by Robyn Donald
‘See what you do to me?’ he asked roughly.
His skin was hot and taut, a fine scroll of hair giving it texture above a firm contrasting layer of muscle. Serina luxuriated in the novelty of exploring him, and bravely undid the button above the first. When he made no objection, she freed the one above that too.
‘You might as well finish the job,’ he said when she hesitated.
Head bent, she did just that, then pushed the shirt back from his shoulders and drew in a long uneven breath at what her fingers revealed.
The only word her dazed mind could come up with was magnificent. The lamp light gleamed richly on supple, sleek skin, lovingly burnishing the clean, strong lines of him. Next to him, she felt small, delicate, even fragile. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think and her hands shook as they fell to her sides.
Almost immediately, he reached for her and said into her hair, ‘My sweet girl, don’t be afraid.’
‘I’m not,’ she blurted. ‘I’m—I’m overwhelmed.’
She kissed his shoulder, then remembered the caress he’d given her—only a few minutes ago, yet she felt she’d come so far since then—and raised her hand to flick her thumb across one tight male nipple.
His sharply indrawn breath filled her with delight. He tilted her face so that he could see her, and she met his narrowed blazing eyes with something like a challenge in her own.
‘I’m glad,’ he said smoothly. ‘And now it’s my turn to be overwhelmed.’
He unzipped the back of her dress and unhooked her bra with an ease that showed how familiar he was with a woman’s clothes—with a woman’s body. Ignoring the pang that thought gave her, she took refuge in silence when the dress fell free of her shoulders, revealing the black silk bra and briefs that hugged a narrow waist and slender hips.
‘You are…utterly, dangerously beautiful,’ he said, each word raw, as though torn from him.
Colour burned up from her breasts and heated her cheek bones.
Scanning legs clad in sheer black and the high-heeled courts she’d packed because of their versatility, he said, ‘You might be more comfortable if you take off the shoes.’
It was easy enough to kick them off, but she gasped when he dropped to his knees and eased the stockings from her legs. His hands stroked up again from her calf to her thighs, lingering a few seconds on the satin skin there. Pierced by uncontrollable bliss, Serina shivered.
Alex looked up, his hard-hewn face tense. The smile that curved his mouth was just short of savage, and she shivered again.
He got to his feet with less than his usual litheness, towering over her for a charged moment until he turned away abruptly.
Hot anticipation pooled in the pit of Serina’s stomach. Still unable to speak, she watched the muscles in his wide shoulders coil as he hauled back the covers of the bed. Uncertain, yet aware that she’d arrived at a place she’d never known she wanted to be, she stood tall, meeting his eyes with something close to anxiety when he straightened up.
It seemed he understood her shyness because he drew her into his arms, shielding her from his gaze with his own body. He bent his head, but this time his lips found the soft swell of her breast.
Ardent anticipation drummed through her. Enthralled, she dragged in a gasping impeded breath. He flicked the bra free and when she automatically tried to cover herself with her forearms he said, ‘That’s a crime, Serina.’
She gaped at him, and he smiled. ‘A crime,’ he repeated, his voice rough, and added as he reached for her, ‘like covering the Venus de Milo with sack cloth…’
He forestalled her instinctive step back wards by picking her up and carrying her across to deposit her carefully on the bed. Serina had to stop herself from huddling the sheet over her almost nude body when he looked down at her, heat kindling in the dark depths of his eyes.
Yet, in spite of her embarrassment, the roving survey of his gaze warmed her, stirred her excitement to fever-pitch. Desire clamoured up through her, but she man aged a smile that held more than a hint of challenge. ‘I’m beginning to suspect you’re shy.’
Laughing, and without obvious haste or embarrassment, Alex shucked off the rest of his clothes.
Serina fought back the shock that almost saw her close her eyes. She wanted—needed—to see him with out sophisticated tailoring and superb fabrics.
