by Anne Mather
Turning, she raised one knee to the coverlet, aware that as she did so almost the whole length of her other leg was exposed. Then, sliding her hand over the smooth silk, she raised her eyes to his taut face. ‘Do you mind if I try it?’
Try what? wondered Joe grimly, a pulse throbbing at his jawline. Did she realise what her childish display was doing to him? Did she know how amazingly sexy she was? Probably not, he decided. But that didn’t change how he felt.
‘Do you need my permission?’ he asked now, an edge to his tone. ‘You seem to be enjoying yourself.’
‘I am.’ Rachel’s skirt rucked high above her knees as she clambered onto the pile of pillows Maria had arranged below the headboard, and Joe caught a glimpse of white lace before she subsided onto her back. She dug her heels into the coverlet and raised her arms high above her head. ‘Mmm, it’s so comfortable.’ She turned her head towards him. ‘But I’m sure you know that.’
Joe’s face was tense. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh…’ Rachel considered her words before replying. ‘I’m sure you’ve slept in this bed before.’
Joe shook his head. ‘No.’
‘No?’ She rolled onto her side to face him. ‘So which room do you usually use?’
‘Believe it or not, but I’ve never stayed here,’ he said harshly. ‘What do you think it is? Some kind of love nest?’
Suddenly Rachel felt very embarrassed—and very cheap. She sat up abruptly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You must think I’m very rude and very ungrateful.’ She swung her legs towards the side of the bed. ‘Perhaps we ought to go now. It was good of you to show me the house, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse your offer.’
Joe blew out a breath. He’d upset her now and that hadn’t been his intention. He had to remember she wasn’t like the women he was used to associating with. And while that ought to be enough to cool his ardour, somehow it didn’t.
Rachel dropped her feet to the floor and bent, searching for the heels she’d discarded earlier. When a pair of black suede loafers moved into her line of vision, she looked up in astonishment, her gaze moving over powerful legs, a flat stomach and a broad chest to a lean, disturbing face. She also registered the prominent bulge at the junction of his thighs, but her eyes skittered away from its obvious significance.
‘What offer would that be?’ Joe asked, squatting down in front of her so that their eyes were almost on a level. ‘I thought for a moment you had something to offer me.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I was being silly,’ she said hurriedly. She dragged her eyes away and glanced down at her feet. ‘Where on earth did I leave my shoes?’
Joe was silent for a moment and then he leant towards her, supporting himself with a hand at either side of her. ‘Forget your shoes,’ he said huskily, bestowing a feather-light kiss on the pulse that beat so erratically below her ear. ‘I was thinking of taking your clothes off, not putting them on.’
Rachel’s mouth opened and she stared at him disbelievingly. ‘You don’t have to say that,’ she protested quickly. ‘I mean, you really don’t.’
Joe uttered a low laugh. ‘Hey, don’t bail on me now, sweetheart. There’s only so much provocation a man can take.’
Rachel drew back onto her elbows, her heart racing. ‘I—I didn’t mean to provoke you,’ she said, although she had. But she was no femme fatale, and she suspected he was just being kind.
‘Well, you did,’ Joe countered, his voice thickening. ‘But don’t worry about it.’ He put his hands on her knees, and pushed himself to his feet. Then, straddling her legs, he moved until his own knees nudged the side of the bed. ‘As a matter of fact, you’ve been provoking me all evening.’
‘Joe…’
‘Rachel,’ he said gently, resting one knee on the mattress beside her. His thumb brushed her jawline as he tilted her face towards him. ‘You don’t think you’re the only one who has feelings, do you?’
Oh, God!
When he bent and captured her mouth with his, Rachel’s mind spiralled. He pressed her back against the pillows, supporting himself on his hands. The scent of his skin teased her senses, and her body felt both weak and yet incredibly strong.
Her lips parted, and Joe’s tongue pushed urgently into her mouth. He kissed her with a hunger that amazed him. It was becoming harder and harder to control the urge to rub his aching erection against her, but he knew if he allowed that to happen she’d know instantly how aroused he was.
