Living Together

by Carole Mortimer

  Blue eyes flashed anger, although the smile remained pleasant enough. ‘Here,’ Sharon held out the key. ‘Tell Leon I won’t be needing it any more.’

  Helen took it, and the metal seemed to burn her hand. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she murmured.

  ‘Leon certainly chose himself a little mouse this time,’ the actress mused. ‘Oh well, give him my love.’

  Helen sat down once Sharon Melcliffe had left, sat down before she fell down. Leon had been lying to her—and she had trusted him, trusted him with everything she had to give. How could he have done this to her? That woman had probably shared his bed, bathed with him in that bath he said no one had ever shared with him. She felt as if someone had given her a mortal blow, as if all feeling had been knocked out of her.

  When she heard Leon’s key in the door nearly two hours later she didn’t move, a hunched-up figure in one of the armchairs, the room chill and in darkness.

  ‘What the—!’ Leon switched on the light, his mouth tautening as he saw her. He bent to kiss her as usual, and at the last moment Helen turned her head and his lips landed on her cheek. He shrugged, stepping back and going to pour himself a glass of whisky. ‘Do you want one?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she replied coldly.

  ‘I’ll just get some ice.’ He disappeared into the kitchen. ‘Damn!’ she heard him swear. He came back into the lounge, coming down on his haunches beside her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had dinner ready?’ he asked gently.

  She had forgotten about the half-prepared meal. ‘It wasn’t important,’ she dismissed huskily, her chin resting on her bent knees.

  ‘Of course it was.’ He smoothed back her hair with caressing fingers. ‘I could have tried to get away if you had told me.’

  ‘It was only a meal, Leon.’ She looked at him coldly.

  ‘But a meal you had prepared. Have you eaten?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I wasn’t hungry. Did you have a nice time?’

  He grimaced. ‘Working?’ he derided. ‘Hardly. I’ve shot the same scene so many times this evening I’m sick of it. And the director still isn’t satisfied with it. I guess my mind was elsewhere.’

  ‘Really?’ she said distantly, her emotions numb.

  ‘My conversation with you wasn’t exactly conducive to my concentration,’ Leon said ruefully. ‘I’m really sorry about the meal,’ he frowned. ‘If you’d told me I would have come home anyway.’

  ‘Because you weren’t working.’

  Leon gave her a sharp look. ‘You don’t still think I went to that party?’ he asked impatiently, running a hand through the thick blondness of his hair. ‘For God’s sake, Helen, I was working—working! And I’m bloody tired.’ He moved to switch on the electric fire, and the room soon filled with a warm glow.

  ‘In that case, I’ll give you this and leave you to rest.’ Helen held out the key Sharon Melcliffe had given her.

  He made no attempt to take it out of her hand. ‘Does this mean you’re leaving?’ he asked harshly, a white edge to his mouth.

  ‘It isn’t my key, Leon,’ she told him tautly.

  His eyes narrowed to tawny slits. ‘Then whose is it?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘Of course I don’t know! I wouldn’t be asking if I did.’ He picked up his glass of whisky and sat down, draping one of his long legs over the side of the chair.

  ‘A friend of yours called after you rang me,’ she informed him with studied calmness. ‘Sharon Melcliffe.’

  Leon frowned. ‘And she gave you that key?’

  ‘Yes,’ she flushed. ‘Of course she said I would have one of my own, but that as she was getting married soon she wouldn’t be needing hers any more.’

  His face darkened. ‘That sounds like Sharon,’ he acknowledged grimly. ‘And I suppose that suspicious little mind of yours has been working overtime ever since.’

  Helen gave him an angry glare. ‘Did it need to? She made no secret of the fact that she’d once lived here with you, and not so long ago.’

  ‘Did she actually say that?’ he demanded.

  ‘As good as.’

  ‘How good?’

  ‘Well, she…she had a key, and she knew it was Max’s night off, and—and—’

  ‘And you condemned me on that evidence,’ he said curtly. ‘I’m not going to deny an affair with her, but she didn’t live here.’

  ‘But she had a key!’

  ‘I told you,’ Leon sighed heavily, ‘we had an affair. It finished when I met you.’

