With a groan, Louis swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed, depositing her there, and then getting out of his clothes while she watched in frank and open appreciation.
He had the muscular, well-toned body of an athlete. She said, impulsively, ‘I bet you work out all the time. Do you?’
‘When I get the chance.’ Louis grinned down at her upturned face which, in the mellow light cast by the lamp on the chest of drawers, was like that of a kid in a toyshop. ‘There’s a gym in the building; I use it whenever I can. Is that your way of telling me that you like what you see?’
‘It’s passable.’
‘That’s not much of a compliment. Now I’m going to have to try and persuade you that it’s a lot more than that by showing you what I can do with it.’
He hadn’t dared risk looking at her nakedness as she lay on the bed in front of him, one arm flung over her head with abandon. Now he did. Her body was as smooth as satin and boyish in build: slim hips, a flat stomach and rounded breasts that tempted him with their large, pink nipples, that begged to be taken into his mouth and suckled until she was driven mad with pleasure.
All in good time. Right now, he wanted to fill his eyes with the beauty of her. He reached out and gently pushed her legs apart and he had to hold down his painful erection with his hand as they obligingly fell open, leaving his imagination free to run wild.
Her hand fluttered over one breast and that marked the time for his inspection to be over. Looking at her was more than his body could stand, and he joined her on the bed and pulled her roughly to him so that he could kiss her—a demanding, hungry kiss that had her writhing against him and curving her leg over his thigh where she moved her body against his pulsing erection.
‘Ever had a man talk dirty to you?’ Louis asked huskily and she giggled with a mixture of pleasure and genuine shock.
‘Of course not!’
‘Then let me educate on what I’d like to do with your body …’
Which he proceeded to do, in between the glorious business of attending to her breasts, sucking on her nipples until they were wet and throbbing, and attending to all those other parts of her body, from her stomach to her belly button, and finally to that place that was still aching for him.
Through lowered lashes Lizzy feverishly watched his dark head between her legs, tasting her and licking her, bringing her up to his mouth by the very expedient method of placing his big hands firmly under her buttocks.
He was buried between her thighs. The only sounds were those of their love-making. Her legs were crossed over his broad back and she surrendered to the insistent pressure of his tongue as it explored every inch of her, circling and tickling the sensitised nub before moving downwards, only to return to torment her.
When she began to buck, he finally surfaced and said, ‘No way …’
But before he actually came into her, there was one more question: ‘I haven’t got any contraception with me. Are you safe?’
Lizzy nodded, and it was no lie; she had been on the pill for the past six months. Not because of a raunchy sex life—or any sex life, for that matter—but to reduce the stomach cramps that attacked her monthly. In between her urgency for him slipped a disquieting thought: what if she hadn’t been? Would he have stopped? Because an unwanted pregnancy would have been his nightmare. But the thought had no time to take root because he was entering her, and the second she felt the weight of him easing inside her there was no room left in her head for any thoughts at all.
She had been brought so close to the edge that it took only a couple of thrusts. The same must have been true for him, she dimly thought with satisfaction, for they both came with a wrenching intensity that left them spent.
‘I can normally hold out for longer.’ Louis turned on his side and propped himself on his elbow to look down at her. Her face was flushed and damp with perspiration and her bare breast, resting like ripened fruit against his hand, was already beginning to stir his senses. With a grunt of surprise—because his body had never responded with such immediate ease after he had made love—he shifted a little and stroked some hair away from her face.
‘Show off,’ Lizzy teased. ‘Maybe it’s because you find me so irresistible.’
‘There’s a thought.’
But although he was smiling he didn’t expand on that, which was a little disappointing.
‘You’re going to have to go,’ she told him, wishing with all her heart that she was anywhere but under the roof of her parents’ house, because she didn’t want him to leave. Not when they were like this, wrapped around each other without sufficient space between their bodies to wedge a credit card. ‘I don’t know what time it is, but my family are all going to be back soon.’
‘Shame.’ Louis guided her hand to where he was already hardening for her.
‘Not fair,’ Lizzy whispered. Are you going to see me again or am I your wrong-side-of-the-tracks one-night stand?
‘True. But you’re right; I’m going to have to go before they send out a search party.’ He reluctantly eased himself off the bed and without bothering to get dressed grabbed her towel from where it was hanging over the back of a chair and disappeared, in search of a shower.
It should have given her vital time to get her thoughts in order. She knew she had to. But instead she just lay there, still breathing in the scent of him lingering on the sheets, and waited for him to come back, which he did after only a few minutes.
There was no pride left as she watched him put on his clothes, then he came to sit on the side of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip.
‘I’m going to be heading back to London first thing in the morning.’
‘Right.’
Louis waited for her to ask him if he would be in touch, but she didn’t, which made him smile; if there was one woman on the face of the earth who seemed to have the power to make him jump through hoops, then it surely must be this one. ‘I don’t have your mobile number.’ He flipped out his phone to put her in his address book and frowned when his request was met was silence.