She lifted a hand to his cheek, soft fingers stroking the roughness at his jawline, probing the sensitive hollow of his ear. Her hand slipped to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, and despite all his good intentions Joe couldn’t keep that small distance between them.
And touching her meant giving in to the emotions that were driving him on. The lissom feel of her body beneath his was all he’d imagined and more. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he’d never wanted a woman as he wanted Rachel at that moment. Feeling her breasts crushed beneath his chest, the intimacy of his leg wedged between her thighs, was driving him crazy.
His mouth trailed from her lips to her throat, to the scented hollow of her cleavage just visible above the neckline of her crocheted top. He let his hand slide beneath the top, his palm spreading against the firm, warm flesh of her midriff. Her skin was like silk, but he’d known that. It wasn’t as if he’d never touched her before.
His mouth found hers again and this time her tongue came to mate with his. The kiss deepened, hardened, and between his legs the erection he’d been trying to ignore for the past hour demanded satisfaction. It didn’t help at all when she arched up against him and her hip brushed the almost painful swelling in his trousers. It only added to his frustration, to the needs he could no longer do without.
He groaned and Rachel’s eyes flickered open. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, unaware of the sensual invitation in her voice.
‘Yeah.’ Joe gritted his teeth. ‘I want you.’ He threaded his fingers through the hair above her ear and managed a rueful smile. ‘But I guess this is the point where I offer to take you home.’
Rachel looked up at him with eyes that shredded his good intentions. ‘I don’t think that’s what you really want, do you?’
‘What I really want?’ Joe closed his eyes for a moment, struggling with his conscience. ‘What I really want is to have you naked beneath me. To know you want me as much as I want you.’
Rachel took a deep breath. ‘Well, I do,’ she confessed honestly. ‘But, well, it’s been a long time since I allowed a man into my life.’
‘Yeah.’ Joe bent and allowed his tongue to probe her mouth before adding softly, ‘I guessed. Despite the sexy seduction.’
Rachel’s cheeks were flushed with pleasure. ‘Am I sexy?’
‘You better believe it.’ Joe spoke a little thickly. ‘And I’m flattered that you trust me. It means a lot.’
Rachel hesitated. ‘Do you think I’m desperate for affection?’ she asked uneasily, and Joe stifled his laugh against her neck.
‘Hey, I’m the one who’s desperate,’ he said, his voice roughening as he unbuttoned her bodice. His eyes darkened when he saw her breasts fairly spilling from the lacy bra she was wearing. ‘But we’ll talk about that later. Right now, I’ve got something else in mind.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HER bra followed her top onto the floor, and Joe made a sound of satisfaction as he bent to take a swollen nipple into his mouth. He nibbled at the hardened tip, his teeth giving more pleasure than pain, his tongue caressing the rosy areola until Rachel was shifting restlessly beneath him.
He skimmed his hand over her ribcage, his fingers lingering over her navel. A sexy little moan drove him onwards, and when he baulked at the waistline of her skirt she shifted to allow him to slide the offending garment over her hips.
‘Beautiful,’ he said, bending to bestow a trail of kisses across her stomach. Her panties were surprisingly flimsy and he tugged gently
at the elastic, sending a quiver of anticipation into her thighs.
Rachel’s mouth seemed dry of all moisture. Her breathing was shallow, her breasts rising and falling with increasing urgency as he parted her legs. Then, with exquisite delicacy, he drew her panties down her legs and replaced their small amount of protection with his hand.
She was wet, he discovered as the sensual smell of her arousal rose unmistakeably to his nose, and he groaned a little as he lowered his head to taste her essence. ‘Sweet,’ he muttered huskily as she twisted breathlessly beneath him. ‘I knew you’d taste as good as you look.’
‘Please…’
Rachel wasn’t used to this sensual assault on her senses. Her hands groped for his head, wanting him to go on doing what he was doing, and at the same time wanting so much more. Heavens, she was virtually naked, and he was still wearing his clothes.
