by Emma Darcy
“Pleasure beyond what we share in bed,” he said silkily, moving in to claim what she owed him, taking her in his embrace, ignoring the stiff resistance of her body as he pressed his to it. “It’s something beautiful for you to look at tonight. And when you wake in the morning.”
Her hands were still clenched at her sides. Her eyes burned with an angry hatred. There was nothing cool and detached about her now. Why she should hate him, he didn’t know, but hate was infinitely better than indifference. Quin sensed she was steaming inside, wanting to lash out at him, and he exulted in having stirred so much volatile emotion. He didn’t want a passive Nicole in bed. He wanted the passionate Nicole who’d left an indelible imprint on his memory.
“Bed,” she bit out, pouring a mountain of venom into the word. “Right! Let’s get to it!”
He laughed at her boiling impatience to get it over and done with. “Not so fast, Nicole. We haven’t even kissed yet.”
“Not a good idea, Quin,” she flashed back at him. “I might bite your tongue out.”
“I think I’ll risk it anyhow.”
“Whores don’t kiss.”
“You’re no whore, Nicole. The money is totally irrelevant to what pulses between us.”
“That’s your ego talking, Quin. I wouldn’t be here but for the money.”
“Okay. Then give me my money’s worth.” He whipped a hand up to cup her chin, holding her face so she couldn’t turn it away. “Use your tongue for something other than talking.”
She opened her mouth to speak again and he swooped on it, his own passions aroused by her refusal to acknowledge the powerful chemistry between them. He kissed her hard, determined on crashing through any resistance.
There was a non-responsive moment of shock.
Then her tongue was tangling with his in a fierce duel for possession, no holding back, no sharp teeth trying to beat him into retreat. She assaulted his mouth with as much pumped up passion as he assaulted hers, and the excitement of it was so intense, Quin’s entire body was seized with the need to drive it further.
Her arms had wound around his neck, hands thrust aggressively into his hair to enforce her kiss. It was easy to lower his hold on her, using the leverage of her lushly cushioned bottom to lift her up enough for him to stride to the bed and move them both onto it. Her legs sprawled apart invitingly as he came down on top of her. An exhilarating rush of adrenaline surged through him at the obvious proof that she wanted him as urgently as he wanted her.
Swiftly positioning himself, feeling her moist heat, knowing she was ready, her flesh quivering, craving what he craved, Quin was on the point of plunging forward when she suddenly slammed her hands against his shoulders and cried, “No! No! Wait!”
“What for?” he snapped, every taut nerve and muscle protesting the delay, his mind angrily whirling over the thought of her playing some sadistic, teasing game with him.
“You have to use protection, Quin,” she said forcefully, her breasts heaving against his chest, her knees up, feet planted to give her pushing strength if she had to use it.
“You’ve got some infectious problem?” His voice was harsh with frustration. Apart from which, he didn’t believe that a woman as fastidious as Nicole would have taken any health risk with sex.
“How do I know you haven’t got one?” she retaliated. “Don’t tell me you’ve been celibate for the past five years.”
“No, but I’m not stupid, Nicole.”
“I want you to use a condom,” she pressed aggressively.
“That’s not as pleasurable for you or me.”
“Tough!” Her eyes savagely mocked his argument. “Me getting pregnant is not part of our deal.”
“Pregnant? You’re worried about getting pregnant?”
“It happens,” she said fiercely.
He frowned over the sharpness of her concern. It seemed unreasonable, given the effectiveness of modern means of contraception.
Perhaps realising it needed some credible explanation, she blurted out, “I’m not on the pill, Quin. By insisting on having me with you tonight, you didn’t give me time to get myself safely protected.”
His mind swiftly processed what she was saying. “So you haven’t been sexually active for some time…months…years?”
Five years? he wondered, recalling her crack about the possible length of his celibacy.
“That’s none of your business.” Again her eyes were savagely mocking as she added, “The point is, you don’t want a child out of this any more than I do. Such a responsibility would interfere far too much with your life. Though, of course, you could just turn your back on it, leaving me to deal with the consequences of our…pleasure.”
Was that a bitter tone in her voice?
Quin forgot about the enforced pause to their current pleasure, his mind totally engaged with Nicole’s response to him on other levels. “I’ve never shirked responsibility,” he stated, ironically conscious of the family debt he’d carried and eventually paid out. “Nor did I turn my back on you, Nicole. It was you who walked away.”
“After you shut about a million doors in my face,” she said derisively. “Only the bedroom door was always open. But let’s not go down that road, Quin. We’re dealing with now and I don’t want any mementoes—butterflies or babies—of this time together. I brought a packet of condoms in case you didn’t have a ready supply. It’s in my bag.”
The raging desire was gone. The act of getting up and doing the whole condom thing was a passion killer anyway, Quin told himself, moving to lie beside Nicole. The whole night stretched ahead of them. There was no need for any haste in satisfying the hunger for a deeply sexual connection with her. Other intimacies also had appeal.
“Shall I get the packet?” she asked, turning towards him and propping herself up on her elbow.
