by Неизвестный
‘I thought you’d kissed me because you’d needed someone to hold,’ she said quietly. ‘I left because I was ashamed of encouraging you at such a time.'
‘I kissed you because I’d wanted to for some time and because I didn’t have my usual grip on my emotions,' he corrected her. ‘My only regret is that I didn’t tell you how I felt at the time. I missed you more than I could have imagined. The house was empty without you. I spent long, endless days and nights working. Neglecting Stephen. Pushing Petra away. It was her idea that I should move to London. And soon I was so busy that you faded into the background and I was caught up in the excitement of making my software business one of the best in the country. Work is a good substitute for a relationship, Trish. I lived for my work and didn’t even notice that I felt stressed out. I prefer it here. I promise you.’
She turned her face to kiss his cradling hands, then snuggled into his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Suddenly she gave him an involuntary hug.
‘I’m glad you appreciate Bryher,’ she said huskily. ‘I had you down as a striped shirt and pinstripe type, stuck on the M25 with a mobile phone grafted onto one ear.’
Laughing at the painfully accurate image she’d painted, he stroked her hair absently, staring out into the thick velvet darkness, the stars intensely bright in the black sky. Listening to the silence. Inhaling nothing but pure air. There was nothing between them and America except a few wave-battered rocks, and that gave him a sense of awe.
‘I’m not looking forward to leaving Bryher even for a day or so,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll be relieved to return.’
To his surprise, she swivelled around and put her aims around his neck, her eyes alight with joy. ‘You couldn’t have said anything to please me more,’ she whispered, drawing his mouth down to hers.
‘I’m sure I could think of one or two things,’ he said drily, gently pushing her back. ‘Now you tell me why you tighten up when I make plans to visit the mainland. It’s more than a horror of missing my ugly face, isn’t it?’
‘Much more,’ she agreed soberly. ‘It’s the curse of Scillonians. They meet a mainlander and he or she thinks island life is no different from what they’ve been used tobut with more water. That’s not true. There’s more to it than that and we’re wary of people who claim to have fallen in love with our way of life.'
‘I’m interested in you. Where you live is irrelevant,’ he was careful to point out.
‘It’s not. I’d almost rather you’d discovered a passion for Bryher first,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Take my father, for instance. He came from the mainland, Adam. He was always slipping off, seeing old friends. He felt trapped here. Then one day he phoned to say that he’d found someone else in Plymouth and he wanted a divorce. Mum was devastated.'
He stroked her cheek with the side of his linger, his heart going out to her. ‘And you think that any guy from the mainland is likely to do the same.'
'I’m realistic,' she replied. ‘I don’t expect anything of you. It’s a very different way of life and hard to adjust to.’
‘I’ll give it a try.' He kissed her unhappy mouth and somehow restrained himself from promising more. ‘I know you’d never leave Bryher. So I’m intending to see what it’s like being an islander. I want to prove that I can stay the course.’
She sighed, her eyes closing in bliss. So he kissed them. Smiling, she said ruefully, ‘How can anyone ever be sure they can trust someone?'
‘By their behaviour over a period of time,’ he replied. God, he was stern with himself! He’d wanted to say, In bed and by flinging aside all defences. But he wasn’t that stupid. So he fabricated a yawn. ‘I’m tired! All this sea air. I have some work to do on my computer in my room and then I’ll have an early night, I think. Hope I don’t disturb you, tapping away.’
Trish wondered why her attempted vamping had failed. After some promising signs early in the evening, he’d gone off the boil. The first thing he’d done when they’d walked into her cottage was to heave a sigh of relief and ask if he could make some cocoa.
Cocoa! She’d stood in the kitchen, all tricked out in her sexiest little number, oozing bosom and legs, and he’d pottered around chirping on about bracing walks and learning the difference between whelks and limpets!
Flinging off her Mata Hari outfit, which included her prettiest pair of briefs, she grumpily flopped down on her bed. They’d made some progress, she conceded. He’d claimed that he had every intention of staying. But could she believe him?
