‘I think you should email your office and give them advance warning of your plan to return to the UK. The sooner we can get this sorted, the better.’ Now that she had agreed to the job, he couldn’t wait to get her to sign on the dotted line.
‘And you’re sure you don’t want to interview anyone else for the position?’
‘Never been more sure of anything in my life.’
‘And how is your back feeling, James? I’m sorry I haven’t asked sooner. I’ve just been thinking about this whole job thing…’
‘A near lethal diet of painkillers is doing its job.’ He walked towards her. He couldn’t get images out of his mind, images of her in his apartment, images of her looking at him the way he knew he wanted to look at her, images of her turning to him, raising her lips to his, closing her eyes…
He remembered the feel of her from all those years ago when he had gently turned her away and was rocked by the realisation that he had never cleared his head of the memory. He wondered whether it was because she was so much taller and so much more voluptuously endowed than the women he had dated before and since. She had offered herself to him as a naive girl and he hadn’t hesitated in turning her away because to do otherwise would have been to have taken advantage of her gullibility. Now, the offer was no longer on the cards but he wanted her. He wanted her as the woman she had become. Independent, outspoken, challenging. In every respect, so different from the airheads of his past.
When he thought about the Frenchman, he had to subdue the sudden surge of jealousy. He wasn’t a jealous man and yet, there it was, the green-eyed monster buried underneath his cool.
‘But the pain is still there. Might have to see the doctor when I get back to London. Might…’ he leaned against the kitchen table, directly in front of her so that she had to look up to meet his eyes ‘… have to go to a physiotherapist. Who knows? When something happens to your back, the consequences can last for years…’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ he confirmed seriously. ‘Which is why I’m thinking that it might be a good idea if you could maybe massage my back for me.’
‘Massage your back? ‘
‘It’s a big ask but I don’t want to wake up at two in the morning again in agony. I also don’t want to find that when this snow’s disappeared, I’m still laid up and can’t get back out to work.’
‘And you think a massage is going to help you?’
‘I don’t think it can do any harm. I wouldn’t have asked you two days ago. I realise you had some kind of problem with me…’
‘I didn’t have a problem with you,’ Jennifer said awkwardly. ‘I was just surprised to find you here.’
‘But we seem, thankfully, to have put whatever differences you may have had with me to rest, which is why I feel comfortable about asking you to do this… unless, of course, you’d rather not help me out here… would fully understand…’
‘Well, just while the chicken’s in the oven. I guess.’ Massage? If he knew how disobedient her thoughts about him had been, that would be the last suggestion to leave his mouth. He had rejected her once. He would run a mile if he thought that there might be any temptation on her part to repeat her folly.
Not that she would. But she still felt uncertain about touching him, even in a way that wasn’t sexual. What excuse would she give to shoot his request down in flames? As he had said, their differences had been overcome, they were back on safe ground, friends but without the complications of her having a crush on him… He felt nothing for her. He would wonder why she couldn’t help him out, especially if, as he had intimated, the pulled muscles in his back could have lasting repercussions.
‘Five minutes,’ he agreed. ‘It might make all the difference…’
Back in the sitting room, which was wonderfully warm with the open fire burning, James stripped off his top. In truth, his back still protested vehemently at any extreme movement, although he acknowledged that he had exaggerated just a little. He lay face down on the sofa and waited as she pulled a couple of cushions over so that she could kneel on the ground next to him.
His skin was cool as she began kneading his firm, bronzed back. He had the perfect physique. Broad shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist and long, muscular legs. There was a mantra playing in her head, one she was forcing herself to repeat: He’s just a friend, how nice to be pals once again, pals always help each other out…
She could feel his body relax under the pressure of her fingers. She, on the other hand, couldn’t be further from relaxed. Her pulses were in free fall and her heart was racing so fast that she could scarcely breathe properly. It was just as well his back was to her. If not, she was certain that he would be able to see the telltale traces of a woman…
Turned on. She stopped massaging and informed him that she would have to check the chicken.
‘Surely it won’t be ready yet.’ He turned over before she had time to stand up and suddenly she was no longer safely staring at his back but instead looking straight at him, lying there, sexily semi clad. ‘Raw chicken… not recommended by any major chef…’
‘Yes… well…’ There was no way that she would allow her eyes to drift down to his bare chest and even meeting his eyes with some semblance of self-control was a trial.
‘That felt good.’
Jennifer licked her lips nervously. There was a subtle change in the atmosphere. He was holding her glance for too long and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. The mantra had fragmented into worthless pieces and she was only aware of the changes in her body as he continued to stare at her.
‘Sit.’ He shifted his big body a little and patted a space next to him on the sofa. Idiotically, Jennifer obeyed. She wasn’t quite sure why.
Her fingers were resting lightly on her lap and she nearly passed out when he reached to entwine his fingers with hers, although he didn’t take his eyes away from her face.
Jennifer found that she was nailed to the sofa as he began doing that thing with his thumb, rubbing it gently on her hand so that her breathing became jerky and uneven and her mouth went dry.
