by Penny Jordan
One powerful arm kept her clamped to the moist warmth of Zach’s body. He had pulled on his jeans after his swim, but nothing else, and the hand she raised to push him away came into disturbing contact with the smooth flesh of his shoulders, the crisply dark hairs tangling across his chest, abrasive against her soft palms as her hand slid away.
‘You can touch me, you know,’ Zach murmured silkily against her mouth as his free hand captured her nerveless fingers and replaced them against the taut muscle of his diaphragm.
‘Forget what happened this morning,’ he told her softly. ‘Forget everything but this.’
‘This’ was lean fingers sliding aside the constricting presence of her lacy bra to cup and then stroke the rounded curve of her breasts, his tongue again tracing the parted softness of her lips as his thumb moved sensuously over the hardening peaks of her breasts, unleashing inside her a torrent of emotion she was powerless to control; a pleasurable pain which began somewhere in the pit of her stomach and spread slowly upwards until her body was on fire, with the need to know a more intimate possession.
As though he were unaware of the intensity of her need, Zach began a leisurely exploration of her skin, teasing light kisses against her closed eyelids where her eyelashes fluttered frantically at the tormenting caress, his hands continuing their lazy enticement of her body.
Tamara was beyond conscious thought, beyond anything but the feeling surging through her, the instinct which urged her to caress the satin smoothness of Zach’s skin as she traced the hard bones of his shoulders, first with her fingers, and then with her lips, trembling in their eagerness to taste the male warmth of him. The faintly musky odour of his body excited her with its male alienness, her whole body trembling with the desire possessing her. Her body arched mutely, pleading for more intimate contact than the briefly tantalising caresses Zach was stroking upon it, pride, restraint, self-control forgotten, swept aside in the fierce onslaught of passion as she saw the jade gleam of Zach’s eyes as he looked slowly along the naked length of her body and then lowered his head, trailing fire against flesh so sensitised to his touch that tiny electric shocks seemed to tingle arousingly through her.
The touch of his mouth on hers triggered off a shuddering treacherous response, alerting warning bells deep within her brain, reminding her of the danger she was courting. But she didn’t want to listen; she wanted the sensual pleasure of Zach’s sexual magnetism to go on and on.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
Tamara’s head snapped forward, her eyes opening as the curt words jerked her out of her trance.
‘Your fiancé,’ Zach reminded her dryly. ‘For a moment there you almost had me fooled, but you responded far too passionately to be anywhere near as frightened as you pretended. And I don’t act as substitute for any man.’
‘You couldn’t even begin to fill Malcolm’s shoes,’ Tamara lied wildly, shrinking away from him, horrified by the wantonness of her behaviour and struggling to hide the pale shape of her body from the merciless decimation of eyes without a single trace of compassion or desire.
What on earth had possessed her? She had behaved like a … like a … Like a woman in love! The thought slid into her mind with all the silky treachery of a serpent into Eden, driving the breath out of her body as she looked helplessly into Zach’s impassive eyes. She loved him? How could she? She’d only known him a handful of days. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t long enough …
Long enough to know that he possessed a hard courage she had never known in any other man, a resoluteness and dedication to purpose that almost frightened her. Long enough to know some of his most intimate fears and thoughts, so why not long enough to love him?
CHAPTER FIVE
DAWN broke in its habitual vivid splendour, and Tamara, who had been awake already for what seemed like hours, watched the slow ascent of the sun. Next to her Zach lay sleeping. During the night he had pushed free of the sleeping bag and she could see the relaxed splay of his muscles beneath the scarred and torn flesh, and her heart started to thud slowly and heavily as she relived those moments in his arms the previous evening and the truth she had been forced to face long after Zach had fallen asleep. She loved him. It should have seemed wildly improbable and hopelessly unbelievable, but as though her body had known the truth long before her mind accepted it, after the initial shock there had been an inevitability in the acknowledgement which made it impossible for her to hide any longer behind the conventional approach to ‘love’, namely that it was something that grew slowly and gradually, and that only infatuation was instantaneous.
