Dearest Enemy

by Nan Ryan

  But neither left. And each wondered if the other was still there.

  After a string of muggy, miserable nights wherein he paced in growing frustration, Mitch finally decided that he was being a fool. Again. A beautiful, flame-haired woman was right down the beach from him and all he had to do was walk down there and take her. Why not do so? Why not avail himself of Suzanna’s ample charms as so many others had?

  Why not use her just as she had once used him?

  Forty-Three

  The night was hot and the moon was full when Mitch set out to settle the score with the beautiful witch responsible for the scars that slashed his left side from collarbone to hip. And for the invisible scars on his soul that did not show, but were there just the same. Incurable scars that had changed him forever.

  It was well past midnight when Mitch left his beach house. He walked the two miles in a matter of minutes, each step in the fine sand taking him closer to what he despised, yet had to have.

  When he reached his destination, Mitch stopped and looked up at the white, two-story mansion on the jutting bluff above. His heart hammering in his bare chest, he argued with himself. He should turn back, leave her alone. She was far too desirable, too dangerous.

  His blood up, Mitch proceeded across the sand to the set of wooden steps leading up to the house. He knew she was awake. Knew she was waiting for him, knowing he would come to her. Knowing he couldn’t resist her. She was up there in the hot darkness waiting to wrap him around her little finger, just like before.

  But she was about to learn a lesson, the same lesson she had taught him all those years ago. That he, like she, was quite capable of intimacy without affection. All he wanted from her was torrid lovemaking that involved only his body, not his heart. Sex without love. The best kind.

  * * *

  Suzanna was waiting.

  She had been waiting since that night he’d pulled her from the ocean. She told herself he still cared, just as she did. She reasoned that he couldn’t stay away from her any more than she could stay away from him. He would come to her; she knew he would.

  Every night she took a hot bath, brushed her hair out around her shoulders and slipped into a gossamer gown of fragile, transparent lace. Every night she waited expectantly out on the balcony, watching for him to come down the beach. Every night she hoped that this would be the night he came.

  Now, like always, Suzanna was out on the balcony.

  Waiting.

  She saw him coming down the beach in the moonlight. She didn’t call out to him, didn’t turn and go back inside. Instead she waited, knowing what was about to happen, knowing that she shouldn’t let it. But knowing that she would, just the same. That she could hardly wait for it to happen and had planned for it to happen just like this.

  She saw him step onto the veranda directly below, heard his knock on the front door. She didn’t call out to him. Silent, she stayed where she was. In seconds she heard him come into the house and climb the stairs. She held her breath as he walked through her darkened bedroom and stepped out onto the moonlit balcony.

  Her hands tightly gripping the railing, she continued to look out to sea as though she were still alone. She did not turn as he approached. But she knew he was there, could feel the heat emanating from his body.

  Mitch didn’t say a word. He stepped up behind her. He knew that she knew he was there. He reached out, gathered her lace nightgown in his hands and slid it slowly up her tensed body. Suzanna trembled with anticipation and dutifully raised her arms to help. When he lifted the gown up over her head and dropped it, leaving her naked and vulnerable in the moonlight, he cruelly told her, “This changes nothing. I want only one thing from you, Mrs. Clements. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, her heart aching, but at the same time longing to be in his arms. “I understand completely.”

  Mitch swept her heavy hair to one side, then leaned down and pressed his burning lips to the side of her throat. “And I want it right here, right now. If you have a staff on duty or neighbors that might see us, so be it. I don’t really give a damn.”

  Tears sprang to Suzanna’s eyes as she nodded. She started to turn and face him, ready to accept his kiss, but Mitch stopped her.

  “Stay as you are, Mrs. Clements,” he instructed. “I’ve no desire either to kiss you or to look into your deceitful eyes.”

  Her tears spilled over and splashed down her hot cheeks. Mitch knew she was crying, but was unmoved. He unbuttoned his pants and dropped them where he stood. He kicked them aside and stepped up closer behind Suzanna. She could feel his heated body brush against her own, setting her on fire.

