by Anne Mather
‘I’ve wanted you since that morning at Mango Cove,’ he said huskily. ‘Tell me you don’t want me, too, and I’ll let you go.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I—I can’t,’ she admitted. Her breathing was becoming more and more shallow, and he tipped back her head and trailed hot kisses down her throat.
‘That’s what I thought,’ he breathed with evident satisfaction, his possessive touch making her feel as if she might swoon with pleasure.
A hot wave of desire was surging over her, making her body tremble, sweeping all her inhibitions away. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so out of control, yet so aware of what she was doing. Her body seemed to be working on instinct, knowing automatically what he wanted her to do.
When his mouth returned to hers again, her lips parted instinctively. She discovered his shirt had pulled free of his pants at the back, and her palms spread sensuously over hot male flesh. She’d never touched a man in this way before, never wanted the ultimate pleasure of exploring a man’s body. But she remembered how Matt had looked that day at the beach, and she wanted to see him that way again.
She was hardly aware that Matt had found the cords that tied the wraparound jersey about her. It was only when she felt the cool, air-conditioned draught on her shoulders that she realised her dress was down around her waist. And only there because of the closeness of their bodies. If Matt stepped away, it would tumble to the floor.
She was diverted by Matt’s mouth caressing the upper slopes of her breasts. Her bra was still in place, but she knew it revealed as much as it concealed. She glanced down and saw her breasts were swollen, the nipples straining hard against the flimsy lace.
Matt cupped her breasts in his hands, and then startled her by bending to suckle her through her bra. The fabric got wet, but it was so sensual, so intimate. It added another feverish dimension to her need.
Then Matt unhooked the bra and discarded it. ‘Let’s find somewhere more comfortable,’ he said huskily, and picked her up in his arms.
Rachel’s head felt as if it was spinning. It was all happening too fast and she was so not ready for it. Nevertheless, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his throat. Her cheek brushed against his chin, felt the roughness of his stubble. And the scent of his skin was so intoxicating that she forgot to be apprehensive.
Matt kicked open a door and she glimpsed the austerity of a dark carpet and the familiar dimensions of a huge bed. The light streaming in from the living room showed the silk spread that covered the bed. She felt its coolness against her bare back as Matt laid her on it. It reminded her that, although she was almost naked, Matt was still fully clothed.
An image she recalled from the previous evening.
She would have been happy to remain in semi-darkness, but Matt said, ‘We need some light.’ He turned on the lamp beside the bed and surveyed her with obvious satisfaction. ‘I want to see you,’ he said, peeling off his shirt with fingers that weren’t quite steady. ‘I want to see all of you.’
Rachel caught her breath when his hands went to his waistband. She wanted him naked, of course she did, but she couldn’t help feeling nervous.
Then the bed depressed as Matt came to kneel beside her. ‘You do it,’ he said thickly, drawing her hands to the buckle of his belt.
Rachel took a gulp of air. She was trying to ground herself, but it wasn’t working. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she prepared to do as he’d asked.
But her thighs parted automatically when she leaned forward, and Matt groaned and slipped his hand between her legs. He cupped her through her panties and his voice was hoarse with satisfaction when he said, ‘You’re wet.’
Rachel made a helpless gesture, not knowing how to react.
Matt had no such inhibitions. ‘Incredible,’ he continued, his finger invading the hem of her briefs and parting the tender lips of her womanhood. ‘So ready,’ he groaned, his voice rough with feeling as he found the already swollen nub at her core.
It was almost impossible to do anything while Matt was caressing her. The excitement building inside her was hastened by the erotic movements of his hand, and she wanted to part her legs wider, let him do whatever he wanted to prolong these amazing feelings. She gave a breathless little moan of anguish.
Somehow she managed to loosen his belt and unzip his khakis, though when his erection sprang into her hands she was understandably shaken. God, he was so big, she thought, her knowledge of a man’s anatomy scanty at best. How could she want him so much and yet be so apprehensive?
Matt kicked off his shoes and his pants and then climbed onto the bed beside her. He eased her back, and she relaxed again when he covered her mouth with his. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from arching against him, from wanting more, much more, from him. Her hands sought him now, wanting to please him, and she was alarmed when he gave a muffled groan of protest.
‘Easy,’ he said against her mouth, nudging her thighs apart so he could lie between her legs. ‘I’m only human,’ he added ruefully. ‘How much more of this do you think I can take?’
Rachel looked up at him, her eyes wide. ‘A lot more, I hope,’ she said impulsively, and then curled her legs around him when he buried his face between her breasts.
Once again she was conscious of the liquid pooling inside her. She could feel his erection pressing at the apex of her legs and she pressed herself against him, wanting him inside her. But instead he drew back, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drawing them down her legs.
Then Matt was pressing his face against the damp curls he’d exposed. ‘I—you can’t do that!’ she exclaimed, in a panic now. Her nails dug into his shoulders in protest at first, and then her hands sought his head, holding him closer.