Naked, he was a warrior, she thought hazily. Big body poised and intent, something in his eyes, in his stark, stripped features, in the primal power of his body made her think of a more primitive age.
In a thin voice, she broke the charged silence. ‘I feel like plunder.’
He said abruptly, ‘I’m no pirate, Serina.’
‘I know that.’ She held out her hands, fingers slipping lightly over his heated skin, a smile trembling on her lips. ‘You don’t have to keep reassuring me.’
Serina had thought she knew quite a lot about making love; after all, she’d read about it, seen it acted out in movies and on television.
But nothing had—nothing could ever have—pre pared her for Alex’s caresses, his absorbed expression when he bent his head to her breasts, or the searing, surging flames that ignited every cell in her body as his mouth closed around the rosy aureole.
A groan was torn from her. Obeying an impulse as old as time, her body arched instinctively into him, taut as a bow, while he wrapped his arms around her. Closing her eyes against the unbearable enchantment of his lovemaking, she surrendered completely.
He took her on a wildfire journey of the senses—touch, taste, the faint erotic scent from their entwined bodies, the sight of his tanned hand against her white skin, the sound of his breathing when she mimicked his caresses and discovered the flexible line of his spine, the lean, potent strength so miraculously curbed in deference to her.
Sensation built and built inside, slowly at first, then with such ferocity that her breathing began to match his. Every muscle, every sinew tense with expectation, she craved an unknown satisfaction. When he found the little hollow of her navel with his tongue, she gave a gasping cry. Her body clenched, pushed upwards into him.
‘Ah, you like that,’ he said, and slid a hand down past her hips to cup the mound that ached for him.
Once again, her reaction was mindless—she jerked, thrusting herself against his delicately probing fingers, mutely demanding something…anything…
‘Is this what you want?’ he asked, guiding a lean finger inside her, his thumb performing magic on her.
Serina gasped, gripped by a roiling ecstasy, and her body took over, such rapture engulfing her that she had no idea she was almost sobbing as waves of unbearable pleasure forced her into fulfilment and then receded, leaving her replete and utterly relaxed.
Alex’s arms around her were all she needed to feel utterly safe. He held her while she came down, and only then swung off the bed. Stunned, Serina opened her eyes to a slit, closing them again when she realised he was getting something from his trouser pocket.
She shivered. If he gave her nothing more than that, she thought, she’d still be grateful. But she was greedy now—she wanted more, to fully experience his possession, to take him into her and give him all she had, all she was.
The mattress sank slightly under his weight beside her and she turned into his arms with a confidence that banished all fear. One hand curved around the hard line of his jaw as he began to kiss her—gently at first, then with more passion when she responded with languorous ardour.
That new confidence persuaded her to make her own discoveries, trailing her hand down his chest and across the flat plane of his stomach.
But when she got too close he said thickly, ‘Not now, Serina—not unless you’re content with what you’ve already had. I’m not superhuman.’
She snatched her hand away, but he caught it and held it against his chest. ‘Next time you can do what you like with me, but right now it would mean the end.’
‘We wouldn’t want that.’ Her voice, throaty and seductive, startle
d her.
Alex moved over her. ‘No,’ he growled. Holding her gaze with his own, he lowered himself and in one steady thrust pushed into her.
Serina’s body stiffened at the intrusion. His brows contracted and she realised he was going to pull away.
‘No,’ she said, clutching his shoulders. Consciously, desperately, she relaxed internal muscles she hadn’t known existed.
To her in can des cent joy, sensation returned in a rush, filling her with fire. This time he eased into her, and when he met no resistance he drove deeper, and then even more deeply, each movement of his body a claim she couldn’t resist, a bold statement that forced her further and further up a slope towards ecstasy.
When it came she sobbed again, only this time the rapture was so vehement, so overwhelming she was completely lost in it.
Only then did Alex give way to his own desire; awed and delighted all over again, she watched as he flung his head back. That control she thought so inborn a quality was etched into his face until he too surrendered and she saw it vanish under the same unbearable pleasure that still racked her.