When the silence became too much to bear, she finally found her voice and said, shakily, ‘What are you doing?’ She didn’t want to look at their enmeshed fingers because to do that would have been to acknowledge that she knew exactly what he was doing. Caressing her. Was it some kind of weird thank-you-great-massage caress? Was he aware of what it was doing to her? Was this a friendly thing?
‘I’m touching you,’ James murmured in a voice that implied that he was as surprised by the gesture as she was. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
Jennifer was having trouble getting past the first part of his statement. This was what she had seemingly spent a lifetime fantasising about. The four years she had spent telling herself that daydreams played no part in reality, that he had never been attracted to her, that she had to wake up and smell the coffee, floated away like early morning mist on a summer day.
‘Yes! No… this isn’t… isn’t appropriate…’
‘Why isn’t it?’
‘You know why…’ There was a very good reason but she couldn’t quite remember what exactly it was and, while she was trying to figure it out, he drew her slowly down towards him.
A buzz of nervous excitement ripped through her. She was the kid opening her eyes on Christmas Day, wondering if the much-longed-for present would live up to expectation… She knew that no good would come of any physical contact with him, that she wanted, had always wanted so much more than he could ever offer, and yet his pull was magnetic and irresistible and her curiosity and raw longing far too powerful.
She closed her eyes on a soft sigh and their mouths touched, a sweetly exploring caress, then he reached both his hands into her hair, brushed his thumbs along her neck and didn’t give her the opportunity to surface as the gentle exploration turned into something wonderfully, erotically hungry.
Jennifer lowered herself onto him and her breasts squashed against his chest
. In between drowning in his kisses, she surfaced to tell him in a shaky voice that they really shouldn’t be doing this… that he wasn’t himself… that the chicken in the oven was going to burn…
He, for his part, laughed softly and informed her that this was exactly what they should be doing.
His hand had moved from the nape of her neck to slide underneath her top. He stroked her back, his hand moving upwards until he was brushing her bra strap. He carried on kissing her while he unclasped it.
‘I’m not one of your Polly Pockets…’ Along with a shudder of intense excitement, she felt the hangover of self-consciousness that had always afflicted her in his presence. He liked them little. She wasn’t.
‘Stop talking,’ James commanded huskily. ‘Let me see you.’
Jennifer arched up into an awkward sitting position and he shoved her top up. Bountiful breasts tumbled out, breasts that were much more than a handful, breasts a man could lose himself in. He groaned.
‘I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ he breathed unevenly. Her nipples peeped over the unclasped bra. With her head flung back and her long, curly hair tumbling down her back, she was the epitome of sexiness, a wanton goddess the likes of which he had never seen before.
Once she had offered herself to him. Only now could he receive that offering. He touched the tips of her nipples with his fingers, circling them and trying not to explode with desire as the tips firmed and stiffened in response. She was panting and moaning softly, little noises that inflamed him. He didn’t know how long he would be able to indulge in foreplay because he was losing his self-control fast. When she edged upwards on the sofa so that her breasts now dangled provocatively close to his mouth, he circled her waist with his hands, determined to take things as slowly as he could.
It felt like an impossible task, requiring heroic efforts beyond his control, as he gently levered her down so that he could suckle on a proffered nipple. He drew the pulsing bud into his mouth and luxuriated in tasting her. He was a big man with big hands and her lush breasts suited them perfectly. How could he ever have been satisfied with those thin women with jutting hip bones and small breasts?
The sofa was big but they still had to wriggle to find comfortable positions. While they did, he continued sucking her nipples and massaging her breasts. He could have carried on for ever.
‘This sofa isn’t ideal,’ he broke free to tell her.
‘I can lay the duvet in front of the fire…’
‘Do it without your clothes on. I want to see every naked inch of your perfect body.’
Jennifer stood up and slowly stripped off her clothes. She wasn’t inexperienced but removing every item of clothing while her man looked on with rampantly appreciative eyes was new to her. She felt deliciously, thrillingly wanton. He had been vocal in his praise for her body, had lavished attention on breasts that were big by anyone’s standards, had hoarsely told her that she was beautiful. Any lingering self-consciousness she might have had had disappeared under the onslaught of his compliments. In fact, she felt heady and sexy and bursting with self-confidence.
As she began pushing aside the coffee table that sat in the centre of the room, making space for the king-sized, thick, soft duvet, he told her to take her time. When it was time for her to fetch the duvet from the sofa, he stood up and began undressing, more slowly than he might have had his back not still been aching.
The breath caught in her throat as the images she had stored in her head were replaced by the reality. When he was completely naked, he held her eyes and then motioned for her to look at him as he touched himself. He was a big man and everything about him was impressively big, including the erection his hand circled.
In her wildest, fiercest day dreams, she had never imagined that it could feel so good to be standing here, naked, on the brink of making love to this man. She walked over to him and removed his hand so that she could replace it with her own. To feel him throb against the palm of her hand…
Was she doing the right thing? Never had anything felt so right. She stretched up to kiss him and this time they kissed long and tenderly.
