Tahitian Wedding

by Angela Devine

  ‘Alain!’ she choked. ‘Oh, Alain, please, I can’t bear it…it’s too…oh, yes, yes, yes.’

  For now her nipples had risen into hard, urgent peaks and his warm mouth was straying further down her body, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. Nuzzling her silken belly, he let out a low chuckle.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘You taste all sweet and sticky and fiery,’ he explained.

  ‘I-it’s the Cointreau,’ she stammered. ‘I’ll wash it off.’

  ‘No!’ His upraised arm barred her way like a steel barrier. ‘Let me lick it off for you.’

  The pungent, sweet liqueur had dried to form a sticky crust on her skin and at the first touch of Alain’s tongue she squirmed and giggled protestingly. But the truth was that those warm, moist, caressing strokes were unbearably erotic, feathering over her skin until excitement seemed to blaze like wildfire in every cell of her body. When Alain’s merciless fingers sought the waistband of her shorts, she did not protest. And when he peeled away the final barrier of her silk knickers, she lay on one elbow, watching him out of sultry, half-closed eyes, aware that the banked fires of passion were soon going to rage totally out of control. Burying his face in her smooth belly, Alain made a low sound deep in the back of his throat and nuzzled her skin with his face. The slight rasping of his chin against her satiny body made her quiver with arousal.

  ‘Your turn now,’ ordered Alain.

  And, taking her slim fingers in a merciless grip, he guided them to the buttons of his shirt.

  ‘Undress me,’ he said curtly.

  Her hands trembled as she hauled the shirt over his head. But when his lean, muscular torso was revealed, she forgot all about being shy and yielded to the impulse to slide her fingers over the dark, springy hair that grew there. Alain took her right hand in his, kissed each fingertip slowly and then guided it down to the top of his shorts.

  ‘If you want to stop, tell me now,’ he warned in a hoarse undertone. ‘There’ll be no going back after this.’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered, aware only that wave after wave of fire seemed to be throbbing through her body.

  Leaning sensually forward, she kissed Alain with her lips open and inviting. Her breasts brushed against his naked chest and he caught his breath sharply. His grip on her hand tightened and he thrust it ruthlessly down.

  ‘Touch me,’ he urged. ‘Hold me.’

  At her first tentative caress, pure madness seemed to overtake them both. With urgent, frenzied movements Alain stripped off his shorts and flung them aside, then hauled her down on top of him. The feel of his naked, virile body with its steely muscles and rough, springy hair awoke a deep, primitive response in Claire. Her body throbbed and blazed with heat and her eyes felt misty and strange with desire. Thought and reason were temporarily suspended and there was only an insistent, savage hunger that demanded satisfaction. The room whirled about her in a dizzy panorama as Alain rolled wildly with her and fetched up on top of her, crushing her beneath his powerful frame.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he growled, threading his fingers through her hair and jerking up her head.

  She obeyed, opening her mouth but tormenting him deliberately with small, nibbling kisses that left him unsatisfied.

  ‘Oh, would you now?’ he murmured hoarsely and, seizing her chin, he held her forcibly in place and took his revenge.

  His lips were warm and fierce and his tongue probed the sweet crevices of her mouth in a totally ruthless fashion. Yet somehow his ruthlessness made it doubly exciting. Seizing her arms, he pinioned her wrists and loomed over her like an arrogant conqueror.

  ‘Do you give in?’ he demanded.

  Impishly she shook her head.

  ‘Not yet,’ she purred teasingly and showed him the tip of her tongue.

  He made a low sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in the hollow of her throat, lowering his full weight on top of her again so that he crushed her beneath him. His breath tickled her ear, sending quivering thrills of excitement through her entire body.

  ‘You will, my love. You will,’ he threatened. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll surrender to me totally. I want everything you’ve got to give, do you understand me? Everything. And I intend to take it too.’

  That low, smoky, vibrant baritone sent thrills of excitement coursing up and down Claire’s spine and she wriggled involuntarily. The movement brought their bodies into even closer contact and she felt the hard, insistent stirring of his manhood against her.

