Act of Possession

by Anne Mather

  Ruth smiled her thanks. ‘You’re leaving today, are you, miss?’ she asked, rapidly changing pillow slips. ‘Do you like living in London?’

  ‘Not a lot.’ Antonia was honest. ‘But some of us don’t have a choice.’

  ‘No.’ Ruth set the pillows squarely against the padded headboard. ‘I sometimes think I’d like to live in London, but what with Mum and all, I don’t think that’s likely.’

  ‘Your mother’s been ill?’ asked Antonia sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry. Was it something serious?’

  ‘Cancer,’ said Ruth grimacing. ‘She had to have an operation. Then lots of therapy—you know, to make sure all the cells were dead. She was pretty sick over Christmas. My dad didn’t think she’d make it.’

  ‘But she did.’ Antonia regarded the girl gently.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Ruth’s smile reappeared. ‘Thanks to Mr Reed. He arranged everything—all the treatment, the nursing home, everything! Then, when she was fit enough, he sent her and my dad out to Barbados for a holiday. Just so’s she’d get away from the cold weather.’

  Antonia took a deep breath. ‘That was kind of him.’

  ‘Well, he is, isn’t he?’ said Ruth artlessly. ‘But I expect you know that. Being a friend of his, and all.’

  Antonia had made some comment, she didn’t remember what, and soon afterwards, Ruth had finished her task and left her. But her words stuck in Antonia’s mind, not least because of their honesty. Reed was kind, and generous, and she had never known a man like him before.

  The journey back to London was accomplished without any delays, and it was barely a quarter to nine when the Lamborghini drew to a halt outside the gates of Eaton Lodge. Reed had not suggested stopping for dinner on their way, indeed, he had scarcely spoken at all during the journey, and Antonia assumed he would be glad to see the back of her.

  However, he surprised her by insisting on carrying her suitcase to her door, dismissing her fears about Mrs Francis with the careless information that she generally went to her daughter’s on Sundays.

  Struggling to get her key into the lock, Antonia wondered why he simply hadn’t dumped her and her suitcase at the gate. He was obviously keen to leave her, so she didn’t offer him a drink. With the door open behind her, she opened her mouth to express her thanks for his hospitality, when he suddenly said flatly: ‘I suppose you’re not going to invite me to Newcastle next weekend, are you?’

  ‘I—–’ Antonia could hardly speak. ‘I—do you—still want to come?’

  ‘I still want—everything,’ he told her harshly, and as the foolish tears welled into her eyes, he backed her into the flat and slammed the door behind them.

  His arms were around her before the latch had clicked into place, and his mouth found hers with hungry urgency. Almost without her volition, it seemed, her arms were around his neck, her fingers sliding into the hair at his nape, her lips parting under his tongue. She wanted him; she admitted it to herself; and as he went on kissing her, all her previous objections melted, like her bones.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he muttered at last, and she realised, with a pang, that he was trembling, too. ‘What are you trying to do to me?’

  ‘I—I thought you wanted to go. I thought you were sick of me,’ she stammered unsteadily, her lips against his neck, and he groaned.

  ‘You said—hands off, remember?’ he reminded her roughly, his face grim as he looked down at her. ‘If you’d changed your mind, you should have let me know sooner.’

  Antonia gasped. ‘That’s a rotten way to put it!’

  ‘What do you expect?’ he demanded violently. ‘I’m not used to spending two whole days in a permanent state of frustration!’

  ‘Oh, no, of course not.’ Antonia gazed up at him bitterly, anger taking the place of submission. ‘I forgot. You’re used to an entirely different reaction!’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ he told her brutally, and pulling her unresisting arms from around his neck, he stepped back from her. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got some work to do before I go to bed.’

  Antonia turned away, unwilling for him to see the anguish his words had evoked, and she heard the distinctive click as the door closed behind him. ‘Damn, oh, damn,’ she breathed, feeling a wave of misery sweeping over her, and after assuring herself that she really was alone, she ran into her bedroom and flung herself on the bed. The things she ought to be doing, like unpacking her clothes, or catching up with the housework she had not done since before she went to Newcastle, were forgotten. Instead, she gave in to the aching need to express the pain inside her.

