Steady. Slightly questioning. Sumove is minere.
She thought—I’m the one to make him sure. The next move is mine.
She waited for the alarm to hit her. After all, only last night in her mother’s room she had been all but falling apart with panic. It did not come. It felt right that the next move was hers. And when the time was right she would make it.
Jay took her to a candlelit restaurant. The tables were covered in heavy damask and an array of crystal, and the conversation was the low hum of people who took their food seriously. He was obviously known there, too.
The waiter led them to a secluded table, murmuring confidentially. Jay nodded. ‘Two Bellinis to start with, Carlo.’
Jay held the deeply red cushioned chair for her. The table was by a floor-to-ceiling window, open to the shifting murmurous night.
‘Fit for lovers?’ he murmured in her ear.
Zoe bit back a naughty smile.
‘Very appropriate,’ she assured him gravely.
His eyes were warm hazel and very close as he smiled down at her. It was like a kiss.
‘I’m relieved.’
He sat in his own seat and took her hand proprietorially. Just as if that was what he always did.
Zoe’s heart fluttered. She was not alarmed—but this was new. And new took dealing with.
Still, she could deal with it. She could deal with anything. She swallowed and summoned up all her hot babe repartee.
‘Do you do a lot of this sort of thing?’ she asked chattily.
Jay’s smile did not change. ‘No. You’re my first,’ he told her.
And watched with pleasure as she choked.
Two drinks arrived. They were the colour of sunrise and they hissed.
‘Our Bellinis,’ said Jay. ‘Local invention. Champagne and peach juice. And probably a secret ingredient, though no Venetian barman will tell.’
He toasted her silently. They clinked glasses and drank.
Zoe considered. ‘A bit sweet. Touch of the alcopop.’
It was Jay’s turn to choke. ‘Don’t tell them that,’ he begged. ‘It would be like insulting the flag.’
Zoe twinkled at him. ‘Oh, all right then. You’re no fun, though.’
‘Just trying to watch out for you,’ he said peacefully. ‘But if you think it would be exciting to get us thrown out, go right ahead.’
She laughed aloud. ‘No, no. You’re the expert. I’ll do what you tell me.’
He took her hand to his lips again. ‘That’s quite a responsibility. I’ll try not to let you down.’
The inner trembling increased. It shook through her. Like an earthquake getting ready to break. Like a drowsing lion flexing its muscles.
Jay looked at her all the time.
Zoe did not notice what they ate. She knew the waiter and Jay discussed the food briefly and the wine at length. She remembered fish so fresh that it tasted of the sea, wine that slid over her palate like distilled flowers. But then even the water tasted as if it had just bubbled up from some fresh spring.
What’s happening to me? Getting carried away by the taste of water, for heaven’s sake?
But it wasn’t the water. It wasn’t even the marvellous wine. Or the luxury. Or the glamour that was Venice. Or the starry night. Not even the warm wind on her bare arms as they left, though it made her shiver voluptuously.
‘Cold? Or do you want to walk?’ asked Jay softly.
Zoe swallowed hard. The time was right.
‘I’m not cold,’ she said deliberately. ‘And I don’t want to walk.’
He went very still. ‘Home, then,’ he said.
And summoned a gondola.
In the suite Zoe thought he would lead her straight through to the bedroom. He did not. Instead he switched on a couple of the table-lamps and drew her towards the couch. She sat obediently, but nerves made her clumsy. A couple of the luxuriously fat cushions plumped onto the floor.
Jay sat down beside her and took her hands.
‘You’re shaking,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t shake, my love.’
‘I-I don’t seem to be able to stop,’ Zoe said candidly. She tried to lock her jaw. It did not work. ‘S-silly, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ he said in a caressing voice. He pushed her hair gently off her face. ‘No, it’s not silly at all. It’s just unnecessary. We won’t do anything you don’t want. I promise.’
‘Th-thank you,’ she said politely.
He gave a shaken little laugh. ‘And you don’t believe a word of it.’
Zoe gulped. ‘Yes, I do.’
He turned her to face him. ‘Really?’
She moistened her lips and saw his eyes darken.
‘R-really,’ she said uncertainly.
Did they darken because of her? Was it possible? A super- sophisticate like Jay Christopher?
Yet he did not feel like a super-sophisticate, sitting here beside her. So close. So reassuringly strong. So alarmingly hot. He felt like—the only man in the world she wanted to make love to her.
She suddenly realised why she had ducked out of the arms of all the Johns and Alastairs and Simons. She had liked them. She had enjoyed their company. At least twice she had desperately wanted it to work. But, in the still, quiet core of her, she had known she did not—quite—trust them. It had just not been right. And now it was.
She trusted Jay. Totally.
She tried to tell him and could not find the words. So she reached for him instead.
Jay took her in his arms with care. The memory of that earlier kiss was not a good one. It did not exactly haunt him. But he could not forget how she had looked as she scrubbed his touch off her mouth.
In spite of that she had trusted him with her secret, though. Now she was trusting him to make the experience a good one.
That was a tough one. All through dinner she had sat beside him trembling. She thought he did not know. But he was too alert to her every move not to feel it.
