His Convenient Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  ‘You don’t think that we’ve finished already, do you?’

  Green eyes widened.

  ‘I’ve only explored a part of your body,’ he informed her with a low, sexy laugh.

  As if to prove his point, he raised her arm and proceeded to trace a path with his lips along her side, reawakening ripples of sensation in her. Then he moved his attention to her stomach, to the soft indentation of her navel, then down to the most intimate place of all, where his skilful fingers had just finished their masterful assault.

  ‘No!’ Sara tried to clamp shut her legs, but without success.

  ‘No?’ He looked up at her, then, to further addle her, he blew gently against the still swollen nub of her femininity. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You can’t…I’ve never…’

  ‘Never had a man’s mouth down there?’ The shockingly forthright question had her blushing furiously and she would have bucked against him but it would have been useless. His weight was rendering her immobile. ‘There’s a first time for everything, though, isn’t there?’

  Without allowing the chance for debate, he lowered his head and with almost unbearable delicacy touched the tip of her clitoris with his tongue.

  From feeling spent only minutes previously, Sara’s body charged into life as if a jolt of electricity had run through it. Where she would have writhed, he held her still with his hands firmly placed on her hips. Then he was licking with a rhythmic pressure that had her groaning with un-disguised rapture.

  She had never reached these heights before and her whole body was trembling with a rippling onslaught of sensations that had her crying out.

  Then when she thought, anguished, that she would again no longer be able to restrain herself from capitulating to what he was doing to her body, he was breaking away from the honeyed moistness and moving to cover her body with his in one fluid movement.

  ‘Contraception,’ he murmured and her eyes flickered open at the prosaic nature of the remark.

  ‘Wh…what?’

  ‘Are you using any?’ he questioned softly, ‘because if you aren’t, then there are other ways of…reaching a climax without penetration…’

  He was responsible, her brain registered dimly, responsible enough to think about the consequences of what they were about to do. She half smiled. ‘There’s no need to worry,’ she said, stretching up, feline-like, to coil her arms around his shoulders. ‘And no need to talk either,’ she whispered.

  In actual fact, she was on the Pill, not because her sex life required it, but because the Pill regulated her periods and helped to lighten the flow. The explanation was there if he wanted it, but right now she wasn’t intending to launch into it. Her body was screaming for fulfilment and she could tell from the glitter in his eyes that he was as well.

  Sara felt him enter her and her body tensed as every muscle stretched to accommodate his size. He eased himself in slowly, withdrew slightly, eased himself further in and then he was moving inside her, deep thrusts that had her spiralling towards the most powerful climax she had ever experienced.

  And she witnessed his own soaring passion as his powerful body arched back on one long, final thrust and he shuddered to complete fulfilment.

  He could have made love to her again. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself once more in her exquisite body and let her lose herself in his, but there was a thread of uncertainty running through him that made him wonder whether she would just pull back, retreat again to a place where he might not be able to reach her.

  He had wanted her and now he felt himself consumed by the possibility of having her again. His vague plan to somehow get to know her so that he could manoeuvre his way into buying the Rectory lay in splinters at his feet, but he didn’t care. At least not at this moment in time. At this moment in time the only thing he cared about was repeating the mind-blowing experience they had shared.

  ‘We…we have to go and collect Simon,’ was the first coherent thing that came to her mind as he lay on his side and tugged her so that she was facing him.

  ‘It’s…’ he glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fireplace ‘…eleven-fifteen. He’ll be asleep already…’ He didn’t want to scare her off but just lying here next to her was making his body stir into life once again. ‘So he won’t notice whether you’re there now or…in an hour’s time…and I can think of other things we can do to fill the time…’ He stroked the side of her breast then rolled one nipple between his fingers, feeling a flare of triumph as it hardened at his touch.

  Sex. It was all about sex, and she honestly couldn’t blame him. They had made love like people who had spent years starved of physical contact. Right in her case, but in his case? He was just a highly skilled lover who knew how to press the right buttons to get the right responses.

  ‘No,’ she said weakly, disturbed by the thought that there should be something more than just the act of making love, however glorious that was in itself.

  ‘Why not?’ He removed his hand and she felt the loss of contact with a shiver of dismay.

  ‘Because…because we just can’t.’

  ‘Can’t…?’

  Sara twisted her head so that she didn’t have to look into his eyes. Those eyes made her doubt everything she had ever believed, made her wonder whether shying away from men so that she could never be hurt had actually been such a good idea after all. She didn’t want to doubt herself. She had Simon to consider. There was no way that she would expose him to having a man around, only for the man to disappear just as his own father had. And James Dalgleish was a disappearing kind of man. You didn’t need a degree in rocket science to spot that a mile off.

  ‘I need to get dressed.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He gripped her arm firmly enough to anchor her to the spot but not so hard that he was physically hurting her, although she knew that the slightest attempt by her to get off the bed would result in enough pressure for him to ensure that she went nowhere.

  ‘How long do you plan on running away, Sara? Another year? Two years? The rest of your life?’

  ‘You’re hurting my arm.’

