Savage Awakening

by Anne Mather

  ‘Amy’s still asleep,’ he said, glancing significantly into the back of the vehicle. ‘It seems a shame to wake her.’

  It did, but Fliss was sure that when the engine was switched off Amy would wake up. However, even after Matt had parked the four-by-four on the forecourt, her daughter still slept on, and he made a silent indication that they should go inside.

  ‘She’ll be OK,’ he said in a low voice when Fliss looked as if she might argue. ‘She’ll come and find us when she’s ready.’

  Fliss guessed she would, but she had certain misgivings about going into the house with him. Which was ridiculous really, considering she spent hours alone with him when she was working. But somehow that was different.

  He left the front door ajar so that Amy would know at once where they were and then led the way into the newly furnished drawing room. Here, a pair of squashy leather sofas faced one another across the hearth, and Matt had installed an entertainment centre in a carved mahogany cabinet. The oversized furniture suited the spacious, high-ceilinged room, and Fliss couldn’t help admiring her own handiwork in the polish that gleamed on every wooden surface. The extravagant arrangement of ferns and lilies that occupied an end table was her doing, too. She’d rescued the blossoms from the weed-choked garden, and she remembered suddenly that she still hadn’t asked Matt if he intended to hire a gardener.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said now, indicating one of the sofas, disappearing out the door again before she could answer him.

  But Fliss was too much on edge to relax. Instead, she drifted over to the windows, peering out for a minute before a glimpse of her reflection in one of the long mirrors that hung beside the fireplace caught her attention.

  She stared in disgust at the image that confronted her. She might not go brown but her skin did burn easily, and right now her face was as red as a tomato. It clashed vividly with her hair, and with the delicate pink of her T-shirt and trousers. Which only added to the feelings of inadequacy that had plagued her on the way home.

  She was still staring broodingly at her reflection when Matt’s image appeared behind her. He’d evidently dumped the sports bag that had contained his towel but he hadn’t yet changed his clothes.

  Though why should he? she thought bitterly. Even in creased shorts he looked like a big, sleek cat, watchful and vaguely predatory.

  Fliss would have moved away from the mirror then but his solid bulk behind her prevented a graceful retreat. Besides, there was no point in pretending she hadn’t been looking at herself. He already knew she had.

  Something of how she was feeling must have shown in her expression, because he said, ‘What’s wrong?’ in a rough, sympathetic tone that made her want to confide in him.

  ‘Need you ask?’ she cried, indicating her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘What? That you look as if you’ve had a fun day in the sun?’ he asked gently. His warm breath stirred the hair at her nape. ‘Stop beating up on yourself. You look OK to me.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not looking at me like—like a man looks at a woman,’ she retorted, wondering if she’d have been as brave if she’d been facing him. Talking to his mirror image was different somehow, although his sudden scowl did make her wish she hadn’t said anything.

  ‘How am I looking at you?’ he asked now in a dangerously soft voice, and she shifted a little uneasily beneath his narrow-eyed gaze.

  ‘You know,’ she protested helplessly. Then, because he was evidently expecting something more, ‘I think you like me but—well, you’re not attracted to me.’

  ‘And you know this how?’

  ‘Oh…’ She shook her head, but, when she would have moved away from the mirror, his hand on her shoulder kept her where she was. She sighed. ‘Does it matter?’ Then, the lie almost sticking in her throat, ‘Anyway, I’m not attracted to you either.’

  ‘No?’

  Oh, God, had he sensed how she was feeling? ‘No!’

  ‘I see.’

  He seemed to be digesting this, but he didn’t remove his hand from her shoulder. Instead she watched, transfixed, as one finger probed the scooped neckline of her shirt while his other hand curved almost experimentally about her bare midriff.

  Everywhere he touched her skin bloomed with heat, competing with her hot face for precedence. His hands were cool and dry, but they burned her flesh, setting off tiny electric shocks throughout her body.

