by Miranda Lee
He hadn’t meant to arouse her again with the shower gel. Hadn’t thought it could happen so quickly. But the moment his soapy hand grazed over her nipples, he felt them stiffen. Felt her body stiffen all over. Incredible!
For the moment, he himself was totally spent. So he knew he wasn’t capable of having intercourse again with her for a while. But he could still make love to her. Of course he could. But would she let him do what he had in mind?
He supposed there was only one way to find out.
‘Just a short delay, beautiful,’ he said, and switched off the taps. ‘And a change of venue.’
Megan barely had time to think before she was roughly dried with one towel, wrapped up in another, then scooped up into his arms. Not that she wanted to think. Thinking only made her miserable, as it had a while ago after James had had rather rough sex with her up against the shower wall.
She’d actually thrilled to every wild, wonderful moment of it. But what had her mind done afterwards? Made her wish for the moon, that was what. Made her want what she couldn’t have: not just her husband’s lovemaking, but his love too.
As if that was ever going to happen! She could tart herself up as much as she liked and all she could hope for was some increased lust on his part. He’d been married to a supermodel, for pity’s sake, and he hadn’t loved her. What chance did she have?
So just focus on the sex, Megan, she lectured herself sternly as he carried her back into the bedroom. You can at least enjoy that.
‘Hold on to me,’ he ordered her, supporting her towel-encased body with one hand whilst he swept back the tropical-printed quilt with the other.
The sheets were cream satin and cool. Or so she discovered when James lowered her onto them, then whisked the towel away. He felt cool too, she noticed, when he stretched out beside her. Cool and wet, droplets of water glistening all over his shoulders and across the dark mat of curls which covered the middle of his chest.
‘This is much better,’ he said as he smoothed her still damp hair back from her face. ‘Much more comfortable.’
He kissed her then. Kissed her and stroked her till she was trembling. When he moved over her, she held her breath in anticipation of his entering her. But he did nothing of the kind, Megan watching, wide-eyed and lips parted, as he slid down her body, kissing her as he went. Her breasts first, then her stomach, then further down.
Oh, lord, she thought dazedly, her hands grasping great clumps of sheet by her sides.
A small part of her squirmed to think James was down there, doing what he was doing. The rest of her didn’t give a damn. Not if it felt like this!
His lips and tongue were everywhere, kissing her, licking her, sucking her. His fingers were just as merciless, adding to her erotic torment with a highly intimate exploration. She could not believe the things he did. Could not believe she was enjoying his taking such outrageous liberties with her body. Could not believe it when he suddenly stopped.
Her cry was a cry of the most acute frustration.
‘Trust me,’ he said after he rested his head on the soft swell of her stomach.
Megan almost jackknifed from the bed when he started stroking his hand over the smooth skin of her pubic bone.
‘I love the way you look now,’ he murmured with a wicked smile, before lowering his head back to her by then tight-as-a-drum belly.
He was a wicked man, she decided breathlessly when he resumed what he’d been doing before. More wicked than she’d realised. The tension he was creating in her was both pleasure and pain. Agony and ecstasy. She would have done anything for him, if only he’d let her come.
But once again his head lifted before that happened.
‘Amazing,’ he said with an almost confused expression on his face. ‘I thought I was done. Suddenly, I find I’m not. But, since you said on the plane that we should be honest about bedroom matters, I have to confess I am not a big fan of the missionary position. So would you mind if we tried something different?’
He didn’t wait for her to say yes or no. He just sat up, pulling Megan up into a sitting position as well. Taking hold of her knees, he slid her thighs on top of his, then hooked her legs around his back, whilst his were spreadeagled on the bed in front of him.
Before she could blink, he’d pushed himself deep inside her.
‘This isn’t the easiest position for the man to move in, mind,’ he growled as he took her hips captive in his hands. ‘I don’t have much leverage. You’ll have to do some of the work. With your insides. Grip me tight as I rock you back and forth. Yes, that’s the way. Aah, yes…see how good you are at this? God, that feels fantastic. You like it, too. I can see that you do.’
Like it? What kind of understatement was that? She loved it.
But she wanted more.
‘Kiss me,’ she demanded.
James thrilled to Megan’s passionate demand. This was what he wanted in his wife. A woman with needs that matched his own. He’d never thought that Megan would measure up in that regard; that she was capable of giving him the degree of pleasure he’d experienced with Jackie.
But he’d been wrong. Megan promised to be an even more exciting partner. The prospect of teaching her everything he knew was incredibly exciting. On top of that, he would never have to look back and think that anything Megan did for him was fake. Her pleasure was real, her love was real…she was real.
He reached up to cup her face and kiss her, revelling in the hunger of her lips and her tongue. Her hips kept moving of their own accord, their rhythm almost frantic, her flesh clenching and unclenching around his. His climax took his breath away, his mouth wrenching away from hers as a raw cry burst from his lungs. For a split second he thought he was having a heart attack, his chest constricting tightly, as if there were a vice around it. But then she came too, and there was nothing but pleasure. Wave after wave of it. Glorious, rapturous, mind-blowing pleasure!
