by Miranda Lee
He didn't do any of those things. He stayed right where he was till his own body finished shuddering into her, till her own spasms had long stopped and she lay there, limp and exhausted. Then he withdrew with a groan and collapsed beside her on the bed, leaving her feeling emotionally empty yet so physically sated she could hardly find the energy to breathe.
One last shuddering sigh puffed from her lungs and her head lolled sidewards to look at him. His eyes were shut, his chest still rising and falling quite raggedly, as though he'd just run a long, long race.
The room was bathed in enough moonlight for her to see his body quite clearly, her eyes travelling down from his massive chest to his much trimmer hips, and what lay between them. He was still partially erect, she realised, his desire not totally spent.
Her surprise was quickly replaced by speculation. Did that mean he might want to do it a second time?
Her stomach turned over at the prospect. She gulped then stared blankly up at the ceiling. Could she bear to be taken to the razor's edge again so soon? To be teased and tormented, then practically torn apart?
Sophia gasped when one large hand suddenly found the flat of her stomach, her eyes flying to his when it began sliding slowly up her body. He had rolled on to his side, his eyes heavy-lidded as he continued to move his hand up over her right breast, kneading it gently then rubbing his thumb over and over the nipple till it became a hard little ball. Her breathing picked up again from where it had become deep and languorous, her lips falling softly apart.
'If only I'd realised,' he said cryptically, 'I would have done this sooner.'
'Realised what?' she said blankly in a voice like treacle.
'That Godfrey wasn't your first lover…' His mouth descended to lick at the highly sensitised bud, so that he didn't see her startled expression. And then she was too involved with what he was doing to speak, her head whirling wildly. Once again she was on the treadmill, only this time it was worse. This time she knew what was ahead of her, fearing it yet wanting it even more than before.
When he rolled her away from him and spooned his giant body around hers, clamping a firm arm around her waist she moaned an anguished protest. But there was no further protest once he'd lifted her top leg back over his hip and fitted himself into her, when he cupped her chin and twisted her face round so that he could kiss her panting mouth.
She was his once more, whimpering beneath his driving tongue, writhing beneath his driving flesh.
Her second climax was no less tumultuous than her first, leaving her totally drained afterwards. This time, however, he cradled her back against him. Possessively, she thought, one hand enclosing a breast, the other on her stomach.
'Beautiful,' he murmured, kissing her ear, her hair, her neck. 'Beautiful…'
Sophia sighed, aware that in an odd way she felt more Jonathon's woman than she'd ever felt Godfrey's. Maybe it was only sexual, but sex was obviously a powerful force—highly possessive, overwhelmingly pleasurable and addictively satisfying. And while her brain told her that it was only lust that had impelled Jonathon to her bed tonight, that any number of women would have served his purposes as well, she could not help smiling to herself in the darkness, her feminine intuition telling her that she had pleased him more than any woman had for a long long time.
Sophia was lying there in his arms, their bodies still joined, when she suddenly remembered the odd comment he'd made about Godfrey not being her first lover. She frowned and stiffened.
'What is it?' he said. 'What's wrong? Tell me…'
'I… I was wondering why you thought I'd been with other men before Godfrey.'
The hand around her breast tightened, the caressing palm stilling on her stomach. She felt his instant tension along a thousand different nerve-endings.
'Are you saying Godfrey was your first lover?' he asked tautly.
She nodded.
His silence was excruciating.
'Did you enjoy going to bed with him?' he asked at last, his voice strained. 'Did he satisfy you?'
The tone of his question suggested that he already knew Godfrey had not been the best lover in the world. Had they shared brotherly confidences? Or had Godfrey's first wife complained openly over her husband's lack of skill in the bedroom?
Sophia gritted her teeth as a bitter resentment surfaced in Godfrey's defence. Jonathon had pretended he hadn't wanted to take what should have been his brother's. But he had in the end. Quite ruthlessly. And now he wanted her to compare notes about their individual performances in the bedroom. Be damned if she would belittle her beloved Godfrey. Be damned if she would let Jonathon think he had won in everything. He might have secured her passion but he would never have her love, or her loyalty.