  ‘You’d already finished with her before tonight?’ She showed her disbelief.

  ‘Yes!’ he told her forcefully.

  ‘She didn’t give that impression.’

  Leon gave a grim smile. ‘I’m sure she didn’t.’

  ‘And she seemed to know your—your habits very well.’

  ‘Habits? What habits, for God’s sake?’ he demanded. ‘You surely didn’t get around to discussing my sex life too in what seems to have been a very charming conversation?’

  ‘I certainly didn’t, although Miss Melcliffe seemed to find it necessary to recommend you as a first class lover. The best, I think she called you,’ said Helen with distaste.

  ‘Thank you, Sharon,’ he bowed mockingly.

  ‘It’s nothing to be proud of,’ Helen snapped angrily. ‘And they weren’t the habits I was referring to. Miss Melcliffe seemed familiar with your habit of saying you were working when in fact you weren’t. She said you do that when your attention is beginning to wane from your current girl-friend.’

  ‘And I suppose you agreed with her?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted awkwardly. ‘I asked her to leave. I thought she’d been insulting enough.’

  ‘How did Sharon take that?’ Leon asked with humour.

  ‘I’m glad you find it amusing!’ Helen snapped. ‘I didn’t enjoy having to meet one of your ex-girl-friends. She said she had been in—’ she broke off, realisation dawning. ‘She was in America at the same time you were,’ she accused.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She was one of those women, wasn’t she?’ Helen said heatedly. ‘One of those women you—you—’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted simply.

  Helen buried her face in her hands. ‘God, I hate you!’ she choked. ‘I hate what you’re doing to me!’

  Leon stood up, coming over to pull her hands away from her face. ‘I’ve never pretended to be an innocent, Helen,’ he told her harshly. ‘And you knew all about those women in America. Why should meeting one of them make it seem any worse than the appeasing of animal lust you already knew it to be?’ He shook her. ‘Answer me, damn you!’

  ‘Because I—I can’t bear to think of you with her like—like that! I hate it, I hate it!’

  His mouth closed over hers with a savagery that took her breath away, forcing her lips apart with a brutality that was reminiscent of Michael West and what he had done to her, the attack he had subjected her to. She fought against him with all her strength, hating the rough handling he was forcing on her. She finally managed to wrench her lips away from his. ‘Stop it, Leon!’ she cried her anguish. ‘Don’t do this to me,’ she pleaded.

  At once his hands were gentle on her shoulders. ‘I’ve had just about all I’m going to take from you,’ he told her huskily, his voice unsteady. ‘You’ve made too many wild accusations, and taken the feelings you know I have for you for granted just once too often. God knows I’ve tried to be patient, I haven’t done more than give you the most brotherly of kisses for two weeks now. And it’s driving me mad, Helen. I haven’t been working late because I want to but because I have to. I have to be so damn tired when I get home that I can’t think straight, let alone attempt to make love to you.’

  Her eyes were wide. ‘I didn’t realise…’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ he rebuked tersely. ‘You’re an open invitation to everything I want to do to you—and for all you care I might as well be your brother!’

  Her face flamed at his accusation.
‘That isn’t true! It’s because you’ve been treating me like a stranger that I—I—’

  ‘Yes? You what?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t care for me any more, Leon,’ she explained chokingly.

  ‘Not care for you!’ He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘It arouses me just to look at you,’ he admitted with a groan. ‘I can’t keep my hands off you. I’m sorry Sharon had to come here and upset you, but she really was just a fleeting affair.’

  ‘And aren’t I?’

  ‘No! If we ever get you over your hang-up you could be the most important person in my life,’ he said almost reluctantly.

  ‘And what am I now?’ Helen persisted.

  ’The most important person in my life!’ he admitted with a groan.

  ‘Oh, Leon!’ and she went into his arms, her mouth raised invitingly.

  ‘You’re sure you want this?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘I may not be able to stop once I start kissing you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll want you to.’

  ‘And if you find you do?’ Still he held back.

  ‘Let’s worry about that if it happens,’ she dismissed impatiently. ‘Surely this has to be a step in the right direction?’

