by Anne Mather
But then, as if remembering, her eyes moved back to Rachel again.
‘What’s she doing here?’ she demanded, as if she had the right to do so. But now Jacob had had enough.
‘I invited her,’ he said. ‘This is my home, and I’ll invite who I like. I suggest you stop embarrassing yourself and Matt, Sara, and go back to Mango Key.’
Chapter Eleven
MATT drove Rachel back some thirty minutes later.
He was silent on the journey, and she couldn’t exactly blame him. It must have been embarrassing, having the two women he was involved with in the room together. It had been embarrassing for her, goodness knew. And she’d done nothing wrong.
Yet.
But she refused to think about almost making love with Matt the evening before. She had to pretend that it had never happened. And, let’s face it, she reminded herself, nothing had happened.
Yet.
She shook her head, as if by doing so she could shake such thoughts away. But it wasn’t easy. She was remembering that despite Jacob’s words Sara hadn’t agreed to leave until she’d had a private conversation with Matt. He’d escorted her out to her car, and in his absence conversation had stalled. Sara’s arrival had disturbed all of them, and only Amalie had seemed to be enjoying the situation.
The return journey seemed to be over far too quickly. In spite of what had happened Rachel was sorry the evening had had to end like this. She’d been so full of anticipation at its start. But perhaps this was payback for thinking of no one but herself.
For once, Matt turned into the hotel forecourt. And instead of dropping her off at the entrance, as she’d expected, he parked the vehicle and got out. He’d circled the car and pulled open her door, too, before she’d had time to anticipate his actions. Then, helping her out, he said flatly, ‘We need to talk.’
In spite of what she’d been thinking, Rachel knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight, anyway. Not while she was still distressed over what her mother had said.
‘I—don’t think so,’ she said, turning towards the hotel entrance, but Matt’s hand gripped her biceps.
‘I do,’ he said grimly. ‘Come on. We’ll go up to my suite.’
‘Your suite?’
Rachel turned shocked eyes in his direction, and Matt gave her a weary look. ‘You think I don’t keep a suite of rooms at the hotel, just in case I need them?’ he enquired drily. ‘Sometimes it’s not convenient to drive back to my house.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘Even so…’
‘Even so, nothing,’ he said, turning her towards the entrance again. ‘Come on. I’ll buy you a drink before we go upstairs.’
‘I—I don’t want a drink,’ stammered Rachel, even though the kick of alcohol might have been exactly what she needed.
‘Not downstairs?’ Matt chose to misunderstand her. ‘Okay. I’ll get one of the staff to bring a bottle to my rooms.’
‘You don’t understand—’
‘No. You don’t understand,’ Matt interrupted her shortly, as they crossed the lobby. ‘Wait here. I’ll just speak to the barman about a bottle of wine.’
Rachel was almost to the top of the stairs when he caught up with her. She’d tried to hurry, but in her high heels it hadn’t been easy. Matt was able to vault up two stairs at a time, and she had to concede there was no way she could get away from him in the hotel anyway.
When she would have turned towards her room, however, he stopped her. ‘It’s this way,’ he said, and to her amazement, he directed her towards the double panelled doors which she knew led into the office. Of course the office would be empty at this time of day, but all the same…
Deciding she could hardly question his decision without provoking his curiosity, she shook herself free of his hand and walked beside him along the gallery. She realised they were in full view of anyone looking up from the foyer below, but she resigned herself to the knowledge that that was par for the course.
As expected, the office was deserted. Only dim security lighting illuminated desks and filing cabinets, the fax and printing machines she’d seen a few days ago. Surely Matt didn’t intend that they should have a conversation here? He had mentioned a suite of rooms.
Matt closed the door behind them and then led the way across the room to where another door gave access to a narrow corridor. He switched on overhead lights and motioned for her to follow him. He then opened a door a few yards further on, and indicated that she should precede him into the room.
A switch at the door caused several lamps to spring to life, and Rachel saw at once that it was a small sitting room. Well, small by Jaracoba standards, she thought, her mind still filled with the magnificent dimensions of his home.
Twin leather sofas faced one another across a gleaming occasional table, their black surfaces highlighted by cushions in red and gold. There was a sound system and a large television; undrawn curtains hung at three long windows, matching the cushions in design.
Rachel was surprised by the beauty of the room. It was such an unexpected find beyond the commercial environs of the office. There were other doors that evidently gave access to a bathroom and a bedroom. Maybe even a kitchen, although she doubted Matt would bother making meals here.
Matt closed the door behind them and then leaned back against it. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘The wine will arrive shortly.’
‘I don’t mind standing,’ Rachel said, wandering across to the windows. But there was little to see beyond the panes but the floodlit grounds of the hotel.
Matt shrugged, and moments later there was a tentative knock at the door. He swung it open, then took the tray from the waiter with little ceremony, closing the door in the man’s face with what Rachel recognised as barely controlled impatience.
It was only as he set the tray on the low table that she saw he’d ordered champagne. A bottle of Krug sat beside two crystal glasses, and, although she knew little about such things, she guessed only the best would do for him.
