letting his eyes rove over the feminine curves scarcely hidden beneath the cream silk nightdress.
The way it sent a lick of fire over her skin made Ginny feel as if the material wasn’t there at all. Goose-bumps chased their way over her flesh, and she felt her nipples harden to sensitive points that thrust against the silk covering. Roarke could scarcely miss her response, and she saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath, but although his eyes flashed, he made no move to approach her.
Ginny cleared her throat. ‘I’m cleaner, I don’t know about feeling better,’ she told him openly, and amusement danced across his face.
‘That makes two of us. Somehow I get the feeling the cold shower isn’t going to count for very much. It’s going to be one hell of a long night!’ he added as he headed for the bathroom. The door closed with a soft click behind him.
Ginny stared after him, knowing that it would be a long night for her too, with him lying only a few yards away. Especially as they both wanted something else. Her gaze swept round to the makeshift bed on the couch. This was ridiculous. There was no reason why they shouldn’t have what they wanted. It wasn’t a first date, for heaven’s sake! They had known each other for months. The passion was new, but the spark had been there. They’d just interpreted it as something else.
Before she even realised she was doing it, she had gone to the couch and retrieved the pillow and cover and returned them to the bed. Of course, as soon as she had done it, her stomach turned over at the decision she had made, but she knew she wouldn’t change it. There was no way, however, that she could simply sit on the bed waiting for him, so she went to the French window that opened on to a tiny balcony and stepped into the cool night shadows.
Pretending to look at the view, her ears were straining to hear the sounds from the other room. She heard the water stop and imagined him towelling himself off, then fastening another towel around his waist. He would reach for the light switch, then… Another
soft click alerted her to the fact that he had left the bathroom. She tensed, imagining him finding the changed sleeping arrangements. Her heart started to race.
‘Ginny?’ The soft question made her glance round.
Roarke was standing by the end of the couch, watching her. He looked pretty much as she expected. His broad, tanned chest with its mat of dark silky hair stood out in contrast against the white towel hitched on his hips. He looked good enough to eat, and she was hungry—very hungry.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked, inclining his head towards the empty couch.
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied huskily, and it was all he needed to hear. He came to her, reaching out to gently cup her face with his hands. Grey eyes searched hers for any sign of doubt and found none.
Nevertheless, he still gave her an out. ‘You know you can change your mind at any time. All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will.’
The words made her heart turn over. No matter what she might have accused him of in the past, she had discovered he was an honourable man. She set her hands on his chest and instantly felt the reverberations of his quickened heartbeats. Any nervousness she had been feeling drained away. She was suddenly very sure of what she wanted.
‘That isn’t going to happen. Just take me to bed, Roarke,’ she suggested in little more than a whisper. It brought a glint to his eyes and a smile to his lips.
Releasing her, he swept her up into his arms with breathtaking ease. Automatically Ginny’s arms slipped around his neck. ‘Never let it be said I refused a lady anything,’ he retorted in amusement, but as he carried her to the bed the laughter faded, driven away by a look of such intensity it hid a powerful need.
Despite that, he laid her on the bed with infinite gentleness, and when he joined her, seconds later, the hand that traced the line of her cheek and jaw, then carried on down to the tender cord of her neck and graceful curving shoulder, held the faintest tremor. He was holding himself in check by supreme self-control, and he touched her as if she was made of the finest glass.
It was amazingly arousing to watch him as he followed his hand’s journey along the curves and planes of her body. His gaze was so intense as he enjoyed each new discovery, that Ginny felt as if she were being burned by a touch as light as a feather. She knew even then that she knew nothing about pleasure. That what she had experienced had been little more than fumbling in the dark. This was pleasure delivered by a man who knew there was more to making love than reaching the end as quickly as possible.
She quivered as his hand brushed across her thighs, and caught her breath when he approached the swollen mounds of her breasts. He had started fires everywhere he touched, and she was burning up, so needy she could scarcely hold back a groan. She ached for him to touch her breasts, and arched into his hand as he cupped her. For one moment his eyes met hers, and it was like being touched by flame.
‘I know,’ he murmured thickly, then his thumb flicked across her engorged nipple, sending pleasure shooting through her body and dragging a moan from her lips.
She closed her eyes, but that only heightened the sensations as she felt his mouth close on her breast, his tongue laving her through the silk of her nightdress. She could no longer lie still, and her hand rose to his hair, slipping into the damp strands and clinging on as he drew her into his mouth and suckled. Her other hand found the sleek planes of his back and delighted in the glide of flesh on flesh.
Then his mouth sought the twin peak, delivering to it the same sweet torture it had given its mate before abandoning her breasts and seeking the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. Now she could sense the leashed desire in him. His tongue was a silken ravishment, seeking hers and demanding a response that left the pulses racing and breathing ragged. Only the need for air had him drawing back to look down into her flushed face and fevered eyes.
‘I wanted this to last, but you’re so intoxicating I don’t think I can hold out for much longer,’ he told her in a voice made husky by passion.