‘Better?’ he asked, and all she could do was nod helplessly, lost in the needs he was inspiring.
Then his tongue probed between the curls and her body exploded. Waves and waves of pleasure tore through her, and despite her inexperience she knew what he’d done.
‘But—I wanted you,’ she whispered, and he trailed wet kisses across the slight mound of her stomach.
‘And you’ll have me,’ he told her softly. ‘I wanted to please you first.’
‘You have,’ she assured him as he worked his way up her body, nuzzling and kissing and biting her tender flesh. So much he’d rocked her whole world.
When he straddled her she tensed again, but only slightly. She was still experiencing the lingering rhythms of the pleasure he had given her, and even when he nudged her opening and eased a little way inside she wasn’t alarmed.
‘You’re tight,’ he said, but the way he said it she knew it wasn’t a criticism. Then he cupped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her to meet his urgent thrust.
He stifled the cry she uttered with his mouth, but he couldn’t ignore the sudden obstruction that met his invasion. Yet he couldn’t draw back. It was much too late for that. All he could do was bury himself inside her and then lift his head to stare down at her. The tears that had filled her eyes were a silent admission of what he’d done.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.
Rachel’s tongue circled her lips. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters,’ he said. ‘God, Rachel, you were a virgin. You should have told me.’
‘I thought you wanted me,’ she whispered.
‘I did want you,’ he retorted. ‘God help me, I want you still. But it’s wrong.’
‘Is it wrong if I want you, too?’ she protested. ‘Please, Matt.’ She felt his body stirring inside her and discovered she wanted more, needed more. ‘Don’t stop now.’
Matt gave a low groan that was half anguished, half humorous. ‘I don’t think I can stop,’ he admitted harshly. ‘But you’ve
got to tell me if I hurt you again.’
Rachel nodded, slightly apprehensive again now, but she had no reason to be. Matt was so gentle at first, so controlled, that she felt her body relaxing until she felt his length filling her completely.
Then, as his own needs began to take over, her emotions quickened. He drew back, almost to the point of total withdrawal, before surging forward again. And as he did so her response became more demanding, and the feelings she’d had when Matt had seduced her with his tongue came back stronger than before.
There was no pain now. Her body was slick with moisture, and Matt’s movements created a wonderful friction that made what she’d felt before seem tame. This was real, this was urgent, this was making every nerve in her body react to his need. And the feelings just kept on building, until she felt as if all her senses had reached overload.
But then something magical happened. It was as if she’d been climbing a mountain and now she’d reached its highest pinnacle. With arms spread wide, she floated out over the precipice, her cry of fulfilment both mindless and sapped with pleasure…
CHAPTER TWELVE
MATT opened his eyes to find Rachel tiptoeing across the bedroom.
He must have fallen asleep, he realised, and with good reason. As well as making love a second time, which had been just as devastating as the first, they’d opened the champagne. He’d drunk several glasses of the intoxicating wine before exhaustion had obviously tugged him into oblivion.
But they had shared the most sensational sex he’d ever known. Somehow it had been more than just sex, he mused. It had been the closest thing to a spiritual experience he’d ever known. He’d never felt like this before. Never felt that instantaneous recognition of something stronger than himself.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded now, propping himself up on his elbows. It was still dark outside, but there was a faint glow of sunrise on the horizon. The lamp beside the bed was still burning, however, and by its light he could see that Rachel had already found her panties and put them on.
‘It’s nearly morning,’ Rachel whispered, and he noticed she had her arms crossed over her bosom.
He felt slightly irritated. Dammit, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her breasts before. Seen them and kissed them and suckled from them, he remembered, his body stirring in spite of himself. God, he still wanted her. He had the uneasy feeling he was never going to have enough of her.
‘It’s still early,’ he said, trying to keep his tone even. When what he really wanted to do was bound out of bed and carry her back into his lair. ‘Come back to bed.’
‘I don’t want to be here when—when whoever occupies that office out there turns up for work,’ Rachel declared, ignoring his suggestion. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t intend to.’
‘So—what?’ Matt stared at her, his mouth slightly belligerent. ‘You were going to sneak out of here and hope I didn’t hear you go?’
‘It’s not sneaking,’ Rachel protested.
‘What would you call it, then?’ Matt scowled. ‘Don’t tell me you’re regretting what happened last night?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Her response was so spontaneous he couldn’t help but believe her. ‘It’s just—well—I can see you later, I suppose. After—after I’ve had a shower and dressed in some different clothes.’
‘You could have a shower here.’ Matt gestured towards the adjoining bathroom.
‘No, thank you.’ Rachel turned towards the door. ‘I’ll just go and find the rest of my things.’
‘Let me,’ said Matt, thrusting back the covers and getting out of bed. He wanted her to see his nakedness, to show he wasn’t ashamed of himself, or her.
Rachel caught her breath at the sight of him. But at least it made her forget about covering herself as she opened the bedroom door.
Then he was behind her, drawing her back against his already aroused body. His shaft pulsed against her bottom, and she sucked in a little breath as his hands slid round to cover her breasts.