‘Relax,’ he said, lifting his head, his eyes dark with unguarded emotion. Then, ripping open the buttons of his shirt, he sent it to join her clothes on the floor. She caught her breath at the sight of his chest, at the dark tattoo of an exotic orchid twisting over his shoulder. And thought that only a man as comfortable with his masculinity as Joe would allow a flower, however intriguing, to be etched on his skin.
His shoulders were broad, his stomach flat and ribbed with muscle, and an arrowing of dark hair found its way from his chest to disappear below the waistband of his trousers. His zip bulged with the thrust of his erection and, with a daring she hadn’t known she possessed, she let her nails stroke provocatively over the taut metal.
Joe groaned again, reaching for his buckle and pulling it free. Seconds later, he’d kicked off his trousers, and his shaft sprang sensuously into her waiting hands.
‘Be gentle with me,’ he muttered half-humorously as she let her fingers slide over his length, amazed that he was still in control. But he sucked in a breath when her thumb found the sensitive tip, and she wriggled down to take a bead of moisture into her mouth.
Joe moved then, bearing her back against the cushions again, and taking her mouth in another devastating kiss. ‘God, Rachel,’ he muttered, releasing her mouth at last to bury his face in the scented hollow of her shoulder. ‘I want you so much. And I don’t think I can wait any longer.’
‘Then take me,’ she said tremulously, lifting his head to cradle it between her hands. ‘I want you too, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
He parted her legs then, kneeling between them and nudging the swollen nub of her womanhood with his aching shaft. But the sight of her delectable body—open and ready for him—was too tempting to ignore, and with a feeling of satisfaction he pushed into her waiting sheath.
She was so tight that he could hardly believe she’d had a baby. And despite her vain boast of experience, it was obvious it had been a long time since any man had made love to her. Which pleased him greatly, he acknowledged, aware of his own selfishness at the thought. He wanted her not to be experienced, he realised. He wanted this to be a new intimacy. And judging by the way she was responding to him, he was going to get his wish.
But then the urgency of his own needs took over. Taking her mouth again, he eased into her completely, feeling her muscles contract around him with supreme pleasure. She was tight, but she fitted him perfectly. Their bodies could have been made for one another, and when he pulled back and pushed into her again, the sound they made was like music to his ears.
Quickening the pace, he felt her muscles tighten. She was so hot, so responsive, and he knew she was close to climax when her nails dug painfully into his neck.
‘Take it easy, baby,’ he said, despite the fact that his own control was slipping. But when she lifted her legs and wound them about his hips there was no holding back.
The developing spasms of her orgasm were gripping him, and he didn’t attempt to hold back his own release. The sensation that overtook him proved he was experiencing something he’d never experienced before. He shuddered uncontrollably for what seemed like hours, but was probably only for a few minutes, his hips pumping every drop of moisture from his body.
Belatedly, he acknowledged that he should have drawn back before he climaxed. But with her arms around his neck and her ankles digging into his buttocks, he doubted he’d have had the strength. Besides, he’d never had such a feeling of completeness. He felt drained, shattered, barely able to drag himself away from her before slumping heavily onto the bed beside her.
He thought he must have slept for a while. When he opened his eyes again, it was still dark outside, but he was alone. The space where Rachel had been lying was empty. And when he smoothed his hand over the coverlet he found it was already cold.
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he stared broodingly around the room. Where the hell was she? There was no sound from the bathroom, so he was fairly sure she wasn’t in there. Damn, where had she got to? Surely she hadn’t done something stupid like leave the house?
Joe didn’t feel like getting up. His body was still in that pleasant state of inertia that follows really good sex, and all he really wanted to do was make love with Rachel all over again. The way he felt right now, he’d have been happy to spend the rest of the night making love with her. But he sensed that wasn’t going to happen. Not when he didn’t know where the hell she was.
He scowled, aware that he’d never been in this situation before. He’d always been the one to call the shots in a relationship. And it hadn’t escaped his attention that he was using the words ‘making love’ far too frequently.