James was just beginning to come back to reality when he felt Megan’s mouth, warm and wet against his neck. He glanced down to see that she’d nestled into him, her arms now wrapped tightly around his back, her still parted lips pressed against his skin.
Her sigh was the sigh of a contented woman.
That sigh gave him more satisfaction than anything he’d ever heard. If anyone in this world deserved to be content, it was Megan. All she needed now, James believed, was to conceive a baby. Hopefully, in a week’s time, he would be able to give her that as well.
Meanwhile…
He didn’t move for another couple of minutes, by which time it became obvious that Megan had fallen asleep. Very carefully, he laid her back on the bed before even more carefully withdrawing. His yawn told him he was pretty tired himself. Sleep seemed not only attractive but also imperative if he was to keep this up.
What next could he try with her? James wondered as his mind began to drift.
The possibilities were, indeed, endless…
CHAPTER NINE
JAMES woke before Megan. For a long while he just lay there on his side, looking at her and thinking how lucky he was to have married her. At one stage she rolled over and snuggled up to him in her sleep, her bare breasts pressing against his chest.
When he felt his flesh stir James considered waking her and making love to her again. But a glance at the bedside clock showed that it was getting on for five-thirty and the light outside was fading. Better he leave her to rest for now.
Very carefully he eased himself away from temptation. She didn’t wake, just made a small moan then curled herself up into a foetal position. James threw a sheet over her rather provocative nakedness, then hurried through the living room and out onto the wooden deck which surrounded the pool. The solar-heated water, however, was perhaps a little too warm for what he wanted, so he ran down the narrow sandy path which led to the beach, plunging straight into the sea, where the cooler water thankfully succeeded in taming his wayward flesh.
James didn’t like the idea of sitting through a meal in
a restaurant later this evening with a hard-on. Still, he wouldn’t book that à la carte restaurant which their guide had raved about, the one on the top floor of the hotel. It took hours to eat in places like that, the service always slow, with the courses well spaced out. You were also expected to drink lots of wine.
There were times when James enjoyed that kind of thing. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to get Megan back here at a reasonable hour, with himself still sober. Though it wouldn’t matter if she was a bit tipsy.
Megan was still fast asleep when he walked into the bedroom, dripping wet from his swim. Fortunately most of the floors in the villa were polished timber, so he wasn’t creating too much of a mess. Still, he headed straight for the bathroom, where he showered but didn’t shave, despite a five o’clock shadow having appeared. From now on—or for at least the duration of this holiday—James planned to deliver a different lover to Megan from the highly conservative bed partner he’d been up till now.
Megan was still sound asleep when James emerged from the bathroom, his refreshed body now wrapped in one of the white towelling bathrobes which had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
Poor little love, he thought as he walked over to the bed and stared down at her. She must be exhausted, what with the travelling and all that raunchy sex. He suspected, however, that Megan was suffering a degree of emotional exhaustion as well. Making decisions and changes in one’s life sometimes came at a price. James knew this only too well, his own life’s journey not being as smooth or as silver-tailed as some people thought, given his father was a billionaire.
What people hadn’t known was that his father was a pig and a controlling bully who’d abused his wife and had his two sons’ lives all mapped out for them from birth. James’s older brother, Jonathon, had gone along with their domineering parent—up to a point. But James had always been strong-minded and rebellious, and had often been punished the same way the whole family was always punished when they dared to go against Wayne Logan’s will: first with his father’s fists, and then, when James had been big enough to fight back, by the withdrawal of his father’s financial support.
If it hadn’t been for the money Jonathon had left him when he died, James would never have been able to afford to study law at university. Not straight away after leaving school. His father had given him an ultimatum on the night of his graduation, just a week before Jonathon’s car accident. Either come into the family business, or he was out on his own. James had chosen to go it alone, even before he’d inherited his brother’s estate, which included an apartment in the middle of the city and a portfolio of stocks and shares which would provide an income whilst he got his degree.
Consequently, his father no longer spoke to him, not even when James had come to visit his dying mother in hospital a few years back. Every time James had walked into the room, his father walked out, uncaring of how this might affect his long-suffering wife. He hadn’t attended either of James’s weddings, either.
There again, James had never invited him.
Jackie knew the truth. James had been foolish enough to tell her everything, as one did when one was madly in love. Not so Megan, who had been told his widowed father now lived overseas—which he did—and wasn’t well enough to travel. When no wedding present arrived, James had made the excuse that his father wasn’t one to send gifts, because his wife had always done that for him.
Strangely, the Press had never cottoned on to their estrangement. Wayne Logan always praised his successful son to the media. And James cleverly avoided the subject of his father.
For a long time, James hadn’t wanted marriage and a family. Bad examples could do that to you. After his mother passed away, however, he’d begun to change his mind, slowly becoming obsessed with the idea of being a good husband and father. When he’d fallen in love with Jackie, he hadn’t been able to wait to prove that he could be both.
James supposed it was just as well Jackie had been unable to have children. She would have made a rotten mother.
