He was right, she shouldn't have done it. She should have stayed glued to him like the nice, obedient wives Turkish men expected. All thought ceased when his mouth came down on hers, crushing it open, forcing his tongue past her lips. Maybe a struggle would have been appropriate, but his tongue was lashing against hers and his hand moved inside her dress, splaying around her ribs.
He lifted his lips from hers, and his breath whispered past her ear as he bit at an earlobe, turning her knees to jelly. “If you promise to be quiet, this will be the most exquisite punishment you've ever experienced."
Oh, sweet Jesus! Mon dieu! “Please, Cain. I'm sorry. I won't...” His mouth was back, hard and hot. A hand in her hair tilted her face up, then reached down, lifting her up, winding her legs about his hips. Her already short dress was bunched at her waist. Pinned between the wall and his body, she felt the hardness of his erection rub against her scarcely protected mound. His fingers ran delicately along her shoulders, over her collarbones, sneakily undoing the bow ... The bow holding her dress together!
Oh, God, she was half-naked in a darkened park with absolutely no intention of protesting!
His fingers pinched and rolled her nipples while she tried to keep her ragged breathing quiet. Arching against his hands, craving more pressure, her entire body begged for more. With his hands at her waist, Cain shifted her further up the wall, making her breasts available to his mouth. He sucked at her nipples and she couldn't keep quiet. A pleasure-racked cry leapt from her lips to echo across the park. Quickly opening her eyes, she checked to be sure no one was there to hear her. He chuckled, and brought her back close to him, sliding a thumb up her thigh, inside the edge of her panties.
His low laugh superior with satisfaction, Olivia knew he was pleased. Her panties were drenched in moisture, she was so wet for him. His thumb slid through the already throbbing folds of her slick crevice. Finding the nub of her clitoris, he caressed it gently. She shuddered against him, clung tighter, whimpering into his mouth. That was how he disciplined her in the park, not letting her breathe without him, not letting her move against him. One hand rubbed at her clit; the other pulled at her nipples while she came so hard she shook convulsively in his hands.
He waited for the shuddering to subside before making his next demand. “Stand up. Tie up your dress."
Lowering her eyes, Olivia felt ridiculously self-conscious. She was certain his eyes didn't leave her breasts while she retied the bow at her neck.
"Now take off your underwear,” he ordered in a harsh rasp.
Excited beyond words, she didn't even think about protesting. Heart pounding in her chest, she slid the wet silk down her legs. Stepping out of the panties, she handed them to Cain. He tucked them into his pocket, silently taking her hand, before leading her back to the club.
"We're going to make our apologies, then you're coming back to my place. Arguments?” While she couldn't see his features in the darkness, she could hear the breathless edge in his voice. He wasn't unaffected.
Shaking her head, Olivia couldn't think of a single word with which to respond. Never in her life had her senses been so alive. Feeling herself naked under the tiny dress, knowing he had more in store at his apartment, seeing the appraising look the Turkish contingent sent in her direction as Cain made their exit, was a rush like she'd never experienced before. She was excruciatingly aware of and aroused by her dishevelled appearance. Sensations rioted through her bloodstream, making any denial of him, of this, utterly impossible.
Hailing a cab, he seated them both in the back, her behind the driver. When the taxi moved away from the curb, Cain slid a hand onto her thigh while giving the cabbie the name of the Hyatt—there were two, so he specified which. Shivers began again when he slid an arm behind her neck, draping his hand so it fell casually into the side opening at the top of her dress. His other hand pressed her knee outward, against his.
Moving confidently inside the top of her dress, his hand cupped her naked breast, shaping and squeezing the weight of it. His other hand moved up her thigh to brush at her exposed clit. All the while his lips fluttered over her temple, pressing kisses down the side of her face. Normally taxis, or for that matter any motor vehicle, made her nervous. With the amount of distraction taking place at the moment, there was no time for anxiety.
"Are you all right, Olivia?” Cain asked in a low, husky voice near her ear.
All right! She could barely breathe for the quivering in her body.
"Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.
"More?” He quirked a dark eyebrow, smiling at her.
"Yes."
Quickly, the hand at her breast moved to squeeze her nipple hard. The fingers stroking softly between her thighs pressed down on her clit. "Mon Dieu!" her words were little more than a mutter, but sounded loud against the static of the cab's radio.
"Shhh...” he whispered in her ear. “That's all for now, baby girl, or we'll give the cabbie a heart attack.” His voice was low and approving.
Olivia spent the rest of the short trip gnawing on her bottom lip, unable to speak. Amid a flurry of flashing pleasures, she couldn't seem to fight her way out of the confusion of her senses. This might well be wicked, but it felt wonderful. Always having lived in a world of intellect, Olivia had never inhabited the sensual realm the way she was now. Ridiculously, she would have spread herself for Cain in the back of this cab if he'd asked.
The mindless haze lifted long enough for her to leave the cab and walk across the lobby with him. Feeling the doorman watch her, she registered a small shot of mortification at what he must think. Belatedly, she reassured herself that she didn't care. At least, she shouldn't care. This kind of attraction didn't happen every day and probably wouldn't last long. She needed to make the most of it.
* * * *
In the elevator, Cain could barely keep his hands off Olivia. Never in his life had he seen a woman so visibly doused in sex. Her green-grey eyes were dreamy, almost unseeing. The lips of her magnificent mouth were slightly parted to allow room for the shallow breaths she was grabbing. He knew she liked the way he “controlled” sex. Clearly, she liked to think one of them had a handle on reality. He bit back on the desire pounding in his blood. Little did she know...
Unlike last time, he couldn't manage gentle caresses in the elevator, knowing that if he even so much as touched her, it would all be over in the lift. She was anticipating something different and he had no desire to disappoint.
Inside his room, he caught her close for a kiss. She responded like a wild woman, holding him closer, taking his tongue deep inside her mouth, threatening not to give it back with the fierce suck and nip of her teeth. Deliberately, he reined back the surge of need pouring through his blood, and took charge again. “Take off your dress, Olivia. And your shoes."
She lowered her eyes, automatically doing as he instructed. While she was working the fine buckles at her ankles, he removed his tie. Stepping behind her, he lowered the thick silk fabric over her eyes.
Feeling her go rigid with nerves, Cain bent to kiss her from shoulder to neck. “Don't panic, baby, you know I won't hurt you.” He straightened, and made her stand still while he stepped circles around her. He observed her gorgeous body from every angle, absorbing her quivers as though he could feel them against his skin already.
Scooping her up, he carried her to the bedroom. Rather than the bed he laid her on the plush floor rug at its foot end. Kneeling beside her, he removed the damp scrap of lace-edged silk from his pocket. Gently, slowly, he tickled the lace up her legs from ankle to apex. The tremor in her milky white thighs was a testimony to the fact the lightest touch sometimes had the greatest effect. Dragging the fabric over her stomach, he watched her breath hitch.
"Know what this is, Olivia?"
She nodded mutely.
"That's right, the panties you stripped off in the park and gave to me."
She shivered when he circled a breast with her underwear. Lace snagged, pulling a little on the ni
pple, before trailing over her face, letting her smell her scent in the fabric.
Next Cain removed his belt, watching her tense when she heard the slide of it through the loops in his trousers. A little fear mingling with the excitement maybe.
"And this, Olivia? What's this?"
"Your belt.” Even without the image she presented for him, trembling with need, blindfolded on the floor, her quiet voice drove him to the very edge of sanity.
"That's right, and, unless you're very good now, I might spank you with it."
She nodded, didn't move, didn't speak.
Using just the leather tongue, he flicked at her ankles until she moved them a little further apart. The quiet slapping noise continued as he moved up her legs, the leather striking just hard enough to move her legs, separating them further and further, until she was completely open before him.
Smacking gently from side to side, he worked the belt up her ribcage until he reached her breasts. She was already whimpering quietly when he began tapping at her nipples with the leather. Using the hard edge of the leather, he pushed upwards against each aroused nipple, causing them to catch and drag in turn. Olivia arched from the rug, offering her body to him.