When he straightened again, and looked directly at her, Rachel shifted uneasily. His eyes were dark with anger and there was little compassion in his gaze.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, and this time it sounded like an order. ‘I have no intention of discussing anything with you hovering over there like Marley’s ghost.’
Rachel squared her shoulders. ‘Do we have anything to discuss?’
Matt’s mouth twisted, and she saw the pulse beating at his temple. Oh, he was angry all right, she thought apprehensively. No wonder she was feeling so alarmed.
He blew out a breath, and for a moment she wondered if he intended to force her to obey him. But she should have known better. Instead, he bent and lifted the champagne, expertly easing out the cork and pouring himself a glass.
She was sure he drank it without tasting it. Which seemed his intention. He poured himself another and then looked at her again. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I can stay here all night if necessary.’
Rachel sighed. She was half wishing now that she’d not created this stand-off. He was right. It was silly. And counterproductive.
‘All right,’ she said, and with a little shrug she stepped nervously towards him. ‘I know you can always out-do me when it comes to an argument.’ She paused beside one of the sofas, her nails digging into the soft leather. ‘What did you want to talk about?’
Matt closed his eyes for a moment, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Then, opening them again, he swallowed half the liquid in his glass before setting it back on the tray.
‘Sit down,’ he said, pointing to the sofa opposite him. ‘Or do you want me to think you’re scared of me? Believe me, you should be.’
Rachel remained where she was. ‘Why don’t you just tell me why you’ve brought me here?’ she demanded. ‘I assume you’re feeling peeved about what happened. Well, don’t think you can take your frustration out on me…’
‘My frustration? My frustration?’ The oath he uttered didn’t bear repeating. ‘You don’t kn
ow anything about my frustration! If you did, you wouldn’t stand there baiting me with stupid complaints.’
‘You don’t think I have room to complain?’ she exclaimed, using anger to mask her apprehension. ‘How do you think I felt when my mother walked into the room tonight?’
‘How do I think you felt?’ Matt was incredulous. ‘How do you think I felt? My father can do without that kind of stress in his present condition.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I didn’t invite her.’
Matt swore again. ‘Do you think I did?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’ she mumbled. ‘Are you having an affair with her?’
‘God, no.’ He sounded appalled.
‘But she came here to see you.’
Matt sighed then. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m having an affair with her, Rachel. Our relationship is nothing like that.’
Rachel wanted to ask what it was like, but she felt she’d gone as far as she could tonight. ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter now. I’m tired. I want to go to bed.’
Matt stared at her, his green eyes as dark as laurel. His look was intent, dangerous, and despite everything Rachel couldn’t look away.
‘I want to go to bed, too,’ he said, and now he moved, closing the space between them. His warm breath fanned her cheek and his quickened breathing matched her own.
Rachel would have backed away again, but his hand at her nape prevented her from moving at all.
‘I want to go to bed with you,’ he added, bending to brush the corner of her mouth with his lips. ‘I want to make love with you and sleep with you and then make love with you again.’
Rachel’s breath caught in the back of her throat. This was so much more than she had expected. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body enveloping her; so close she was suddenly aware of the pulse beating at the centre of her core.
Warm wet fluid drenched her panties and her limbs went totally weak. ‘Matt—’
She tried to make a protest, but the truth was she didn’t really want to stop him. She’d never felt a need like this before, never experienced such a craving that yearned to be fulfilled.
He moved even closer, taking the evening bag she was holding like a barrier in front of her and tossing it aside. Then he slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips against the hard muscles of his thighs.
‘Sweet,’ he said, his voice thickening with emotion, pushing a thigh between her quivering legs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I want you?’
Then his mouth was on hers, hard and passionate. His tongue plunged between her teeth, exploring the moist cavity he found within. His tongue caressed hers, mated with hers, causing her to lean against him. And she heard his growl of appreciation when she allowed him to suck her tongue into his mouth.
She couldn’t fail to be aware of his arousal, and her hands sought the waistband of his khakis for support. His hand cupped her chin, angled her face to please him, lengthening and deepening his kiss.
His free hand slid over her scalp. She felt the knot she’d made of her hair unravel, felt the weight of it loose about her shoulders.
‘So beautiful,’ he said, allowing the silky strands to slide through his fingers. Then he lowered his head and buried his face in its soft folds.
Blood was thundering through Rachel’s veins like liquid fire. The increasing pressure of his erection against her stomach made her feel weak. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and looked down at her with undisguised hunger.
‘I’ve wanted you since that morning at Mango Cove,’ he said huskily. ‘Tell me you don’t want me, too, and I’ll let you go.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I—I can’t,’ she admitted. Her breathing was becoming more and more shallow, and he tipped back her head and trailed hot kisses down her throat.
‘That’s what I thought,’ he breathed with evident satisfaction, his possessive touch making her feel as if she might swoon with pleasure.
A hot wave of desire was surging over her, making her body tremble, sweeping all her inhibitions away. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so out of control, yet so aware of what she was doing. Her body seemed to be working on instinct, knowing automatically what he wanted her to do.