Megan, however, he thought with a wave of tenderness, would be wonderful. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Neither was she empty or vain or materialistic. She was sweet and warm and loving. He’d felt terribly sorry for her when she’d lost their baby, but who knew? Maybe it would be all for the best in the end. They said that what didn’t kill you made you stronger.
Megan had finally emerged from her grief last week a much stronger person. James had great respect for anyone who could overcome adversity and not sit around forever, indulging in self-pity and suffering from the ‘why me?’ syndrome, which Megan had been in real danger of doing.
Not any longer, however.
James was suddenly tempted to wake her so that he could tell her how much he admired her today. But he didn’t. His compliment might get misinterpreted as a lead-in to more sex. Given he was suddenly finding the new Megan almost irresistible in that department, and that he wanted to save himself for later, James erred on the side of caution and let her sleep on.
Instead, he set about keeping himself busy. First, he checked the message bank on his mobile phone. Nothing, thank goodness. He didn’t think Megan would be too impressed with him doing business whilst on their second honeymoon. Still, he didn’t turn it off. Who knew when he might be needed?
The new casting agency he’d set up at Images was still very much in the development stage. He’d instructed the capable but relatively inexperienced staff there not to hesitate to call him if they wanted a second opinion. He supposed that was unlikely over the weekend, but things could hot up next week. They’d recently secured the job of casting a rather important movie and they just might need to run something by him.
Next, he rang Reception and booked a table for seven-thirty that evening at one of the resort’s more casual restaurants—the Hibiscus. Apparently it had a varied menu, ranging from seafood to Asian dishes. The service was reputedly quick and one didn’t have to dress up. Just the thing.
After that, he unpacked, not only his case, but also Megan’s, his eyebrows arching at the clothes she’d brought with her. All obviously new and all super-sexy. There was a teeny-weeny red bikini which he couldn’t wait to see on her.
When Megan still wasn’t awake at six-thirty, he almost gave her a shake, but decided to get himself dressed first, choosing his clothes with care. Loose beige linen trousers, a long-sleeved black silk shirt, which he rolled up to the elbows. Black belt and beige Italian loafers. He was standing by the bed and slipping his gold Rolex back onto his wrist when he became aware that Megan’s eyes were open.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said smilingly. ‘Sleeping Beauty has returned to the land of the living.’
‘You’re dressed,’ she said.
‘Sorry, darling, but I really can’t go out in my birthday suit.’
‘Out?’ she echoed, as though he were talking in a foreign language.
James sighed, then decided it was time for the facts-of-life talk.
‘As much as hopping back into bed with you is very appealing,’ he said, ‘unfortunately, once a man passes thirty-five his mind has much more stamina than his flesh. It would be heaven to make love to you all day every day, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some breaks occasionally. Sad, I know, but true. Given I’m not much into takeaway food or picnics, I thought dinner out each night would be just the ticket. After all,’ he added with a wry smile, ‘if we never go out, when are you going to wear all those sexy little dresses you brought with you?’
Megan’s mouth fell open. ‘You unpacked my things?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised. I always pack and unpack my own case when I go away. I’ll have you know that I can also cook, clean, wash and iron. When I have to.’ Fortunately, he hadn’t had to do any of those things for many years. James could not think of anything more boring than housework. He liked the luxury of having staff do what he disliked doing himself.
‘Where did you put my toiletries?’ Megan asked.
‘In the bathroom, of course.’
‘You didn’t unpack it as well, did you?’
‘Good lord, no. I understand that a woman’s toilet bag is no fit place for a man to venture. So your feminine secrets are safe,’ he added with a smile as he glanced at his watch. ‘Look, it’s just after six-thirty. Our booking at the restaurant is for seven-thirty. That gives you about forty-five minutes to be ready. Can you manage in that time?’
Her hand lifted to run through her decidedly messy hair. ‘I’ll have to put my hair up. It takes ages to blow-dry this layered cut properly.’
‘Do it like it was done last Monday morning. It looked very sexy like that.’
And you look very sexy, Megan thought as she stared back at her husband.
The saying that ‘clothes maketh the man’ did not apply to James. He made the clothes, in her opinion. There was nothing he didn’t look good in. A combination, she supposed, of his height and body shape, along with his way of standing, always upright with his shoulders back, his chest out and his stomach tucked in. His walk was attractive as well, his stride long and confident, drawing attention to his lean hips and tight butt. Or it did when he was wearing jeans, or those slim-cut trousers he always wore to golf.
Tonight, he was wearing loosely tailored trousers and a shiny black shirt she’d never seen before. The top two buttons were open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the tan he’d acquired over the summer. His short hair was still slightly damp, suggesting a recent shower. But he hadn’t shaved, which was not like James. He usually shaved twice a day, being prone to obvious five o’clock shadow.
James had never gone in for the designer-stubble look, but she could see that it suited him, the same way his short hairstyle suited him. When both were combined with that slick black shirt, he looked not just sexy, she realised, but dangerous too.
As her eyes travelled over him, her belly tightened and her heartbeat quickened, images filling her mind of what they’d done earlier. She wanted to experience it all again. Quite desperately. Right now. If only he hadn’t made that stupid restaurant booking.