Hell, be honest, Jay. You want her so much you can hardly see straight. Every time she breathes in your blood surges. Of course you knew she was trembling. You even wanted her to tremble harder—only because of what you were doing to her, not because of her own apprehension.
Well, forget what he wanted. He had a task to do here. And that was to get her so fogged up with lust and curiosity that she forgot how terrified she was. Who knew better than he how to do just that?
He began to kiss her gently, teasingly. First her hand— yes, he had seen the way she reacted to that. Her bare shoulders. Her throat. The scent of her skin made his head swim.
But he clamped down hard on his own reactions. This was for her, he told himself. This was for her.
He slid the thin strap down her bare, warm arm. He remembered how the bra strap had slipped under the sheer provocation of that black chiffon shirt the first time he saw her. His body quickened at the too explicit memory. In spite of himself, his hands grew urgent.
Zoe gave a small moan. At once he loosened his hold.
But she turned on him, her own hands suddenly demanding, and kissed him fiercely.
Jay shut his eyes. Careful, he told himself. Careful!
But he did not tell Zoe. More cushions hit the floor as she writhed against him.
‘Please,’ she said in a panting under-voice. ‘Please.’
She jumped up, kicking her espadrilles away, and, taking him by the hand, half ran to the bedroom.
Jay knew it was going too fast. He tried to slow her down. But it seemed as if she was caught up in some feverish drive of her own and couldn’t hear him. She let him take her clothes off but not as slowly as he wanted. And she tore off his own.
‘Zoe—’
But she pulled him down onto the bed with her, her soft hair all tangled and her eyes as wide as a fox in a trap. He could not bear to think of his Zoe trapped.
‘Stop this,’ Jay said with authority.
She froze.
He unclenched her frantic fingers from his neck.
<
br /> ‘This,’ he said, ‘should be a lot more fun. Now, will you stop trying to do the driving and trust me?’
She bit her lip. But he saw the fierce, trapped look die out of her eyes and breathed a private sigh of relief.
‘Better,’ he said. ‘Now, concentrate. Make notes, if you like. We need to find out what you like.’
He was thorough. He had plenty of experience to build on. But he was hungrier to satisfy her than he had been for anything since his very first race. Since the last time he hadn’t been sure he could win, Jay acknowledged wryly.
‘This?’ he said, working his way up from her toes. ‘This? How about this?’
He was rewarded. At first she was surprised. Polite, but surprised. Then intrigued. Then—he knew exactly when, because her breathing changed and her limbs seemed to unfold somehow as her muscles relaxed instinctively—the first unselfconscious quiver of response ran through her.
It was going to be all right, thought Jay. He should have been exultant. But suddenly all he felt was a chill. Almost grief.
He could not understand it. It was going to be all right, after all. Zoe was going to come with him on this. Venice, the night, the wine—they had all done their stuff. Good old Venice. He tried to be grateful.
But there was a little pain round his heart, like a rose splinter that he had picked up a long, long time ago and not noticed until now.
Venice had got Zoe so far. And now it was up to him to get her the rest of the way. It was what he was good at, after all. He had walked away from so many women into his healing solitude. And, however sad they had been, however lonely, they had never said that he was not an attentive lover.
Remember that, Jay. That’s why you’re qualified to do this thing for her.
He kissed the soft flesh just inside her elbow. Then, overwhelmed, buried his face against her for a moment.
‘You smell so good,’ he said, shaken.
He lifted his head and she met his eyes for a long, long moment. Her own widened. The room was full of silence and shadows. For a moment it felt impossible to tell where he left off and she began.
Zoe said his name on a wondering note.
Jay’s heart seemed to contract in his breast.
Don’t get carried away. There’s only one thing you can do for this woman. So make damn sure you do it right.
He used all his skill to arouse her. His blood pounded but he stayed slow, deliberate. He knew exactly how to inflame her senses, one by one, with exquisite precision. And he did it. Her anxieties, her self consciousness, did not stand a chance. She did not stand a chance. This was Jay Christopher, bent on the seduction of his life.
He felt her every response, the little tiny ripples and the big, building need that swept all inhibitions out of its path. It seemed as if her senses uncurled at his touch, like a flower turning towards sunlight. It moved Jay more than he would have believed possible. He kissed her lingeringly.
Zoe clung. He knew from the way she writhed in his arms that she could not wait much longer.
Then he let her do what she wanted.
She urged him inside her. He hesitated only a moment. But he was not superhuman and she was breathless with an imperative need that he recognised even if she didn’t.
It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. He knew it at once and froze, shocked.
Zoe cried out. ‘No. Leave me alone. I can’t bear it.’
He nearly did. But then he thought how much it had cost her to get here. How much she had trusted him to get her through this.
An inner voice jeered. You’re supposed to be the expert, Jay. Can’t you do it after all?
He paused, agonised. Hardly believing what he was doing, he held himself very still. But he did not withdraw.
He said with difficulty, ‘Zoe, my love, we need to get this over.’
Jay realised too late that he had called her ‘my love’. What was he thinking of? Love was never part of their bargain. He could have bitten his tongue out. But it was impossible to recall it.