'Of course I enjoyed it,' she said with fierce resolve. 'I loved Godfrey. There is more to making love than technique, Jonathon. Sometimes, it is more a meeting of souls, rather than bodies.'
'Is that so?' he drawled, his hand moving lazily on her breast again, playing with it till she had to bite her bottom Up to stop herself from making a sound. 'I suppose you would rather I read you poetry than do this,' he taunted softly. 'Or maybe you'd prefer a spot of Mozart playing in the background.'
'Don't be cruel, Jonathon,' she choked out, tears filling her eyes.
He abandoned her, so abruptly she cried out.
'But I can be cruel,' he bit out, rolling her over onto her back and glaring down into her distressed face. 'I'm an opportunist, my darling wife. Now don't look so shocked. Didn't you realise this little tumble legally consummated our marriage? Your offer has been well and truly taken up, Sophia. I decided tonight I'd be a fool not to. You're young and beautiful and sexy, and you'll make a marvellous mother.'
He laughed into her stunned face. 'Don't tell me you'd forgotten the other possible consequence to what we've just been doing? My, you do get rather carried away once you're turned on, don't you? No need to blush, my sweet. I like my women a little wild. And you are my woman now. Make no mistake about that. Godfrey can keep your soul, and your love. I'll just take those bits he has no use for any more.'
Bending, he kissed her open mouth, showing her with a few short savage strokes of his tongue that she was indeed his in a sexual sense. But she'd known that since he'd first sent her up to this room, long before he'd joined her.
'I think you're wicked,' she said shakily when his head lifted.
'And I think you're gorgeous,' he returned, totally flustering her.
'I'm going back to my own bed now,' he went on with surprising nonchalance. 'I suggest you dispose of that ripped nightie and get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going away together.'
She blinked her shock. 'Away where?'
'I have no idea…yet. Somewhere with room service, a large bed and a spa.'
Sophia groaned silently at how her heart leapt at his words. My God, in her mind she was already there in that room, in that spa and in that bed, with him. 'But…but what will we tell your mother?' she asked, a shameful heat flushing her entire face. 'And Maud?'
'The truth, of course. We've decided to make our marriage a real one, and we're off on a belated honeymoon.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'Why, that's wonderful!' Maud exclaimed when Jonathon relayed his news over breakfast. 'Isn't it wonderful, Ivy?'
'I… I suppose so,' Ivy agreed weakly, startled grey eyes moving from her son to a rapidly colouring Sophia who was busy hoping neither Ivy nor Maud had concluded the honeymoon had already started.
Sophia closed her eyes briefly against the memory. Dear God, she could hardly believe any of it herself. When she'd woken this morning, alone in her big bed, it all seemed unreal, till Jonathon had knocked then barged straight in, striding over to snatch up the totally destroyed nightie from where it still lay on the floor under the window. She had meant to pick it up but had fallen asleep.
When she clutched a sheet over her nakedness he'd laughed before ordering her to get dressed and present herself for breakfa
st as soon as possible, which she had. Somehow, when Jonathon said jump, you jumped.
'Where are you going?' Maud asked excitedly.
'Now, Maud,' Jonathon reproached with a rueful smile. 'No one tells where their honeymoon is. I will leave a number with Wilma with strict instructions that it is only to be used for emergencies. Sophia and I want peace and privacy.'
'Of course you do,' Maud said with a wide smile. 'We wouldn't dream of spoiling your honeymoon, would we, Ivy?'
Ivy looked as if it was only just dawning on her that Sophia had abandoned Godfrey's memory in favour of his better-looking, more successful and younger sibling. She was looking at Jonathon with a bitter resentment in her eyes, then at Sophia with a weary disappointment.