Ginny felt the same, but words were beyond her. Her answer was to reach down for the towel he wore and tug at it until he shifted his weight enough for her to pull it free and toss it aside. Roarke’s nostrils flared as he got the message loud and clear. In return he took the hem of her nightdress and slid it upwards until finally he eased it free of her arms and sent it to join the towel.
Roarke’s groan was echoed by her sigh of pleasure as he moved over her, taking his weight on his elbows. One powerful thigh nudged her legs apart, and to their mutual satisfaction he settled himself between them. Deep inside herself Ginny could feel the coils of desire growing ever tighter, climbing towards the ultimate goal, and she began to move restlessly beneath him as he teased her with kisses that stoked the fire but always left her wanting more.
All she could do was explore him with her hands, allowing her fingers to trace their way across taut flesh. He felt wonderful, but it was not enough. She wanted him inside her. Needed to feel the power of him dispelling the emptiness she had felt for so long. As if he was connected to her psychically, Roarke moved, slipping a hand between their bodies and into the valley of her thighs, seeking the core of her. His touch made her gasp and arch into him, leaving him in no doubt of her readiness.
With a groan he thrust into her, and Ginny’s gasp was due to discomfort, not pleasure. They both stilled. There hadn’t been anyone since Mark, and her body had tightened. Foolishly, she hadn’t been prepared for it, but already her muscles were relaxing to accommodate him. Roarke raised his head to look at her, confusion clouding his eyes, and she felt him tensing his muscles in order to move away. That wasn’t what she wanted at all, and she quickly folded her legs around him, holding him where he was.
‘No. Don’t stop,’ she urged in a voice thick with passion.
Roarke gritted his teeth with the effort it was taking to hold still. ‘I hurt you,’ he declared tautly, but Ginny shook her head in vehement denial.
‘No, you didn’t. It was nothing. Please, Roarke, I want you. Don’t stop now.’
He searched her eyes and what he saw there must have convinced him, for he began to move again. She could feel him holding back, taking care, but there was no need, and she moved against him, matching his rhythm, urging him on until, with a groan, the magnificent control he had been using crumpled and his thrusts became faster and deeper, seeking release. Ginny held on, her nails digging into the flesh of his back as the coils of pleasure spiralled upwards and finally climaxed in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. She cried out, and her cry was echoed by Roarke’s as he joined her. She clung to him as a depth of satisfaction she had never experienced before held her in its grip. She felt as if she had shattered into a million tiny pieces and was being put back together again better than before.
When she finally floated down to earth, her body was drained. She had no energy to move and her eyelids were weighted. She felt Roarke slide off her, and wanted to protest, but no words passed her lips. Then she was being moved, and the last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her was Roarke’s arms slipping round her.
CHAPTER NINE
GINNY sighed and drifted into wakefulness. She stretched and winced slightly as seldom used muscles protested. However, recalling the cause of this morning’s stiffness, a reminiscent smile slowly curved her lips. Last night had been—out of this world. Making love with Roarke had taken her to heights she hadn’t realised it was possible to reach. It had been amazing, exciting, and…she wouldn’t at all mind doing it again.
With which thought in mind she rolled over, only to discover the other side of the bed was empty. Frowning, she came up on her elbow and swept her hair out of her eyes so that she could search the room. Roarke was just coming out of his dressing room, pulling a lightweight argyle sweater over his head. Settling it over the denims he was already wearing, he finger-combed his hair back into place.
She had always thought he looked good in formal clothes, but he was just as gorgeous in casual wear. The je
ans moulded his legs, emphasising the muscles, whilst the sweater outlined the chest she had come to know rather well. She experienced a stab of disappointment that he was already up and dressed.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she asked, with just the faintest of pouts.
Roarke glanced over at her and a smile curved his lips. He immediately came over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Lowering his head, he took her lips in a long lingering kiss, which went some way to appeasing her disappointment, drawing back with obvious reluctance, before the smouldering embers of their passion could be reignited.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted gruffly.
‘Good morning,’ Ginny returned equally gruffly.
Grey eyes quartered her face, and he brushed his knuckles gently over her cheek. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Pleasantly exhausted,’ she responded, then grinned. ‘But I have amazing recuperative powers,’ she added suggestively, making him laugh softly.
‘That’s good to know, sweetheart, but that isn’t exactly what I meant,’ Roarke returned, holding her gaze. ‘It had been a while for you, hadn’t it?’
Faint colour washed into her cheeks at the unexpected remark. She had forgotten those brief moments of discomfort, and thought he had too. She instinctively distanced herself mentally. ‘You were disappointed,’ she declared flatly, feeling foolish, but Roarke was quick to correct her error.
‘Nothing about you disappoints me, Ginny. Far from it. I only mentioned it because it was something I hadn’t expected. It worried me that I could have been too rough, and hurt you.’
She relaxed again. ‘Oh. I see. Well, let me tell you, Mr Adams, you didn’t hurt me at all,’ she told him honestly, and was faintly surprised to see relief flash across his face. His concern made her feel warm and bubbly inside. She wasn’t used to being worried over.
‘That’s good, but I wish I’d known beforehand. I would have taken more care.’
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