  His jaw taut, Mitch placed his hands on her hips, gripped them tightly and, with a bent knee, urged her bare feet apart.

  Suzanna bit her lip and continued to cling to the wooden railing, desperately wishing that she could hate him. With his spread hand on the middle of her back, he pressed her slightly forward over the railing. And then with both hands—those beautiful, long-fingered hands that had once touched her with such tenderness—he roughly spread the cheeks of her bottom and entered her from behind.

  Suzanna never released her grip on the railing and Mitch never released his grip on her hips. He thrust forward into her as he drew her back against him, controlling her movements, setting a rapid pace, flesh slapping against flesh under the high, full moon above.

  Too long denied the ecstasy they’d once shared, both climaxed almost immediately. His breath labored, his heart hammering, Mitch pumped into Suzanna until he was totally drained. Then he slid his arms around her and clasped his wrists in front of her waist. Suzanna finally let go of the railing. She leaned back against his chest and fought for breath.

  When finally his arms loosened and he stepped away, she felt embarrassed and quickly bent to pick up her discarded nightgown.

  “No,” he said, and took the gown from her. “You’ll have no need of this.”

  He tossed the nightgown over the railing. The wind caught it and blew it across the sands and out to sea. As she watched it sail away along with the last of her dignity, Suzanna decided that she could be just as cruel, just as crude as this man who obviously despised her.

  Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she looked defiantly up at him, then shoved him aside and swayed seductively over to the chaise longue. There she turned about, stretched out on her back and raised her arms above her head.

  “I want more,” she told him. “And I want it now.”

  Forty-Four

  “Too bad, Mrs. Clements,” Mitch said through clenched teeth as he stooped and picked up his white trousers. “I’ve had quite enough of you.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Suzanna challenged as she seductively drew a long, slender leg up, bent her knee and placed the bare sole of her foot on the padded cushion of the chaise. Mitch watched, transfixed, as she allowed that knee to slowly fall outward into a cocked position, brazenly exhibiting her most intimate feminine charms.

  Suzanna heard his sharp intake of air, saw his erection quickly spring to life.

  She smiled and whispered accusingly, “You haven’t had nearly enough of me.” He made no response. Suzanna laughed throatily and commanded, “Come here, Mitch.”

  Mitch willed himself not to obey. He should leave.

  At once. To stay here with this insatiable little satyr would be courting disaster. He had taken what he came here for. She had nothing more to offer. It was time to go. Past time. She was too beautiful, too seductive, too dangerous.

  “Never,” he said, tossing his trousers over his shoulder and taking a step toward the open French doors.

  “Now,” she ordered, and extended a hand to him. “You still want me. I know you do. And here I am, yours for the taking.”

  A muscle spasmed in Mitch’s tanned jaw and his eyes flashed with a mixture of disgust and desire. Suzanna held her breath as he hesitated, then turned and bore steadily down on her. He reached the chaise and looked at her for a long, uncerta
in minute.

  Suzanna was mesmerized. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was all she remembered and more. The glorious physique, the strong features, the rich baritone voice—he was the embodiment of all that was virile male. Darkly alluring, he effortlessly exuded a potent, almost primitive sexuality.

  But the expression on his handsome face frightened her. He looked at her as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her. At the same time, his body told her he desired her.

  Mitch stood there gazing down at her and futilely fought the control she still had over him. She was all he remembered and more. The flowing scarlet hair, the exquisite face, the voluptuous body—she was woman incarnate. Exotic and bewitching, she radiated a strong, almost primal sexuality.

  How could he possibly resist when she lay stretched out, shamelessly naked, blatantly offering herself to him? She was far too tempting, with her curls falling appealingly around her delicate shoulders and her pale skin looking luminous in the moonlight. That stunning body seemed to be fashioned solely for carnal pleasure.

  And she was looking at him as if she could hardly wait to be in his arms.

