Killer Affair

by Rebecca Chance

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Frank agreed automatically. ‘Diet’s just as important as exercise.’

  Since Caroline had her hair up, she couldn’t play with it; she compromised by putting one hand up to pat it as if concerned that it might be coming down. This worked perfectly; Frank’s gaze followed her as if he had been hypnotized.

  ‘You look so different,’ he blurted out. ‘Did you change your hair or something?’

  Caroline smiled sweetly.

  ‘I’ve put it up because I didn’t want to get it wet,’ she said.

  ‘It suits you,’ Frank said, drinking some more champagne. ‘It really does suit you like that.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll wear it like this more,’ she said, feeling as if the words they spoke were becoming increasingly less important. She was daring, now, to look at him for increasing lengths of time, having kept her gaze away from him at first because the sight of his bare torso was so overwhelming.

  She had seen it before, of course, in the pool and on the boat, his strong, muscled body, diving from the deck, frolicking with London and Laylah, following them up the steps as they climbed out again, water dripping down his torso, both hands rising to shake water out of his tight dark curly hair, the declivities of his armpits, the blatant sexuality of the dark hair trailing down his belly to the low waistband of his swim trunks. She had never been so close, though.

  His nipples were dark little bullets from which the water streamed constantly as it bubbled around them; pert and thrusting, set into the breastplate of his torso, which glowed light bronze, golden pecan. The silky dark body hair made him seem infinitely more sexual to Caroline than a waxed male model. You thought straight away of the hair at his crotch, the cock nestling in it, rising up so smooth and sculpted, such a contrast to the thick mass of black curls . . .

  Poor Riz, back in London, had been completely sidelined in the last few weeks. From the day Frank had been convinced, subtly, imperceptibly, by Caroline to change the gate code on Lexy, sure that it had been his idea all along, Caroline had not had sex with Riz. It would have felt wrong, a distraction. Like a footballer told to abstain until the tournament was over, all her energy had been concentrated into the ultimate goal of bagging Frank.

  Riz had been surprisingly upset when Caroline had told him that she just didn’t have time for a relationship while she was trying so hard to build her career as a writer. It was the best excuse she could think of. His reaction when she said she wanted to go back to just being housemates for the moment had been extensive and messy; certainly, moving temporarily back to Sandbanks had made that situation much less awkward. Yet another reason she was hoping to stay on now the book was delivered.

  ‘Ooh!’ she said, giggling girlishly as the bubbling water splashed her glass. ‘This is so much fun! I’ve barely been in the Jacuzzi, because I’m always down here hanging out with the kids, and they aren’t allowed to get in until they’re older.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s too hot for them,’ Frank said automatically, finishing his champagne, watching the bubbles wobble the upper curves of Caroline’s breasts up and down in continual motion.

  Caroline, noticing his empty glass, climbed over to pull the bottle of Veuve Cliquot out of the cooler, kneeling up on the tiled seat close to Frank. Her heart was pounding. She felt it was time to take the biggest risk of all. If she left it too long, the sexual charge would fizzle; Frank might sober up and decide to go to bed, and if that happened, she sensed that the window of opportunity would be forever bolted shut. Having teetered on the edge of temptation, but pulled back, he would be extra careful not to put himself in the same position again.

  No, it was now or never. And however much Frank was staring at her breasts, she knew that, as a married man, he would never make the first move. It had to be her who initiated it, and it had to happen in a way that seemed accidental, serendipitous. Lexy would be coming back to London in a few days, her month in Switzerland completed: Caroline was on a deadline even tighter than the one she had been given to write Lexy on the Loose.

  ‘Here you go!’ she said, turning to him, bending over him, filling up his glass, her knees pressed against his thighs now. ‘Oh, this is so much fun! If this were my house I’d be in here every night, winding down to get lovely and relaxed before bed.’

  She knew, of course, how Frank complained about Lexy being out so much, partying in London instead of spending quality time with him. Sliding the now-empty bottle back into the cooler, she plopped herself down next to Frank, smiling at him, her thigh brushing his. She was sitting in the curve of his arm, which was stretched out along the Jacuzzi surround. It was time. Greatly daring, she did as Lexy had suggested and touched the tip of her tongue to her parted lips.

