by Anne Mather
‘Is that the river?’ she asked, moving towards the window, and Ben said it was. ‘I didn’t realise these houses were so near the water,’ she added. ‘You’re very lucky. It looks really private.’
‘It is,’ said Ben flatly, still standing by the door, his hands tucked into the waistband of his pants at the back. ‘Look, it’s stuffy in here, and I’ve got to get a shower. Is there some reason why you’ve come, or was it only curiosity?’
‘It wasn’t curiosity!’ exclaimed Shelley indignantly, putting the bottle of linseed oil down on a bookcase, and linking her hands together. ‘Ben, please—will you stop looking at me as if I was some obnoxious specimen of humanity, and try and understand?’ She sighed. ‘I came because it’s obvious you haven’t forgiven me, and I can’t allow your mother to suffer for something that was partly my fault.’
Ben’s lips twisted. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Well—that you’ve forgiven me, of course.’ Shelley spread her hands. ‘Ben, what happened between us—it was a mistake! You must know that. I just wish it had never happened, and that we could still be friends.’
Ben lifted his shoulders in a careless gesture. ‘All right.’
‘All right—what?’
‘All right. I forgive you.’ He spoke offhandedly. ‘Now, can I get my shower? I really don’t have a lot of time.’
Shelley drew her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Do you mean it?’
‘Do I mean what?’
There was an edge to his voice now, and Shelley was not indifferent to it. ‘Do you—do you really forgive me? I mean—you’re not just saying it to get rid of me?’
Ben’s nostrils flared. ‘I really mean it.’ But he didn’t sound as if he did, and Shelley made a gesture of frustration.
‘Will you come out to the house, then?’ she asked. ‘To see your mother?’
‘When?’
‘Today—tomorrow, this week!’
‘If I have time.’
‘If you have time?’ Shelley caught her breath. ‘Ben, you’ve got to make time. Or your mother will begin to wonder what has happened.’
‘And that bothers you?’
‘Of course, it bothers me.’ Shelley gazed at him despairingly. ‘Marsha’s my friend. I don’t want her to be hurt.’
‘Okay.’ Ben took a resigned breath, and gestured towards the door. ‘I’ll do what I can. But now—’
‘I know, I know. You want me to go.’ Shelley shook her head, and moved blindly towards him. ‘I just had to come and speak to you, after the way you behaved the other night.’
Ben stiffened. ‘I don’t believe I said anything to upset you,’ he declared bleakly, and she halted some distance from him to combat his accusing gaze.
‘No,’ she said, holding up her head. ‘No, you’re right. You were—excessively polite. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘So why did you?’ Ben raised one hand to support himself against the frame of the door, and in so doing successfully blocked her exit. ‘What was I supposed to say that I didn’t? You were with Brandeth. You evidently find his company more enjoyable than mine.’
‘Oh, Ben!’
‘Isn’t it true?’ His lean face was hard and unyielding, yet she could feel the tension emanating from him. ‘My mother says he’s invited you to dinner more than once, and didn’t you accompany him to the pigeon shoot at Chilborough?’
‘No!’ Shelley denied the charge fiercely. ‘Charles has invited me out, yes, but until we went to the theatre, I’d never spent an evening with him. I know your mother is hoping something permanent will come of it, but it won’t. I like Charles, of course, but—but—sexually he doesn’t—interest me.’
Ben’s breath escaped audibly. ‘Does anybody?’ he demanded, his grey eyes darkening as they rested on hers, and Shelley felt her senses stir beneath his undisguisedly sensuous gaze.
‘That’s—not why I came,’ she averred desperately. ‘Ben, I just wanted to explain to you that, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason why we can’t go on as before. I mean—’ She broke off as he removed his hand from the door and began to unbutton his shirt ‘—it’s silly for us to—to treat one another like strangers, when we’ve known one another for so many years—’
Ben finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it free of his pants. Beneath the thin material, his skin was brown and filmed with moisture, and Shelley despised herself anew for her totally uncontrollable response to his unconscious sexuality.
‘Ben, what are you doing?’ she mumbled helplessly, unable to look away, and with slow deliberation, he covered the space between them, and pulled her against him.