"S'il vous plait, Cain!"
"Please what, Olivia?"
"More."
Cupping the belt in his hand, he eased the leather inside the wet lips of her sex, curving it against her, pushing the very tip of it inside her. He rubbed the belt against her cleft and clit, watching her writhe, listening to her sobbing pleas for completion. Removing the tip and his fingers from inside her body, he held it to her mouth; tickled at her lips with the sopping strap.
"Taste it, Olivia."
Still acquiescent, she parted her lips, allowing him to lower the leather into her mouth. Her tongue flicked at it. Obviously, she was nervous of this.
Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he encouraged her. “Close your mouth, Olivia. Suck on it. Taste yourself while I watch."
He watched her frown above the blindfold, saw the spasm course through her at his words. She followed his instructions while he removed any vestiges of her doubt with a stroke of his thumb across her clit. She stiffened, straining at the brink of orgasm. Watching her this way was the last straw.
Too much, all too much. Cain was inside her within seconds. Not slowly, hard and full. He felt her muscles stretch to accommodate him, felt the tight heat of her spasm when she cried out. While her body still shook, he rocked within her, grinding himself against her, the convulsive tightening in his gut and groin screaming for release. He exploded, growling her name while she fluttered against him like a leaf caught in a storm.
Staying where he was, he gentled Olivia, stroking her hair, kissing her lips, especially the top one. He ran his hands carefully down her sides, bringing her back to him slowly. Pulling the tie from her eyes, he watched, waiting for some indication of emotion. Lashes fluttering open, those fantastic eyes sparkled at him ... tenderly? A sexy half-smile tilted her lips and he felt an answering smile on his own mouth.
She protested when he moved away from her. Staying where she was, she stretched languorously against the softness of the rug. Scooping her up, he carried her to the bed and deposited her under the covers. Removing his own crumpled clothes, Cain slid in beside her. Softness for this woman was an easy thing. She curled like a kitten into his chest.
"Olivia?"
"Oui."
"Don't sneak out in the morning."
"Accord."
* * * *
True to her word, Olivia did not sneak out. But she did wake up before Cain and she didn't stay in bed. By the time she woke him, she was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, looking distinctly smug and self-contained. Her eyes contained no evidence of sleep and, even wearing last night's clothes, she looked strikingly beautiful. Obviously, she was one of those disgusting “morning people.” The smile she directed his way was tender, as though she felt pity for his inability to gather his wits early enough to keep up with her.
Her fingers stroked through his hair while she spoke, awakening the beginnings of a very promising erection with the gentle pat.
"It's nine o'clock, sleepyhead. I have to go home."
"Let me drive you.” He grinned while sliding a hand across her already clothed stomach.
"No ... thank you. That's really not necessary."
"Why not?” Now he was wide awake. She was brushing him off ... again! This really had to stop.
She didn't even have the grace to flounder for an answer. “Because I'm not your girlfriend. You don't owe me your gallantry. In fact, you owe me nothing. I'll ring Charlotte later."
He stiffened instantly at her implication. The same one he'd made their first morning together. Was this payback? His fists clenched in the sheets. She didn't look vengeful. She looked calm and happy. One day soon he was going to figure her out. Watching her sway toward the door, feeling his arms ache to catch her and scoop her back into bed, he figured he should unravel the mystery of her sooner rather than later. Too much delay and he might miss his chance. And missing Olivia was turning out to be a painful experience.
CHAPTER FOUR
Olivia jogged up the stairs, the memory of Cain's dumbfounded expression still fresh in her mind. Good, let him be angry. This time she'd gotten the parting shot. Better this way anyway. Better than imagining an impossible future. Better than involving him in her life ... presuming that was even an option. Relationships weren't built on sex like they'd had anyway. She'd had to give up smoking cold turkey and that's exactly how she'd give up Cain Warner.
Cold turkey—quick, sharp, and completely finished.