Should she pretend that this was anything but a romp in the sack? Lizzy wondered. So she gave him her mobile number; then what? Try as she might to jettison her natural prejudice, she still couldn’t help but think that he was a one-way ticket to heartbreak. But surely, she thought, chewing her lips and staring off into the distance, her heart wasn’t his to break? And why should she let a sense of caution hold her back from an amazing sexual adventure—something she had never done in her entire life? What was so wrong about behaving out of character just this once? They connected on an instinctive level that blew away all her defences, and she liked that.
‘I suppose I could give it to you …’ She dragged out the sentence, thinking all the while and not noticing his deepening frown.
Poised to type it in, Louis was staggered that he was actually waiting for the number of a woman who might possibly not want to follow up on what they had just enjoyed. Worse, a woman with whom he should have so little in common as to be laughable. But, when she finally rattled it off, he typed it in and clicked shut his phone with something like relief.
‘When are you back in London?’ He traced the outline of her nipple with his finger, and she moaned softly and tapped away his hand. ‘I’ll call you.’
‘Okay. If you like.’ Lizzy sat up and pulled the quilt right up to cover her body. It was crazy, but she wanted to hang on to him like a limpet and never let him go. ‘I’ll be back at the beginning of next week.’
‘I can’t wait.’ His dark eyes held hers until she felt like she was drowning. Then he was on his feet, walking towards the bedroom door, leaving with just one backward glance and a satisfied nod of his head.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOUIS found the school easily and was there now, sitting in his car with the engine off, trying to get his bearings. The place had the look of a miniature prison, especially at five-thirty in mid-winter with the few trees bare of leaves and groups o
f straggling pupils lurking in small groups outside. He was beginning to understand why she had roared with laughter when he had suggested visiting the school, should he decide to make a donation to its coffers. Regrets were surfacing over his decision to come in his Maserati.
He mentally shrugged to himself because there was no point getting stressed out over what couldn’t be changed and he certainly wasn’t about to drive back to his office without seeing her.
He had spent his entire time abroad in restless anticipation of when they would next meet. When he was away on business, women never crossed his mind, even when he had one waiting back in London for him. He never called because, quite literally, he never thought about them. For Lizzie, he had found himself making the exception, on several occasions and with increasing frustration when he couldn’t get through. Her mobile either rang and rang until he was obliged to give up or else he was immediately connected to voicemail.
Unbelievably, he had set a ferociously gruelling pace on his meetings and arrived back in the UK two days ahead of schedule. At some point, he had come to the conclusion that she was avoiding him. It was almost unthinkable but, once it surfaced, the thought took root and refused to go away.
He told himself that if she was playing a game then she would be the inevitable loser, because there was nothing he hated more than someone thinking that they could generate his interest by playing hard to get. He reminded himself that she was hardly long-term-relationship material; he was just too wary of anyone who could conceivably see him as a meal ticket and she certainly fitted that category whether she liked to admit it or not. He had concluded that his best course of action would be to walk away.
And then he had touched down at Heathrow, gone to his apartment, showered and promptly driven to her place of work. Pride seemed to have taken a back seat, and see her he would. He was in possession of his cheque book; she would have no choice but to see him. What school in need of funds could afford to turn away someone with a cheque book?
And the school, from everything he could see as he headed for the reception area, could do with a few charitable donations. Underneath the array of school posters and notices, the paint was peeling. The little collection of hand-made papier mâché sculptures cordoned off to the side was desperately trying to inject some cheer but seemed to be losing the battle against the dour surroundings.
It was a far cry from the top-notch boarding school he had attended, where everything had gleamed with the patina of loving care and attention thanks to a school fund bursting at the seams with money.
Already he was attracting interested looks, and by the time he made it to the staff room, after a couple of wrong turnings, he was alert to the fact that he was in unknown territory. A life of privilege had cushioned him against the grimmer realities of life.
To a man, the staff room fell quiet as he strolled in and stood by the door, his eyes flicking around the box room with its battered coffee-machine and tired arrangement of mismatched chairs interspersed amongst the desks, some of which sported computers but most of which did not.
‘I’m looking for a teacher here. Lizzy Sharp.’
‘She’s outside on playground duty for the kids who aren’t being collected until later.’ The oldest of the women there stood up and approached him. She had a warm, friendly face and a cloud of reddish-brown hair that had obviously started life as a bun but in the space of a frazzled day had evolved to a messy arrangement of straggling strands hurriedly clipped back. ‘And you are …? I don’t recognise you as being a parent.’
