by Margaret Way
“Well, didn’t I?” He followed her, turbulence, anger, desire all mixed up together. There were too many disturbing memories in his mind.
“Ben was kissing me goodbye.”
“I didn’t think he was giving you mouth to mouth resuscitation. It’s a bit rich, inviting me here, Chrissy, keeping me forever on a string, while you have Savage on the side.”
“Except that’s not the case,” she said fierily. “I love you.”
“Yeah! I remember you said that once before.” He didn’t hide his disgust. “You’re just sowing all your wild oats before you get married?”
Her beautiful hair had such volume it framed her face like a thick cloud. “Look, Ben and I were over ages ago. I still like him. He’s still my friend.”
“And it’s normal to have sex with your friends?” Bitter disillusionment consumed him.
“Mitch, I really do think your jealousy has you unhinged.”
“Absolutely.” He gave a brief laugh. “I don’t like your giving Savage the green light. Not when you’d convinced me you were ready to settle down.”
“For God’s sake, Mitch, I wasn’t committing adultery!” Her own voice turned hard. “It was just a kiss.”
“If only I could swallow that. Sorry, Chrissy, I can’t. It looked terribly involved.” He swung away from her. Her beautiful face, her beautiful body. Those were a woman’s weapons.
“What are you doing?” She rushed after him, grabbing his sleeve.
“I’m going. It’s my turn to do a runner.”
After all this time he’d still never forgive her. “Please don’t go, Mitch,” she begged. “Please. We can get past this. It’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry.” He shook her off. “I prefer faithful women.”
“While you’ve had relationships with at least half a dozen women since I’ve been gone,” she countered with some tartness. “What about that little vixen, Amanda Logan?”
“Spoken by the woman who thinks nothing of two-timing me.”
“Aren’t you just leaping to conclusions? Surely you don’t really think I wanted Ben to kiss me?”
“You were fighting him off, right?”
“He just got carried away.”
“That’s for sure.” Mitch didn’t attempt to hide his contempt.
“I love you, Mitch. Can’t you get it through your thick head?”
“Apparently not.” He gave her a little push away from him, furious he still wanted her so badly.
“Ben would have been upset if we hadn’t parted friends.”
“God!” He exploded. “Cut it out! I bet he’s been kissing you the whole bloody time he’s been here.”
“Mitch—please.” She couldn’t mishandle this one. “Just because Ben got carried away tonight, it doesn’t mean I did.”
“You were just pretending to like it? Could you please take your hand off my arm?”
“No.” She met the blue dazzle of his eyes. “You owe it to me to calm down and listen.”
“It’s not like that, Chrissy.” Almost gently he removed her hand. “I owe you nothing.”
“So, it’s very much a conditional love?” She stared at him with burning intensity.
“I haven’t got your capacity for sharing.”
“You know your trouble, Mitch? You’re emotionally damaged.”
“I may finally be over it.
The resolution in his face put her in turmoil. She flew after him as he stalked to the door. “Why are we fighting? I wasn’t counting on anything like this.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I love you, Mitch,” she said emotionally, clinging to his back. “I can’t see life without you.”
“Stop that.” God, he couldn’t bear it. The lies, the longing. It tortured him.
“Stop what? This is all a horrible mistake.” She locked her arms around him. “Please don’t do this, Mitch. I love you. We can’t destroy what we’ve got.”
That was when he started going crazy. He was obsessively in love with her—drawn by her beauty and charisma since they were kids together. But surely the insanity had to end? Tonight he had intended to ask her to marry him. He had the engagement ring in his breast pocket. He could feel it press against his heart.
“Let go, Chris!” Eerily, her trying to hold onto him heightened the intoxication.
“No, not when we have a chance.” She threw up her head, her eyes a smouldering sapphire-blue. The exact colour of the central precious stone in the ring he’d intended to give her.