In many ways Zach was everything Tamara disliked in men; he was almost aggressively sexual—something she hated, and yet how could she deny now that she had responded almost immediately to it, perhaps an indication that some deep inner core of her had known instinctively the danger he represented.
She moved restlessly in her sleeping bag, tormented by the longing to stretch out her hand and touch the hollow planes of his face; to trace its male shape and feel the rough shadowing of the dark beard beginning along his jaw.
The temptation was almost irresistible; Zach’s proximity tantalised and disturbed her, and the old habits imbued by Aunt Lilian mocked her folly in allowing herself to fall so completely under his spell. He was an astoundingly sexually attractive man and couldn’t have reached the age of thirty odd without becoming aware of it. In addition, his career, his close companionship with danger, honed his maleness to the point where it became a subtle challenge and one that Tamara estimated few women would be able to resist.
Why on earth should he single her out from among the dozens of more beautiful women who must have wanted him?
If it wasn’t for the proximity forced upon them by their present circumstances Tamara doubted that he would have ever spared her a second glance. Aunt Lilian had often stressed during her teens that she was no great beauty. Zach moved in his sleep and the movement revealed the length of his spine down to his narrow waist. She held her breath, almost literally trembling with the desire to trace the line of his backbone, to press her lips to the scar tissue torn by some merciless assailant.
On a sudden impulse she unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled out, only one thought in her mind, and that to remove herself from temptation. She would swim in the pool, she decided—that ought to cool her down and dampen those tormenting fantasies luring her on like a siren song.
The surface of the pond was marred only by the ripples caused by the cascade of water frothing over a high fall of rocks and down into the natural basin. Tamara paused by the water’s edge, and then, acting on some driving instinct that would not be denied, with shaking fingers she unclipped and removed her brief bra and panties, firmly ignoring an inner voice, very reminiscent of Aunt Lilian, which exclaimed in frigid disapproval against what she was doing.
Before she could give in to second thoughts she stepped into the water, marvelling at the silky warmth of it against her naked skin.
Aunt Lilian and the repressions she had learned from her were forgotten as Tamara gave herself up to the pleasure of the clean water against her bare flesh; a touch so gentle that it could almost be that of a lover. Blushing a little at the wayward thoughts pulsing through her, she turned over to float luxuriously on her back, closing her eyes against the intense glare of the sun, feelings which she had suppressed instinctively all through her growing years, breaking the bonds of prudery and fear as instilled by her aunt to make her aware for the first time in her life of the sensuality of her own body, so perfectly formed by nature to give—and receive—pleasure.
‘Tamara!’
The word sliced through the peaceful seclusion of her surroundings, shattering her feeling of wellbeing. She turned over, striking out for the shore, but it was too late; she had a brief impression of a lean, tanned blue-jeaned figure standing by the edge of the pool, and then the figure jack-knifed in a perfect dive, swimming powerfully towards her, droplets of water glistening on the s
atin-brown skin as she watched bewitched and entranced until she realised that Zach’s expression was that of an extremely angry man, something which was borne out by the way he grasped her wrist, jerking her against him while he trod water.
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he grated in a voice made roughly husky by the physical exercise. ‘What was the last thing I said to you yesterday?’
Too late Tamara remembered him warning her not to go anywhere alone.
‘It was quite safe,’ she defended. ‘I wanted to swim … I couldn’t last night because you were there.’
‘So this morning you risk being discovered by our guerrilla friends instead? What is it with you?’ he demanded savagely. ‘Are you deliberately goading me, or just plain stupid?’
It was too late to explain that he had misunderstood her. Her body was betrayingly conscious of the proximity of his, her soft skin rubbed by the soaking denim clinging to powerfully muscled thighs.
‘Neither,’ she retorted, suddenly conscious of her own nudity and the menace which could have lurked unseen in the forest. ‘I just wanted to swim—alone.’