A type of resentment of her own surged through Sophia. If Godfrey wouldn't have minded, why should his mother? Besides, she just wasn't able to help herself. Jonathon had cast a spell over her, a sensual, sexual spell that was so powerful, no woman could have resisted. Even sitting across from him at this breakfast table was agony. She had to forcibly stop her eyes from feasting on him, had to block her mind from the images that kept demanding entry. Jonathon… his mouth on her breast… his hands cupping her buttocks… his body blending perfectly with hers…
She gave a little shudder of defeat and looked over at him. He looked back, his face cool and shuttered, nothing at all like that face she'd glimpsed in the moonlight, that tortured passion-filled face. God, but she would do anything to see that face again.
'Eat up, Sophia,' he suggested smoothly. 'You have some packing to do.'
Ivy came into her bedroom while Sophia was packing, her hesitant steps betraying that possibly for the first time in her life she was actually going to confront a problem rather than simply complain, criticise or put her head in the sand.
'Sophia dear,' she began gingerly.
Sophia bit down her irritation and looked up, smiling. 'Yes?'
'You… you do realise what you're doing, don't you? I mean… Jonathon is nothing like Godfrey. Godfrey was a gentle romantic soul, whereas Jonathon's just like his father. A very physical man, if you know what I mean…'
Sophia knew exactly what she meant.
Ivy put a hand on her arm. 'You're not doing this for Godfrey, are you?'
'For Godfrey?' Sophia repeated blankly.
Ivy flushed. 'Well, he did make you and Jonathon promise to marry, and… and maybe you think this is a way of keeping close to Godfrey, by being with his brother. But they are not the same, Sophia,' she warned in a panicky voice. 'It won't be at all the same! Jonathon is nothing like Godfrey. He takes after his father.'
It came to Sophia then that Jonathon's father must have been as sexual a man as Jonathon was, and that Ivy had not been able to cope. Maybe she hadn't liked sex at all. Maybe her husband's virility had frightened the life out of her. It would explain why he looked to other women to satisfy his physical needs.
Sophia looked into the woman's pale frightened face with understanding and pity. Poor thing…
But she wasn't about to let the woman think she was making some mammoth sacrifice, or that she wasn't well aware of the sort of man Jonathon was. She took Ivy's hand in both of hers and patted it back.
'Don't concern yourself so, Ivy. I realise, more than anyone, that Jonathon is nothing like Godfrey, but that doesn't mean he's not a fine man, a man I'd be proud to have as my husband. We've thought this move over very carefully. I want children and so does Jonathon. Did you know that his first wife refused to give him children, that she pretended to be trying to conceive yet all the while she was on the Pill? That's why Jonathon divorced her.'
Ivy was clearly shocked. 'I… I didn't know that. Oh, poor Jonathon…'
'Yes, poor Jonathon. Your younger son does have feelings, Ivy. He's flesh and blood the same way Godfrey was flesh and blood. Sometimes I get the feeling you forget that…'
Sophia let her words hang, giving Ivy a few moments for them to sink in.
'A boy might do without a father's approval,' she added softly, 'but there's nothing like a mother's love. At least Godfrey always had that.'
Ivy gave her a horrified look. 'But I love Jonathon too!' she insisted. 'I always have.'
'I don't doubt it, but you rarely ever show it.'
'I… I…' Ivy sank down on the edge of the bed, clearly distressed. 'Jonathon never seemed to need my love as Godfrey did…'
Sophia didn't say any more on the subject and when Ivy left the room a few minutes later she hoped she had done some good. It was ironic, in a way, that she should care about Jonathon's relationship with his mother, or that she had defended him so staunchly when underneath she wasn't so sure he was such a fine man. It was all very confusing.
'What on earth have you been saying to my mother?' the man himself said as he strode through the still-open doorway. 'I met her on the stairs just now and do you know what she did? Gave me a big hug and a kiss, told me she loved me and wished us all the happiness in the world.'
Sophia turned a blankly innocent face to Jonathon's cynically knowing one. 'Maybe she regretted her bad manners over breakfast.'
'And maybe I'm Jack the Ripper,' came his dry reply. 'You've been doing your Tammy tricks again, haven't you?'
'Tammy tricks? What are they?'
