in0

by Unknown

  Rachel's spine became rigid at his words, but when she would have pulled away he wouldn't let her. Instead, his fingers probed the fine bones that the thinness of her cotton T-shirt could not disguise, kneading and massaging the bunched muscles that her tenseness refused to relax. 'Stop fighting me,'

  he said, bending his head to brush his lips against the side of her neck. 'Ask me what I was in touch with her about, if you must. It wasn't to arrange a wedding. Quite the reverse, actually.'

  Rachel took an unsteady breath. 'Then why has she come back?' she exclaimed.

  'This is her home,' replied Matthew evenly. 'Where else would she go? You're not the only one with pride, you know.'

  He paused. 'And perhaps she's hoping that I'll change my mind.'

  Rachel made a disbelieving sound, moving her head jerkily from side to side. 'Why—why should I believe you?'

  'Why should you not?' he countered harshly, his hands sliding sensuously down her arms to her elbows. His thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts, and she heard his sudden intake of breath. 'In any case, we shouldn't be having this conversation.

  Not yet, at any rate. You've still got another year before you finish school.'

  Rachel quivered. 'What has that got to do with anything?'

  she protested, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing, and he expelled a weary breath.

  'You know,'' he muttered unevenly, and then, as if losing all control of the situation, he hauled her back against him. 'I'm trying to be reasonable,' he breathed, against the silky weight of her hair. 'How I've stopped myself from touching you these past few months is beyond me!' His hands slid round her midriff, and rubbed back and forth against the undersides of her breasts. 'I don't want you to feel I'm trying to rush you. I just want us to go on as we were before—before you ruined this otherwise perfectly good week of my life.'

  Rachel swallowed. 'And—and what if I don't want to go on as—as before?' she whispered convulsively. 'Wh—what then?'

  Matthew dragged her closer, his arms enfolding her against his taut body, and for the first time in her life she felt the unmistakable thrust of a man's arousal. His hardness swelled against her bottom, its heat barely confined by the tightness of his cotton jeans, and a rippling sense of excitement filled her at the realisation that she could do that to him.

  'Don't—don't play games with me, Rachel,' he said, and for the first time she heard the harsh edge of emotion in his voice.

  'Making me prove that you want me just as much as I want you isn't very sensible. So, if you want to get out of here with your virtue intact, you'd better take that back right now.'

  He meant it! He really meant it! Rachel's pulses were racing wildly now, and acting purely on instinct, she flexed her shoulders against his chest. The buttons of his shirt felt unbearably sharp against her sensitised flesh, and taking the initiative now, she ran her hands down the seams of his jeans.

  'Perhaps you didn't—understand me,' she murmured, and he sucked in some air. 'When I said I didn't want to go on as before, I didn't mean we shouldn't see one another. As you said before—quite the contrary.'

  Matthew shuddered then, and for a moment he pressed even closer. But, as if common sense and his own innate sense of decency grimly prevailed, he steeled his aroused body and dragged himself away from her. But not far. With hands that were not quite steady, he turned her to face him, though he carefully kept a foot of space between them.

  'You don't understand

  ' he began thickly, but she

  interrupted him.

  'No. You don't understand,' she retorted, her emotive gaze sweeping over his dark, frustrated face, and down over the muscled planes of his body. Her eyes lingered longest at the revealing junction of his thighs, before returning to confront his narrow-eyed stare. 'What makes you think I need to finish school before knowing what I want? I'm not a child, Matt. I'm not.'

  'Even if you sometimes act like one?' he countered, trying to make light of the situation, but she wouldn't let him.

  'Do you think I'm a child?' she persisted, arching brows that were several shades darker than her hair, and he bent his head to avoid her knowing gaze.

  'No,' he agreed huskily. 'No, I don't see you as a child. But that doesn't mean anything. I see what I want to see, I guess, like everyone else.'

  'And—and what do you see?' she prompted, leaning towards him so that only the strength of his fingers gripping her upper arms prevented her from touching him.