  The depression of the mattress was the first indication she had that she was no longer alone, and a blind panic gripped her as hands touched her body. Catching back a cry, she jerked away, rolling over on to her back in an effort to identify her intruder.

  But the cry died in her throat when she saw the man sitting on the bed beside her. ‘Y-you!’ she got out chokily. ‘What—what are you doing here?’ She scrubbed her knuckles across eyes which she was sure were red and puffy. ‘How did you get in?’

  Her key dangled confusingly from his hand, and he dropped the offending article on to the bureau beside her bed. ‘You left it in the lock outside,’ Reed told her wryly, evading her efforts to keep his hands at bay, and smoothing the damp tendrils of hair out of her eyes. ‘It was just as well you did. I’m not much good at breaking down doors.’

  Antonia moved her head from side to side. ‘You—you left—–’

  ‘I got as far as the car,’ he contradicted her huskily, his thumbs disposing of two errant streaks of dampness on her cheeks. ‘Stop fighting me, will you? I may have saved you from an unwelcome intruder.’

  ‘Who—who says you’re welcome?’ Antonia demanded, turning her head away, and with a muffled oath, he shrugged off his jacket and stretched his length beside her on the bed.

  ‘I do,’ he affirmed, capturing her face with one hand and bringing her mouth to his. ‘What do you want me to say?’ he added, covering her face with hot urgent kisses. ‘That I’m sorry? You know I am. That I’ve kept out of your way since Saturday because I couldn’t bear to be near you and not touch you? You know it’s the truth!’

  Antonia shook her head. ‘I know you shouldn’t be here—–’

  He paused then, drawing back to look at her, the lines of strain sharply etched beside his mouth. ‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked tensely, pushing his fingers into her hair, his hands moving sensuously against her scalp, and she knew she couldn’t send him away again.

  ‘I—no,’ she admitted honestly, lifting her hand to his lean face and allowing him to turn her palm against his lips. ‘Oh, no,’ she said again, slipping her arms around his neck, and with a shuddering sigh, he found her mouth once more …

  Afterwards, it was difficult to remember anything but the intense pleasure he had given her. She knew he had undressed her. She could recall the possessive intimacy of his hands as they had caressed her limbs through the frustrating barrier of her clothes, her breasts swelling and hardening beneath the insinuating brush of his exploring thumbs. She had wanted to tear her clothes from her then, and his from him, but in the event, Reed had disposed of that obstacle with infinite patience.

  He had removed his own clothes with rather less deliberation, Antonia’s instinctive lips and fingers driving him to abandon his control. In only a few seconds he was beside her again, his lean supple limbs entwining with hers as his mouth sought the provocative arousal of a dusky pink nipple.

  His body was every bit as brown and muscled as she had anticipated, and she revelled in the delights of being able to do with him as she willed. The hungry urgency of their passion was tempered by the pleasure they took in one another, and Reed’s tongue ravished her mouth in imitation of the possession he was to exact later.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he told her huskily, imprisoning her arms above her head, and straddling her body so that he could look down at her.

  ‘So are you,’ she breathed, her hands straying tantalisi
ngly down over his flat stomach, and with a groan he subsided upon her.

  ‘I want you,’ he said unsteadily, his breath moistening her ear, and she quivered.

  ‘I want you,’ she confessed, her arms closing convulsively about him, and his mouth crushed hers with hungry passion.

  It was strange, she thought now, in the aftermath, how instinctively he had known how to please her. By the time the pulsating strength of his body had penetrated hers, she was aching for his possession, and all the occasions Simon had clumsily taken his pleasure were erased by the simple act of Reed’s possession. There was no pain with Reed, no hasty satiation of his senses, no selfish betrayal of her needs as a woman. Instead, he had made love to her, something she now realised Simon had never done, and in so doing he had taken them both to the outer limits of human experience.

  She knew he had felt the uncontrollable release of feeling, too. The shuddering spasms that racked his body when he attained that final peak with her were proof enough, without the sensual warmth of him inside her. For the first time in her life, she acknowledged the fact that she was not cold or frigid as Simon had accused her of being. She was, instead, a sensitive, passionate woman, who had only just recognised her own sensuality.