  ‘Is that a promise?’ she breathed into his ear.

  ‘You sensual little…’ he swore softly. ‘I’m going to teach you a thing or two and that is a promise. Starting with this.’

  Claire had never known that such pure, distilled ecstasy could exist. Alain’s hands and mouth were maddeningly skilful and he had no inhibitions whatsoever about using them. Again and again he brought her to the point of whimpering and totally blissful loss of control before he took his final revenge. Only when she was writhing and twisting in his hold, uttering small, gasping cries and arching her body instinctively against him, did he bring their encounter to its rightful conclusion.

  ‘Well, are you all mine?’ he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

  ‘Yes…Yes!’ she shuddered.

  ‘Will you let me do whatever I choose with you?’

  ‘Mmmm…mmm…’

  They were no more than disjointed gasps, but by now she was almost beyond coherent speech.

  ‘Alain…please,’ she begged.

  A triumphant smile lit his eyes and curled the corners of his sardonic lips. But his hands did not cease their merciless, tantalising torment.

  ‘So you’re my woman, are you, Claire?’ he insisted. ‘Mine totally and completely?’

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped.

  ‘Good,’ he replied. And drove into her.

  Claire’s body arched to meet him and she gloried in his fierce, male vigour. He was all taut muscle and invincible power and a proud, shameless joy pulsed through her at every forceful thrust. For a long time there was no sound in the room but their low, inarticulate cries, the shallow, fast rhythm of their breathing and the protesting creak of the bed springs. Claire closed her eyes, drowning in the ecstatic sensations that were building with ominous force inside her. Her fingers were tangled in Alain’s thick, wavy hair, she felt the satisfying hardness of his full weight upon her and smelt the primitive odour of a fully aroused male. A tremor went through her as she felt the first, uncertain signs of approaching fulfilment. Her head threshed wildly from side to side and her body tensed like a fully drawn bow.

  ‘Alain,’ she muttered. ‘Alain…I…oh, oh, oh.’

  Like a hang glider launching into space, she soared over some invisible edge and reached a climax that overpowered her. Gasping and shuddering, she thrust herself at Alain, digging her fingers convulsively into his back and crying his name. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him gazing down at her, his face dark and contorted with desire. He said nothing, but with a sudden violent spasm he clutched her more urgently against him as he reached his own peak.

  They lay for a long time, spent and shuddering, too overpowered to move. Claire felt exhausted but utterly transfigured, and she was glad that Alain did not slide off her. It was pure joy to feel the crushing weight of his body, warm and heavy and slick with sweat, to hold him against her and know that he was hers. Gradually her heartbeat slowed to normal and she became aware of a pleasant, drowsy ache that filled her loins. There was no doubt that Alain was a magnificent lover, but there was more to it than that. It was not just his undoubted skill in bed that left her breathless. It was the sense of complete and utter union that she had found in his arms. A wave of emotion surged through her at the thought and she hugged him hard against her.

  ‘I love you, Alain,’ she whispered. ‘I love you so much.’

  His head came up at that and his blue eyes blazed at her, narrow and cruel and suspicious.

  ‘There
’s no need to say that,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘You don’t have to pretend, Claire. It was just a casual fling for both of us, so why say any different?’

  She stared at him in horror, as he drew himself away from her and rose to his feet.

  ‘Don’t say that, Alain!’ she cried. ‘It’s not true, not for me, anyway. I do love you! I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.’

  He was silent for several seconds, hauling on his clothes with restless, angry movements.

  ‘Look, Claire,’ he snapped at last. ‘I can just about cope with the idea that you’re a sensual woman who enjoys sex and makes no bones about it. But this pretence that I’m the one and only man you love really sticks in my throat. So do me a favour and stop it, will you?’