  Matthew lifted his head, his features taut with the control he was putting on himself. 'I see—temptation,' he muttered, expelling his breath on a heavy sigh. 'Rachel, let's go out somewhere and discuss this. I'll take you for a drive, if you like.

  We could even go over to Windermere and have dinner. You won't be wanting burnt toast.'

  'Why can't we stay here?'

  Rachel's softly spoken words stopped him dead for a moment, but then, as if tormented beyond measure by her irresponsibility, he let her go and turned abruptly away. 'You know why,' he grated, striding angrily towards the door. 'I'll call you tomorrow. Perhaps then we can have a serious conversation.'

  'Oh—wait!' Impulsively, Rachel went after him, catching him before he had a chance to open the door and sliding her arms around his waist from behind. 'Matt! Darling!'' she breathed, against the warm hollow of his spine. Her breath moistened the fine material of his shirt, and the scent of his skin was intoxicating. 'Don't go. Please, don't go. I'm sorry if I've made you angry, but you don't know how you make me feel.'

  'Don't I?' Matthew stood stiffly within her embrace. 'I shouldn't bank on that, if I were you.'

  'What do you mean?' Rachel's hands curled over the buckle of his belt, and she felt the shudder that swept through his body.

  'I mean—oh, God help me!' He twisted round to face her, and jerked her roughly into his arms. 'I mean, I've been trying to fight what you make me feel!' he groaned harshly. 'But a man can only stand so much, and you are driving me insaneV

  'Matt ' she began unsteadily, shivering at the sexual urgency of his words, but he didn't let her go. His hand at her nape tipped her face up to his, and his mouth came down on hers with a driving urgency.

  Rachel's senses swam at the first touch of his lips on hers.

  The undisguised hunger of his caress sent the blood rushing thickly through her veins, and no experience she had had thus far had prepared her for the eager response of her own body.

  Until that moment she had been unaware of the possibility of losing her head, but as Matthew's hands slid down her back, moulding her yielding softness to his hard, muscled frame, she was completely incapable of offering any resistance.

  Not that she really wanted to. Any latent sense of restraint was totally eclipsed by the unfamiliar needs raging inside her.

  The weeks of being with Matthew, of being tantalised by his dark good looks and lazy charm, had stirred her senses, and the accumulation of their mutual desires was now blazing out of control.

  'Oh, Matt...' she breathed, when he released her mouth to seek the palpitating pulse below her jawline, and he made a strangled sound of protest.

  'Don't—don't ask me to stop,' he told her unevenly, and she made a little negative movement of her head.

  'I—I wasn't going to,' she whispered against his neck, and with a shudder his mouth sought hers again.

  The entry of his tongue was an intimate invasion, and her knees turned to jelly beneath her. Plunging into her mouth, it took her breath away, and she clung to him helplessly as he plundered her sweetness.

  'I did warn you,' he said against her ear, his arms the only support she had, and she burrowed instinctively against him.

  'I'm not complaining, am I?' she got out jerkily, and with a sound of desperation he pulled her down on to the sofa.

  With his mouth still silencing any protest she might have made, his hand slid beneath the loose T-shirt, and presently she felt his fingers fumbling with the fastening of her bra.

  '
Wait,' she said, lifting a trembling hand to loosen the clip between her breasts, and he sighed in satisfaction as his hand closed over one small mound.

  'You're beautiful,' he groaned, burying his face between her breasts, and she shuddered uncontrollably. 'So beautiful,' he added, his thumb enticing one sensitised nipple to peak against his palm. 'And—I want you, here—and now.'

  'I want you, too,' she told him unsteadily, and, even though she wasn't entirely sure what that admission actually meant, she knew she couldn't let him go.

  'Oh, Rachel,' he muttered, climbing over her and cupping her flushed face between his palms. 'We shouldn't be doing this; you know that, don't you?'

  'I know it's what I want,' she replied, intensely conscious of his straddled form, of the rough texture of the couch pillows at her back, and of Matthew's arousal, an unmistakable swelling against his tight jeans, only inches from her face...