  ‘A step?’ he scorned. ‘It’s a leap, that’s why I think it’s too soon.’

  ‘Does that mean you aren’t going to kiss me?’ Her disappointment showed.

  ‘Like hell it does!’ His head swooped and his lips claimed hers.

  To Helen it was the climax of days of waiting, her whole body on fire for him. Her arms were up about his throat, her fingers buried deep in the thickness of the hair at his nape. She was mindless to the warning bells going off in her head, her body only aware of Leon and the wonderful things his lips were doing to her.

  His mouth left hers and he buried his face in her throat, pulling her out of the chair so that they both knelt on the fluffy white rug in front of the fire. Her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his chest, their hips moulded together so that she knew of Leon’s arousal.

  For the first time in her life she was aware of her own sexual arousal, her nipples firm and upthrusting against Leon’s chest, his hands moving slowly across her back in erotic stimulating movements, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

  She felt him lower her down on to the rug, sinking down into it as his weight came down on her. Their lips clung and she raised no protest as Leon pushed her blouse aside, releasing the single front fastening of her bra to cup and caress her naked breasts.

  Helen undid the buttons of his shirt with hurried fingers, pulling it free of his body. She felt the touch of warm metal as the gold medallion she had bought him lay between her breasts now, her hands caressing the firm contours of his muscular back and shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh as she felt the electric thrill of his lips on one of her hardened nipples.

  ‘Did he do this to you?’ Leon demanded raggedly. ‘Did he give you pleasure like this?’

  ‘No! Oh no,’ she gasped as his tongue moved sensuously against her firm flesh. ‘He never touched me like this.’

  ‘Thank God for that. Your body is mine, mine!’ He groaned. ‘Oh, Helen, touch me there. Yes, there,’ he encouraged as her hands fluttered near his thighs. ‘Oh God, that feels so good!’

  She explored further, loving the feel of his hard body beneath her caressing hands. She felt devastated when he moved away from her to switch out the harsh overhead lighting, leaving them caressed by the warm glow given off by the fire. She sighed her pleasure as he came back to her side.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he groaned. ‘Your body is—God, it’s lovely! I want to possess you, Helen.’

  She moaned her willingness as his tongue continued to drive her wild, running back and forth across her hardened nipples. Her body arched as she felt his hands move beneath the waistband of her corduroys, caressing her hips and holding her firmly against him. She was hardly aware of him releasing the single button at her waist sliding the zip down and removing her trousers completely.

  It was only as her bare thighs met other bare flesh that she realised they were both naked. And the knowledge threw her into a complete panic, panic that held her immobile for several timeless seconds. Leon seemed unaware of her changed attitude, his lips exploring the hollows of her creamy throat and the fast rise and fall of her breasts.

  ‘Oh, Helen,’ he cried his own arousal out loud, his mouth moving back to take possession of hers. ‘Surrender, darling,’ he encouraged. ‘Surrender to me,’ he muttered in a feverish voice.

  ‘Leon…’ Nausea was rising up inside her, nausea for the violation of her body.

  ‘Yes, my darling?’ He looked down at her with glazed eyes, all desire fading as he saw her white face and wild desperate eyes. He rolled away from her with a groan. ‘Get away from me!’ he rasped.

  ‘Leon…’

  ‘Get out of here, Helen,’ he ordered in a savage voice. ‘And lock your door this time. I—I can’t be held responsible for what I may do in the next few minutes.’

  ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘Don’t sit there apologising,’ he snapped, his arm thrown across his eyes to block out the sight of her. ‘Not unless you want to be raped for the second time in your life!’

  Helen ran, locking the door as he had ordered. Leon looked desperate just now, desperate enough to invade her bedroom if he couldn’t get himself under control.

  She broke into loud sobs, flinging herself down on the bed and burying her face in the pillows. It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair! She had wanted Leon as much as he wanted her, and if he was suffering half the let-down agony she was going through then he probably hated her. But she hadn’t been able to go through with it, hadn’t been able to make herself that vulnerable to a man, and to let Leon make love to her she had to be totally vulnerable.