  Through the haze of need he was inspiring in her, Fliss managed to find her voice. ‘Why don’t you go and get changed?’ she said, hoping he would take the hint and stop tormenting her. Because that was what he was doing. She was sure of it. This was his way of proving that she’d been lying when she’d said she wasn’t attracted to him.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, dipping his head so that she was forced to meet his eyes in the mirror. ‘Do I smell?’

  Oh, yeah. Fliss swallowed the catch in her throat. He smelled of salt and warmth and sun-dried skin overlaid with a tantalising aroma of raw male virility. The man was testosterone on legs and he must know it.

  ‘Look, perhaps I ought to go and wake Amy,’ she said, hoping the introduction of her daughter’s name might bring a touch of sanity to the proceedings. ‘She’ll never sleep tonight.’

  ‘Nor will I,’ said Matt in that low, hoarse voice that never failed to stir her senses. He moved his head and the scratch of stubble on his jawline grazed her neck. ‘But don’t let that worry you.’

  Fliss’s whole body felt hot now, hot and alive and pulsing with need. When his hips brushed against hers, she felt an urgent desire to push herself against him. But what would she do if she discovered he was as aroused as she was? She had no experience in playing the seductress.

  In any case, it would never happen, she assured herself grimly. Whatever game he was playing, he would never let it go that far. Teasing her, tempting her, that was his objective. He wanted her to know what she was missing in her life. As if she didn’t know that already.

  Then his tongue traced the taut cord in her neck below her ear, following it down to where it expanded to meet her shoulder, and her stomach contracted. Standing in front of the mirror, she could see clearly what he was doing, and, when his lids lifted so that she could see his eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

  ‘Wh—why are you doing this?’

  Matt’s tongue circled his lips for a moment before replying. ‘Don’t you like it?’ he asked huskily, and Fliss thought no woman in her right mind would say no.

  ‘That’s—not the point,’ she said, watching him as his fingers splayed possessively over her stomach, his thumb probing the sensitive hollow of her navel. ‘You—you shouldn’t.’

  ‘Probably not,’ he agreed after a moment, his voice muffled as his lips replaced his tongue. ‘But you sure do taste good. I’d forgotten how good a real woman could taste.’

  Yeah, right. Fliss didn’t believe that for a moment. Whatever lies Diane may have told about their relationship, she was still involved with him. It had been obvious from her attitude that she considered him her property, and the reason for that wasn’t hard to understand.

  ‘Matt, please…’ Fliss whispered now, hardly recognising the pleading tone of her own voice. She sounded almost wanton, she thought, all yielding allure and sensual appeal. Whatever guilt she felt about Diane, she wasn’t above ignoring it if it suited her. But, heaven help her, this was never likely to happen to her again.

  The urge to tip her head back against his shoulder was almost irresistible. He was so close, she could feel the heat coming off his body in waves. She would have had to be totally numb to remain immune to it, and because her eyes were continually drawn to the mirror, she could view what Matt was doing to her with a curious detachment.

  Not that that made it any less erotic. When Matt’s eyes met hers again, she felt as if her breathing had been suspended. Still watching her, he deliberately bit her neck and drew the soft flesh into his mouth. Sucking on it greedily, he continued to impale her wit
h his gaze.

  His action inflamed Fliss’s senses and her knees wobbled. Dear God, did he realise what he was doing to her? Did he know she was finding it very hard to stay in control? His hand had left her shoulder now and was sliding seductively over her ribcage. His knuckles grazed her nipple, causing another debilitating surge of heat, and she fought back the moan of pleasure that threatened to betray her.

  Her breasts were tingling, both nipples clearly defined against her cotton shirt. She was wearing a bra, but its lacy cups offered little protection, and when Matt’s eyes were drawn to them wetness pooled between her legs.

  Her eyes closed almost instinctively. She’d had no experience of Matt’s kind of lovemaking and she didn’t want to see she was making a complete fool of herself. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and she was already anticipating how that would feel. She wanted—oh, lord, she didn’t know exactly what she wanted. But the image of Matt’s bed with its tumbled sheets went some way to supplying an answer.