He did not notice that he said ‘we’. But Zoe did. She stopped thinking about her straining flesh and stared up at him, amazed.
Zoe, my love! She could not believe it. She had asked him for practical help. Was she being given the moon without asking? Without even suspecting it was available?
She touched her palm to his warm shoulder in wonder. He felt as if he were on fire.
He still did not move. But he said urgently, ‘Darling, if you make me stop now, we’ve got it all to do again.’
We! Again! She swallowed shakily.
He was supporting himself on his elbows, but he touched his fingers to her face. It was as fleeting as the thistledown that blew past her cheek in the summer garden at home. Gone before she had time to turn her head into the caress. Zoe felt cheated.
But Jay was saying soberly, ‘I know I can’t stop it hurting. But I can get you through it quickly.’ He smiled down at her, straight into her eyes. ‘It’s what I promised, after all.’
She nearly did not recognise him, his eyes were so blazing with tenderness.
‘Think,’ he said softly. ‘Just once and you don’t have to dread it ever again.’
That smile made her head spin. It also made her feel brave. She thought, Smile at me like that and I don’t have to dread anything.
She nearly said so. But she was shy. Crazily shy, in the circumstances. And not sure that it was what he wanted to hear. And suddenly bodies seemed the best communicators after all.
She ran her palms over his shoulders, savouring the warmth and strength and sheer otherness of him.
‘Oh, well,’ she said, doing her best to keep it light. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. Go—’ She broke off, gasping.
He had delivered one clean, swift thrust and pain tore through her like a typhoon.
From a long way away, she heard him say, ‘Oh, love.’
Eventually the nuclear cloud blew away and she opened her eyes. She was lying on the big gilded bed in a room full of antiques and the man who made her head spin was lying propped on one golden arm, watching her.
‘Zoe?’
‘Present,’ she said, trying to make a joke of it. Her voice cracked.
His mouth tightened. ‘That was unforgivable. I should never have—’
But she stopped him by putting her fingers over his mouth. It was amazing how good it felt to have the right to do that, to touch his lips.
‘Don’t. It’s over. Like you said.’ Her voice got stronger. ‘About time, too.’
His jaw was so tight it must hurt. ‘I’m sorry. You were unlucky,’ he said curtly.
Zoe brushed her lips against his naked shoulder quickly. She was not quite so sure she had the right to do that, and didn’t want to risk rejection.
‘We were unlucky,’ she corrected.
She fell back among the pillows, eyes closed. She was not shy, she told herself rebelliously. It would be ridiculous to be shy after making love to the man. Well, sort of making love to him. And she was a twenty-first century independent woman, after all. She just did not feel up to meeting his eyes quite yet, that was all.
He brushed the hair off her face softly. ‘You’re a kind girl.’ He sounded very far away.
Suddenly she wanted to say I love you. But she was absolutely sure that she did not have the right to do that. Well, she thought, brave behind her closed eyelids, not yet.
And suddenly she thought— He booked a suite. He may not even want to spend the night in my bed. They say he never stays the night, don’t they? Her eyes flew open in horror and she sat up.
‘What is it?’ said Jay, concerned. ‘Are you hurt? Do you want something? Water?’
‘No—but the couch—the sitting room.’ She was incoherent in her alarm at encroaching on him.
Jay’s face was rigid. He did not touch her.
But he said quietly, ‘No. Sleep with me.’
She searched his face. Were they wrong about his rule against spending
the night with his lover? Or was tonight something that broke his rules?
She thought of that blaze of tenderness she had surprised on his face. That had not looked like a man who was keeping his own rules of detachment, either. And he had called her Zoe, my love.
The first time she saw him—the very first time, in his sunset silk shirt—she had thought, This is love at first sight! And laughed at herself. Well, she was way beyond laughter now. She shook her head, dazed.
He misinterpreted the gesture.
He said almost inaudibly, ‘Sleep in my arms. Let me do that for you, at least. For both of us.’
And suddenly Zoe saw how hurt he was. How angry with himself. For a moment her body had felt as if it was splitting apart, but it was not Jay’s fault. He had used all his skill and all his knowledge and it had not been enough. He was raw with self-disgust and she had brought him to it. It was up to her to put it right.
She said, ‘Hold me, Jay.’
His arms closed round her. He carried their locked bodies back among the pillows very carefully.
Her eyes closed tight at once. But she was not asleep, he knew. He did not challenge her. And eventually her breathing slowed, became regular, and he knew she had fallen asleep at last.
But Jay lay there, with her sleeping head against his shoulder, and stared open-eyed into the darkness.
CHAPTER TEN
ZOE woke to the sound of bells. She stretched languorously, not opening her eyes. I feel different, she thought drowsily.
Different and peaceful and somehow proud. And surprised. As if she had won a war that she had been fighting for too long.
I thought I was going to get deeper and deeper into lies for the rest of my life. And now it’s all behind me.
But much, much more important—what was in front of her? The future suddenly looked a lot less predictable. It was exciting.
I slept in the arms of Jay Christopher, who never spends the night. And who called me his love. This is a very surprising day.
The Millionaire's Virgin (Mills & Boon By Request) Page 47