“Why pretend, Chris? What’s the point of it? You can’t really explain why Savage was here. I was at the parade tonight—”
“You weren’t! Why didn’t you come backstage to see me? I’d have been thrilled.”
Something in her voice caught him off-guard. The unmistakable ring of truth. “I did come backstage, as it happens. But you and Savage had already left for the party.”
“You could have followed. You’re a friend of mine—”
“A friend?” he exploded. “I had dreams, Christine. You ruined them.”
“Which is the more powerful emotion, Mitch? Love or jealousy?”
“I would have to say, in my case, jealousy. I’m not proud of it, but there you are. Would you mind taking your long, pretty fingers off my arm?”
“No, I won’t. You have to see sense. You’re as stubborn as a mule. You always were. But we have to talk about this, Mitch.”
“We can’t. I’m not a complete fool. You and Savage are lovers. If I hadn’t suddenly appeared he’d be in your bed by now.”
“Go on—do what you do best!” She launched at him, striking his chest with her fist. “Damage our lives. I don’t need that look of disgust either. You’re just plain paranoid. Ben and I had a relationship—it had a lot to do with his resemblance to you—”
“Kinky, wouldn’t you say?” He caught her wrist and held it.
“Probably. I used to imagine he was you, which was terribly unfair to Ben. We split up. There was nothing deep to sustain us. I always wanted to come home.”
“Forget all that!” he warned. “I saw Savage looking at you. I saw the way he was kissing you. It’s far from over with him.”
“Who cares? Ben has a tendency to want the woman he can’t get.”
“Hell, you don’t have to explain something like that to me. You were going to give yourself to Savage and we both know it.”
“Give him a kiss? Yes, damn it, I was. Is that what you want me to say?”
All of a sudden she was crying, while he stood there, his anger turning to shock and dismay. Chris had never cried—even when she took nasty spills. “Chris?” he said tentatively.
“Shut up. I’ve had just about enough of you, Mitch Claydon.” She spun away as her tears started to flow in earnest. “What compels you to distrust me? Is it ever going to end? So it was unfortunate Ben was here. Sometimes he’s un-stoppable, but he’s harmless. I tell you I love you, but that’s not enough. You want to keep at it and at it. I never knew you were so cruel.”
“I guess I must be.” He was astonished at the intensity and the nature of his warring emotions. Why, in his dealings with Christine, was there always this mad reversal? He was recoiling even as he wanted to comfort her, to take her into his arms and kiss her tears away. He couldn’t begin to understand the depth and power of her hold over him.
In her effort to distance herself from him Christine caught her high heel in the hem of her beautiful deep turquoise gown.
“Damn, damn, damn!” She struggled to free it, the pendant earrings she wore swinging wildly against her heated cheeks.
“Chris—let me.”
“Go away,” she flashed. “Go back to Marjimba and that devious little Amanda.”
“Sorry. I can’t.” He managed to lay a hand on her bare, silky shoulder, but she tore away furiously, keeping her face averted so he wouldn’t see her tears.
It wasn’t something he could explain to himself. It just was. He went aft
er her, hauling her into his arms. She wouldn’t let him hold her but he did all the same, easily subduing her struggles though she was strong and athletic.
“Steady, steady!” He might have been talking to a high-spirited filly.
“Go to hell!”
“Without you, I’m there.” He pressed her body in the beautiful dress to him.
Immediately he was trapped by desire, urgent cravings, aware she was trembling and yet unable to disguise their magnetic attraction. She tilted her body back slightly, looking up at him with passionate defiance in her eyes. “Go ahead. Give way to your anger. I give you permission.”
“To do what?” He moved his hand up to her slender nape, hidden beneath her wealth of hair. He clutched it, holding her face to him.
“Do what you like. I don’t give a damn!”
“I think I might get that dress off you first.”