  ‘Open your eyes,’ he said, his mouth against her ear, and her lids lifted obediently. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her T-shirt. ‘It’s more fun if you’re watching me.’

  Fun? Fliss sucked in a breath. Is that what he thought this was? Didn’t he know that every nerve in her body was screaming with need?

  There were daisy buttons on the front of her trousers instead of a zip and her breathing suspended completely when Matt changed direction, his fingers tiptoeing from one button to the other on a direct path to her crotch. He didn’t open the buttons. He didn’t have to. Fliss was ahead of him, and when he reached the junction of her legs and cupped her in his hand, she almost climaxed there and then.

  But it couldn’t go on. If Amy woke up and came looking for them…Well, that didn’t bear thinking about. Grabbing his hand with both of hers, she pushed it away.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said abruptly. ‘We can’t do this.’

  ‘Can’t we?’ He lifted his head and regarded her with dark enquiry. ‘I thought we were.’

  ‘You don’t understand. Amy could wake up.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Well, then…’

  ‘Let me worry about Amy.’

  ‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘This is wrong.’

  ‘Is it?’ He was mocking now. ‘You seemed to be enjoying it a moment ago.’

  ‘Matt!’

  ‘Fliss!’ He mimicked her breathless denial. ‘Stop stressing. We’re not hurting anyone.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  She turned her head to stare at him and then wished she hadn’t when she found they were face to face. His mouth was only inches from hers, and before she could turn away again he moved closer and covered her lips with his.

  It wasn’t like the other time she’d kissed him. Then, she’d been intensely aware that it was she who was making the running. This time Matt himself had initiated the contact. And because her lips were still parted in surprise, it was a wet and open-mouthed meeting of lips and tongues.

  His mouth was soft, but incredibly hot, his tongue a sensual invasion she had no will to resist. Finding him this close to her, breathing his breath, feeling his heat, was a mindless pleasure. The images she’d had before were overlaid with other visions now, of naked bodies and thrashing limbs, of her and Matt in bed together. Anticipating how satisfying that would be, to have him not only in her arms but inside her, implied an awesome intimacy. And was far too devastating to ignore.

  She tried to turn fully towards him, but he wouldn’t let her, and she could only clutch at his shirt with both hands. Simple lust was roaring through her veins, leaving her eager, yet helpless, and for several minutes she was held captive by her own body’s demands.

  His mouth left hers at last and she wanted to howl in protest. But he turned her back towards the mirror and buried his face in the hollow of her neck. She sensed he was fighting his own needs; aware that with every minute that passed Amy was more likely to interrupt them. It was a sobering thought and it made her feel better knowing that he was frustrated by it, too.

  And then her reflection intruded. She hardly recognised herself now. Her cheeks were still burned, but the flush extended down her throat as well. Her mouth looked swollen and there was a distinct mark on her neck where Matt had bitten her. Oh, God, she thought in horror, how on earth was she going to explain that?

  Amy would notice immediately, she thought. Her daughter always noticed everything, whether Fliss wanted her to or not. And if she mentioned it to her grandfather…

  The sound of the phone brought an end to any further speculation. Brought an end to Matt’s sensuous exploration of her shoulder, too, and he lifted his head reluctantly and met her anxious gaze in the glass.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Immediately he’d sensed her feelings, and with a determined effort she pulled away. ‘Your phone’s ringing.’

  ‘Yeah. I hear it.’

  Fliss pressed her lips together. She was not going to tell him he should answer it, she assured herself firmly, but something of her ambivalence must have shown in her eyes because he said a little tensely, ‘What? What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she murmured, suddenly noticing that the top button on her trousers was undone. When had that happened? she wondered, hastily fastening it again. ‘Um—I’d better go and collect Amy. It’s getting late.’

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ said Matt doggedly. ‘I knew that before that bloody thing started ringing.’ He cut a scowling glance towards the hall. ‘Stop, can’t you?’