  ‘Por Dios, woman! We all screw up once in a while! The trick is not to end up haunted by it!’ He could feel her withdrawing with every passing second and his powerlessness to do anything about it made him want to break things. But aggression would get him nowhere. He forced himself to calm down, released her arm and gave her a long, measured look.

  ‘You’ve screwed up? Ever?’

  ‘Yes, if you must know.’ He felt as if he was stepping off the edge of something, but what…? ‘When I was young, I had a fling with a woman ten years older than me. I thought it was love until I surprised her at her flat one afternoon with another man. Turned out I was a little plaything being cultivated by the pair of them as an easy route to some quick cash. Marry me, divorce me, end up rich. Nice, quick, foolproof.’ There was no reason why he should have kept this untold story to himself, but it still confused the hell out of him as to why he had felt so damned compelled to tell it in the first place.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I learnt my lesson,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘But you didn’t have a child.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And children get hurt.’

  ‘And adults can use that to hide behind!’

  ‘I want to get my son back now.’ Her heart was beating like a drum and something inside her head was screaming out to her that one wrong move now would land her waist-deep in quicksand.

  ‘Feel free.’ He lay back with his hands behind his head.

  ‘What do you mean, feel free?’

  ‘I mean feel free to go and get him. I’ll be waiting right here till you get back.’

  ‘Why is it so hard for you to take no for an answer?’ Sara flared in sudden anger. She swept her legs off the bed and stormed towards the bathroom, clutching her bundle of clothes in one hand.

  OK, so maybe she shouldn’t have slept with him, but she had and
she didn’t regret one minute of it. She just didn’t want it to go any further. Why couldn’t he accept that?

  She had a very quick shower, changed and half expected that he would have left but when she returned to the bedroom it was to find that he was still there, although thankfully back in his clothes and lounging against the bay window.

  ‘I’ll be waiting right here for you,’ he informed her steadily.

  ‘Why?’ The question was torn from her.

  ‘Because we want one another and it’s no good pretending otherwise. You’re not some virginal maiden in terror of a rampant male, you’re just someone who’s ready to close the whole world out as a self-inflicted punishment because you made a mistake a long time ago.’

  ‘And having hundreds of relationships is as bad as having none! The truth is that you enjoyed a romp in the hay and now you’d quite like to enjoy a couple more, hence your apparent need to climb into my mind and point out all the things you think I’m doing wrong!’ She burned at the memory of how good sex with him had been and how easy it would be to carry on hopping into bed for just as long as he wanted her, just to repeat the glorious feelings he had aroused in her. How easy it would be to let him into her life and into Simon’s. ‘You’re not exactly trying to understand me from a purely unbiased point of view, are you?’

  His eyes narrowed at her. ‘Do you know what you need?’ he asked, moving so slowly towards her that she could easily have yanked open the bedroom door and fled down the stairs. However, her legs appeared to have turned to lead and she stood just where she was, only managing to shuffle a few steps backwards until her back was pressed against the door. He stopped inches away from her and then proceeded to place the flat of his palms on either side of her. ‘You need to be shaken into seeing sense.’

  The thudding of her heart became a steady, painful drum roll.

  ‘Why don’t you stop hiding away and face facts? We’re both adults who happen to be attracted to one another. Overwhelmingly attracted,’ he added as an afterthought. He traced her bare arm with his finger and she shivered convulsively. ‘See? Your mouth might be saying one thing but your body is telling a completely different story. Like me to prove it?’

  ‘No!’ Sara squeaked, mesmerised by his eyes.

  In some obscure part of his brain, he realised that this was his only trump card. For a while, she had abandoned the hold her past had on her, but all the old defences were back, except one. She couldn’t defend herself against his touch. He had never chased a woman in his life before, but, dammit, he was prepared to do anything to chase this one. He didn’t know why. He just knew that there was a raw, primitive urge in him that wanted her…badly.

  ‘You’re scared of a relationship and I’m not interested in one, and maybe you’re right, maybe we both have our reasons, so you could say that our needs meet neatly in the centre.’ He lowered his head and outlined her mouth with his tongue. She didn’t respond but neither did she draw back. ‘Let go, Sara. We make good sex—no, we make magnificent sex. Why not?’ He pushed himself away and she realised that she had been holding her breath. ‘Think about it. I’ll be gone by the time you get back with Simon.’ He paused at the door to give her a brief nod. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  The barracuda circling its prey. Sara closed her eyes briefly and, once she had heard the slam of the kitchen door, wearily headed down the stairs.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS raining outside. Nothing spectacular, just an incessant fine drizzle that turned the London streets into slippery grey grime. James pushed himself away from his desk and swivelled his chair round so that he was staring out into the darkening skies. An uninspiring view, but even if he went to the massive glass windows and looked down the view would be equally uninspiring. By now, most of the nine-to-fivers would have already left work and the pavements would be relatively deserted. The City, with its monuments to financial success, thronged with people during the day but by night it was comparatively quiet. Only the diehards would be still at work at a little after nine at night.

  Diehard workaholics, he thought grimly, and me. Two weeks ago he would have classified himself as one of those workaholics, but in the space of a fortnight his ability to function seemed to have taken a knocking. Several times he had found himself staring at the rows of figures on his computer only to realise after a few minutes that he had actually not been taking anything in at all.