She made no response, though her breathing picked up dramatically. He could see the rise and fall of her perfect deep breasts through the sheer material. “I swear to you, Mitch—”
“Go ahead.” She was so beautiful it blinded him. Her hair was like a dark, wind-tossed storm around her face. He bent his head so his mouth captured hers. The pleasure was so voluptuous it loosened his knees. Her mouth had a distinctive taste, like citrus and honey.
Here was the precipice. He had a choice. He could jump or step back. Only he might as well be lost in a bottomless abyss as live without Chris. The touch of her mouth, the play of her tongue filled him with leaping desire.
“I love you.” Slowly, as though she was very unsure of what he might do, she lifted her hands to hold his face. “You’ve always been that special, unforgettable person in my life.”
“So special you forgot all about me!” His single dimple flicked in and out with self-derision. “But you won’t forget this time, my love!”
He’d made the choice. Now he jumped. His heart rose up into his throat, his veins saturated with the heat of passion. This was the way it always was with Chris.
Could women cast a spell? Yes. Yes. Yes.
He made her drop her hands while his mouth moved slowly, lingeringly, down over the so smooth skin of her face to the centre of his longing—her deep rose mouth, so plush and seductive. It was astonishing, his hunger for her. What was her price? Sapphires, diamonds, rubies, pearls? She was above them all.
He kissed her until she couldn’t stand, until she didn’t know what she was doing or saying. He felt the answering excitement rage through her as she willingly assuaged the furious frustration and desire that was in him.
For her height she was a lightweight. He had no trouble lifting her, carrying her down to the main bedroom he already knew she was occupying.
Lying on top the silver-blue quilt, he studied her, this extraordinarily beautiful young woman.
“Chrissy, I’m going to make love to you.” It was the most inevitable thing in the world.
The bedside lamps caught the bright golden sheen of his hair, his sea-blue eyes, the tension in him. “I want you to,” she said, clearly displaying the depth of her emotions. “Hold nothing back.”
“I don’t want you to talk either.”
“Because I might say the wrong thing?”
“There’s no room for words.” Intently he found the long hidden zipper of her dress, pulling it down over her breasts. Her upper torso was immediately naked—she wore no bra—as he slid the exquisite gown down over her taut stomach, then down over her hips, the long lovely length of her legs. Everything in slow motion. Everything with care, while she shifted her body to allow the dress to come away from her.
With the bedside lamps turned full on her she was perfection, her extended arms making stroking motions over the smooth shining surface of the coverlet. It struck him as incredibly erotic, increasing the level of longing that threatened to overcome him. His hand found the narrow ribbed band at the top of her blue satin briefs. She quivered in anticipation, taut as a bow.
Neither of them spoke.
When she was naked he stood and began removing his own clothes, his strong arms trembling when she rose from the bed and came behind him, laying her face against the bare skin of his back. As he had helped her, so she began to help him undress, the taut passion in their faces clearly visible.
“What I feel for you will never change.” He turned to her, his mouth descending along her neck to her breast, the nipple erect, just as he wanted it. He could feel all the little jumping nerves, the muscles in her tight buttocks as he pressed her naked body to his. Her lovely long legs parted, gloriously yielding, as his hands moved over her.
“Could I make you pregnant?”
She felt like laughing madly, headily, in delight. “It’s possible—but you should have made me pregnant long ago.” Emotion so stirred her body she felt it like an expanding force.
He drew back to stare down at her. “No regrets?”
She clutched at him. “I thought we weren’t going to talk?” Her eyes blazed, invited, challenged.
“Come to me now and I’ll never let you go,” he warned, even then feeling the panic of losing her.
“When are you going to understand, Mitch? I love you. Only you,” she said very seriously, touching his mouth with delicate fingers. “Lay down all your fears. They’re unfounded. I’m home to stay.” She raised her arms, all woman.
He picked her up, his tenderness grown a little fierce. The roar in his heart was like the roar of a lion.
He issued himself a stern order: let go of the rage and the heartbreak of the past. The old dreams that didn’t come true. All his doubts had to stop if they were to make up for lost time. Suffering might even have been necessary in order to feel this incredible rapture. There seemed no limit to it. He would never allow her to forget her promise. It had restored him.