'Never mind. I'd much rather see your other tricks, the ones which begin after your clothes come off.' He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, not letting her go till she was flustered and breathless.
'The door's open,' she protested when he started to undo the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. 'Someone might come in.'
He did the buttons back up again with an angry flick of his fingers. 'What I wouldn't give for a house of my own, where I wouldn't have to care about open doors or people walking in on us. No, don't bother objecting. I have no intention of really moving out. I'm not that cruel. But it's why I'm taking you away today. I want you all to myself for a while,' he growled, his hand reaching out to pick up the single plait that hung down her back, encircling it round her neck then pulling her slowly towards him. 'I have a mind to see this beautiful hair spread out on a pillow.' He smiled down into her wide eyes. 'I have a mind to do a lot of things to you…'
His head bent to sip with unexpected tenderness at her lips. When they fell apart on a soft moan, inviting the invasion of his tongue, he abruptly abandoned her mouth, dropped the plait, whirled and left the room.
Her heart was pounding as she watched him go, her thoughts in turmoil. It was all getting out of hand, this sexual power he exercised over her. Where would it all lead?
To a hotel in a seaside suburb, it seemed. A beautiful hotel which overlooked the beach and the Pacific Ocean, with a honeymoon suite so corruptively luxurious and opulent that she could do nothing but stare at it in stunned silence, thinking this must have been specifically designed to tantalise and tempt the senses.
The decorating colours were visually rich—cream, red and gold. The furniture and furnishings were equally rich, with close attention paid to how they would feel to the touch—or underneath bare skin.
The large rectangular sitting-room boasted a plush red carpet, with two cream leather sofas and a low glass coffee-table down one end, and a table setting for two at the other, right in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened out onto a balcony with a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean. When a button near the light switch was pressed, billowing cream curtains slid silently across the view, their semi-transparent material giving an immediate sense of subtle intimacy and sensuality.
The bedroom was not so subtle. There, the carpet was cream and twice as thick, the room dominated by a huge circular bed covered by a red velvet quilt which was eclipsed for decadence only by the cream satin sheets underneath. Not that Sophia could see the sheets at first glance, but she could see the six satin-covered pillows propped up against the red quilted headboard.
Satin sheets and six pillows? Sophia was shaking her head as she moved on into
the bathroom, only to have her eyes almost pop out of her head as she took in its crystal chandelier, carved gold taps and huge spa which stretched from one wall to the other underneath a plate-glass window.
Jonathon, who'd closely watched her silent tour, came up behind her, curving his hands over her shoulders and pulling her back against him. She tensed immediately, thoroughly intimidated by the thought of making love in broad daylight. Or of having a bath underneath a window, even though no one could possibly see in unless they went hang-gliding past the front of the hotel.
'What do you think of the view?' he asked softly, his lips moving over one of her ears, making her shiver uncontrollably.
'It… it's very nice.'
'It looks even better at night,' Jonathon murmured in her ear. 'More romantic'
The penny dropped and she turned to face him, her face and heart tight with instant jealousy. 'You've been here before, haven't you? With one of your women.'
'No, I haven't,' he denied. 'But Harvey has. He told me about it when I called him this morning to let him know exactly what the situation was between us.'
'What… what did Harvey say? About us, I mean.'
Jonathon laughed. 'He wasn't at all surprised. Truth is, Sophia, we were both on the end of Wilma's plottings last night. She asked Harvey to come on to you. Not that he wasn't willing, mind. And he was quite ready to follow through if I didn't react as Wilma hoped.'
Sophia was taken aback. She'd known herself that Wilma had been trying to matchmake her with Jonathon, but to inveigle Harvey into making a play for her seemed to be going a bit far, and she said so.
'Wilma has ulterior motives in wanting us together like this,' he explained drily. 'The woman's ruthlessly ambitious. She's been wanting to be more than a secretary in Parnell Property for years. Her first step up the ladder is to get more responsibility, to have the boss have interests other than work. Marriage to someone like you would qualify as having other interests…'