At another time his swearing would have made her blush, but she ignored it, desperately trying to control the quivering of her body, a combination of shock and desire, rendering her almost completely helpless, dependent on the firm grip of the brown fingers round her wrists for support.
‘Well, now you’ve had it,’ Zach told her crisply, ‘and it’s time we made a start. We can’t afford to waste any time.’ As though he sensed her reluctance to follow him, he frowned, studying her downbent head, her fair hair trailing on the water like a mediaeval Venus.
‘Something wrong?’ he enquired dulcetly, but Tamara wasn’t fooled. He was a man of iron clothed in tempered steel, and nothing less than a laser beam could penetrate that tough outer casing.
‘You go on and I’ll follow you,’ she stammered. ‘I left my clothes on the rocks …’
‘You don’t say!’ He was openly mocking her now, his lambent green gaze appraising the shadowy white form beneath the water.
‘Let’s get one thing straight.’ The mockery was despatched to be replaced with curt contempt. ‘I don’t care what teasing games you play with your fiancé, just don’t try them out with me. I’ve already told you, I’m no green boy driven to insatiable lust by the sight of a woman’s body. Tease me, Tamara, and you may very well find you get more than you bargained for!’
‘I wasn’t teasing!’ Anger overcame caution, her grey eyes almost violet with the force of her pent-up emotions, small fists beating uselessly at his hard chest. How dared he imply that she had deliberately tried to tease him?
‘If you knew as much as you claim to know about women,’ she continued disdainfully, seeing the disbelieving look in his eyes, ‘you’d know that I’m not the teasing sort.’
To her chagrin he laughed. ‘Honey, you’re all that sort,’ he claimed arrogantly. ‘But I’m not going to waste time arguing with you.’
Before she could stop him, he was lifting her from the protection of the pool, carrying her in his arms as he strode in the direction of the poolside, the water covering them both to their shoulder blades, forcing Tamara to cling on to his neck, locking her fingers behind it in the thick darkness of his hair.
He didn’t stop until they reached the clearing where they had spent the night, where she was dumped unceremoniously on her sleeping bag, humiliatingly conscious of her naked body, completely revealed to his impassive gaze. The water dripped from his jeans, forming little puddles at his feet, the damp fabric pulling tautly over the powerfully masculine body.
Her mouth dry, Tamara dragged her eyes away, overcome by the same sensation of weakness she had experienced the previous evening. She supposed that it was a measure of Zach’s concern for her safety that he had plunged into the pool almost fully clad, but remembering his expression when he reached her, she was forced to the conclusion that anger and not compassion had motivated the impulsive action.
She stood up, reaching for her spare top. She could wear it when she went to retrieve the rest of her clothes. Behind her she heard Zach curse and the sound of a zip sliding downwards. When she turned he had removed the soaking jeans and was standing beside his sleeping bag clad only in a pair of black briefs. Tamara touched dry lips with the tip of her tongue, telling herself that she had seen men wearing just as little on the beach, but it didn’t help, and no amount of willpower seemed to be able to stop the tremors shivering through her.
‘Tamara!’
She seemed to have a genius for making Zach say her name in that particular tone.
‘What’s the matter? Don’t you feel well?’ He was standing next to her, cool fingers touching her skin, his brows drawn together in a frown as he fired a volley of questions at her.
‘Your skin feels hot, but not enough for a fever. Have you had stomach-ache? Been sick?’ His fingers had left her forehead to probe the soft swell of her stomach.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
Was that husky voice really her own? She attempted to push him away, but she was still trembling far too much.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ he mimicked, suddenly almost savage. ‘You’re the epitome of the cool, in-control lady, aren’t you? Apart from that brief slip last night. Will you tell him about that, your estimable fiancé? I am right in describing him as estimable, aren’t I, Tamara?
‘Let me see …’ His fingers captured hers, studying her diamond ring. ‘He’s something in the City; very correct and proper; ambitious in his way, and you’ll make him the perfect wife. Perhaps you hadn’t better tell him. It might mar your perfection.’