  Frank’s pupils dilated. Even though his irises were dark, she was close to him, she could see it happen, the blackness spreading in his eyes as his body reacted to hers.

  ‘Lean in, make your eyes go really big and take a deep breath so your boobs look great . . .’

  Trembling with fear of failure, of being rejected, Caroline did exactly that. Frank’s gaze dropped to her breasts, rose again to her mouth; feeling ridiculous, Caroline licked her lower lip, just fractionally.

  He groaned. She leaned in still more, her heart now pounding so hard and fast that it was physically painful, as if it were bruising the inside of her ribcage. Lexy had given no further instructions, but it felt as if Frank needed just one more thing to tip him over the edge.

  ‘Frank . . .’ she breathed softly.

  Saying his name, it turned out, was all it took. The arm behind her closed around her shoulders, pulling her towards him; his mouth came down on hers. Tears of relief budded up as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything she had.

  It was wonderful. It was everything. It was overwhelming. Caroline genuinely thought that she was going to pass out, collapsing in his arms like some fainting Victorian maiden. The heat, the alcohol, the sensation of Frank’s body against her, hot and wet, his lips tasting of champagne, were all so dizzying that she clung to him helplessly, going limp, her breasts pressing into his chest. It was the best thing she could possibly have done. Frank, so used to his tough, sexually aggressive wife, had his protective instincts stirred by Caroline clinging to him like ivy round an oak; he tightened his arms around her and drove his tongue possessively into her mouth, pulling her onto his lap.

  Under the water, Caroline felt lighter, less insecure about Frank taking her full weight on his thighs. She curled herself around him, feeling his cock fully hard against her bottom, moaning as she rubbed against its length.

  ‘Caroline . . . bloody hell . . .’ Frank groaned, and she got up the courage to reach back for his hands, pull them to her breasts, her fingers over his, showing him that she wanted him to squeeze them, push them together, exaggerate her already bountiful cleavage.

  His head ducked, dropping to her breasts, licking them, pulling away the bikini fabric, exposing her nipples; she pulled a leg free, clambering awkwardly, clumsily over his lap so that she could straddle him. She was terrified that this was going too far, but as she settled on his lap again, his cock pushed up right between her legs and they both groaned again in sheer delight as it almost stabbed into her, only the fabric of their swimming costumes stopping it from going further.

  Frank’s hands were so tight on her breasts now that they were almost hurting her, and she loved it. She ran her hands over his chest, relishing in finally being able to do what she had wanted to do from the first moment she saw him: bending over him, kissing his shoulders, his upper arms, his neck, her face pressed into his neck, kissing him frantically, holding on to his shoulders for leverage so she could raise and lower her bottom again and again against his hard, bobbing cock, finding the tip and working it, feeling it butt into her just that little bit every single time, her entire body craving the rest of it, unable to hold back.

  ‘Please, please, please –’ she heard herself beg. ‘Please, Frank, I want it
so badly, I need it . . . just once, just one time – please, Frank, please—’

  ‘God, Caroline,’ he moaned against her breasts, his fingers still clamped around them, his thumbs teasing her nipples. ‘This isn’t right – we shouldn’t—’

  ‘Please! Just once, please . . . I need it so badly, let me have it . . .’

  Desperately, she reached down, found the waistband of his trunks, stretched them out and closed her hand around his cock. His body sagged against hers as if her touch had released something inside him, given him permission to let loose; before he could make any more objections, she squirmed her other hand between her legs, and, not caring if she ripped her very expensive bikini bottoms, dragged them aside and directed the tip of his cock up into her bared flesh.

  It hurt, even though she managed to lower herself on him as slowly as she could. Sex in water takes away the lubrication, and she felt dry and rough inside, had to bite her lip to stop any sounds of pain coming out as his whole length entered her. But he was gasping, crying out in pleasure, and those sounds were all she needed to hear; even if his cock had felt like Brillo inside her, she would have kept pumping up and down on top of it.