And then it was over, and he went to ease himself off her.
‘No,’ she said, barely able to get the word out but determined not to let him go.
‘I’m too big.’
‘No,’ she repeated, her arms constricting around him.
He looked down at her, the fierce flames dying in his eyes, and then yielded, letting her bear his comforting weight.
Happier than she had ever been in her life, yet acutely aware that her happiness was fragile and fleeting, Serina luxuriated in his care until she felt herself slipping into sleep.
She barely recognised the moment when he lifted himself from her; a murmured protest died away when he turned on his side and gathered her into his arms.
‘Sleep now,’ he said.
Her head on one strong shoulder, Serina allowed herself one last glance at his face, one last sensation of sated delight before she turned her face into his shoulder and allowed exhaustion to overtake her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SERINA woke and stretched, startled by the pleasant pull of muscles never previously used. She wasn’t surprised to discover she was alone; somehow she must have registered Alex’s departure in her sleep. A glance around the room told her it was light outside, and she could hear birds singing lustily in the gardens outside.
The dawn chorus, she thought dreamily, remembering his words.
In a way she was glad Alex had left. She needed time and solitude to sort out her emotions.
But, although she tried hard to concentrate, her thoughts kept drifting into memories, and after a while she gave up and just let herself float in their sensuous warmth. She’d had no idea that making love could be so…so ultimate.
Alex had been by turns tender and fierce, always passionate. She’d wondered what he would be like if he ever slipped the bonds of that control…
Now she knew.
Yet even at that climactic moment she hadn’t felt wary or constrained, and he certainly hadn’t treated her as an object, a mere vehicle to sate his desire.
As for a wildness to match her own complete surrender—well, Alex’s self-possession was an integral part of him. It was as inborn as the polar blue of his eyes, the angles of that tough jaw, the timbre of his deep voice.
And the way he walked, the gentleness of his hands on her skin, the subtle male scent that set her senses whirling…
He wasn’t ever going to let loose that control.
Enjoy his lovemaking without asking for more, she advised herself, calling on some common sense to banish the unsettling hunger that ached through her. Enjoy him while you can, because it isn’t going to last.
She loved him, but he’d never even mentioned the word, never asked for her love—and why should he? He assumed she was sophisticated, mature, sensible—and experienced.
Lying in his house, sprawled between sheets still crumpled from their lovemaking, she saw the future as clearly as if she were clairvoyant. They would remain lovers for…oh, for six months or so, possibly even a year or two, then slowly he’d become tired of her or meet someone else he wanted more. He’d expect a civilised ending to their affair; they’d agree it was over and they’d remain friends.
Pain shafted through her, so acute she froze and hardly dared to breathe.
It would kill her. She flung an arm up to shield her eyes, but caught sight of the time on the bedside clock.
‘Nine o’clock!’ she gasped, and leapt out of bed.
Fifteen busy minutes later, she was walking out of her room. The wild-haired woman she’d seen in the mirror was replaced by a carefully coiffed, sleekly made-up, self-reliant princess whose only betraying feature was a mouth slightly more full than it had been yesterday.
She hoped the mask hid the turmoil inside her. Making love with Alex had been heart-shakingly wonderful, so why on earth was she nervous at the thought of seeing him again?
Her pulse jumped wildly when a door down the corridor opened and he strode out. His frown dissipated a little when he saw her, but she sensed that wall of inherent reserve implacably back in place.
Her mouth dried. He looked no different. A cynical voice inside her head asked, Why would he? He’s not in love.
‘You should have woken me,’ she said, colouring when she realised the implications of her words. Rap idly, she added, ‘I didn’t intend to sleep in.’
Although he smiled, his eyes were watchful. ‘You needed it.’ He dropped a swift, almost impersonal kiss on her cheek.
Serina had to stop herself from reaching up to him.