Hot and restless, she turned and thumped the pillow for the twentieth time. It was no good. She’d never sleep. Cocoa called.
By the light of the moon, casting its silvery light through the open window, she slipped across the room. Her naked body was reflected in the mirror, shocking her with its unfamiliar voluptuousness. Before she knew what she was doing, her hands were smoothing the incurvation of her waist and shaping the swell of her hips.
Her lips had parted, her breasts were already springing into urgent life and she wanted Adam to enjoy her; she could see that in every fluid line and the brilliant sheen in her eyes.
Angry with herself, she dragged her threadbare old robe around her and tiptoed down the stairs. Suddenly cocoa didn’t appeal. Her body needed to do something violently physical to erase the terrible longing.
She flung the front door open. Cool air whispered over her body. Without stopping to put on shoes, she ran out to the beach. There, in the heavy silence, she shed her robe and took a deep breath before running headlong into the sea.
It hit her nakedness like a wall of ice. Undaunted, she gasped, tensed and struck out, revelling in the feel of the silky black water on her skin. Laughing, exhilarated, she rolled onto her back and floated, marvelling at the great black canvas above and the stars, winking at her wickedness. Something nearby caught her eye. She came upright and doggy-paddled, but it had disappeared. A seal! she thought in delight, giggling at the story it would have to tell when it returned to its chums!
‘God, Trish! Why—?’
Trish whirled around in a flurry of foam. ‘Adam!’ she squeaked, her mouth drying in an instant at the thought of being so dangerously near him and so totally nude. Not a seal, but Adam, water streaming from his bare shoulders, his skin gleaming in the moonlight! She ducked down till waves lapped her chin. How much had he seen?
He began again. ‘Why did you have to do this?’ he asked raggedly.
‘I.. .wanted a swim!’ she replied, bewildered by the question.
'Why?'
Her eyes flashed. ‘Isn’t that perfectly obvious?’ she flung recklessly. ‘I’m tired of pussy—footing about! I did my best to lure you into my bed and you turned me down! Now I’m cooling off. OK?’
Adam licked his lips involuntarily. ‘You...’ He steadied his breathing with an effort. ‘This is going to sound like a silly question, but...why would you want to lure me into your bed? You’re not the sort for a casual affair...'
‘l thought it would test my theory.’
‘Ah. You have a theory.'
‘Yes,’ she said, pushing back her Wet hair defiantly. ‘I thought that if you only needed sex from me, then... then...’
‘Then we’d sleep together, I’d realise it wasn’t a real obsession at all but only unfulfilled lust, and I’d go home on the next boat, perfectly satisfied.'
She nodded. It sounded stupid. ‘Something like that.'
‘What if,’ he murmured, his eyes as dark as the sea, ‘the sex continued to be so good that I wanted more? Would it bother you if it turned out to be pure lust?’ he asked quietly. Her mouth twisted with pain and she didn’t hide it. He had to know how she felt. ‘Are you that blind, Adam?’ she whispered.
There was a hushed silence between them. She felt the love pouring from her in an unstoppable flow. And his face became drowsy with sensuality.
‘We took a risk once before,' he said with difficulty. ‘We can’t be that irresponsible again——’
‘It’s
all right,’ she said softly, smiling, thinking of the moment when she would tell him her news. Her heart lifted in anticipation. ‘You needn’t worry.'
He let out a huge breath. ‘Then come here, mermaid,’
he said thickly.
She couldn’t move at all. She watched him coming towards her and she lifted her head proudly, then she stood up, exposing her naked breasts. Adam drew in a strangled breath and devoured her with his eyes.
‘Some men search for sensual experiences,' he said softly, droplets of water clinging to his dark lashes. ‘Some have them thrust upon them.’
With his glittering gaze fixed on hers, he moved towards her, and she to him. The sea lifted her to him, offering her. Without a thought for the consequences, she raised her arms to his neck and caressed each tiny divided slick of hair at his nape. Water acted like an oil, lubricating the slip of his hands over her back and buttocks. She closed her eyes, gasping as he cupped each round cheek and brought her hard against his pelvis.