  And it got better. The sheer thrill of having Frank’s cock in her was stimulation in itself, even though it was mental rather than physical. She heard herself starting to wail: they were cries of sheer triumph, calling his name over and over again as his hands slid to her bottom, pulling her even closer, his cock going wild, thrusting up as his lips moved frantically from one nipple to the other, sucking, pulling, kissing.

  She buried her hands into his tight curls for the first time ever; how often she had dreamed about doing that, feeling the short ringlets twist around her fingers, his head at her breast, her crotch pounding against his! His cock bounced inside her so deeply that she shrieked aloud, mainly in pain; but he didn’t realize that, and the sound of what he thought was her extreme enjoyment was his cue to lift her up, push her off him, his face agonized, his lips pulled back over his teeth as he dragged himself up, fisting his cock in his hand, trying frantically to direct the fountain of sperm out of the Jacuzzi water. There was a towel folded on the tiled surround, and he grabbed it, shoving it towards his cock, catching in it what he could, on his feet now, leaning against the edge of the Jacuzzi, panting as frenziedly as if he had just sprinted for a mile.

  Caroline grabbed at the edge of the Jacuzzi just in time to avoid smashing her knees painfully against the seat. She too was breathing heavily, and swept with disappointment. She had wanted him to come inside her; how perfect it would be if she got pregnant! She wasn’t broody – in fact, spending time with Laylah and London had made it even less likely that she would want kids in the near future – but Frank’s baby . . . a kid to bind him to her forever, to help break up Lexy and Frank’s marriage – that would be a miracle.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Caroline reached out and stroked his flank, feeling like a character in a historical romance novel trying to gentle a wild horse. Frank shook his head slowly as he cleaned himself off with the towel, still with his back to her, his naked buttocks and legs, the intricate muscles of his back such a beautiful sight that in other circumstances she could have stared at him for hours. What if he climbed out of the Jacuzzi and walked away?

  But Caroline refused to panic. Pleading with him – being as vulnerable as his wife was insulated and tough – had got her what she wanted before. Why shouldn’t it work again?

  ‘Please, Frank,’ she said softly, ‘can you sit down next to me for a little while? I feel really funny.’

  With a deep sigh, he turned around. His face was smoothed clean with physical release: he looked ten years younger for a little while, before his forehead started to crease with worry and guilt about what they had just done.

  ‘Please, Frank,’ Caroline repeated, and, with another sigh, he sat down on the edge of the Jacuzzi, slid his legs into the water and dropped back into the foaming bubbles. She nestled against him and his arm came around her, which emboldened her to rest her head onto his shoulder.

  ‘That was amazing,’ she said softly. ‘I know we shouldn’t have done it, but it was amazing.’

  ‘Jesus, Caroline,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe that just happened.’

  ‘I know, me neither!’ she lied. ‘But it was wonderful.’

  There was no answer, but his arm tightened a little around her. They sat there for a while in silence, and though Caroline was burning up with eagerness to say more, she managed to control herself, knowing that she must not rush him.

  ‘This is a mess,’ he said finally. ‘A real mess.’

  She turned her face into his shoulder.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘This is all my fault. I begged you – I wanted you to . . . I should never have done that, but I wanted you so much . . .’

  When this didn’t immediately provoke a response, she pulled back, covered her face with her hands and pretended to cry into them. There was so much water around them that he couldn’t possibly tell that she was faking, not if she gave her eyes a good rub to redden them a bit.

  ‘Caroline, don’t cry!’ he said, as she had known he would. He wrapped her in a hug; resting her head gratefully on his chest, she kept pretending to sob.

  ‘I just feel so bad!’ she mumbled. ‘I care about you so much, and it was so wonderful, so amazing . . . it hurts to think it didn’t mean anything to you . . .’

  ‘I didn’t say that!’ he assured her immediately. ‘I never said it didn’t mean anything to me! It was great, really great.’