  Mitch surrendered.

  He tossed his trousers aside and sat down astride the chaise facing Suzanna, between her parted legs. His gaze holding hers, he slid a hand along the curve of her calf, then up to the back of her bent knee. Suzanna’s heart raced violently when his warm hand drifted along the inside of her thigh, the fingertips barely grazing the pale flesh as they moved deliberately toward her groin. She tingled with building excitement when finally those long, lean fingers reached the crisp red coils between her open thighs.

  But her heart squeezed painfully in her chest when, after only a few seconds of touching her with the kind of tenderness she remembered so well, he lifted his hand, showed her his damp fingers and said sarcastically, “No need wasting any more time. You’re hot and wet and ready, so let’s get to it.”

  “Why not?” she replied flippantly as she sat up and laid a possessive hand on his thrusting erection. “You’re as ready as I am, so what are we waiting for?” She put her arms around his neck and tipped her face up for his kiss.

  To her disappointment, Mitch still did not kiss her. Not on the mouth, anyway. He lifted her astride his lap, draped her legs over his muscular thighs, put his hands around her back and drew her closer. He bent his head and kissed her breasts, quickly licking the nipples into rigid points of sensation. Then he greedily suckled the stinging nipples until Suzanna was squirming and sighing and clinging to his dark head, pressing him closer, ruffling his silky, raven hair against her chin. While his mouth was at her breasts, his hard flesh throbbed insistently against her contracting belly.

  Mitch’s lips finally released Suzanna’s left nipple and he raised his head. His eyes flashing in the moonlight, he lifted her slightly and gripped himself, ready to take her.

  “No, you don’t.” She stopped him, her hands atop his wide shoulders. “Not until you kiss me.”

  “I told you before, Mrs. Clements, no kissing.”

  “No kissing, no nothing,” she stated firmly, then thrust her pelvis up and forward, rubbing herself provocatively against him. “Feel good? Hmm?” she taunted, sliding slowly up and down his hard, heavy length. “Kiss me and you can have it.”

  His heart hammering, blood zinging through his veins, Mitch said through thinned lips, “I’ll have it whether I kiss you or not.”

  “No, you will not,” she firmly warned, then cupped his tanned cheeks in her hands, pushed his head back and pressed her lips against his mouth. Mitch shuddered but did not immediately respond. Determined, Suzanna carefully molded her lips to his and kissed him over and over again. “Come,” she whispered against his lips, “kiss me. Kiss me, Mitch.” She kissed the corners of his mouth and ran the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips. “Just once.”

  Suzanna sighed softly when finally Mitch’s mouth opened on hers and he kissed her, taking full command. His smooth, warm lips played with hers, soft, teasing, then demanding. His tongue ran along her teeth before thrusting inside to explore and possess and excite.

  When the long, breath-stealing kiss ended and his mouth lifted to hover above hers, Suzanna looked into his glittering green eyes and put a hand between their bodies. She wrapped soft fingers around his throbbing erection, and Mitch shuddered involuntarily. He helpfully lifted her and held very still while Suzanna carefully guided his hot, hard flesh into place.

  With only the smooth tip inside, she released her hold on him. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and slowly, seductively, slid down upon him, impaling herself while he cautiously surged up inside her.

  Their gazes locked.

  They stopped breathing.

  Suzanna took every taut inch of his pulsating hardness until he had filled her with himself. Then it was she who began the slow, sensual rolling of her hips and forward thrusting of her pelvis. Mitch exhaled heavily and took up her languid rhythm, clenching his buttocks and driving slowly into her.

  “Mitch,” she whispered against his burning lips as his mouth found hers again.

  “Baby,” he groaned, filling his hands with the cheeks of her bottom.

  Sighing, gasping, the naked pair made heated love there on the balcony in the moonlight, while the waves rolled rhythmically onto shore. The lovers automatically took up the tempo of the crashing waves. Slow. Languid. Lazy. But that lasted only a little while. Unable to control that raging sexual hunger, they soon changed their tempo to a wild, frantic pace.