  But it had almost happened, almost, and the next time…Would there ever be a next time? Leon wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to repeat the experience, she felt sure.

  She put on her nightgown and crawled beneath the bedclothes, knowing that she would never sleep after what had occurred with Leon tonight.

  The connecting door between her room and the bathroom suddenly swung open and Leon came into her bedroom, his nakedness now covered by a brown towelling robe. Helen switched on her bedside lamp, blushing as he threw her clothes on to the bedroom chair. How stupid she was—she had locked her bedroom door and completely forgotten the bathroom one. Luckily Leon didn’t seem to have her violation in mind.

  ‘You forgot these,’ he rasped, his face very pale beneath his tan, giving him a haggard look. ‘I wouldn’t like Max to find them in the morning and jump to all the wrong conclusions.’

  ‘Of course.’ She looked at him almost pleadingly. ‘Leon, I—I—’

  ‘Yes?’ he snapped, his face rigid and forbidding.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t want that to happen,’ she choked. ‘I tried—I really tried.’

  ‘So you did,’ he said coldly. ‘But we both know what you did to me just now—and it wasn’t pleasant,’ he told her grimly.

  ‘I didn’t do it on purpose, Leon. Please try to understand. I couldn’t—’

  ‘No, you couldn’t, could you?’ he grated. ‘But I’m warning you now, Helen, don’t ever to that to me again.’ He strode angrily to the door. ‘The next time I may not be able to stop myself.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You’ve been warned, Helen. Just don’t try experimenting with me again.’

  ‘Experimenting…?’ she repeated dully. ‘I wasn’t—’

  ‘Yes, you were, damn you!’ he exploded, all his pent-up emotion coming to the fore. ‘But if you ever do that again I’ll take you anyway, whether you want me to or not!’ He slammed the door so hard the whole room seemed to vibrate with his anger.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HELEN was in no hurry to leave her bedroom the next morning, having no wish to see Leon before he left for work. Tonight was quite soon enough
for them to meet again. Besides, she looked terrible, dark shadows under her eyes, her face pale from lack of sleep.

  If she had thought she looked bad Leon looked worse, a certain dullness to his tawny eyes, the lines beside his nose and mouth more pronounced. He was seated at the breakfast table when she entered the dining-room, a cup of black coffee in front of him, a lit cheroot in his hand. And from the amount of smoke in the room it was far from being his first of the day.

  Helen ran her hands nervously down her denim-clad thighs, hesitating in the doorway. ‘You—you’re late this morning, Leon,’ she remarked lightly, hoping to gauge his mood from his reply. The cold look he gave her was more telling than any words could have been; he was still angry with her.

  ‘Is that why you’ve been skulking in your bedroom?’ he taunted. ‘Waiting until you could be sure I’d already left?’

  She blushed at his right assessment of her motives. ‘Are you not going in today?’

  ‘Later,’ he said tersely. ‘I told them I’d be in about ten. Sit down, for God’s sake, you’re making me dizzy looking at you!’

  Helen hurriedly slid on to the chair opposite him and poured herself some coffee. ‘About last night—’

  ‘Are you sure you want to talk about that?’ Leon interrupted coldly.

  ‘I think we have to,’ she insisted softly. ‘I know you think I did it on purpose, but I—’

  Leon stood up with a scrape of the chair. ‘Let’s go into the lounge,’ he snapped. ‘You don’t look as if you’re going to eat anything either, and if we must have a post-mortem I’d rather it took place in comfort. I have the worst hangover of my entire life!’ he groaned, a hand up to his aching temple.

  Helen followed him through to the other room. ‘You were drinking last night?’

  He sat back in the chair, his eyes closed, his long legs splayed out in front of him, the dark brown shirt and trousers he wore moulded to his muscular frame. He opened his eyes with effort. ‘I’ll ignore the stupidity of that question, just get on with what you want to say about last night.’

  ‘Did you get drunk after I went to bed last night?’ she persisted.

  He sighed. ‘Well, I wasn’t drunk before then, if that’s what you mean. What else did you expect me to do, meekly go to my own bed as if nothing had happened?’