When he straightened his eyes were narrowed and intent and he said softly, ‘Another morning I’ll enjoy waking you, but this time I thought it best to let you sleep. Now you’re up, come and have some breakfast.’
Fighting back a niggling disappointment, Serina went with him. What had she expected him to do? Sweep her into his arms and kiss her passionately there in the corridor, where the house keeper might walk past at any minute?
Not Alex’s style, she thought with a secret grimace, and not hers either.
But some slightly more significant acknowledgement of their rapturous time together would be—well, comforting.
Serina thought she’d be unable to eat anything, but once in the sunny breakfast room she discovered an appetite. Coffee helped too.
And so did the news that Alex had contacted a couple of gardeners who were happy to let her look over their domains. ‘Although,’ he added, ‘they wanted a month or so to prepare them.’
She had to laugh. ‘And when we go to their gardens they’ll tell us it looked superb a week ago, or will look magnificent in another week, but un fortunately it’s not quite perfect right now.’
‘I see you know the breed,’ he said dryly. ‘I suggested we go tomorrow. You said you’d need at least three hours in each garden and then you’d want to do an inter view afterwards, so I’ve organised a morning appointment and an afternoon one, and in between we can have lunch. I know a good restaurant not too far from the first garden.’
A certain glint in his eyes warmed her. ‘That sounds very pleasant,’ she said demurely.
Building high romantic hopes and castles in the air would be foolish, a sure recipe for a broken heart. She couldn’t afford to expect more from this liaison than he’d offered.
Love hadn’t been a part of their unspoken agreement. Alex had made it obvious he wanted her, and for her own reasons—delicious, dangerous, but irresistible—she’d decided he should be the man to initiate her into the delights of sex.
Good instincts—she’d made an excellent choice, she told herself stoutly. Inspired, even; Alex was everything a first lover should be.
She hoped he hadn’t found her wanting in any way…
Too late to worry about that now.
And, to fill in the silence between them, she embarked on the sort of inconsequential chat she knew so well.
Ale
x’s raised brows showed her that he knew what she was doing—possibly even why—but he responded. Slowly her tension evaporated and somehow, without being aware of how it happened, she found herself talking about her brother.
‘He was my father’s favourite,’ she said without rancour. ‘For years Papa was sure he’d be able to return to Montevel, and I’m afraid Doran was brought up to believe it was a possibility. Then, when Doran was about fourteen, Papa finally accepted it was not, and for some reason he more or less ignored Doran after that.’
Alex looked surprised. ‘Why?’
Carefully keeping a futile anger from her words, she said, ‘I think he could only see Doran as a prospective king. Once he finally accepted there was no longer a throne—and never would be—to inherit, Papa lost interest in him.’
‘You’re describing a rather grotesquely self-centred man,’ Alex said austerely.
‘I know. I’m afraid Papa was.’ It still hurt to remember how Doran had tried to win his father’s attention in any way he could, and his despair and anger when he realised it was no use.
Aware of Alex’s scrutiny, she said quietly, ‘It’s almost as though Papa felt that our family’s only value was to produce rulers of Montevel. So when he accepted that Doran was never going to be King, it meant we were worthless.’
Alex frowned. ‘How did your father treat you?’
‘The same way he treated all women,’ she said lightly. ‘With compliments—whether earned or not—on my beauty and an expectation that I would forgive him anything because of who he was.’
Startled, she stopped. Confiding her family’s dynamics was not a conversational topic she’d ever indulged in before—and to Alex, of all people!
Hardly sophisticated be ha vi our on her part. She said dismissively, ‘He was an excellent father in many ways, and it’s too late to wish he’d treated Doran differently.’
Alex let her steer the conversation towards New Zealand’s native plants—about which he was very knowledgeable. Serina allowed herself to think it gave them something else in common.
Something apart from wild passion, she thought, her skin heating as a stray memory barged into her brain.