  In and out, driving and bucking, building in momentum. Every thrust penetrated more deeply, bringing added pleasure, hurtling them toward that inevitable wild release. Her receptive body gripping him, squeezing him, Suzanna could feel herself opening wider, taking all of him, glorying in the fervent intimacy.

  Their skin now wet with perspiration, they slipped and slid their way toward fulfilling ecstasy in a savage kind of mating neither would ever forget. They went at each other like a pair of uncaged animals who’d finally been given their blessed freedom. And just when the breathless Suzanna felt as if she could endure it no more, the pleasure became too intense and that wonderful wrenching release began.

  “Mitch, Mitch,” she gasped in a frenzy of escalating ecstasy.

  Mitch knew what she needed and gave it to her, thrusting faster, harder, deeper, until she reached the apex and cried out in elation. He then let himself go, groaning as he exploded inside her.

  Afterward they stayed as they were for several long minutes, arms around each other, gasping for breath, hearts thundering, damp bodies trembling. Suzanna was still sighing with bliss and happily assuming that she had been forgiven when Mitch abruptly clasped her upper arms, set her back and broke her heart by saying coldly, “Accept my accolades, Mrs. Clements. It appears you learned well from all your European lovers.”

  Crushed by the unfounded accusation, longing to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, she laughed in his face, pushed him away and got to her feet, saying, “Yes, I found the Frenchmen in particular to be quite instructive and—”

  “Spare me the details!” Mitch said angrily as he rose to his feet.

  Pleased with his reaction, Suzanna then told him truthfully, “Oh, Mitch, I never made to love to a Frenchman or to anyone else.”

  He laughed cynically and said, “Not important. I don’t care one way or the other.” His eyes cold, he added, “Because I don’t care about you.”

  Suzanna’s temper flared. “Then get out! Get out of my house at once and don’t ever come back!”

  He calmly reached down and snagged his discarded trousers. Straightening, he said, “I’ll leave now, but I’ll be back.” He stepped into his trousers and stood buttoning them over his drum-tight belly. “And you, my dear Mrs. Clements, will welcome me back into your house.” He smiled and added, “And into your body.”

  Fury flashing from the depths of her expressive blue eyes, Suzanna shook her finger in his face and said, “Never! Do y
ou hear me? If you ever try to touch me again I’ll kill you, so help me.”

  Mitch shrugged bare shoulders and said, “You can’t kill a man who is already dead.”

  Forty-Five

  Suzanna was and always had been a fighter. If she believed in something, she gave it her all. When she wanted something, she was not afraid to go after it, even knowing there was a very real possibility that she might fail.

  She wanted Mitch Longley. Wanted him to love her again the way he once had. Wanted him so much she was willing to sacrifice her pride if there was the smallest chance of getting him back. She was certain that Mitch would not heed her angry threats warning him to stay away from her. He would be back. And when he returned, be it a day, a week or a month, she would make love to him as never before.

  If it took a year or a decade or the rest of her life before he learned to love her again, she was determined to make it happen. Slowly, after many days of easy companionship and many nights of exquisite lovemaking, he would surely fall in love with her again.

  Toward that one and only goal, Suzanna focused all her efforts. From here on out she would be sweet and accommodating and amiable, no matter how uncaring he was or how much he hurt her feelings. She would not rise to the bait when he said harsh things to make her suffer. She would control her temper and would eventually conquer him with kindness.

  If, for the time being, he wanted nothing from her other than carnal pleasure, so be it. But that would change; she would make it change. Eventually she would make him understand her reason for betraying him. And she would convince him that she had spent every moment since that fateful day regretting her actions. Believing that she was truly sorry, he would forgive her.

  Until then she would be willing and ready whenever he desired her. She would be his playful wanton, his innovative lover, his undemanding mistress. And she would look forward to the next inevitable physical encounter, whenever it might happen.