‘Let me,’ he said, bending his head to nibble on her shoulder. ‘Don’t go,’ he added huskily. ‘I want to make love with you again.’
Another indrawn breath proved she wasn’t immune to his caresses. He felt her press herself against him almost involuntarily, and the feel of her soft bottom cradling his erection brought him close to losing control.
But, ‘I’d better go,’ she insisted, despite all reactions to the contrary. ‘I mean it, Matt. I promise I’ll see you later. I just need a little time to—to freshen up.’
He had to let her go. He had to watch as she picked up her bra and stuffed it into her handbag. Then she pulled on the wraparound gown she’d been wearing and hurriedly tied the cords. Without her bra, the dress was undeniably provocative, and with a muffled exclamation Matt said, ‘Wait!’
This time she did wait, probably because she didn’t want to spark his anger. There’d been sufficient irritation in his voice for her to realise he meant what he said. In a matter of minutes he’d hauled on his pants and thrown his shirt over his shoulders. ‘I’ll take you back to your room,’ he said. ‘We don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.’
He thought she wanted to argue, but perhaps she remembered Mark Douglas and changed her mind. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and, looking at her, he wondered if she really didn’t regret what had happened.
She seemed so fragile, so remote; so much the innocent. He couldn’t help but blame himself for taking advantage of her.
* * *
Rachel spent some time in the shower. It was good to feel the water sluicing all the perspiration from her skin. She felt tired—and a little sore—but otherwise wonderfully happy. It had been the most amazing night of her life and she couldn’t wait to see Matt again.
She hadn’t wanted to leave him that morning. She knew he had been concerned about her, and it would have been so easy to abandon any worries about what other people might think and crawl back into bed.
Into Matt’s bed, she reminded herself with a little shiver of excitement. Would he expect to sleep with her tonight? She really hoped so.
But then she remembered her mother.
She still had no doubt that Sara Claiborne had come to Jaracoba looking for Matt. He’d virtually admitted as much. But he’d also denied that he was having an affair with her.
So what did that mean? Had they had an affair in the past? Had her mother come here hoping to resurrect their relationship?
It was a situation Rachel didn’t even want to consider, but she had to. Her father was in England, waiting for her to get back to him with some good news. But what could she tell him? That her mother had changed? That she was seriously thinking of staying on the island? That, whatever Matt said, Sara’s association with him was anything but over?
She examined herself in the mirror when she came out of the shower cubicle. She didn’t think she’d changed, outwardly at least. But she knew she was different inside. It wasn’t so much a physical thing, although she knew that had changed too. But psychologically she was a different person.
There was another bite mark on her shoulder and she ran her fingers over it. And felt a tingling sensation right down to her toes. Her mouth was slightly swollen, but she wasn’t really surprised. Matt’s kisses had been full of raw passion.
However crazy she was, she couldn’t wait to see him again. If she’d known the extension number of his apartment she might have called him. So it was probably just as well that she didn’t. They had to talk again before anything more significant happened between them.
Although what could be more significant than last night’s lovemaking?
Shaking her head, she grabbed a towel from the rack and quickly dried herself. Her hair was still damp when she fastened it back with a scrunchie, but she was too imp
atient to spend much time on it. Besides, her hands weren’t quite steady, and she knew that whatever she did it would still persist in curling about her temples and her nape.
She dressed in lime-green shorts and a scoop-necked tee shirt which successfully hid the bite on her shoulder. She could do nothing about the mark on her neck, but the heat in her skin had faded and her incipient tan made it less conspicuous.
She used her mascara brush and an amber-coloured lipgloss, slipped canvas flats onto her feet, and, after collecting her bag, left her room.
Her eyes were instinctively drawn to the double doors that led to both the office and Matt’s apartment. But there was no sign of the hotel’s owner, and, despite a sense of disappointment, Rachel descended the stairs.
Deciding that if Matt did come looking for her he would expect her to be on the patio, having breakfast, she crossed the foyer to the restaurant. A waiter seated her overlooking the pool, and she ordered coffee and French toast. For practically the first time since she’d come St Antoine she was hungry, and her lips twitched in rueful amusement. That was one outcome of losing her virginity that she hadn’t anticipated.
She was just finishing her third cup of coffee when a flurry of movement caught her eye. She’d enjoyed the French toast, served with maple syrup, and despite a lingering sense of apprehension she was feeling pleasantly replete.
But the movement, accompanied by an impatient exchange with the waiter, drew her attention to the woman who was crossing the patio towards her.
Her mother.
Rachel caught her breath. She couldn’t help it. She so didn’t want to have a conversation with her mother. Not until she’d spoken to Matt again, anyway.
But that wasn’t to be, and, putting down her cup, she got automatically to her feet. ‘Hi, Mum.’
‘I’ve told you not to call me Mum!’ exclaimed Sara Claiborne angrily. Then, turning back to the waiter who had followed her, she added, ‘Just fetch another pot of coffee. I don’t want anything to eat.’