Tenderly, she cupped his face, kissed his salty mouth, and licked it hungrily. Their tongues locked, tangled, tasted, mimicking the act of love with a sweet intensity that made her totally forget everything but her need for Adam. She slid against him, lithe and sensual, her eyes never leaving his. And then he was twisting her around, pulling her into him so that her back lay against his torso. His legs kicked strongly and they were floating, she on top of him, moaning from the erotic brush of his fingers across her breasts.
She dared not move. Didn’t want to. The sensation of weightlessness, and the fact of being adrift in the naked night with him, added to her arousal. Where the sea had seemed cold, it now cradled them in gentle warmth. A far greater heat had taken over her body...and his. Beneath her buttocks, a ridge of heat throbbed its de-mands. Inside her was a molten core, getting hotter and hotter with every delicate, minute squeeze of her nipples between his finger and thumb.
‘Adam, Adam? she breathed in desperation.
‘What is it, my darling?' he whispered hotly in her ear.
‘I can’t stand it any more!’
‘Sweetheart!’ he muttered.
He gently eased her down till she felt the sand beneath her feet. But only for a moment. His hands caught her in their strong grasp and she was being lifted, carried aloft as he strode out of the sea and across the beach. He kept kissing her, his beautiful head dipping to her mouth, her throat, her breasts...till she felt she might die of longing. She felt herself being lowered and there was the smell of camomile being crushed by her body, the evocative fragrance wafting all around her. Adam’s body covered hers. She surrendered herself to his mouth, crying aloud with the desperation of her wanting.
Soft, savage little sounds came from his throat as he suckled her lower lip. Trish fought him, her body incapable of waiting.
‘Adam!’ It was a trembling, agonised moan of complaint, which he stifled with his mouth as they rolled onto their sides. And she fought him again. ‘Touch me!’ she ordered furiously, her eyes blazing into his. ‘Touch me, Adam!
Now!’
For a moment she thought he would thrust her away. His eyes were so dilated they were almost all black and there was a twist of pain to his mouth. Her hands slid between their bodies, down, down to the small triangle of paler skin. Daringly, she caressed him there. And she felt a wonderful triumph when his eyes closed and his lips parted in a groan of sheer delight.
He was beautiful. Hot satin. Frighteningly powerful. Not caring what she did, she slid languidly down his body, letting her hair brush the tip of him. To and fro, to and fro. She knew from the tension in him and the pounding of his hand on the ground that this was an unbearable sweetness. So she did it again, overjoyed that she was pleasing him. But he hauled her up. ‘Enough!’ he said thickly. ‘Stop!
I’m only mortal, for God’s sake, Trish!’
Her eyes silvered in the moonlight and she looked at him from under her lashes. ‘I love you. Love me,’ she whispered into his mouth. ‘Love me...’
He groaned. The sound came from deep inside him and with it came the total surrender of his body to hers. The touch of his fingers shocked her with its gentleness. And she was astounded by the havoc it could wreak in her body. So delicate a movement, she thought hazily, and yet it brought such indescribable pleasure! She gave herself up to it, writhed and luxuriated in the wonderful sensations chasing through every part of her, her hands reaching out to clench handfuls of the camomile turf as Adam wrought his magic.
Their skin was almost dry now in the warm night. Only the slickness of her desire remained. Feeling beautiful and loved, Trish raised her arms over her head and arched her body, every movement and the expression in her drugged eyes saying...now.
The moment he entered her, gentle but insistent, she shuddered and clutched him speechlessly. She loved him. Adored him. Worshipped him. With her mind and body and soul. Flames began to lick through her, muzziness obliterated her thoughts and then there was nothing but Adam’s body filling hers, claiming her for his own and driving her closer and closer to the edge of rapture.
Over and over again waves of sensation crashed through her, and she let herself drown under their onslaught as they raised her body up to a crest and then sank her down to a fathomless blackness, darker, more enveloping than the deepest sea.
And then she became sleepily aware that her body was no longer being tossed about by a storm, but was floating beneath Adam’s again.