“Sure! Might as well be prepared for when I get another erection,” he drawled sardonically.
She glanced down and winced at the limp evidence of doused arousal. “Sorry, Quin. I should have spoken before. I didn’t deliberately hold back on it.”
He cocked a challenging eyebrow. “Caught up in other things?”
Her lips compressed. No admission that she’d wanted him. But she had. No doubt about that in Quin’s mind. The triumphant knowledge of it simmered in his eyes as he said, “I put your bag in the ensuite bathroom.” He waved to a door beyond the bedside table closest to where he lay. “It’s through there.”
It meant she had to clamber over him or get up on her side and round the bed, passing directly by the blue butterfly which he’d cunningly displayed with the only light switched on in the room. He watched her as she took the latter action. Her naked body was briefly silhouetted against the spotlight as she headed for the bathroom, her gaze rigidly fixed on the door, not so much as a glance at the butterfly.
Her lovely full breasts seemed heavier, not quite as perky as he remembered. A more mature figure five years down the track, he thought, but certainly no less sexy. To his mind, her body was still the most beautifully feminine he’d ever seen; curves where there should be curves, flowing in perfect harmony, her bones softly fleshed, long shapely legs.
He was glad she wasn’t inhibited about it, feeling no need to cover up in front of him. Which would have been absurd anyway, given they’d been lovers. Nevertheless, it conceded a familiarity she might have wanted to reject in these current circumstances with hostility a strong thread in her attitude towards him.
Quin brooded over the hostility while she was out of sight in the bathroom. He didn’t really understand it. When they’d first met at the bank where they’d been employed, the sexual chemistry between them had been instant and compelling. They’d both been swept away by it. There’d been no courtship. One dinner date followed by blazing passion. It had taken enormous discipline for him not to become obsessed with her, not to lose sight of the goal he’d set himself.
Despite the cost to the financial momentum he’d been building, he’d moved ou
t of his mother’s home and rented an apartment so he and Nicole could be together as much as possible. Nicole had been happy with the arrangement. The sexual excitement had been intense and they were also highly compatible out of bed, with her understanding the pressures of trading and his being able to converse knowingly about her work in sales.
She was the only woman he’d ever lived with, the only one he’d ever wanted to live with. Being with her had always been an enormous buzz. It still was. But in the end she hadn’t been satisfied with what they had.
He couldn’t remember when she’d started agitating about meeting each other’s families. He hadn’t wanted to go there. It meant getting more tied up with Nicole than he already was and he didn’t want to think about future relationships when he hadn’t yet discharged the burden of the past. One thing at a time. He’d been adamant about simply continuing to share what they did—just the two of them—which didn’t have anything to do with their families.
He had sensed an emotional withdrawal from her—a coldness stemming, he’d thought, from not getting her own way. He hadn’t fallen in with her design for their lives, whatever that was—marriage, babies, setting up a family home. Nevertheless, she had seemed to accept that he wasn’t about to change his mind—remaining with him for two years before deciding to break off their relationship and go overseas.
He recalled her bitter claim that making money had been more important to him than she was. To Quin’s mind, the two things should not have been in conflict. Both had been important to him. But she had gone, deliberately putting so much distance between them, it wrote off any second chance with her, and since that was her choice…why did she now hate him?
Had she wanted him—expected him—to drop everything and chase after her?
He’d missed her. He’d missed her one hell of a lot. But he’d had a job to do, a vow to fulfil, and he’d driven himself to carry it through and have done with it. He was free now. His mother was back home in Argentina, welcomed into her family circle again. She’d wanted him to stay, too, but the life there had no appeal to him. Australia had become his home country.
Having returned to Sydney and established his own business, he had been feeling the need for someone to share his life with. He’d tried several attractive women, all of them falling short of satisfying him in one area or another. He hadn’t been consciously comparing them to Nicole, yet the moment he’d seen her again, he knew she was the one he had to have.
She emerged from the bathroom, coming straight to his side of the bed and handing him the packet of condoms. “You might as well get one out ready,” she said, her green eyes glittering determined purpose as she moved to sit astride him, intent on arousing his flesh with her own.
“I did mention there was no hurry, Nicole,” he reminded her, though he proceeded to extract the contraceptive device, wanting it ready when he chose to use it. “I’m happy just to talk for a while.”
“Then talk away,” she answered carelessly, moving her lower body over his in tantalising provocation.
She looked magnificent sitting there on top of him, her breasts swaying to the voluptuous roll of her hips, her long curly hair a cloud of sensual promise, shimmering against the backdrop of the spotlighted blue butterfly.
Had she positioned herself like this so it was behind her, out of her line of sight? “I’m glad you want to make love to me,” he said as a goad to revealing her thoughts.
She flicked him a veiled look, her thick lashes almost hiding—but not quite—the hot daggers behind them. “I might just be satisfying myself.”
“Then I’m glad to be of service to you.”
She raked her nails lightly down his chest, not scratching but possibly delivering a warning that the claws could be unsheathed if he pushed her too far.