  'God!' he groaned, and with a tense deliberation he tugged the T-shirt up and over her head. The bra was easily disposed of, and then, as she lay beneath him, naked and exposed from the waist up, and achingly vulnerable, 'Am I a complete bastard?'

  'I don't think so,' she breathed huskily. 'Oh, Matt— kiss me!

  Please...'

  And he did. But his shirt buttons were digging into her breasts, and when she protested he brought her hands to the fastenings. 'You do it,' he said against her mouth, and with trembling fingers she loosened the shirt and then eased it off his shoulders, until he could shrug out of it. Then he came down to her again, and now the light covering of fine dark hair on his chest was a tantalising abrasion.

  But it wasn't enough. Even in her innocence, she knew she wouldn't be satisfied until there were no clothes between them.

  She wanted to feel Matthew's legs against hers, his flanks, his thighs, the flat planes of his stomach—and his sex, that most of all.

  Almost instinctively her hands sought the buckle of his belt, and he levered himself up on to his knees to make it easier for her. At the same time he unfastened the button at her waist and pressed the zip down to its fullest extent. His eyes narrowed when he saw the bikini briefs beneath, and he ran one finger from the low waistband down over the quivering core of her womanhood.

  She shuddered then, her hands going automatically to stop him, and, aware of her inexperience, he unzipped his own trousers and pushed them down to his knees. Now only the thin silk of his briefs contained his maleness, and Rachel couldn't look at him any more.

  'Relax,' he breathed, bending towards her, and she jerked uncontrollably when he took one taut nipple between his lips.

  Immediately a knife-sharp wave of heat swept over her, and she shook helplessly beneath his hands. Dear God, what was he doing? She choked, opening her eyes. But the sight of him suckling at her breast sent another shaft of heat prickling down into her stomach, and from there to the moist place between her legs. The darkness of his head against her breast was a shattering image, and almost involuntarily her hands came up to cradle his head.

  Meanwhile, she felt him easing her jeans and panties down her legs, and presently he shifted to remove his own pants. And now she could feel the burning length of him against her thigh, and his leg slid between hers, his knee nudging the quivering juncture of her legs.

  'Good?' he murmured, his lips drifting down over her midriff to her navel, and when she felt his tongue laving her stomach she was unable to do anything more than nod. But when he would have parted her legs she uttered a choked protest, and with a regretful sigh he returned to her mouth. 'One thing at a time,' he reassured her gently, and then, with his tongue silencing the cry that flew to her lips, he eased himself into her.

  'It's all right,' he whispered against her lips, as a latent sense of panic caused her to resist him at last. 'I love you,' he added, licking the treacherous tears from her cheek. 'And when people love one another, it's the most beautiful thing in the world.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AND it had been. Even though she had been half afraid she was going to make a fool of herself, that evening Rachel had discovered the true extent of her own sexuality. Of course, she acknowledged unwillingly now, Matthew had been a good teacher. Some might say an expert teacher, she appended bitterly. But, for whatever reason, he had been gentle with her, and although she had been totally inexperienced he had made it good for her.

  Which was no mean feat, considering her initial reaction to his lovemaking, she conceded. For all she had wanted him so badly, the realisation had been not a little frightening. The feel of his powerful body lying dormant inside her had filled her with alarm, and, although at that moment she had had no real conception of what was involved, she had been half regretting her impulsiveness.

  But Matthew had known how she was feeling, and instead of ravaging her, which he had confessed afterwards he had wanted to do, he had slowly restored her confidence. Allowing the palpitating nerves that surrounded him to subside, he let his mouth induce the same urgent needs she had been experiencing before he'd thrust himself upon her. Stroking and nuzzling her breasts, laving the nipples with his tongue, and sometimes taking the whole areola into his mouth, he gradually brought her to a trembling state of expectancy, and only then did he begin to move inside her.

  She had thought it would be painful, but it wasn't. Her body was more than ready for his, and as he found his rhythm her muscles tightened convulsively around him. 'Oh, God,' she heard him whisper, as her hands clutched his broad shoulders, her nails digging into his damp skin. 'God, Rachel, you are beautiful! Don't fight it, sweetheart. Come on—let it go...'