  Like tonight. Friday night. He would normally have reviewed all the details of this latest merger by now and would be getting geared up to go out, maybe to a restaurant or one of the more low-key, members-only jazz clubs that he favoured, with something delectable, nubile and willing.

  But he was only halfway through his review and had already lost interest. As for the delectable, nubile, willing companion…

  He clicked his tongue in irritation and began prowling through his spacious office.

  The last woman he had taken out four days ago had been an unmitigated disaster. She had seemed quite sexy and vivacious the last time he had met her three months ago at a stunningly dull cocktail party hosted by one of his friends for a foreign ambassador with extensive, useful connections. She had flirted outrageously with him and had been suitably peeved when he had told her that he would, regrettably, not be around to continue their flirting because he was due to fly to New York the following day, and then on to the Far East. He had taken her number and promptly forgotten all about her. Until four days ago, when taking her out had seemed an inspired idea. Delectable, nubile and willing had been just what he needed to combat the daily intrusive images of a tall, slender red-haired witch who had sent him packing and in the process left him nursing emotions that were driving him crazy.

  Unfortunately, Annabel had failed to achieve what he had hoped she would. Her short, tight, sequinned dress had screamed garishness, her all-over tan had added to the impression and her conversation had left him bored out of his skull.

  Back to the proverbial drawing board, he thought grimly. But he wasn’t going to get in touch with Sara. In the cold light of day, his words, casually spoken before he had headed out of the Rectory, had been exposed for what they were. A pathetic play for a woman who had made it clear in no uncertain terms that she might have slept with him once, but beyond that she was going nowhere. At least she had been honest enough not to fall back on the tired excuse about having had too much to drink, but he couldn’t stop the nagging, unpleasant suspicion that several glasses of wine had played a bigger part than he cared to admit.

  He was so absorbed in frowning contemplation that it took a few seconds for the sound of the telephone to connect with his brain, then for his hand to connect with the receiver.

  The minute he heard her voice, he froze before slowly turning around so that he could perch on the edge of his desk and look outside at the darkening sky.

  ‘And to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?’ His voice was cold, uninviting.

  Hundreds of miles away, Sara heard it without the slightest tremor of apprehension.

  ‘I’m so glad I got through. I thought perhaps you might have gone out as it’s Friday night.’

  Which only reminded him why precisely he hadn’t gone out. His lips thinned with angry self-disgust.

  ‘Cut the pleasantries, Sara, and get to the point. Why have you called and what do you want?’

  Get to the point? Sara nearly laughed. Oh, yes, she’d get to the point, all right, in her own sweet time.

  ‘And thank you so much for asking how I am, James. As well as can be expected, now that you don’t mention it.’

  ‘How did you get hold of my mobile number?’

  ‘Oh, I asked your mother. I told her that Simon wanted something from Harrods and I wanted you to see whether you could bring it up for him the next time you came.’

  ‘And I am supposed to what…? In response to that? Feel a sudden surge of curiosity? Admire you for your inventiveness? Just say what you have to say and get off this line. I’m on my way
out and I don’t have time to stand here having a conversation with you.’ In which case, he thought cynically, why do I not simply hang up? Rage and frustration washed over him and he found that he was still gripping the receiver.

  ‘I don’t expect admiration for my inventiveness, but the surge of curiosity might be nice. I phoned because I wanted to hear your voice, because I want to see you, James.’

  ‘You want to see me. Would that be so that we can have a re-run of our last conversation? You do remember our last conversation, don’t you? The one when you told me to leave?’ He found that he was prowling the office with the phone, like an animal in a cage. He even felt like an animal, awash with primitive feelings that he couldn’t seem to decipher.

  ‘I remember it. I’ve thought about it. I’ve done nothing but think about it…’ Not quite true. She had had one or two other things on her mind very well. Just as well he couldn’t see into her mind, just as well he couldn’t see what was really going on inside her, underneath the controlled, smoky voice with just the right mixture of apology, seriousness and invitation.

  But God, it hurt to hear him. Hurt in every pore of her body, in places she never even knew existed. And to think she had once considered Phillip the only man capable of delivering pain! What he had delivered had been a bouquet of flowers in comparison.

  ‘I’ve spent hours just remembering, James. The way we laughed together, the way you made me feel…’ The way you used me.

  The bitter memory of her conversation with Lucy Campbell rose up inside her mind like a monster.

  ‘So,’ the small blonde had drawled with a malicious little smile playing on her lovely mouth, ‘I hear you and James Dalgleish can’t keep your hands off one another…’

  Sara had bumped into her purely by accident the day before and, from the position of not knowing her from Adam, was rapidly made aware of precisely who she was, how long she had known the Dalgleish family, and where her ambitions lay. Very definitely in the direction of sex, marriage and babies.

  ‘Then your source of information needs to brush up on her spying skills.’ But Sara flushed guiltily at the memory of them in bed together, making love with fierce, explosive urgency. She had done what she had needed to do, but all she could do was remember. He was still with her.