  It was dark in the room now, and she shivered as the coolness of the air around them chilled her flesh. Wriggling out from beneath the weight of Reed’s supine body, she grasped a handful of the quilt and pulled it around her, wondering with an unwilling sense of apprehension exactly what time it was.

  ‘Don’t go,’ objected Reed sleepily, capturing her hand and drawing it to his lips, but the air was cooling more than just Antonia’s skin.

  ‘It’s late. You have to go,’ she told him unevenly, and detaching herself from him, she abruptly switched on the bedside lamp.

  If she expected the sudden illumination to embarrass him, she was wrong. Making no effort to cover himself, he rolled lazily on to his back, and lay regarding her unnervingly through the fringe of his lashes.

  ‘Do you want me to?’ he enquired at last, propping himself up on one elbow, and Antonia swallowed convulsively.

  ‘It—it’s not what I want, is it?’ she got out jerkily, hating the need to remind him of that fact, and hating the connotations her words had evoked. ‘Your—your car’s outside. Anyone can see it.’

  ‘So?’ His eyes dwelt sensually on her mouth. ‘I told you. I have a key for Cee’s flat.’

  Antonia shook her head. ‘But—you said she’s coming back tonight.’

  ‘Let me worry about that,’ he advised her huskily, stroking long fingers down the length of her calf, but Antonia stumbled off the bed, dragging the quilt with her.

  ‘You—you’re completely unscrupulous, aren’t you?’ she choked, rounding on him. ‘What possible excuse can you produce for your car standing out there all evening? Don’t you care what Celia will think of you? Don’t you care what she’ll think of me?’

  ‘Not right now,’ he informed her steadily, and as she struggled to tear her eyes away from his powerful body, he came up off the bed and tugged the protective quilt from her. ‘Oh, love,’ he breathed, his hands on her hips making her irresistibly aware that he was anything but satisfied at this moment. ‘Let me stay. Let me sleep with you. I don’t want to go home. I want to make love to you—all night, if that were possible. And you’re the only woman I’ve ever said that to.’

  Naturally, Antonia overslept. By the time her exhausted eyes opened to take a dazed assessment of the time, it was already after nine o’clock, and the sun was streaming busily through the cracks in the curtains.

  Gasping, she struggled up on her pillows, but the imprisoning weight of Reed’s arm and the leg that lay confidingly between hers made it an effort.

  ‘Relax,’ he grumbled protestingly, opening his eyes to find her face already flushed with her exertions. ‘It’s early yet.’

  ‘It’s a quarter-past-nine,’ she contradicted him huskily, her breathing constricting as he bestowed a lingering kiss at the corner of her mouth. ‘Reed—I was due at work at nine o’clock. I’ve got to go!’

  He sighed. ‘Take the day off.’

  ‘No.’ It was a temptation, but she resisted it. ‘I—Mr Fenwick was kind enough to give me the time off last week when Susie was ill. I can’t let him down again.’

  Reed grimaced. ‘Okay, okay.’ He responded to her panic-stricken efforts to be free by releasing her. ‘But—–’ his hand brushed gently across her cheek, ‘I hope he’s not as perceptive as I am.’

  Antonia paused in the process of sliding out from under the quilt. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, and Reed’s lips parted in a teasing grin.

  ‘The way you look,’ he informed her lazily, and she frowned.

  ‘The way I look?’ she echoed. ‘Do I look that bad?’

  Reed laughed. ‘You don’t look—bad—at all. At least, not in the sense you mean.’

  ‘Reed!’

  ‘All right.’ He sobered. ‘You look—ravishing; or should I say ravished?’ His lips tilted. ‘My darling, you look as if you’ve spent the night doing what we have been doing. And it suits you.’

  Antonia’s cheeks were scarlet when she permitted herself a brief glance at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. All she could see were the dark rings around her eyes, evidence of the disturbed night she had spent, and she saw nothing appealing in the vulnerable curve of her mouth.

  ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ murmured Reed softly, coming up behind her and drawing her resisting body back against his. His hands slid round her body to cover her breasts, and their peaks hardened automatically. ‘I can’t let you alone,’ he added thickly, and Antonia’s heart pounded heavily in her chest. ‘Must you go to work? I’d like to stay here all day.’

  ‘I—must,’ she averred unsteadily, forcing herself to move out of his arms, and scurrying into the bathroom before he came after her. ‘P-put the kettle on, will you? If you know how.’

  By the time she had had a swift shower, Reed had left the bedroom, and when she emerged with the towel wrapped around her, she was able to dress without interruption. The navy blue suit and cream blouse were blessedly normal, and sobering, and when she left the bedroom in search of her houseguest, she felt more prepared to face the world.

  She found Reed in the kitchen. He had put on her pink towelling bathrobe, and although it was short in the arms, its generous folds meant he was decently covered. Its hem also exposed the hair-covered length of his legs, but apart from the incongruity of the colour, it did not look too outrageous.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ he enquired, hearing the tap of her heels and glancing up from the filter he was filling. His eyes softened as they surveyed her neat appearance and he gave a rueful smile. ‘All present and correct, I see.’

  Antonia sighed. ‘Reed—you ought to be going.’

  ‘I’ve made some toast, too,’ he remarked, ignoring her observation. ‘Just to prove I’m capable. You can eat some while I go and put on my clothes.’ He ran an exploring hand over the roughness of his beard. ‘I don’t suppose you have a razor, do you?’

  ‘No. And I don’t want any toast either,’ retorted Antonia stiffly, as the reality of what she had allowed to happen swept debilitatingly over her. In the morning light, she could no longer hide from the scornful condemnation of her conscience, and she despised herself utterly for giving in to his persuasion.

  ‘Okay.’ Reed was regarding her thoughtfully now, as if assessing her mood, and with a shrug he sauntered towards her. ‘I’ll get dressed anyway,’ he remarked, as she stepped out of his way. ‘Then I’ll run you to the institute.’

  ‘No.’ Antonia swallowed. ‘No, there’s no need. I can get a bus.’

  ‘Why should you get a bus, when I can take you?’ enquired Reed tautly, his voice taking on a sharper edge, and she held up her head.

  ‘Because I have no intention of walking out of here with you,’ she responded, her nails digging into her palms. ‘You may have no morals. I d
o. You can leave when you like. I’m going now.’

  ‘Antonia!’

  His mouth compressed angrily, but snatching up her handbag, she made it to the door. ‘Please be gone when I get home,’ she told him huskily, grasping the handle, and she let herself out without a backward glance.

  The internal phone rang as Reed was putting the papers he would need in his briefcase. For a moment, his nerves tensed, as the possibility that it might be Antonia occurred to him. But then, remembering the way she had departed that morning, he dismissed the idea. If he had believed she would listen to reason, he would have met her from work that afternoon. As it was, he had this trip to New York to contend with, just when he was needing time to think, and the knowledge that Antonia would have to wait until he got back was something he was finding hard to deal with.

  Picking up the receiver, he said: ‘Yes?’ without much enthusiasm, and then sighed when his fiancée’s voice came on the line.

  ‘Darling: I’m downstairs,’ Celia exclaimed breathily. ‘I know it’s late, but I had to come and apologise. Press the button, won’t you, darling. I’m waiting to come up.’

  Reed made some positive response, and then pressed the switch which would allow the lift to come up to the twenty-second floor. While it made its swift ascent, he closed his briefcase and left his study, opening the door to his apartment as the lift reached its destination.

  ‘Darling!’ Celia emerged in a cloud of French perfume, the hem of her mink coat brushing his legs as she reached up to bestow a warm kiss on his mouth. ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry I wasn’t home last evening as I promised. But I’ve had the most fantastic time in Paris!’

  Reed forced a faint smile to his lips as she swept by him into the apartment, not pausing until she reached the centre of his living room. Then, slipping her arms out of her coat, she dropped it carelessly on to the sofa, and wrapped her arms around herself as Reed followed her into the room.