  The unexpected cessation of sound was almost deafening and Fliss ran a nervous hand over her midriff. Then, reminded of how Matt had done the same, she stuffed her hands into her pockets instead. ‘That’s a relief,’ she said, hoping to avoid another argument. ‘You must have supernatural powers.’

  ‘Though not with you, huh?’ he countered flatly. He waited and, when she didn’t answer him, he said, ‘Have you stopped speaking to me again?’

  Fliss sighed. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘So what’s bugging you?’

  ‘You mean other than the fact that I should have had more sense than to go along with this?’ she demanded flippantly, but he wasn’t amused.

  ‘You’re saying what we did was against your will?’

  ‘No—’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘But we both know you were only amusing yourself at my expense.’

  ‘Do we?’

  Fliss made an exasperated sound. ‘Do I look like I was born yesterday?’

  ‘And your point is?’

  ‘Look at me, Matt. Really look at me. Then tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. I may be amusing, but I’m certainly not the kind of woman that men like—that men are irresistibly attracted to.’

  ‘Men like me, you mean? Don’t underestimate yourself.’

  ‘And don’t you underestimate me,’ she retorted hotly. ‘What happened here—well, it was quite an experience. But Diane will soon come here—’

  ‘Leave Diane out of this,’ he snapped, but she wouldn’t back down.

  ‘That’s really what this is all about,’ she went on unsteadily. ‘You’ve had a row with her—probably over you moving down here—and you decided to give your housekeeper a thrill.’

  Matt looked appalled. ‘Do you believe that? Is that what you really think of me?’

  It wasn’t, but Fliss consoled herself with the thought that his ego was probably much less vulnerable than hers.

  ‘Does it matter what I think?’ she asked wearily. Then, as the phone started to ring again, she made a defeated gesture. ‘Go on. Answer it. She’s not going to give up until you do.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AMY was grumpy on the walk back to the cottage. She hadn’t taken kindly to being woken up and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t go into the house and speak to Matt before they went home.

  ‘But I haven’t said bye-bye,’ she p
rotested, when her mother announced that they were leaving right away. ‘Can’t I just go and thank him for coming with us? It wouldn’t have been half as much fun if he hadn’t.’

  Well, thanks, thought Fliss drily, but she had more important things on her mind. ‘Not today,’ she insisted crisply, marching her daughter firmly along the path towards the churchyard gate. ‘In any case, he’s busy. The phone rang and—he went to answer it.’

  Which might or might not be a lie, she conceded as Amy squirmed impatiently out of her grasp. Whether Matt had answered the call or not wasn’t her business. Either way, it was an excuse Amy could identify with.

  Unfortunately, the little girl chose to turn her disappointment on her mother and, noticing Fliss’s hot face, she said, ‘Why are you all red? Did you and Matt have another argument? Is that why I’m not allowed to speak to him?’

  ‘No!’ Fliss was horrified at the suggestion. But she had to admit that Amy was getting far too astute for her own good. ‘In case you overlooked the fact, it’s been a sunny day. I’m sunburned, that’s all.’

  ‘So why aren’t I sunburned?’ Amy countered, still regarding her mother’s face with curious eyes. Then she gasped. ‘Did you know you’ve got a big bruise on your neck, as well?’

  Fliss’s hand went automatically to cover the mark Matt had made, and she was glad her face couldn’t look any redder than it already did. ‘Oh—I must have been bitten,’ she said, cringing at the irony. ‘That’s why I get sunburned and you don’t. My skin is much fairer than yours.’

  ‘Really?’ Amy didn’t look convinced and, despite Fliss’s efforts to distract her, she still kept casting curious looks at her mother whenever she thought she could get away with it.

  ‘Yes, really,’ declared Fliss at last, feeling as if her nerves had been strung out to dry. Then, because she couldn’t let Amy waltz into the cottage with the news that her mother had been bitten by some monstrous insect, she said, ‘And I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell Grandad.’

  ‘Why?’