  The memory of that moment, when their two bodies had simultaneously splintered into sexual fulfilment, still had the power to stir her, and Rachel moved restlessly between the silken sheets. No other man had ever even tempted her to test that perfection, and, although she had had friends, she had had no other lovers.

  Naturally, their marriage had been the talk of the village, and the surrounding area. That Matthew Conroy, the eligible heir to the Conroy estate, should choose to take an eighteen-year-old receptionist as his wife had been little short of a scandal, and among the greatest perpetrators of the story had been Rachel's aunt herself.

  But, in spite of everything, they had got married, and they had been happy—for a while at least. To begin with, Matthew had been very understanding about her final examinations, and her desire to continue with her job at Kirkstone Television. Her initial spell of helping out with the production of Newsreel had been extended when Lynn Turner had left to have her baby, and her aptitude had been such that Simon Motley had offered her a full- time job as an assistant researcher.

  Of course, they had had problems, as all newly married couples did. The fact that Matthew's mother still lived at Rothmere had been a continual bone of contention, and Lady Olivia had lost no opportunity to criticise her daughter-in-law.

  But, on the whole, they had ridden all the difficulties, their continuing delight in each other more than making up for other people's interference.

  And it was this aspect of their relationship which had kept them together as long as they had been, Rachel reflected grimly.

  They had been so good together, and any problems they'd had had been quickly erased by the frantic heat of their lovemaking.

  They hadn't seemed able to get enough of one another, she remembered now.

  It hadn't even been unusual for Matthew to come to the television station at lunchtime, and lock both of them in the station director's office. So it was appropriate that when the break came it should involve the very substance of their feelings for one another. How could she ever forget the horror she had felt on discovering Matthew had been unfaithful to her? And with her own cousin, her own flesh and blood.

  Of course, she had always known that Barbara had been jealous of her. After her marriage, her relationship with her erstwhile family had not improved, and visiting the vicarage had always been a traumatic occasion. Naturally, Matthew had usually accompanied her and, b
ecause her uncle had appreciated the gesture, she had never suggested otherwise. But it had been hard to ignore the way Barbara had behaved with her husband, aided and abetted by Aunt Maggie, whose resentment had coloured every word she spoke. But for Rachel, watching her cousin smile and flutter her eyelashes every time Matthew said anything even remotely amusing, it had been a nail-biting experience. And, although he had sometimes teased her that she was jealous, too, the maliciousness of Barbara's actions had inspired a nameless dread.

  They had been married over two years, and Rachel had just been offered the chance to work in front of the cameras, when Matthew had decided it was time they started a family. The idea had come, Rachel knew, from a conversation Aunt Maggie had instigated on their last visit to the vicarage. Although her aunt could have had no desire for them to cement their relationship with the advent of a child, her comments had been unquestionably provocative. She had known, as well as everyone else, that Rachel was just beginning to make her mark at Kirkstone Television. Matthew had always been generous in his praise of his wife's accomplishments, and he had made no secret of the fact that she had been offered the chance to co-present the evening's features programme. However, even he had not been immune from sly aspersions cast on his masculinity, and Aunt Maggie's casual suggestion that perhaps Rachel's job was in compensation for not having children had been sufficiently barbed to stir his sensitivities.

  And, even though he had to acknowledge that her aunt's remarks had been deliberately cruel, the notion behind them took root. So much so that they had their first really serious row over Rachel's refusal to even consider having a child, and when he flushed her contraceptive pills down the toilet she spent several nights in another room.

  That particular argument blew over, of course, but it was not the last. The more popular Rachel became at the television studios, the more determined Matthew seemed to make her give it all up. Even though he knew she hadn't started taking the birth-control pill again after their reconciliation, he still persisted in goading her, and, although she discovered later that Aunt Maggie had been fuelling the fires of his anger, she couldn't have succeeded without his consent.