‘Stop fighting it,’ he muttered unsteadily, his hands sliding down her back to her hips, and as he pressed her against him, she felt the unmistakable proof of his arousal.
‘Oh, Ben,’ she whispered, half protestingly, but his mouth was on hers, and his tongue made a nonsense of her barely formed objections. Without hesitation, her lips opened fully to his, and her arms slid convulsively about his waist.
He kissed her many times, long, searching kisses that robbed her of any strength to resist. Indeed, she wondered if this wasn’t really why she had come, after all. God knew, she had been desperate to see him, and in spite of all her good intentions, she could not deny the urgency with which she met his passion. It was heaven to be with him, heaven to have his arms around her, heaven to feel the pulsating heat of manhood thrusting tautly against his pants.
‘I’m hot, and I’m sweating, and I need a shower,’ Ben groaned at last. ‘Will you wait for me?’
‘Can’t I come with you?’ Shelley suggested huskily, and Ben looked down into her delicately flushed face.
‘Do you want to?’
‘Well, let’s put it this way—I don’t want you to leave me,’ she admitted unsteadily, and with a groan of satisfaction, Ben swung her up into his arms.
His bathroom was small, and the shower cubicle was tiny, but Shelley didn’t care. From the minute Ben had stripped off his clothes, she had been close against his hard body, and her own clothes were just an annoying encumbrance.
‘Wait,’ she whispered, as he stepped into the shower, searching for the cord at her waist, and with slightly unsteady fingers, Ben pushed her hands aside, and undressed her himself.
‘Dear God!’ he muttered, when she stepped into the cubicle with him and the creamy length of her body below the taut full breasts was revealed. Jerking her towards him, beneath the lukewarm spray, he let her feel the heat of his manhood probing her thighs, and she wound her arms around his neck, and brought his mouth to hers. His hands soon disposed of the pins that held her hair, and the tawny red curtain tumbled sensually about her shoulders. ‘You are so beautiful!’ he said emotively, his teeth skimming the soft flesh of her shoulder, and she raised her arm obediently, delighting in his touch.
But when she took the soap from him and began lathering his body, Ben could stand no more. Tossing the tablet aside, he turned off the spray and stepped out of the shower, and she wrapped her arms about his neck as he carried her into his bedroom.
‘Won’t we spoil the quilt?’ she protested briefly, as the downy coverlet welcomed her damp body, and Ben gave an indifferent shrug.
‘Probably,’ he conceded, lowering his weight on to her. ‘But right now, I don’t care. Do you?’
Shelley didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She was too busy responding to the feverish demand of his mouth, and her legs shifted sensuously, coiling about his. It was so satisfying to feel his warm flesh crushing hers, with nothing between them to mar the pure sensation of skin against skin. Her hands caressed his neck and shoulders, delighting in her ability to arouse his deepest emotions, and Ben moved sensuously over her, inciting a moan of anguish when his lips brushed the hollow of her navel.
His fingers slid between them, finding the moist entrance to her body, and Shelley’s legs fell apart. ‘Be patient,’ he murmured, sliding back to find her lips wit
h his mouth, and then the pulsing length of his manhood plunged deeply into her sheath.
‘Oh, God!’ she breathed, feeling him piercing her, filling her, possessing her so completely, she knew she had never experienced such an incredible sensation before.
‘Is it good?’ he asked unsteadily, as she arched her hips towards him, and her nails digging into his neck gave him all the answer he needed.
It was all over very quickly. They had both been aroused to such a pitch that Shelley senses spun mindlessly out into space only seconds before Ben spilled himself inside her. Even then, she was loath to let him go, and when he would have drawn away from her, she wrapped her legs around him, and linked her arms about his neck.
‘You were—fantastic,’ she said with a broken sigh, and Ben gave a rueful smile.
‘So were you,’ he assured her huskily, smoothing back the damp hair from her forehead. ‘You’re not sorry you came, are you? You’re not going to regret this the minute I let you go?’