Quin rather relished flirting with danger. “How long has it been since you were with a man, Nicole?” he asked, wanting his curiosity satisfied on that point. If there’d been no other since she’d left him…
“Obviously I’ve been occupied by other things,” she tossed out as though he should have realised that from the situation she had already laid out to him.
“Even as far back as two years ago?”
It stilled her for a moment. But she was quick at making the connection. “Your friend, Tony Fisher, is not as irresistible as he might think he is.”
“Most women find Tony very attractive.”
“Guess it’s a matter of personal taste.” Her eyes flashed derisively as she bent forward to kiss one of his nipples, swirling her tongue around it and sucking on it as though revelling in its taste.
If it was meant to be a powerful distraction from any further conversation, it certainly hit its mark. The sheer physical excitement of it tested his control to its limits. Only the thought that she was winning gave him the will power to remain still and keep his brain working, though he didn’t realise his breath was trapped in his chest until she lifted her mouth away. He quickly exhaled and gulped in more air as her head moved towards his other nipple.
“Did you find satisfaction in London?” he shot out, trying to pinpoint how she’d spent the years of her absence overseas.
She ignored the question, delivering the same sweet torment again, driving the desire to subject her to it until her whole body ached for the release he could give her, until she was begging for it. He had twenty-five more nights for talking. It could wait. This couldn’t. Not even for one more second.
He grabbed her waist, hurled her onto her back, rolled to pin her down under his weight. She tore at his hair as he swooped on her breasts. She kneaded his shoulders when he pushed himself down to wrap his mouth around more intimate places. Her body bucked, writhed and finally she did beg.
For a moment he hesitated over donning the condom.
If Nicole did get pregnant and had his child, she’d be tied to him for life.
But that wouldn’t be a free choice.
He wanted her to want him in her life.
And he didn’t want to be stopped now.
So the protective sheath had to be used.
She climaxed as he drove his triumphant possession of her as deeply as he could go, but that wasn’t enough for Quin. He was consumed with the burning desire to feel her coming again and again, rolling from one ecstatic peak to the next. He wanted to drive the memory of any other lover she’d had right out of her mind so she remembered only him. He used every bit of sexual expertise he knew to keep her body tuned to his, responding instinctively, blissfully, lustfully, lovingly, long into the night.
As she had in the past.
Oh, yes, he wanted that back.
And more!
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS the twelfth night coming up. Almost halfway through the deal, Nicole told herself, trying to quell the growing sense that she would never really be free of Joaquin Luis Sola. He was like a drug. The more she had of him, the more she wanted him. Just like before. And labelling what they had together, just sex, did not lessen the impact of it. Walking away from him a second time was not going to be any easier than the first.
She stared at the reflection of her eyes in the bathroom mirror. They literally glittered with excitement, all because she could tell him tonight they didn’t have to use condoms anymore. She’d now been taking the pill long enough for it to be effective. They didn’t have to think about protection, didn’t have to stop, didn’t have to blunt the feeling of absolutely natural intimacy.
She couldn’t even pretend her skin was tingling from the brisk towelling she’d given it after her shower. Her whole body was anticipating his touch. And here she was blow-drying her freshly shampooed hair so it would look good for him, feel good to him, silky and sensual and…
“Nicole…” Her mother called out, knocking on the bathroom door to gain her attention. “You’re wanted on the ’phone.”
“Coming…” She quickly switched off the hair drier, laid it on the vanity bench, then grabbed her bathrobe and wrappe
d it around the nakedness she hadn’t bothered to cover before, secretly revelling in a sense of wanton expectation. She opened the door to find her mother still loitering in the hall, watching for her to emerge. “Who is it?” Nicole asked, wondering why she appeared anxious.
Linda Ellis looked at the happy glow emanating from her daughter and felt her own heart tighten with concern. That same aura of happiness had been totally blighted by the man Nicole had picked up with again. If that happened a second time, it would be completely her fault for not ever having stopped to count the cost of trying to save Harry. A futile sacrifice in the end. And this sacrifice by Nicole could also end in wretched grief.
“It’s him,” she said flatly.
“You mean Quin?” Nicole asked, the sparkle in her eyes disappearing under a sudden cloud of worry.
Linda nodded.
Frowning heavily, Nicole hurried down the hall to the kitchen where the house telephone resided. Linda trailed after her, disturbed by this direct contact with the man who had never wanted to meet her, never wanted anything to do with Nicole’s family. She propped herself in the kitchen doorway, needing to eavesdrop on the call, needing to know where all this might be leading
Nicole snatched up the telephone receiver which had been left waiting for her on the kitchen bench. Her heart was racing, her stomach fluttering. “How did you get this number?” she demanded, the fear of Quin encroaching on her real life shooting through her mind.
“I looked it up in the telephone book,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“It’s in my mother’s name,” she snapped back.
“The same name, Linda Ellis, attached to the debts I paid off, including the mortgage on a house in Burwood,” he drawled.
Nicole paused to take a deep, calming breath and to get her wits in order. Of course Quin had enough information to find her. The question was…why bother? He never had before.
“Calling me at home is not in our deal,” she stated pointedly.