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘You bastard!’ she wailed. ‘You arrogant, exploitative bastard! Do you mean to tell me you made love to me just for a bit of cheap, quick sexual satisfaction? And then you have the gall to pretend that that’s all I want too? Well, let me tell you—’

  But what was she going to tell him, Alain never found out, for at that moment the front doorbell rang. Throwing him a look filled with hatred, Claire scrambled out of bed and began to collect her scattered clothes. Alain’s grip closed on her wrist like a steel bracelet.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m leaving!’ she spat at him. ‘There’s not much point sticking around now that we’ve both had our satisfaction, is there?’

  The doorbell rang again imperiously.

  ‘Claire, wait!’ ordered Alain with an expression like thunder. ‘There are things we’ve got to discuss!’

  She twisted away from him, tossing her head defiantly.

  ‘Please!’ he added angrily.

  The absurdity of pleading in such a tone struck her even at this unlikely moment and her lips quirked. She hesitated. He drew her against him and his lips brushed the top of her hair.

  ‘I’ll have to go,’ he muttered reluctantly. ‘There may be some emergency at the hotel. But I’ll be back. Wait for me?’

  She paused, watching the muscle twitching at his temple, the brooding look in his eyes. Then she let out her breath in a long sigh and nodded.

  The door closed behind him and Claire picked up the rest of her clothes and began to dress. Her emotions were in utter turmoil and her legs seemed to be shaking so much that they would hardly hold her. What was going on? What did Alain mean? What were his real feelings towards her? Did he really think she had only made love with him out of pure and simple lust? And was that all he felt towards her? At the thought a small, dry sob escaped her. Her fingers trembled as she sat down to buckle her sandals. No. There was some reasonable explanation, some meaning to his harsh words. There must be. As soon as he had sorted out the caller at the door, she would ask him about it. In fact, the person might already have left.

  Turning the handle, she opened the door quietly and stepped into the hall. But as she neared the sitting-room, it became obvious that the caller hadn’t left at all. Two voices were raised in heated debate. One was Alain’s, calm and infuriatingly reasonable. The other was Nadine’s. Angry, reproachful and very, very loud.

  ‘What the hell do you mean, you had to spend the day sorting out Claire Beaumont’s affairs? What sort of claim has she got on you, I’d like to know? Anyway, have you forgotten that you were supposed to be flying to Bora Bora with me today?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CLAIRE felt icy with shock at these words. The rapid unfolding of events since the wedding had driven all thoughts of Alain’s planned trip to Bora Bora out of her mind. In fact, only now did she realise that it actually was Monday. She waited with a terrible sense of misgiving for Alain to say something, to offer an explanation that would soothe all her uneasiness. But Alain’s next words were hardly reassuring.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nadine,’ he said sharply. ‘Of course I hadn’t forgotten. And nothing important has changed about my plans to stay there with you. Didn’t you get my message from the front desk, telling you to fly ahead without me?’

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Nadine resentfully. ‘But it didn’t explain anything.’

  Alain clicked his tongue.

  ‘What is there to explain?’ he demanded. ‘I was unavoidably detained with Claire Beaumont, but I fully intended to fly over and join you tomorrow. All that has happened is that my plans have been set back by one day, but I’ve every intention of spending a week on Bora Bora with you, exactly as we planned. So for heaven’s sake, stop fussing.’

  Claire’s heart almost stopped at this brazen announcement. How dared he? she thought. How dared he? So I’m just a trivial interlude before the big event with Nadine, am I? Oh, I could kill him! Biting her lips against the sob that was rising in her throat, she backed silently away down the corridor. As she reached the back of the house, the storm of weeping broke and her eyes were blurred with tears as she fumbled her way out of the laundry door and sprinted towards her car.

  ‘Swine, swine, swine!’ she breathed, pounding her fists on the steering-wheel and sobbing helplessly. ‘Oh, God, I hope I never have to see you again in my life!’