Mitch laid her on the bed, cascades of dark silky hair sliding all over the pillows and cushions. He turned her beautiful body this way and that, so fluid, so satiny soft, while he stripped off the silver-blue coverlet.
Finally he levered himself over her, glorying in her naked body beneath him, tantalising her, so desiring, so easy to arouse—withholding his manhood though she gave little cries of entreaty. He wasn’t ready to enter her until he’d given her as much pleasure as she gave him.
The more he gave her, the more she wanted. She unfolded her whole body to his hands and his mouth. She was woman. His mate. She wound herself around him, whispering endearments. The sheet got all tangled and he threw it away. She climbed over him. Fell on him. He withstood the ravishing torment as long as he could, rotating her luscious body, his hands at her waist, spanning it, while she arced up and down.
Enough! He was fully aroused. He spun her like a ballerina onto her back, groaning with unparallelled sensations. His blood was exploding with a million fiery sparks.
“W-wait!” Her voice was low, shaken, yet incredibly erotic. “I’ll t-tell you.”
He forced himself to hold back for the briefest of white-hot moments, until they were moving rhythmically together, perfect partners in a love dance. It was unbearable, but then it was glorious. His strong heart was fluttering. She was denying him nothing. He knew a moment’s shame for ever having doubted her.
“My beautiful Chris!”
He couldn’t hold back a millisecond longer. His hunger was devouring him. He sank into her, plunged deeper and deeper, feeling her open and welcome him, her body closing on him, holding him exquisitely tight. Such pleasure was almost an agony, and his heart lurched and his head spun.
Finally she bucked against the mighty force of his impending orgasm, herself on the verge—coming…coming… He was so attuned to her he was listening for it as he would listen for a signal.
The flare of excitement was so powerful she wanted it to last forever. The flames shot higher and higher. Enduring flames that had never gone out. They were like one body, one mind. They shared the same intense hunger. Her breathing became ragged as she simply gave hersel
f up to bliss.
Those high little keening cries were her own, she realized dazedly.
Sweat sizzled off her hot skin. She was circling higher and higher. Right into the eye of the sun. She was melting, insubstantial…
“Oh, yes!” The words burst from her in ecstasy.
He needed no second entreaty. His own momentum, muscular and powerfully strong, carried them into a new dimension of bright radiance where all needs and hungers were satisfied and all conflicts were laid to rest.
Separated in the past, they would never be parted again.
EPILOGUE
FROM the open French doors Christine could see the wedding guests moving all over the wide green lawns. There was a gentle breeze blowing in from the desert, muting the effects of the hot Outback sun. It fluttered the women’s skirts so they looked like brightly coloured ribbons. Manicured hands reached up to anchor expensive wide-brimmed hats in a range of colours, decorations and styles, lest they be caught by the wind. The home gardens, watered by bores, were in full fragrant bloom, coaxed along by a team of gardeners so everything would be perfect for this very special day.
From where she looked out Christine could see the huge white marquees that had been set up in the grounds, the great shade trees lending additional protection. Everything was as beautiful as promised. This was Kyall’s and Sarah’s wedding day. The communion of two beautiful people. Two people she loved.
Love was moving inside her like a sensation of heavenly light. Since she and Mitch had become engaged she felt as if she’d been reborn. On a spontaneous impulse she lifted her ring to her mouth and kissed it.
It was so very, very beautiful—a symbol of their love, a glorious square-cut sapphire flanked by diamonds. Mitch had given it to her that very special night, when the two of them had made their decision to be together forever.
She knew in committing to Mitch she was doing the right thing. She had no qualms about turning her back on her career. There were no words to describe the great joy, the sense of security, the vision, that had come with that choice. Christine Reardon, twenty-eight, now wanted with every particle of her being not to be a supermodel, but a wife and mother and a full partner in their marriage.