‘I’m … eh … a friend.’ There was a round of giggles from the room and Louis flushed and shifted on his feet. ‘We were discussing a possible donation to the school.’ This had the effect of killing the titters and the level of interest tangibly altered. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he was bombarded with a series of enthusiastic suggestions as to where any possible money could be spent, and he had a fleeting notion of why Lizzy enjoyed her working life so much. She was as passionate as this lot. She wasn’t into playing games; why had he ever thought that? Which meant that she was avoiding him, actively avoiding him, and it occurred to him that she was avoiding him because he really just wasn’t the kind of guy she either wanted or needed in her life.
He glanced around the room for any men who might be candidates for her affection but the three men were all in their mid-forties; there was no one. The irony of her prejudices struck him like a blow to the stomach. On and on she went about his outdated snobbishness while she was willing to jettison him because of her outdated stereotyping!
‘If you point me in the right direction …’ He held his hand up to signify silence. ‘I want to chat to her before I commit to anything.’
‘I’ll take you to the playground. I’m Mrs Evans, by the way …’ The woman who had first approached him held out her hand by way of introduction and gave him a surprisingly firm handshake. ‘I’m the deputy head. And this rabble here …’ she grinned at all the other teachers ‘… are my mostly hardworking team.’ Which was met with cries of laughter and protest. ‘They’re a wonderful crew,’ she confided as she led him away. ‘And Lizzy is really a wonderfully talented teacher. The kids adore her and as you can see from the surroundings …’ she gestured to encompass the school ‘… many of them come from disadvantaged backgrounds, so a firm bond with their teacher is really important.’
Louis had a vivid image of these corridors crowded with stampeding kids. The conditions were far from inspiring, although every class he passed showed the valiant efforts of all the teachers to make up for the crumbling building. No wall was left unadorned.
They reached the playground and he turned to the deputy head with a smile. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll just wait here a while before I go out—think about, eh, any possible donation and how the … discussion should proceed. Naturally, nothing will be decided without first consulting you and the principal.’
Which left him standing in the shadow of the doorway out to the playground, an unobserved spectator watching with keen interest the slight figure with the woollen hat firmly pulled down who was laughing and chivvying fifteen or so kids into some kind of game—which was clearly hilarious from the looks of it. He looked on as two of the smaller children ran towards her and she stooped down so that she was on their level and pulled one of the kids towards her for a hug.
He had no idea how long he remained standing there, watching her, but eventually he pushed himself away from the wall and headed in her direction. She didn’t notice him coming, and even when he was standing right in front of her it took her a few seconds to register that he wasn’t a parent.
Even in the barely-there lighting he saw the muscles in her face tighten as she stood up and brushed herself down.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve been trying to get through to you. Why haven’t been taking my calls?’
‘Why do you think?’
‘If I knew, I wouldn’t be standing here asking you the question.’
‘You have to go. I’m busy, and anyway we have nothing to talk about.’
‘I don’t think your charming Mrs Evans would be too impressed if you sent me away. Not when I’ve already told her that I’m thinking of making a donation to the school. A very generous donation.’
‘If you’ve come to talk about a donation, then you should be talking to her or to the principal. You can make an appointment.’
‘God, Lizzy.’ Louis raked his fingers impatiently through his hair. ‘What the hell is going on with you? The last time I left you we’d just made love and were planning to see each other again. What happened in the meantime?’
Lizzy looked at him mutinously, her mouth downturned. ‘I don’t want to talk about this—and I can’t here, anyway. As you can see, I’m busy. I can’t afford to take my eyes off this lot for a second.’
‘In that case I’ll wait here with you.’
‘Okay. In that case, you can help.’ She didn’t give him time to cons
ider that option. She clapped her hands and before he could object, she had managed to rope him into a schoolyard game that involved him having to run, having to hop, having to shout and having to look absolutely ridiculous in his expensive black cashmere coat and patent-leather shoes.
Except that he managed to pull it off—and take it one step further. He was giving orders, arranging them into neat little groups and making up a game of his own that had them entranced. What, she thought sourly, were the chances of that?
‘So …’ Louis walked over to her after the last small child had been collected and she was busily getting the playground back into order. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to put me to another test? Enrol me to teach your most disruptive class tomorrow?’ She turned around to go and he caught her by her arm and pulled her towards him. ‘You are going to talk to me, you know.’
‘Or else what? The school misses out on your “maybe, maybe not” donation?’
‘I’m not that infantile. Is there somewhere close by we could go for something to drink?’
Lizzy looked at him, knowing that he wouldn’t go away. Had she expected him to turn up when she had ignored all his calls? No. But, now that he was here, she couldn’t suppress that familiar excitement that undermined all her good intentions.
‘There’s a pub at the corner.’ She turned away, desperate to create space between them, and conscious of him right behind her as she returned to the staff room. She tried to pin a smile on her face as he chatted to Laura Evans about the donation and made an appointment to return the following week.
Half an hour later, with a glass of white wine in front of her, she was still as jittery as when she had first looked up and seen him staring down at her as though he had stepped straight out of her imagination and materialised in front of her by force of magic.
In Want of a Wife? Page 11