‘Sweetheart,’ he murmured. Shifting his weight, he laid his head on the turf beside her. .
She smiled, too shattered to speak, too overwhelmed by the exquisite feelings in her body. And far too shaken to put her incredible happiness into words.
‘I think we should go to bed,’ he said, some time later, waking her from a deep sleep.
‘Mmm.’
It was wonderful to be lifted, carried and placed gently on Adam’s bed. Indescribable to feel the warmth of him against her back and the soft whisper of the sheet as he pulled it over them both. She felt cherished.
‘Sleep well,’ he whispered, kissing her cheek. She smiled again in deep contentment. ‘Mmm!’
Adam laughed fondly and cuddled up to her, his whole body relaxing as if it contained no bones at all. And soon he slept while she remained awake for a short time, revelling in the feel of him, the fact that he was there. And that they had made spectacular, unforgettable love.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AT DAWN Trish woke, enjoying the deep satisfaction which filled her whole body. Her hand reached out. . .and encountered an empty space. She looked about her cautiously. A chill ran through her. Adam was sitting in the window and something about the quality of his stillness made her heart pound with alarm. Explanations for his tension raced through her head. He was having regrets. He’d discovered that he didn’t want her any more. She went white. It had been her fault. She’d wanted to know, one way or the other. And now she did. Because men who used women for sex were notoriously quick to distance themselves afterwards. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’ am, she thought bitterly.
She’d done it, then. Made him realise the truth. Her lip quivered. She pushed back the misery, determined to finish this before he hurt her any more. She sat up, feeling suddenly weak and defenceless.
‘If you’re trying to work out how to tell me you want to leave,’ she said, in a brave attempt to sound indifferent,
‘don’t worry. Just pack and I think I’ll get the message.’
His body had jerked when she’d spoken, as if he’d forgotten she was there. Hurt, Trish bullied her mouth into submission by jamming her teeth together, and it stopped trembling. The sooner they got this over the better.
‘I don’t want to leave,’ he said abruptly. Her heart faltered, recovered its beat and began to race. Relief swept over her, alarming her with its intensity. She waited without breathing, shaken by his flat, unemotional tone. He was telling her nothing. Did he want more sex or was he beginning to care? If he hadn’t looked so daunti
ngly contained, she might have asked. Adam wasn’t used to sharing his private feelings. It would take time to know what went on in his head.
Why weren’t men more expressive? They were supposed to be the uncomplicated ones. But they kept themselves tightly reined in, never giving anything away in case it might compromise them.
‘You’re shivering,' she said in a small voice. Ruefully aware of her concern, that she loved and worried about him, she slid quickly from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her body. Then she unhooked the navy towelling robe from the door and handed it to him.
‘Thanks.’ He caught her hand and held it tightly but wouldn’t look at her.
Here it comes, she thought bleakly. Her legs were trembling now, as she willed him to hurry through the brushoff routine so she could run to her room and give way to the threatening tears.
He was playing with her fingers, his beautiful eyes hidden by smoke—dark lids, as if he was trying to choose his words and let her down gently. She focused on the thick lashes marking twin black crescents on his high cheekbones and felt her heart lurch with helpless love.
‘I can’t believe I could have been so stupid!’ he muttered under his breath.
Trish snatched her hand away. That was going too far!
She opened her mouth indignantly to speak, then froze. He’d lifted his head and was gazing at her. And his molten dark eyes were spilling over with anger and pain. All her instincts told her to take him in her arms and console him. Self—preservation dictated otherwise.
‘I think you’ve just been offensive,’ she snapped, and stalked back to bed where she sat in a taut right-angle, glaring at him defiantly.
He exhaled slowly as if he’d been storing up his breath for a long time. ‘You don’t understand. I’ve been blind, haven’t I? Trish, I remember every curve and hollow of your body. It was imprinted on me. And it’s different. You’re...’ Nervously she waited while he inhaled and then pushed all his words and breath out together in a harsh monotone. ‘Pregnant.’