Hearing the phone ring before her key made the lock, for half an instant she had the intuitive feeling that it might be Cain.
Ridiculous!
Cain didn't know her number. Correction, Cain didn't know her. Okay, he knew her body ... she sucked breath past her teeth as ripples of pleasure shimmied across her skin. Probably he knew her body better than she knew it herself, but there wasn't a single part of her character she'd revealed that would give him reason to call ... even if he did have her number. It was time to come to grips with reality. Cain was not for her, never had been. His job required his constant movement about the globe and she didn't do well with departures. Life would be easier if she just let go of the man and kept the memories for herself.
Damn this door! Rattling the door handle while she shoved the stubborn thing with her hip, Olivia virtually fell into the room when it gave. Swearing loudly, she came to a stop. Definitely time to find a handyman.
The answering machine picked up just as she stepped into the lounge room. “Olivia if you're there, please pick up the telephone. Why do you have a mobile phone if you never turn it on?"
She smiled at Charlotte's question. Her refusal to walk around with a mobile phone attached to her head was constant cause for Charlotte's griping. Devoid of the need for constant chatter, she kept her mobile for emergencies. Otherwise, if people wanted to talk to her, they could leave a message or try again when she was home. Picking up the phone, she responded to her boss, “It's a status symbol. Can't be a uni student without a mobile phone."
"Thank heavens, you're all right. What happened to you?"
"Trust me when I say you don't want to know."
"I think it must be almost time for a wine night,” her friend concluded. Possibly the tight tone in Olivia's voice had inspired this suggestion. If they did get together, she wouldn't be able to look Charlotte in the eye and deliberately mislead or deceive her.
"Perhaps.” As soon as they'd come of age, she and Charlotte had begun holding rare but private, wine parties. Each brought a wine—one Australian, one French. They spent the night comparing the contents of each bottle. Neither of them had any knowledge of wine whatsoever and, indubitably, the Australian wine would finish the winner. Most of all, though, the evenings provided a chance for the friends to catch up face-to-face. At the moment, eyeballing
Charlotte while lying about her love life, did not seem an enticing prospect.
"As long as you're all right. I have had two phone calls for you. One from your man Cain Warner.” Olivia winced at the reference and barely bit back the “he's not my man” comment, before groaning at the other name spilling from her phone, “Phillip Saxton.” Even with Charlotte's accent, the name gave her the heebies.
"I don't want either,” she decided instantly.
"If you're sure.” Charlotte's sigh made the non-committal words sound like, “You're making my life incredibly difficult. I would never let you down this way."
Olivia frowned, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth for a good chewing. Cold turkey, damn it! Short, swift, painful but effective—cold turkey. “Oh, all right. Give me Phillip."
Charlotte giggled. "Merci, cheri."
"Ne ce rien est.” It's nothing. Remnants of the politeness she'd learned from her parents kept her from saying, "Vous me possedez!” You owe me! Charlotte knew it was no small favour. After all, it was Charlotte who'd had to sit through her violent outburst last time she'd met with Mr. Saxton. She'd regaled Charlotte with every last disgusting detail of his horrendous behaviour. In the end, she'd begged her friend never to let the man near anyone who couldn't move fast enough to keep his hands off them. He was probably harmless, but really you could never tell.
"Remember, cheri, last time he saw you, you were a blonde. Do you still have that wig?"
A headache was forming right between her eyebrows. Frowning at the tiredness enveloping her limbs, Olivia considered the money Charlotte would deposit into her bank account at the end of the week ... it wasn't nearly enough. Why was she doing this to herself? While he did prefer blondes, Phillip Saxton was no gentleman. “Yes, I do recall, and, yes, I have the wig.” Lucky, lucky, lucky me.
Hanging up the phone, Olivia looked at the blonde portrayed in the painting above the phone. The woman was originally her inspiration for the wig. Gritting her teeth, she spoke to the portrait of her mother. “I need a shower, then I need to get my life and myself back under control. ¿Comprende?” Her mother watched on with sad, silent eyes failing to provide any support whatsoever. Typical!
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