  ‘Being so close to you just felt so right,’ she tried, pushing things further, and for response she got another sigh and a slightly tighter hug, which she took, at least, not as a denial.

  ‘You’re really sweet, Caroline,’ he said after a while. ‘A really sweet girl.’

  Pulling back, he looked down at her, gently pushing some loose strands of hair back from her face. Then he reached down and took the edges of her bikini top, lifting it up, covering her breasts once again. Caroline didn’t know whether to see this gesture as an ending, a definitive line drawn under what had happened between them, or him taking care of her, wanting to preserve her dignity.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, deciding to take in the best possible way everything he did that could be interpreted ambiguously. ‘I probably shouldn’t say this –’ she ducked her head shyly – ‘but I’m so happy. I shouldn’t be, but I am.’

  ‘Oh, Caroline,’ he said almost tenderly. There was a long pause, and she waited eagerly for what he would say next.

  ‘We should get going,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s late. Time to go to bed.’

  She nodded as he reached over to turn off the Jacuzzi.

  ‘Can you help me out?’ she said in a small voice. ‘I feel really wobbly.’

  ‘You should drink some water,’ he said, concerned, starting to climb up the moulded steps, holding out his hand to her. ‘Let’s get you hydrated, okay?’

  Once she was out of the Jacuzzi, he told her to wait there while he got her robe and slippers and a cup of water from the gym area. She thanked him, looking up under the fake lashes, letting him help her with her robe, watching him stare involuntarily at her breasts again as she drew out the process of slipping it on; once he had donned his own robe and flip-flops, she asked if she could hold his arm as they went, because she was still feeling dizzy. Frank turned the lights off on the main panel; they stepped into the lift, and she half-collapsed against him, apologizing for her weakness, so that his arm came round her, holding her up.

  When the lift stopped on the first floor, and they both stepped out, the master suite was immediately to the left, with Caroline’s guest suite all the way down the other end of the corridor to the right. She felt Frank hesitate, his arm not immediately leaving her; within its curve, she turned and looked up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them.

  ‘Please, just stay with me for a little!�
� she pleaded under her breath. ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight . . . I still feel dizzy . . .’

  The kids and nanny’s bedrooms were all on the third floor. No one could possibly overhear her and Frank; this conversation was entirely safe.

  ‘Oh, Caroline,’ Frank said, looking down at her, his forehead creasing, but his eyes soft, as conflicted as he had been ever since they had had sex. ‘I really shouldn’t . . .’

  ‘Please, Frank, please! Just till I go to sleep!’

  She managed to get a little sob into her voice.

  ‘I don’t want to be alone – it’d feel so sad, after being so close to you . . .’

  He pulled her close, hugging her, for a moment. Then he turned in the direction of her room, taking her hand, mumbling:

  ‘Just for a short time, okay?’

  Curled up in bed, Frank’s arm over her waist as he spooned her, both of them naked, Caroline’s heart was still racing so fast that she felt as if she had taken amphetamines. Even with him in her bed, she was in disbelief that she had pulled off her plan so successfully. She didn’t care how much she had had to beg or plead with him; in fact, every time she had done so, she had felt a strange sense of power. Making herself vulnerable, oddly, had also made her strong, because it had caused Frank to behave in a way he knew that he shouldn’t; her will had overpowered his many times that evening, and he still didn’t realize it. Ironically, he thought he was taking care of her.

  She snuggled against him, but didn’t say a word. Having lured him back with her, she had seen, as they were towelling off in her bathroom, how nervous he was: the whites round his eyes were showing, his movements were jerky and nervous. He was like an animal she was convincing, slowly, tentatively, to trust her.

  What he did not realize was that she had a secret weapon. She was particularly well-informed on everything that he liked the best.

  Frank loves naked spooning! Lexy had said, in one of the many stream-of-consciousness monologues recorded for the book, open confessionals that she had made with Caroline’s Dictaphone running. Caroline had listened to it live, and then again as she transcribed the tapes. He’d do it all night, Lexy had continued. I get too hot and I have to wiggle away after a couple of minutes, and he gets so whiny when I do . . .