‘No.’ Shelley threaded her fingers through his hair, her expression delightfully content. She didn’t want to think of Marsha right now, but she knew she could never regret something that had been so marvellously right. ‘I just wish we had more time. I don’t want to let you go.’
‘We have plenty of time,’ he told her roughly, turning on to his back and taking her with him, and amazingly she felt his length growing and swelling inside her. ‘Come here,’ he groaned, and she lowered her breasts to his hungry lips, as his hands curved possessively over her buttocks…
CHAPTER SIX
THE telephone disturbed them, pealing incessantly from the hall below.
Shelley, who had been asleep, wakened to find Ben dragging himself reluctantly off the bed to go and answer it, and she stretched out a hand in protest.
‘I’ve got to get it,’ he said ruefully, taking her hand in his and carrying it to his lips. ‘I’m not on call, but it could be an emergency.’
‘Hmm.’ Shelley conceded his point. ‘And if it’s not?’
‘I’ll be back,’ he promised hoarsely, drawing her hand to the moist strength of his body.
Shelley smiled, and with a muffled groan, Ben got to his feet. ‘Don’t move!’ he ordered huskily, pulling on a blue towelling bath robe and, tying the cord about his waist, he left the room.
Rolling on to her stomach, Shelley luxuriated in the lingering warmth of where Ben’s body had lain. The taste and feel and scent of him was all around her, and she lifted her arms above her head and dug her fingers into his pillow.
She had never felt so blissfully content before. She was at peace, replete, satiated by the hungry urgency of Ben’s lovemaking, bathed in the glorious aftermath of physical perfection. It was as if she and Ben had been made for one another. They came together spontaneously, naturally, sharing and enjoying each other’s bodies with a complete absence of inhibition. When Ben was making love to her, she could think of nothing else—no one else—and if she hadn’t already realised it, she now knew what had been lacking in her relationship with Mike Berlitz. Mike had never possessed her soul. He had only touched her body. And even his lovemaking had been a paltry thing when compared to the ecstasy Ben could inspire, over and over again.
What time was it? she wondered now, as she heard Ben pick up the ‘phone and give his number. How long had she been here? It had seemed such a short time, but the heat of the sun through the window seemed to indicate it was almost noon. Noon! With a gasp, Shelley grasped her watch and twisted it round on her wrist. Dear God! It was twenty minutes to one, she saw with horror. She had been here over two hours. Marsha would be getting frantic. She had said she’d be back by twelve.
Ignoring Ben’s instructions, Shelley pushed herself up, and as she did so she overheard what he was saying. The house was small, and the ‘phone was on the table at the foot of the stairs. It was impossible to avoid eavesdropping, and her tongue circled her upper lip as she heard his impatient pronouncement:
‘I know I promised to take you to Richmond this morning, but—something came up. Yes. All right. I’ll take you this afternoon instead. It’s no big deal. I’ll pick you up about two o’clock. Okay. I won’t. G’bye.’
By the time Ben had replaced the receiver, Shelley had been to the bathroom and collected her clothes. He came to the bedroom door as she was fastening the buttons of her shirt, and Shelley didn’t need to meet his eyes to know he understood.
‘You heard,’ he said flatly, heavily, his shoulder against the jamb, and Shelley nodded.
‘It was Jennifer, wasn’t it?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light. ‘I seem to have interfered with her arrangements.’ She pushed the hem of her shirt into her pants and offered him a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that was why you were in such a hurry. I home I haven’t made things difficult for—’
‘Will you shut up?’ he demanded roughly, abandoning his stance by the door, and striding across the space that separated them. Overcoming the token resistance she offered, he hauled her urgently into his arms and buried his face in her hair. ‘Mmm, you smell delicious,’ he groaned, turning his face against her neck. ‘And you taste delicious, too. I should know.’
Shelley couldn’t prevent herself from responding for a moment, pressing herself against his muscled body and feeling his instantaneous reaction. Then, with a supreme effort, she drew back to look at him. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said huskily. ‘It’s nearly one o’clock.’
‘Is it?’ Ben didn’t sound particularly interested, and seeing the possessive gleam that entered his eyes as he looked at her, Shelley knew she had to take control.