  Yet reason told her that Alain would not give up easily. Whatever cock-eyed view of love made him want to have affairs with two women at once would undoubtedly send him in pursuit of her and she would have to be prepared to confront him, however much she hated the thought. She wept all the way home and throughout the half-hour that she spent in a lukewarm bath, scrubbing every trace of her encounter with Alain off her body. But by four o’clock she had cried herself to a standstill and knew that if she was ever going to hold her head up again she would have to hit back. Splashing her face with cold water, she found her make-up bag, prowled angrily into her room and began hauling her smartest dresses off their hangers and throwing them on her bed. Within half an hour she was clad in a crisp pale blue and white striped frock. Her hair was drawn back into a rather severe chignon, her lips were highlighted with coral gloss and her eyes looked larger and darker than ever with a discreet brown eyeshadow. She was confident that she looked cool and businesslike. Yet, even so, her heart skipped uncomfortably when the doorbell rang. The outline of a tall, powerful body through the frosted glass sent a tremor of apprehension through her.

  ‘Hello, Alain,’ she murmured with a faint, superior smile, as she opened the door. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Don’t give me that patronising rubbish,’ he snarled, striding into the sitting-room without waiting to be asked. ‘Why the hell did you go off like that?’

  He did not look as suave and self-assured as usual. His navy shorts and white polo shirt were well cut and expensive looking, but his dark hair was wildly disordered as if he had been running his fingers through it and there were dangerous spots of colour high on his cheekbones. An aura of angry, forceful vitality radiated out from his entire body, so that he seemed to take possession of the entire room.

  ‘Well? Answer me!’ he snapped.

  Claire bristled. His appearance had taken her aback, but now resentment came surging to her aid, hot and heady. She shrugged charmingly.

  ‘There didn’t seem to be much point in staying around once the action was over,’ she replied coolly.

  Sparks flashed in his eyes. His voice, when it came, was throaty and almost menacing.

  ‘This afternoon you told me that you loved me,’ he said. ‘What did you mean by that?’

  Claire gave a small, rippling laugh and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  ‘Well, it’s the sort of thing one says in those circumstances, isn’t it?’ she replied teasingly. ‘After all, it adds to the atmosphere, doesn’t it? Provided one doesn’t take it too seriously.’

  Alain swore under his breath.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,’ he sneered. ‘I’m hardly likely to make the mistake of taking you seriously, knowing you as I do. But life doesn’t have to be all serious, does it? I’m going to Bora Bora tomorr
ow on business for a week, but there’s all the time in the world when I come back. What would you say to dinner and a nightclub?’

  ‘A nightclub?’ drawled Claire.

  Alain’s hand moved towards her with hypnotic slowness. His fingers caressed her cheek and moved tantalisingly down the hollow of her throat until they touched her left breast. For a moment she stood, unable to move, unable even to breath. Slowly and deliberately he traced a whorl of fire on her nipple. Claire shuddered and, with an effort of will, stepped back.

  ‘Yes, a nightclub,’ mused Alain, watching the colour surge into her face. ‘Or perhaps a late-night game of tennis with a little re-match afterwards?’

  Claire recovered her poise.

  ‘How sweet of you to suggest it, Alain,’ she purred. ‘But I’m likely to be very busy next week. Danny Abbott is having another stop-over in Tahiti on his way back from the United States.’

  Alain caught his breath.

  ‘Are you telling me that you’re going to sleep with him again?’ he asked in a dangerous voice.

  Claire smiled enigmatically.

  ‘I’m not telling you anything,’ she retorted. ‘I think it’s awfully bad taste to tell tales about one’s sex life.’

  Alain’s fingers clenched furiously on her shoulders and his blue eyes scorched into hers. To her horror, Claire found his tense, contained anger deeply arousing, and she had to resist the urge to burrow into his arms. Either that or pound on his chest with clenched fists and shout her grievances at him. But she knew that either of those courses could only have one possible end. If she let herself soften even a fraction towards him, he would make love to her with a passion that would shake her to the core. And, however much her body might yearn for his touch, she was not prepared to share him with Nadine. Drawing a long, shaky breath, she folded her arms and smiled superciliously.

  ‘You little slut!’ he breathed.

  Breaking away from her, he strode across the room. His hands clenched into fists of rage, but he controlled himself with obvious effort.