‘He’ll understand,’ Tamara lied shakily.
‘What?’ Zach demanded softly. ‘That the veneer of civilisation isn’t always as thick as we would like, and that you came perilously close to the point of proving just how thin it can be?’
‘I didn’t.’ Tamara was desperate to deny the truth; not because of Malcolm, but because she couldn’t bear the thought of Zach discovering how she felt about him.
‘No?’
In the sudden quiet of the clearing, the word was dangerously loaded.
‘No,’ Tamara reiterated firmly, avoiding her eyes.
‘Liar!’
She hadn’t been aware of Zach moving, but all at once he was so close to her that she could see the individual pores on his skin; could breathe in the male scent of him, and her nerve ends quivered in response to his effect upon her.
‘Don’t touch me—I hate it!’ It was the panic-stricken cry of a child, but it seemed to ignite a fire within Zach which scorched along Tamara’s nervous system as she was lowered to the ground, the weight of Zach’s body pinning her there, his potent maleness dizzying her senses as his mouth punished hers in a brutally forceful kiss which left her lips swollen and quivering and frighteningly vulnerable to the tantalising stroke of his tongue over the flesh he had so recently savaged.
But the desire was still there. Tamara could see it smouldering in the depths of his eyes; she could feel it in the hard tension of his body; in the hands which swept her from throat to thigh, destroying for ever her innocence and leaving her dry-mouthed and aching with a need that was wholly adult.
‘Still hate me touching you?’
His eyes seemed almost black, without a single trace of compassion or remorse.
‘Yes.’
Pride forced the lie, her face averting as she closed her eyes.
The sudden touch of Zach’s mouth, moving moistly over the tender vulnerability of her throat, forced them wide open again, but it was plain that her defiance had driven him beyond reason. Despite her incoherent pleas he refused to let her go, pinioning her arms instead, so that she was powerless to help herself, her whole body torn by deep shudders, by his tongue’s delicately tormenting tracery of first one nipple and then the other.
The sight of his dark head against her breasts awoke in Tamara an almost primitive yearning
to know what it would be like to hold his son against her body, but even this was banished as the expertly questing lips moved downwards exploring the softly trembling swell of her stomach, his fingers stroking seductively along her thighs.
‘You want me, Tamara.’
It was an assertion she could no longer deny. Her fingers twisted convulsively in the thick blackness of his hair. His body emanated the same dry heat as her lips, the small satisfied sounds he made as hesitantly, and then with increasing confidence her lips and fingers explored the male contours of his body, encouraging her to touch and taste with a sensuality she had never in her wildest dreams imagined herself possessing. The tentative touch of her tongue against the sensitive maleness of his throat brought a response that made the heat beat up under her own skin, her fingers digging into the solid muscle of his chest shadowed by the dark hair that arrowed down past his navel.
‘Tamara, I want you.’ The hoarsely groaned plea was an echo of her own desire, the pulsating heat of the thighs pinning her to the ground arousing inside her a deeply exciting hunger which seemed to grow with every brush of his fingers against her skin. The passionate demand of his kisses obliterated caution and fear; her whole body trembling with the need to know his complete possession as she arched pleadingly beneath him, mutely inviting the culmination of their mutual desire.
Beads of sweat dewed his forehead and throat, tasting salty on Tamara’s tongue as she touched it delicately to his moist flesh. With a groan Zach cupped her breast, teasing it tantalisingly for a second before possessing the urgently aroused peak with lips that seemed to burn where they touched.
There was a brief moment when Tamara thought he was going to leave her, and she clutched desperately at the smoothly muscled shoulders, only to realise with a thrill of increased desire that he had merely been removing the final barrier between them. His knee parted the soft flesh of her thighs, the tautly masculine shape of him at first shockingly alien, but then his mouth slid moistly over hers and Tamara forgot her prickling apprehension in the waves of melting sweetness that started to engulf her.