When his mouth returned to hers again, her lips parted instinctively. She discovered his shirt had pulled free of his pants at the back, and her palms spread sensuously over hot male flesh. She’d never touched a man in this way before, never wanted the ultimate pleasure of exploring a man’s body.
But she remembered how Matt had looked that day at the beach, and she wanted to see him that way again.
She was hardly aware that Matt had found the cords that tied the wraparound jersey about her. It was only when she felt the cool, air-conditioned draught on her shoulders that she realised her dress was down around her waist. And only there because of the closeness of their bodies. If Matt stepped away, it would tumble to the floor.
She was diverted by Matt’s mouth caressing the upper slopes of her breasts. Her bra was still in place, but she knew it revealed as much as it concealed. She glanced down and saw her breasts were swollen, the nipples straining hard against the flimsy lace.
Matt cupped her breasts in his hands, and then startled her by bending to suckle her through her bra. The fabric got wet, but it was so sensual, so intimate. It added another feverish dimension to her need.
Then Matt unhooked the bra and discarded it. ‘Let’s find somewhere more comfortable,’ he said huskily, and picked her up in his arms.
Rachel’s head felt as if it was spinning. It was all happening too fast and she was so not ready for it. Nevertheless, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his throat. Her cheek brushed against his chin, felt the roughness of his stubble. And the scent of his skin was so intoxicating that she forgot to be apprehensive.
Matt kicked open a door and she glimpsed the austerity of a dark carpet and the familiar dimensions of a huge bed. The light streaming in from the living room showed the silk spread that covered the bed. She felt its coolness against her bare back as Matt laid her on it. It reminded her that, although she was almost naked, Matt was still fully clothed.
An image she recalled from the previous evening.
She would have been happy to remain in semi-darkness, but Matt said, ‘We need some light.’ He turned on the lamp beside the bed and surveyed her with obvious satisfaction. ‘I want to see you,’ he said, peeling off his shirt with fingers that weren’t quite steady. ‘I want to see all of you.’
Rachel caught her breath when his hands went to his waistband. She wanted him naked, of course she did, but she couldn’t help feeling nervous.
Then the bed depressed as Matt came to kneel beside her. ‘You do it,’ he said thickly, drawing her hands to the buckle of his belt.
Rachel took a gulp of air. She was trying to ground herself, but it wasn’t working. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she prepared to do as he’d asked.
But her thighs parted automatically when she leaned forward, and Matt groaned and slipped his hand between her legs. He cupped her through her panties and his voice was hoarse with satisfaction when he said, ‘You’re wet.’
Rachel made a helpless gesture, not knowing how to react.
Matt had no such inhibitions. ‘Incredible,’ he continued, his finger invading the hem of her briefs and parting the tender lips of her womanhood. ‘So ready,’ he groaned, his voice rough with feeling as he found the already swollen nub at her core.
It was almost impossible to do anything while Matt was caressing her. The excitement building inside her was hastened by the erotic movements of his hand, and she wanted to part her legs wider, let him do whatever he wanted to prolong these amazing feelings. She gave a breathless little moan of anguish.
Somehow she managed to loosen his belt and unzip his khakis, though when his erection sprang into her hands she was understandably shaken
. God, he was so big, she thought, her knowledge of a man’s anatomy scanty at best. How could she want him so much and yet be so apprehensive?
Matt kicked off his shoes and his pants and then climbed onto the bed beside her. He eased her back, and she relaxed again when he covered her mouth with his. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from arching against him, from wanting more, much more, from him. Her hands sought him now, wanting to please him, and she was alarmed when he gave a muffled groan of protest.
‘Easy,’ he said against her mouth, nudging her thighs apart so he could lie between her legs. ‘I’m only human,’ he added ruefully. ‘How much more of this do you think I can take?’
Rachel looked up at him, her eyes wide. ‘A lot more, I hope,’ she said impulsively, and then curled her legs around him when he buried his face between her breasts.
Once again she was conscious of the liquid pooling inside her. She could feel his erection pressing at the apex of her legs and she pressed herself against him, wanting him inside her. But instead he drew back, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drawing them down her legs.
Then Matt was pressing his face against the damp curls he’d exposed. ‘I—you can’t do that!’ she exclaimed, in a panic now. Her nails dug into his shoulders in protest at first, and then her hands sought his head, holding him closer.
‘Better?’ he asked, and all she could do was nod helplessly, lost in the needs he was inspiring.
Then his tongue probed between the curls and her body exploded. Waves and waves of pleasure tore through her, and despite her inexperience she knew what he’d done.
‘But—I wanted you,’ she whispered, and he trailed wet kisses across the slight mound of her stomach.
‘And you’ll have me,’ he told her softly. ‘I wanted to please you first.’
‘You have,’ she assured him as he worked his way up her body, nuzzling and kissing and biting her tender flesh. So much he’d rocked her whole world.
When he straddled her she tensed again, but only slightly. She was still experiencing the lingering rhythms of the pleasure he had given her, and even when he nudged her opening and eased a little way inside she wasn’t alarmed.