‘You’ll have to do the work,’ he murmured, breaking free and leading her towards the duvet. ‘Don’t forget that I’m a man with a bad back…’
‘I wouldn’t want to do further damage,’ Jennifer returned, guiding his hand to her breast. ‘I remember what you said about bad backs never going away…’
‘I’d be happy to swap the health of my back for an hour in bed with you.’
How easy it would be to allow words she’d never thought she would ever hear to get to her. How easy to lose herself in the excitement of the moment. A little core of practical common sense cautioned her against jumping into this wonderful situation feet first, without any thought for rocks that might lie beneath.
This was what she wanted. She had waited a long time and she knew now that she had spent the past four years waiting. How long would she have waited? She didn’t know. But that didn’t mean that this was the beginning of every dream she had ever had coming true. That wasn’t how life worked.
They lay down on the duvet, which was mercifully soft.
She curved her body against his, drawing her leg over his thigh, and riffled his dark hair with her fingers.
When she looked at his impossibly handsome face, she saw the past entwined with the present, the boy as he had been and the man he had become. The feelings she had had for him, which had started with the sweet innocence of infatuation, had grown and matured and had never gone away. Being thrown together in the cottage had made her realise that. What she felt for him was no longer infatuation. Neither had it been four years ago. Infatuation didn’t have much of a life span; it would have faded over time, replaced by other experiences.
She loved him and she knew, without quite understanding why, that any mention of love would have him running for cover. She took this on board and knew that she still wanted to be right here with him, even if her feelings left her exposed and vulnerable.
‘You are beautiful,’ he interrupted her chain of thoughts and she smiled sadly.
‘I don’t want to kill the moment, but that’s not what you said four years ago.’
‘Four years ago you were a child.’
‘I was twenty-one!’
‘A very young twenty-one,’ James murmured, stroking her hair away from her face. ‘Too young for someone as jaded as me. You’ve grown up in the past four years, Jennifer.’
Grown up but still as vulnerable as that twenty-one-year-old girl had been. She nodded and kissed him and pushed uncomfortable thoughts to the back of her mind. Her nipple tingled and throbbed as it rubbed against his chest. She straddled him and eased her body up so that when she lowered it he could take her nipple into his mouth and suckle on it until her body was alive with sensation. She groaned as he slipped his hand between her legs and began caressing her, rubbing fingers along the sensitised, slippery groove until she could hardly bear the exquisite, agonising need to be completely fulfilled.
‘Not fair,’ she murmured into his mouth, but she moved her hips sensuously against his exploring hand and he laughed with rich appreciation.
‘I want to taste you,’ he groaned, easing her into an upright position so that she was kneeling over him and he could fully take in the beauty of her spectacular body. Her heavy breasts were amazing, her nipples dark and perfectly formed and the patch of dark hair nestled between her thighs was as sweet and aromatic as honey. He clasped her from behind and nudged her closer to his mouth.
Jennifer rested her hands flat against his shoulders and shuddered at the first touch of his tongue tasting her. He took his time, licking and exploring and then falling back when she thought she couldn’t take any more. She was cresting a wave except, just when the wave threatened to break, it simply ebbed and began building again. It was the most incredible experience. She had wondered what it would be like to be with him. Nothing like this. This was way, way better than anything she had conjur
ed up in her head.
‘I can’t take any more of this,’ she gasped, when he had, once again, brought her almost to the point of no return.
She slid off him to lie on her side where she could try and let her breathing return to normal, but how could it when he was nudging his thigh between hers and sending her right back to the brink?
‘I can’t take much more myself,’ James admitted shakily. ‘I never lose control but I’m in danger of doing so very soon.’
‘Shall I see how much stamina you have…?’
She wriggled around so that while he explored her with his mouth, she could likewise explore him with hers. He was rock hard and tasting him made her want to swoon, as did his continuing exploration of the delicate groove between her legs.
Their mutual need was frantic by the time her mouth joined his in a wet, musky, greedy kiss.
‘I need you. Now.’
And I love you so much, was the reply that flew through her head. ‘I need you too,’ she returned huskily.
‘Are you protected?’
‘I’m not at the moment but I can be…’
CHAPTER SIX
JENNIFER’S bag was lying on the ground next to the chair. She unzipped it and rustled in the side pocket where a memento of that non-event four years ago lay. The condom, optimistically bought and never used for a love-making session that had never happened, had been through a lot. It had jostled next to coins and make-up and packets of chewing gum. It had been transferred from bag to bag, a secret talisman and a permanent reminder of her youthful foolishness. It had even drowned and been resuscitated when, on a boat trip with her father in Majorca, she had accidentally dropped her bag in the sea.
Fetching it out of its compartment felt like fate.
‘Not yet.’ He caught her hand as she was about to tear open the little packet. ‘My back feels up to a little bit more foreplay…’
In truth, he felt fighting fit and this time she was the one lying on the duvet as he explored every glorious inch of her succulent body. She tossed beneath him and he pinned her down, subjecting her to the onslaught of his mouth and tongue and hands. Their bodies were slick with perspiration when, unable to take any more, she cried out for him to enter her.
The Girl He'd Overlooked Page 10