‘I must go,’ she insisted, putting her hands against his chest, and pushing him gently, but firmly, away from her. ‘Ben, you’ve got to get dressed.’ She hesitated a moment, and then added: ‘Jennifer could come round here.’
Ben’s mouth twisted. ‘That doesn’t particularly bother me, right now—’
‘But it will.’ Shelley drew an uneven breath and stepped jerkily back from him. ‘Look, your mother’s going to send out a search party if I don’t put in an appearance pretty soon. I promised I’d be back long before this.’
‘Shelley—’
‘Not now, Ben.’
With trembling hands, Shelley turned to the mirror that occupied the wall above a carved chest of drawers and hurriedly used the brush she found there. Her hair refused to respond to her hasty handling however, and after making several attempts to restore it to its knot, she finally made do with a roll at her nape.
She was aware of Ben watching her from his position at the end of the bed, arms folded, his feet slightly apart, the lapels of his bathrobe gaping to expose his lean brown body. He had never looked more attractive, and remembering how completely he had been hers only minutes before, she was tempted to give in to her baser instincts and keep him from making his date. But her conscience was already tormenting her for the way she had already behaved, and although she knew what had happened had been inevitable, that was no reason to compound her sins.
‘You—you will come out to the house now, won’t you?’ she ventured, turning away from the mirror to confront him. ‘I mean—your mother wants to see you.’
‘All right.’ Ben spoke indifferently. But, as she would have passed him to go to the door, his hand detained her. ‘When will I see you again?’ he asked, bending his head to brush his lips across her shoulder. His mouth burned, even through the cotton of her shirt, and her heart palpitated wildly at the unmistakable emotion in his voice.
‘I—why—you’ll see me when you come out to the house,’ she got out chokily, almost prepared to abandon all reason and stay with him. ‘God—Ben, I’ve got to go,’ she breathed, tearing herself out of his grasp, and ignoring his impatient protest, she hurried down the stairs.
* * *
‘Did you get the linseed oil?’ Marsha asked, over a belated lunch, and Shelley’s stomach plunged. The linseed oil! she remembered with dismay. It was still standi
ng on the bookcase in Ben’s living room.
‘I—oh, Marsha, I’m sorry—’ Shelley felt her face flame with colour at her guilty thoughts, and her friend gave her an apologetic look.
‘My dear, don’t get upset,’ she exclaimed patting Shelley’s hand. ‘It wasn’t that important. Good heavens, I can probably get a bottle of the stuff at Mrs Peart’s, if it’s necessary. I just wondered if you’d remembered, that’s all.’
Shelley managed a smile as she forked a mouthful of honey-roasted ham. ‘I didn’t buy anything,’ she lied, feeling a traitor. ‘But I’ll get you some this afternoon, if it really is a problem.’
‘No, it doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s not that urgent,’ declared Marsha, watching her friend spread a roll with butter, and bite into it with evident enthusiasm. ‘All I can say is, I’m glad to see your appetite has improved. It must have been all that fresh air. Where did you say you got to?’
‘Oh—’ Shelley blushed anew. ‘It was a place called Arnbank.’ She had actually passed the sign on the way home. ‘I just toured around for a bit. And forgot the time.’
‘Yes.’ Marsha gave her a mock-disapproving look. ‘I was beginning to get worried about you. I was actually considering ‘phoning Dickon, and asking him if he’d go out and look for you. But he probably wouldn’t have been at home. Bill Yates was due back from holiday today, and if I know Jennifer, she’ll have been taking advantage of it.’
‘Yes.’ Shelley put her knife and fork aside, suddenly losing her interest in the food. Then, determinedly changing the subject, she added: ‘What have you been doing? Working all morning?’
‘Mostly,’ agreed Marsha, as Sarah came to collect their plates. ‘As a matter of fact, Charles called after morning surgery.’ She grimaced. ‘I know he expected to see you.’
‘Then perhaps it’s as well I wasn’t here,’ said Shelley fervently, running unsteady fingers over her hair. ‘Marsha, I wish you wouldn’t encourage him.’
‘We’ve had this conversation before, Shelley. Heavens, you like him, don’t you?’