His scowl deepened, and kicking the covers aside, he got up from the bed. His body ached a little as he bent to grab his trousers from the floor, and that only added to his frustration. This was not supposed to happen. What had happened to his no-strings policy, for heaven’s sake?
Leaving the button at his waist unfastened—this was so not over, he told himself—he shouldered into his shirt and caught a glimpse of himself in the long cheval-mirror across the room. He looked grim, he thought. And petulant. Not a good look for someone hoping to persuade another person that they were making a big mistake.
Breathing deeply, he took a moment to calm himself. Then, leaving the bedroom, he made his way to the top of the stairs. What the hell time was it anyway? he wondered, trying to focus on the face of his watch. It looked like a quarter to four. He blinked. Was it possible? Of course it was. Rachel could be miles away by now.
There was no sound from downstairs either, and he made no attempt to muffle his footsteps as he descended to the hall below. No lights, he noted. Well, if she was still here, she was certainly keeping a low profile.
His stomach clenched. He didn’t want to accept that he was worried about her, but he was. Damn it, did she blame him for what had happened? Or was she feeling guilty because, for the first time in goodness knew how long, she’d taken some time for herself? Time that didn’t include Daisy.
Daisy!
He scowled again. He liked the kid; of course he did. But it bugged him that she was appropriating so much of Rachel’s time when her father had eschewed all responsibility for his daughter. Still, without Steve he’d never have met Rachel, and whatever beef he had with Carlyle, that was a situation he didn’t care to contemplate right now.
With an increasing sense of desperation, he searched all the ground-floor rooms, even going into the kitchen on the off chance that she might have decided to get herself a drink. But then the memory of that cold place beside him intruded, and he realised that she could have made herself a dozen drinks in the time it had taken for the bed to cool.
He went back into the living room, not switching on the lamps this time, and made his way by the light streaming in from the hall to the bar. Pouring himself a generous shot of bourbon, he raised the glass to his lips. But before he could take a drink something moving on the patio outside attracted his attention.
He slammed the glass back down onto the counter, uncaring that he spilled some of the whisky in the process, and moved to the s
liding-glass doors. Whatever it was he’d seen seemed to have disappeared, and with the wind tossing leaves and flower petals across the paved area, it was easy to explain what had distracted him.
But then, as he turned away, he saw a flutter of turquoise cotton flapping against one of the loungers. He stared for a moment, hardly daring to believe his eyes, and then realised that it was indeed Rachel, sitting outside, apparently unaware, or uncaring, that she’d practically scared him out of his mind.
He didn’t think before opening the door. The slider slammed back against its housing and Rachel’s wide, startled gaze turned in his direction. ‘Oh,’ she said ineffectually. ‘You’re awake.’
‘Yes, I’m awake.’ It was an effort to keep the anger out of his voice, and he doubted he had. ‘What the hell are you doing, sitting out here? Don’t you know I’ve spent the last half hour looking for you?’
‘I—no.’ Rachel got to her feet a little unsteadily, but Joe refused to feel any sympathy for her. She’d scared the hell out of him! ‘I just needed some air.’
‘Air?’ Joe was scathing. ‘You call this air?’
‘Well, the wind is refreshing,’ she said defensively. Then, as if recovering a little of her spirit, ‘I didn’t know I had to report all my movements to you.’
Joe closed his eyes for a moment. Then, raking his nails over his scalp, he said roughly, ‘You don’t, of course. I’m sorry. I was—worried, that’s all.’
He saw her stiffen. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’m used to taking care of myself.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Joe realised he was going about this in entirely the wrong way. ‘But I was worried. I thought—Well, never mind what I thought.’ He glanced behind him. ‘Let’s go back inside.’
Rachel hesitated, but after a moment she moved towards the house. She had to pass Joe as she did so, but when he put out a reassuring hand to grip her upper arm she flinched away from his touch. With an air of injured dignity, she went past him, not stopping until she was standing in the middle of the entrance hall.
